Uprising
Page 105
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Elijah was unsurprised that the lights did not return after he shot Lange, causing a slightly too quick but not unsatisfying death for the old man. He was also unsurprised when there was a hiss and a whir near the entrance, shortly followed by a popping of his ears as the chamber sealed airtight.
This is his chamber, and all of Haven his mausoleum. He really never intended to leave, Elijah thought bitterly, smirking. He never intended to die either, did he now?
Elijah sighed loudly, unheard by anyone. If the place was indeed airtight, he probably did not have long before he ran out of anything to breathe. Not that it mattered; his left arm tingled with a ferocity, and his heart, in spite of a lack of further activity, continued to pound away, irregular and radiating slivers of pain. His breathing was shallow, and a cold sweat coated his body.
He sat down, in the pitch black, on the tile next to the prone form of Victor, feeling around to find his friend. They would now share this small tomb with the tyrant of several generations. Elijah smiled. Lange would have been furious to know that his final resting place was soon to be sullied by the bodies of his bastard son and the traitor guard. This alone gave Elijah a measure of satisfaction.
"Anything to make the old man suffer, right?" he asked to no one, responding to himself with, "Anything…"
He let out another heavy sigh, thinking about all of the people who he had sacrificed so that he could come this far. "I'm sorry, everyone," he whispered.
His head felt light, dizzy. Stars and lights danced across his eyes, and he smiled, hallucinating. The night is so beautiful, he thought, as his consciousness faded away.
Epilogue: Uncivilized Society
Emotions of fury boiled through the now High Inquisitor Herman Gottfried as he sat within the monitoring office Citizen Bernard had fled hours earlier. The power fluctuation and subsequent drain had knocked out the use of the infrared sensors and greater monitoring devices. The destruction and rioting had eliminated many cameras, but a few survived, and he used them to watch.
He viewed with rising anger the fighting and rioting throughout the city. Through cameras near and in the Institute, he had been able to see the High Inquisitor's entrance, attempted flight, and demise. I suppose by rank, I am now to take his place, he thought.
His calm and usually featureless composure was broken, shattered by anger at the foolishness of so many individuals.
Inquisitor Levine burst into the room, out of breath, and Gottfried nearly raised his pistol and shot him. So much chaos existed throughout the city, everyone was on edge. "Gottfried..." the man gasped. "Gottfried, the sky... Citizen One..." he trailed off.
Gottfried clenched his teeth. "Franklin Lange is dead, as is the High Inquisitor." Long dormant thoughts shoved aside his accustomed duty, honor, and crisp composure. He spoke in a brash manner. "Fools, both of them."
"But, sir... why do you-"
"Do you see what has resulted?" Gottfried asked in a harsh tone. "Do you see what has been done to Haven? It is unequivocally their fault, and they deserved far worse than a clean death."
The other Inquisitor didn't speak for several moments. "The sky." Levine wiped sweat from his brow. "Why is the sky gone?"
The new High Inquisitor slammed his fist on the desk, causing Levine to jump. He spoke, his tone rising. "Why? Because that ancient fool tied in systems to his vital functions. Because he was so concerned about the idiot Wresh trying to seize control. Because both fools decided superiority was more important than a thriving culture and duty to its people, and because our forgotten and abandoned children have risen up to destroy us and everything we've created." Gottfried was seething now. "Most significantly... we are trapped here, where the protection of the field has become our prison because no one in this damnable city cares even the slightest about anyone but themselves."
Inquisitor Levine didn't respond for several moments, eyes wide at his superior's tirade. During the silence, Gottfried switched through more camera angles, watching the destruction and panic continuing throughout the streets.
Levine spoke. "Sir..." he flinched as Gottfried shot him a glare. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"Do?" Gottfried asked with a bitter laugh. "Haven is dead, my frightened comrade. The Citizenship is all but dissolved. Can you tell who is rabble and who is one of us?" He pointed at the images of people running, screaming, and destroying property. "Tell me, what can we do now? Half of our Inquisitors are surely dead, and the Acquisitions soldiers are now trapped outside." He chuckled bitterly. "Our forces, our ability to fight, is diminished. And why should we even fight? Who should we fight?"
"Th-the people from down below! They started-"
"Started? No. We did that long ago." Gottfried cut him off.
"But they-"
"Shall we spend all of our effort killing each other until no one remains?" The new High Inquisitor gave a mocking laugh, bitter in response. "Then the idiot Lange gets his wish, and we all share death with Haven's heart and soul."
"Then... what are we to do?"
"Haven is dead," Gottfried repeated. "And all we inside can hope for now is to find a way out. To find a way to escape before this blackened shroud of Franklin Lange's arrogance becomes our tomb as well."
Levine took a step back. "We can't go out there. It's dangerous, unsafe!"
Gottfried said nothing in response. He pointed at the cameras, the violence and destruction proving his point without the need for words.
The other Inquisitor understood, and he slumped against the wall and slid to a sitting position. A heavy cloud of despair hung over him, soon to hang over all of the denizens of Haven.
Herman Gottfried knew the bitter truth. Escaping the city is the only way for anyone to survive, he thought, but damned if I or anyone knows how to go about it. As he sat there, watching the mayhem and carnage, he wondered if it would be possible to try amongst so much chaos.
A tiny, dark thought spun immediately after, and the new High Inquisitor wondered if allowing the survival of any of these self-motivated, terrible people would even be worth it.
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Author's Note:
It truly does mean the world to me when readers help out and provide feedback, so thank you very much to any who do and again to all who spared the time to read Uprising.
Cheers!
Justin Kemppainen
https://www.kempenovels.com