The Ten Thousand

by Doug Felton

  Raisa watched Zeke fall until his body hit the pavement. She fought the urge to look away, wanting to see her revenge through to the end. She let the sword fall from her hand and lifted the scabbard from around her neck, dropping it.

  It was over.

  Or maybe it was just beginning, Raisa couldn’t tell. Zeke was dead, but Barrymore was still council president, and that wasn’t a position he’d soon relinquish. With no direct evidence of a conspiracy between him and Zeke, Raisa had no leverage. And who would believe her, anyway? Soon everybody would know her part in killing an innocent man in his apartment. How would she explain that when the truth was less believable than the story Barrymore would tell?

  And then there was the Ten Thousand. After storming Pittsburgh the way they did, no amount of explanations would ease the fear most mortals would have of them. How could they integrate into society after this? Raisa faced the only option still open. They had to go.

  She leaned against the wall and slid to a sitting position, pulling her knees to her chest. Josh slid down next to her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “You keep asking me that.”

  “I thought maybe after—.” He paused. “I didn’t know if it helped.”

  Raisa didn’t know either. So far, she only felt numb. Killing Zeke should have given her peace, but it hadn’t. And what if it never does? she wondered. Will I never feel normal again?

  Raisa wanted to cry, to get it all out and be done with it, but the tears wouldn’t come. The fact that she couldn’t cry frightened her, as if a deep part of her had withered, making her less human. Is this how people become monsters? It made sense. If you lose the ability to feel when you kill someone, maybe you’re driven to kill again, trying to spark something inside.

  Josh put a tentative arm around her and held her.

  “Don’t,” she said, pulling away. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I need you to leave.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Josh said.

  “I don’t care what you think, I’m telling you to leave.”

  Josh stood but didn’t make a move to leave. “Penly and the others are inbound to the park,” he said.

  “Good, you can meet them there.”

  “And what will you do?”

  Raisa raised her eyes to meet Josh’s with a cold stare. “What? Are you going to carry me off again?” She knew her sudden coldness was confusing and painful for Josh, but she couldn’t risk caring for him if she had nothing left to give. Nothing left to feel.

  Josh left in silence, and Raisa sat alone, deciding if she would go to the park or run away. At every turning point in her life, she had the option to run away, and she never did. But this was different. Raisa had just severed the hand of a helpless man, sending him to his death. You don’t get to walk away from that.

  Come on. Cry!

  How could she ever trust her instincts again? How could she love someone when she had killed in the name of love? Alexander would’ve known what to say. He’d tell her everything was fine, that she would be alright. And she would be alright if he were there, but he wasn’t, and he never would be. Emptiness filled Raisa with a void she didn’t think was possible, like an inky blackness had settled in her soul.

  She pushed herself to her feet and climbed up on the barrier wall at the edge of the roof. Below her on the ground, Zeke’s body lay still and broken. Raisa thought back to the final vote in the U.S. Senate. They had convened that night with a moment of silence for a senator who’d killed himself. Raisa had been appalled by the weakness of a man who would take his own life, but she hadn’t appreciated how painful loss could be. When her brother, Ben, hanged himself, she was confused but sympathetic. But now, standing on the ledge, she had fully immersed herself in the darkness that drove people to end their lives.

  “Please don’t do that, peanut.”

  Raisa nearly turned to face her father’s voice but stopped herself. He wasn’t real.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she heard her him say.

  This time she couldn’t stop herself. Raisa turned to see her dad standing on the roof. It was the version of her dad before the drinking and before Ashwill. It was the younger, stronger version of her dad she wanted to remember.

  “How do you know this isn’t exactly what I want to do?”

  “Because if it were, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Great. Now I’m losing my mind.” Raisa said to herself.

  “You haven’t lost anything, including your will to live.”

  Raisa looked at the ground, far below. “I don’t feel anything, dad,” she said.

  “I know, but you will.”

  “But how do I go on until I do?”

  Her father smiled. “By doing what you always do. By saving your family.”

  “I did a fantastic job of that, didn’t I?” Raisa asked sarcastically.

  “Actually, you did, Peanut. What happened to Ben and me wasn’t your fault. You gave us a fighting chance, and that’s all you can do. And right now, there are ten thousand others who need you to give them a chance.”

  “But what if I can’t do it?”

  “If you step off that ledge, you’ll never know. You can overcome any failure, but you will never overcome quitting.”

  Raisa looked back at the ground. Someone had found Zeke’s body and was looking up at her. When she looked back, her father was gone, and Raisa was alone. She stepped down off the ledge and picked up the sword, sliding it into the scabbard and pulling it on over her shoulder.

  Raisa made her way to the park where Josh and the rest were. He kept his distance, but he was relieved to see her. His look told her he knew what she had been thinking. She wondered if he had left her there alone on the roof, or if he were hiding close-by ready to stop her. Maybe one day she’d ask him.

  The helicopter with the rest of Raisa’s team landed soon after she arrived. She spent a long time hugging each one of them as if she hadn’t seen them in months, even though it had only been days. Days in which she had lived a lifetime. They expressed sorrow over Alexander’s death with compassion that only intimate friends could give, but Raisa only nodded her thanks. There were no tears.

  The Ten Thousand started coming to life when Scott issued a command to the drug-carrying nanobots moving through their bodies. Not only did he wake them up, but he stopped the flow of mind-altering drugs. As a result, they were groggy, but in their right minds. This was both a blessing and a curse. They could think clearly again, but that meant thinking about what they had done when they entered the city.

  It confused them to see Raisa standing before them. Their last memory was of Zeke preaching to them about the destiny as rulers of North America. He had also told them that Raisa was a murderer, and no doubt, many of them felt that she had abandoned them. They would be a tough audience.

  She spoke to them with no introduction or preamble. “At Raven Rock, I said that you would know I was with you because, in the end, you would see me standing with you. Here I am. Not as Queen Raisa, but as—” Raisa stopped. What name would she give them? Not Jamie. She bore little resemblance to the girl who’d been taken from her home. She was now Raisa Cordova, even if she were no longer queen. “I stand before you as Raisa.”

  The crowd murmured. Her words only added to their confusion. Raisa knew that she’d need to explain everything that had happened, but first, she needed to make one more announcement.

  “I’m afraid that we cannot live in the New World as we had hoped, not after what’s happened. I wish we could, but we can’t, and there’s no point denying it.”

  “Where will we go?” someone shouted.

  Raisa took a breath before answering. “We’ll go to New York. Our new home will be Manhattan.”

  After arriving at the park and before Scott had awakened the Ten Thousand, Raisa instructed Alora to set up a communication center in the backstage tents. Zeke had left plenty of equipment, and there were three conversations
Raisa needed to have before she spoke to the Ten Thousand. The first was with Father Aasir.

  “My dear child,” the priest said, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you are alright. I followed the news feeds as best I could, but with Zeke in charge, I suspected they were not giving us the whole truth.”

  “Your suspicions were right,” Raisa said. “Thank you for your concerns and your prayers.” Father Aasir had not said he was praying for her, but Raisa knew he was.

  He nodded his head through the video link. “I was devastated to hear about Prince Alexander. How are you doing?”

  How am I doing? Raisa thought. Good question. She didn’t want to tell the priest she had avenged Alexander’s death by killing Zeke, or that it hadn’t made her feel any better. She side-stepped his question with one of her own. “I need some advice. The last time we talked, you raised the possibility that my future may not lie with the New World. You said without the crown, I was still half of a whole with Alexander.”

  Father Aasir finished the thought for her. “But what future do you have without Alexander or the crown?”

  “The Ten Thousand are all that I have left,” Raisa said. “I want to take them away, to someplace safe, where we could start over.”

  Father Aasir smiled. “To the Promised Land?”

  “New York, actually.”

  “Do you think that is best?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Will they get there on their own?”

  “No.”

  “Then I think you can see what you must do.”

  Father Aasir had a way of turning question marks into exclamation points. Raisa had given him her opinion, and he made it sound as if it were the voice of God directing her. She wasn’t sure why talking to the old priest gave her so much comfort, her life hardly followed a trouble-free path when she took his advice, but it always seemed right. Not always good or pleasant, but right. She had never thought of Aasir as a prophet, predicting what the future would hold. Instead, he gave Raisa the courage to make difficult choices without knowing what might lie ahead.

  “My team’s here,” Raisa said, “but I feel alone.”

  “Then I would suggest you don’t trust your feelings to tell you the truth. You are not alone, my dear.”

  Talking with Father Aasir emboldened Raisa to make her next call. She waited while Alora set it up. If she were going to get the Ten Thousand to New York and survive there, she would need some help. After a few minutes, Alora signaled to her she was connected.

  “Your Excellency,” Raisa said, “thank you for taking my call on such short notice. I apologize for waking you. I’m sure you are aware of my current crisis.”

  Viktor Vasiliev, the Russian czar, looked somber as he spoke. “I am, Your Majesty. I am pleased to see you looking well. I understand Mr. Wellington is dead.”

  The czar’s statement caught Raisa off guard. How could he know that? It had only just happened, and most people in the New World didn’t know.

  “Yes,” she said. “It has been a tragic day.” Raisa raced through the ways Viktor would know about Zeke’s death when one caught her attention. “However, it seems I had a guardian angel protecting me.”

  Viktor looked at his translator who said something in Russian, and then said, “That was very fortunate. Was he helpful?”

  “Very. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “Your Majesty,” Viktor said with vein surprise, “Russia could not involve itself in the internal affairs of the New World. That would not be right. But I will say that Sergei was concerned for your safety.”

  “I see,” Raisa said, and she did. Viktor must have known about Zeke’s death because the sniper who had helped her on two occasions was Russian. No doubt Ambassador Sergei Petrov hired him off the books to help Raisa if she needed it. That would also explain why he never targeted Zeke. Even though it was not an officially sanctioned operation, assassinating the leader of a country, even a provisional one, would raise more questions than the Russian ambassador would like to answer. “I will have to remember to thank Sergei for his concern.”

  Viktor’s smile told Raisa that he knew she knew the truth.

  “Viktor, I thought about your advice to me at the state dinner. I am one of the Ten Thousand who happened to be queen.”

  “I thought as much,” he said. “And now, what will you do?”

  Raisa hated to leverage such a young friendship with the Russian czar, but she had no other choice, and she suspected that he genuinely liked her. “Actually, Viktor, that depends on you.” Raisa told him of her plan to take the Ten Thousand to New York, and her need for Russian aid if they were going to make a life there. New York was an abandoned wasteland that even the Ten Thousand would not survive without help.

  “I realize that helping me will damage your relationship with the New World,” she said, “but I have no other choice.”

  “Raisa,” the Czar said in a warm, soothing tone, “you are the New World.”

  Nothing could have steeled Raisa more for her final call than the czar’s backing. With his support, she had leverage to use with Council President Barrymore.

  “Your Majesty,” Barrymore said, looking pale, as if he might throw up, “I am so pleased to see that you are well. We have been—”

  “Let’s cut the crap, Nigel,” Raisa interrupted. “I know everything.”

  Barrymore’s features changed to something less accommodating. “Do you? I’d think carefully before making accusations. You have no real evidence, and I do . . . about a murder in Pittsburgh.”

  He was right, Raisa had no evidence that Zeke and Barrymore had coordinated their actions. Scott had access to the unedited footage of the Tom Cruise videos, which showed that it was Zeke who made them, but that didn’t prove he and Barrymore were working together. And, given her erratic behavior, who would listen to her?

  “I don’t plan to make any accusations,” she said, “I plan to leave the New World, and you’ll let me go.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Barrymore hadn’t gotten where he was without trusting the adage, If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. “Leave? Why?”

  Raisa explained her plan to take the Ten Thousand to New York, and the czar’s promise to help her. “You will arrange transportation for us to Newark,” she said, “and then leave us alone once we enter Manhattan. You will not rebuild the bridges, and neither will we. There will be no contact between the New World and the Ten Thousand. Russia will provide everything we need to establish a colony. Guard the borders, if you like, pretend we never existed, it’s up to you, but you will not interfere with us in any way.”

  Barrymore considered Raisa’s words. “And what happens in a hundred years, or two hundred when the Ten Thousand are still alive along with the generations that followed them. How long will it take until there are enough of you to take over the New World?”

  “That will be long after you’re gone, Nigel. Right now, you’ll be the one who found a peaceful solution to a very messy problem.” Raisa knew Barrymore was a coward who’d take a short-term gain even if it meant a long-term loss.

  He nodded, pleased at the prospect of getting this problem off his plate. “I’ll shut down the Loop to private travel and dedicate it to getting you and your followers to Newark.” And then with sarcasm, he added, “Congratulations, Raisa. You’re going to New York.”

  Raisa ended the call with Barrymore and turned to Alora. “Wake them up,” she said, “we’ve got work to do.”

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  Raisa checked the time for the third time in ten minutes. It was just past one in the morning, and she expected the others back soon. Raisa hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. The mission was risky, she knew that, but some things were worth the risk. Since coming to New York, she’d kept her word, and none of the Ten Thousand had gone back to the New World. To their credit, the New World had left them alone. This mission was the first
time Raisa had allowed an exception, but she wouldn’t have done it for anyone else. She didn’t know the details of the mission, and she didn’t want to. She only wanted to know when it was done.

  The couch Raisa sat on in her apartment was normally comfortable, but lately, she couldn’t seem to find the right position. She shifted herself again, hoping to ease the heart-burn she was feeling, but nothing felt quite right. She put a hand on her growing stomach and closed her eyes. “They’ll be back soon,” she said.

  Two months earlier, the Ten Thousand had crossed the Hudson and stepped foot on Manhattan island. It took some doing since the government had destroyed the bridges to Manhattan. Looking back through the lens of history, it was a debacle of monumental proportions. During the spread of the Pittsburgh Virus, the city leaders attempted to use water as a natural barrier in the same way some states used the Mississippi River to keep the infected out. There was one big difference, however; Manhattan was an island. Cutting off those who might come in meant cutting off those who could leave, and that would work only if no one on the island had contracted the Pittsburgh Virus. That wasn’t the case. Dozens of people with the virus had made their way to the city before anyone knew, and once it spread, panic followed.

  People plunged themselves into the rivers, trying to escape. Many drowned; people in New Jersey or the other New York boroughs stopped them from coming ashore. It didn’t take long for any semblance of order to break down and for life in Manhattan to become survival of the fittest . . . and the meanest. People with symptoms of the virus were often killed rather than treated. Doctors tried to offer hope for the sick, but it was a losing battle. Hospitals became fortresses guarded by the hopeful against hordes of desperate men and women who had adopted a hardline approach to survival. In the end, no one survived the deadly combination of disease and desperation.

  Raisa had read accounts of Manhattan during the epidemic, but two decades of natural forces unimpeded by human interaction had erased most of the horror. It had not, however, hidden the chaos that had gripped the island and torn it apart. Burned-out buildings, scattered vehicles, and makeshift barriers were evidence of what life had become for the residents of the greatest city on earth.