Floor 21- Dark Angel

by Jason Luthor

  “So, you’ll fight with me? No matter where it goes?”

  “I’ll be with you right until the end. No matter how it ends.”

  I take a deep breath and smile at her. “Good, because I don’t think we can wait on word from the Angel. The genera’s in the process of switching over control of Central to President Dravic, and I’ve got this bad feeling that once Dravic’s locked in, he’s going to be keeping a close eye out for everyone going in and out. I’ve met cruel men, normal men, and scared men. Dravic’s not any of those. He’s paranoid man, the kind you wonder if he’s sleeping with a gun under his pillow at night.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not. It’s exactly the kind of person you don’t want running a ship. The kind that gets so scared of his own shadow he starts firing into the dark.”

  “Makes you wonder how he got that way.”

  “I don’t have to wonder,” I tell her as I lock my death’s head helmet over my face. “I know how he got that way. You looked out the window lately? At the shit storm our world is? Dravic’s the kind of person who sees all that and think it’s a way for him to put himself at the head of the breadline. Problem is, he knows it makes him a lot of enemies. He might not realize it, but he’s living his life like he’s counting the days until the executioner shows up, trying to get as much for himself before he finally bites the big one. That’s why we’ve got to get out of here. Sooner instead of later, he’s going to start cracking down on Central. I’m not sure there’ll be any way off the island when that happens.”

  Highpoint Waystation Log 182,513

  “Give me the multiscreen,” she tells me.

  “You got it, kid.” I don’t even have to tap at a button. My link with Highpoint Waystation makes it happen just by me thinking about it. The second it’s a thought in my mind, more than a dozen holographic screens start hovering in front of Jackie as she stands at the lab’s command desk.

  “I need to see all our data on Creep cells, including images. Show me both standard cell lines and Sally cells. Then give me what we have on Pocket Space. Anything to do with how Creep cells react to Pocket Space along the bottom row.”

  “Of course.” A second later, almost every screen hovering in front of her fills up with files, documents, graphs, pictures, and video. Some of what she’s got in front of her’s images of Creep cells at work, and other screens are showing energy readouts we’ve recorded from Pocket Space. “You sure learned a lot about this stuff while you were here.”

  “I should have kept studying when I was in Central.”

  “No way they could have had everything on file that we do.”

  “They didn’t, but I could have come back to Highpoint once in a while. Not visiting . . . Well, that was a pretty bad mistake.”

  “Now don’t go doing that patented Jackie thing you do where you beat yourself up all afternoon.”

  “Believe me, everything in me wants to, but I don’t have the time,” she says as she swipes at one screen, the text changing as she dives through files. A flick of her hand swaps out the screen she’s looking at with another one down the line, and a second later, she’s leaning back and staring at images of Creep cells in motion.

  “Mind if I ask what we’re looking for?”

  “Timeframes. We need to see what the Creep is doing the exact second a window is popped open.”

  “Well, you’ve always had a hunch that the Creep’s taking its energy out of Pocket Space.”

  “It’s what I’ve always thought, and from everything we found, that’s probably what’s happening. That’s why the Creep’s so sensitive to energy coming out of a portal. The problem’s that we don’t know actually know what the relationship is. What if it’s the other way around? What if Pocket Space is being created by the Creep?”

  I smile. “You don’t actually think that.”

  “No, but I’m also not sure that the relationship between Pocket Space and my cells are as simple as you’re thinking.”

  “Believe me, I’m ready to have my mind blown.”

  “Well then, just look at this,” she tells me as she points to two screens, the top one filled with Creep cells and the bottom one filled with video from her fight at the Panzer. “We’ve got all this new information to go on that my suit’s been collecting. See here?”

  I’m looking at the bottom screen moving in slow motion as windows into Pocket Space rip open in the air. “Alright. Pocket Space, from when you dropped those bombs on the city. I get it.”

  “This is just the visual feed.” She taps at the screen, and it turns into a hazy blur of images, like a kaleidoscope of colors. Still, even then, the images vaguely look like the battlefield where Jackie was fighting.

  I just shrug. “Okay, so we’ve got energy recordings from that fight. We get them from all the fights you get into.”

  “But look at the timestamp,” she says, pointing to the corner of the screen. “Watch. If we let the video go frame by frame . . .” Jackie does just that, letting the video go by so slow you’d think the next apocalypse would hit us before we ever got to her point. Against a field of colliding images in colors ranging from the hottest reds to the coldest blues, a white sliver starts to form.

  “That’s the first sign of Pocket Space.”

  “The first sign we can see, even when we’re looking at nothing but energy on the screen. By the time we see anything, the Creep cells are already agitated,” she says with a nod to the top screen.

  “So, what’s the point here, kid?”

  Her finger points at a screen to the right. “This readout caught the first sign of an energy spike before it ever showed up on camera, almost a second before we could see it. The spike happened before my cells became agitated. Then, as the energy kept spiking, my cells kept getting more excited.”

  “Then Creep does get its energy from Pocket Space. It flows out of Pocket Space and gets your cells dancing.”

  “Right, but I think any scientist, like Doc Watson, could have figured that out. What I’m thinking is that the energy goes more than one way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I opened up a lot of Pocket Space portals to bring those bombs down. That happened because the suit was creating the windows using my mind as a kind of point of reference. The suit used my brain to coordinate the windows opening.”

  “Right, and we know exactly how many Pocket Space windows your suit opened up.”

  “That’s the thing though. The suit recorded more Pocket Space windows opening than the number of windows that the suit actually created.”

  Truth is, that statement makes me pause for a second. “What is it exactly you’re trying to say here?”

  “I’m saying that something else, beside the suit, was opening up Pocket Space windows.” She looks back at me. “John, I think it’s time we took a look back at the video.”

  “The video. You mean from . . .”

  “Yeah. That day. The day of the massacre.”

  Dodger’s Recording 19

  I almost jump out of my chair when my comms squeaks to life. Martin looks at me like I’m insane, but he realizes that I’m jumping onto a comms channel when he sees me adjusting my earpiece. “Dodger here.”

  “Dodger. It’s Jackie.”

  “Oh, thank the Builders,” I whisper with Martin still looking at me like I’m a crazy woman. I tap at the earpiece. “It’s Jackie!”

  “Ah,” he says, confused. “Well then . . . thank the Builders. Whoever they are.”

  “I’ll . . . explain our very complicated and stupid religion to you another time,” I tell him as I turn my attention to my earpiece. “Jackie, sorry about that.”

  “Not a problem. Mind if I ask who you were talking to?”

  “Martin. He survived, Jackie!”

  “I’m happy someone did.”

  “He’s been helping out a lot down here.”

  “Down where, exactly?”

  “Oh, there’s so much you don
’t know. I was seriously starting to worry about whether you’d ever call.”

  “Sorry. I was busy coming back from being dead for a second time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Almost.” She pauses on the other end of the line. “Someone will pick up this signal if we talk too long, so let me get to my point. I’m guessing if Martin’s there that you guys have been working on the plan?”

  “Yeah, definitely. We’ve been able to get in touch with basically every building leader and most block commanders. The colonel had an amazing plan ready in case something like this happened.”

  “Well, it’s Martin. He might not have ever liked me, but I never doubted how good he was at all this. When things start moving, you think you guys are going to be able to get around the city?”

  “A lot easier than I thought. Plus, I’ve managed to put together a bunch of traps. The best part’s that they look just like repulsion poles, but they’ll stop most Pocket Space tech long enough for us to counterattack.”

  “What about what’s happening in the colonies?”

  “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about them for now. It looks like Dravic’s trying to close down Central, so he’s leaving the colonies to themselves for now. I’m trying to coordinate with Michael Tan so we have a place to evacuate everyone, to Second Freedom, once the fighting breaks out. It’s looking good so far.”

  “That’s . . . that’s amazing, Dodger. I’m proud of you. It sounds like you’re really stepping up.”

  “Well, with you gone . . . and Tommy . . .” I feel my breath just suck out of my lungs, loud enough that even Martin looks over at me like he’s worried.

  “Dodger. I guess you haven’t heard from him.”

  “No. No, I was hoping that Yousef would have . . . I mean, at least let me know if he was still alive. Show some kindness.”

  “He only does that if he’s got something to gain.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice softens a little on the other end. “He’s alive, Dodger.”

  “I know. I kept telling everyone else you were alive when nobody wanted to believe me. I know Tommy is, too.”

  “I’m coming for him, just hang tight. Start getting things in place. I’m working on a few things over here, but I need to find a way to beat Yousef before I move. But I’m coming.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for fire in the sky.”

  “I won’t let you down. Jackie out.”

  When the signal cuts out, I just sit there for a long time, my tools in my hand as I’m standing over one of the repulsion poles I’ve been modifying. I honestly don’t know how long I’m quiet for. All I know is when Martin interrupts me from my coma, I almost jump out of my chair for the second time. “What?” I almost shout in a panic. “Is something happening?”

  “No, lieutenant.” His eyes look sad for a second as he shakes his head a few times. “Dodger, I mean.”

  “You never call me that.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly your commanding officer anymore.”

  “You’re still the colonel.”

  “And you’re the one who’s been hustling up and down Central, trying to get this movement off of the ground. I’m also not the one whose who’s been making the traps that might turn the tides in our favor. Not the point though.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get to working again.”

  “That’s not my point either.” He shakes his finger at me. “I understand all of you thought I was always busting your chops. That’s how it is, when you’re in command. When it comes to any fighting force, discipline is the difference between life and death. You keep order at home so that when you’re in the field, you don’t lose your composure.”

  “I get it.”

  “No, you don’t,” he says with a sigh as he lays his arms forward, over his knees. “Because I’m not explaining it right. What I’m trying to say is that I understand none of you ever liked me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t respect the hell out of you all. At least, eventually.”

  “Yeah, I have a distinct memory of you trying to convince the president to kick us out of Central.”

  “When I thought you all might be raider saboteurs? Of course. It was my duty to protect the city. I’m guessing you understand that a little bit better now that you’ve been in the militia.”

  “I do. I still wouldn’t have handled it like you did. I might’ve taken a bullet to the shoulder out in the Deadlands, but it wasn’t raiders who turned out to be our real enemy.”

  He shakes his head, his hand tapping at his knee. “You’re right, of course. Maybe I was wrong to be so stubborn. Still not my point, though.”

  “Then what was the point?”

  “My point was that I did come to respect you all. If there’s one thing I learned in the last year, it was not to underestimate all of you who survived the Tower. You were better prepared for surviving in the Deadlands than people who’ve lived their whole lives out there. And if there’s anyone I know who’s a survivor, it’s that boyfriend of yours. Tommy. He’s going to live through this.”

  Hearing all of those words does a number to my feelings. For a second, all I can do is stare at the ceiling and try to catch my breath. “Yousef’s already killed so many people.”

  “He has. But he needs Tommy as insurance in case Jackie comes back.”

  “And she’s coming back.”

  “But if you’re going to be a leader, you’ve got to connect the dots and realize you’re just as important to saving the people of Central as she is. Maybe Jackie does take it to Fort Silence. That won’t amount to much if everyone in Central dies. And like it or not, the leaders of every block and building on this island are getting their orders from you now.”

  I finally manage to look over at him and take a deep breath. “Why not you? Why are you letting me do all the leading?”

  “Letting you?” He smiles and actually laughs a little. “Dodger, I’m more than twice your age, and it’s like I just told you. I might not be in bad shape, but do you really think I could be running up and down the city the way you are right now? I certainly know I couldn’t be putting together these toys of yours. It’s more than just that though. The people trust you. You’ve volunteered in medical depots, schools, supply centers. You’ve busted your back over the last few months taking care of the community. Nobody outside the militia’s seen my face in a decade.”

  “And you think that it’s easier for everyone to believe in fighting back because I’m the one leading things?”

  “Yes, as much as I hate to admit it. I always thought the president was wasting his time with that stuff when he should have been spending more time at Central Primary.” His chest heaves in as he sighs. “Honestly, it never clicked to me that it was all that time out in the community that made him so popular. You’re free to consider me a fool, if you want.”

  “I don’t.” I set my tools to the side and turn in my chair until I’m facing him. “I think all of us get into certain habits of thinking, ‘This is who I am’ or ‘This is the way things are supposed to be done.’ And sure, maybe most of the time, it’s perfectly fine to just do what you’re comfortable with. But then there are times when you should just . . . I don’t know. Think outside your box. Ask yourself why you keep doing things a certain way and if there isn’t a better way of doing things.”

  “You’re talking about yourself now.”

  “I thought I wasted a whole year running from the militia. I’m not the greatest gal with a rifle or the best hand to hand fighter out here. But I can still . . .” I frown as I look away, sucking in wind as I try to gather my thoughts. It’s impossible to hold back the chuckling as I look back at him. “I can do things my way, you know? I don’t have to be the best soldier to be the best person that I can be. I thought I had to fit into this same mold as Tommy and Jackie and Mike, and just, you know, be a good fighter. But I’m the tech girl. I can make things that help us win. I’m still willing to put my life on the line out he
re, getting all the blocks organized, but I’ll never be able to fight like Jackie. But, you know, that’s okay. I can still do my part.”

  Martin looks at me for a long time with a smile on his face. “You’re going to do a lot more than just ‘your part’ before all of this is done. You’ve got a leader in you. And you’re right. Maybe you’re not the best fighter, but I still know you. You’d die before you gave up on your people.”

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “That’s the sort of cloth that all good leaders are cut from.” He nods to the tools sitting beside me. “Come on. Help this old war dog feel like he’s useful and show me how to help out with these things.”

  Last Testament of Ishara Suliman 03

  My mother died, like so many of us do, in the Creep. We were traveling in the Deadlands when something aggravated the Creep so incredibly that even our military escort couldn’t drive it back. We were attempting to reach the coast, at the time, in an area we thought was secured. So, when the Creep struck, we were caught by surprise. It was a mistake that cost us incredibly.

  Our escort immediately put out the call for reinforcements, but not before we were forced to a stop as the road before us was torn apart by the Creep. Vehicles were flipped onto their sides and men were sent scrambling to avoid the ensuing explosions. The only word for it is chaos. It is what happens when men and women realize, sometimes for the first time, the extent of their mortality. The fragile nature of life.

  Except my mother never flinched, even in the face of it all. She joined the men and women we were traveling with, fighting against the Creep. She was more than the wife of a soldier. She was a fighter herself. Without a second of hesitation, she grabbed her rifle and took over the defense. It was the first time that I truly understood why my father loved her so deeply. She didn’t love the arts because she was hiding from the realities of the world. No, my mother knew that books, plays, artwork, it all expressed the human experience, including its worst parts. My mother was intimately acquainted with the terrible nature of our world, more than I’d realized, and was prepared to face it when the call came. She knew exactly what it took to survive in a world such as ours.