Drew kicks the chair again, but this time I am prepared for it and keep my hands steady on the new groove I have sawed into the zip ties. He continues his rant, his words starting to slur together, the alcohol he likely had just before we got onto the aircraft finally having an effect on him. “That’s why since the day your father tore my family apart, I have made it my mission to get him back. I’m happy the brotherhood has the cube now. I’m happy that our plan to create a new system in this post-capitalist, post-employment, post-democratic world we are entering will be one that we are solely at the helm of. But I haven’t been waiting for years to hold that cube in my hands.
“I have been waiting for years for the day that I finally get to eradicate that man’s blood from the earth for eternity. And that day is today.”
I feel the energy of him smiling without having to see his face. I wish I could know what makes this man so evil. I wish I could know what has turned him into a creature so horrible that calling him a monster would be doing a disservice to the monsters of this world by making them sound worse than they really are.
His life mission has been to destroy my life. Jake didn’t have an option in any of this. Jake was forced into it just like me, and whether he knows it or not, he is going to be a slave in this new empire led by the council and Drew.
I’m going to be buried beneath it.
But not if I can do something about it first. And right as Drew finishes speaking, I manage to cut the first zip tie off my left leg. The zip tie on my right leg snaps off only a few seconds later, the hope of survival returning with the renewed blood flow to my feet.
It’s time to make my move.
Chapter 7
My mind is screaming at me that I’m going to die.
But my body claws forward anyways.
I’m not a computer. It might be unnecessary for me to state something so obvious, but nowadays with humanoids running around as substitutes for human bodies, it is something that needs to be stated. But if I were a computer and ran through all the possibilities of what could happen in this moment, I’d likely end up with a near zero chance that I survive.
That doesn’t stop me from using the last bit of willpower I have left in me to scrape forward on the carpet, shimmying over to Drew’s feet. My bare feet rub against the floor, the outer layers of my skin covered in rashes from the carpet. It would be way easier on my back and hands that are ripped apart to push myself upward and try and tackle Drew, but that would give me away.
He has no idea that I have broken free from the restraints. I want him to think that I’m defenseless, tied to the leather chair, and unable to do anything but desperately crawl towards him.
He has no idea that I can kill him.
He laughs as the leather chair bumps into his legs, my entire body guarded by its wide structure. I hear Ai sigh, likely with relief as Drew moves on from her and turns his attention to me.
“I’m going to kill you,” I say, trying to use my words as bait to antagonize him into flipping the chair over. The moment he decides to pull the chair upright so he can punch me repeatedly in the face, he will realize I have broken free from the restraints.
But it will be too late for him.
“You couldn’t even touch me if you tried.” Drew chuckles, kicking the chair playfully, expecting that upon doing so the restraints will dig deeper into my skin. He is blind to the fact that they have already torn my wrists apart, a large pool of blood on the floor at my knees, and that the restraints themselves aren’t even on me.
“That’s probably a good thing,” I respond, keeping my tone calm and voice soft. “I don’t think anyone in this world would want to touch you anyways.”
As expected, he bites the bait in the moment I expect. Now I have to reel this sucker in without getting myself killed.
“Soon, you’re gonna regret being born with a mouth,” Drew says, his tone menacing, but the content of his comeback takes all of the sinister feel out of it. The alcohol and pills he is always on must be playing with his brain, leaving me to only cringe at what must be going through his mind at how he would make me regret having a mouth.
“Please, end this!” Ai yells, her voice echoing off the walls. Drew ignores her yet again and plays right into my trap. He violently pulls up on the seat, expecting to have me in a perfect position for him to be able to choke the life out of me.
Instead, he throws the chair off my back, giving me the perfect opportunity to launch my attack. Before he can counter my move, I have already sprung forward and wrapped one arm around his neck. He is about two inches taller than me, making the move a bit uncomfortable for my shoulder and terrible for my face as it is covered in his wispy gray hair that smells of sweat and coconut oil. He elbows me in my bruised rib while I take the liberty of uppercutting him in the jaw with my bloody, flayed fist.
A large dollop of blood splatters on his jawline, the impact of there being no flesh on my fingers having a visible effect on his head that erratically jars to the side. Except I have a feeling that the punch hurt me more than it hurt him, given that the blood is flowing out of my exposed wounds even faster. I essentially double-fucked myself by allowing him to have an open shot on my ribs while I willingly threw my hands into a figurative blaze of pain.
I don’t let myself get distracted by the dozen masked operatives in the aircraft who all have their assault rifles pointed at me. Any one of them can decide to pull the trigger and shoot me in an instant, but with Drew and I swaying back and forth as we try to strangle each other, one shot directed towards my head could easily hit Drew instead.
I grunt as Drew slams his elbow again into my wrist, both my arms unable to defend against him as I try to get him into a punishing chokehold. I am actually surprised by how fast Drew manages to adjust to the situation. I figured that I could catch him off guard and easily hold him as a hostage to then use as a weapon against the Syndicate operatives, but for an old, drunk man, he is putting up a fight for the ages.
He takes a swing at me, this time using his leg instead of his elbow and aiming for my balls instead of my ribs. On the way up he knocks into my thighs, which although compared to my wrists are in good shape, are still in a great deal of pain from the barbed handcuffs.
“Fuck.” The sign of weakness escapes my mouth as a hot sensation wells up from my stomach. Within a split second, that hot sensation turns into a round of chunky vomit that I try and swallow, but my body can’t come to terms with it.
As I force my mouth closed, the hot liquid starts to effuse out of my nostrils, until I finally open my mouth and let the vomit spew out of me. My stomach feels like it has been set afire from the inside, and my balls hurt so much from the direct hit that my ears are ringing from the pain.
My entire body is numb.
And maybe it’s the fact that I am way past my threshold for feeling pain that I still have the strength to keep an arm around Drew’s neck.
“No! No! No!” Ai shouts. I spot her out of the corner of my eye as she desperately tries to escape from the restraints. I’m too caught up in the moment to warn her about the masked figure behind her, but before she can devolve into a deafening screaming fit, a syringe is pierced into her neck.
She loses consciousness almost instantly, her face falling forward onto her thighs.
Now, I’m officially all alone.
I use the same tactic that Drew used on me right back on him. I drive my right leg upward, the muscle fibers in my thigh tearing as I attempt to kick him in the balls. I end up missing the mother lode and instead have the brunt of my foot hit right on the bottom of his groin.
From the looks of it, my kick is still effective.
The ensuing sharp pain that rockets through him causes his strength to wane for a split second. That is all the time I need to overwhelm the muscles in his upper body and take control of the situation. My chokehold with my right arm tightens around his neck, almost cutting off airflow into his lungs entirely. Then I use my left arm to wrap arou
nd his meaty belly and force both his arms to remain locked at his side.
I have the upper hand now. His body is shielding me from almost all gunfire, and as the lack of oxygen to his lungs turns him more desperate, his cries for help ring like music in my ears. Before any of the operatives can run up behind me and shoot me, I pull his body with me to the front of the aircraft. All the Syndicate operatives are in front of us, along with Ai’s slouched-over body, and the tinted glass coating the exterior of the aircraft is only inches behind my back.
“Listen up!” I shout. Drew yells too, but nothing more than a pitiful squeak comes out of his throat. I watch with pleasure as his wrinkly face turns redder by the second.
I can’t kill him, though.
If I want the cube back, I need to use his life as an asset.
None of the operatives move at my command. All of them are still lined up on the walls, the ends of the rifles pointed right at me. My heart beats in my chest as I let my instincts take control of the moment, knowing well enough that one wrong sentence and mishap could lead to me being killed.
“Unless everyone in this plane wants to die, you better drop your guns and listen to me,” I say as my eyes scan the holograph in front of me. The holographic control panel for the ship is inches in front of my face, making it possible for me to change most of the settings by simply swinging one of my elbows into it.
None of the operatives seem apt to listen to me. They all creep forward, preparing to overwhelm me with the sheer number of them. I squeeze harder on Drew’s neck, letting all of them stare through the tiny holes in their white masks at one of their leaders dying.
No doubt, the council is barking commands in their ears, trying to get them to kill me before Drew loses all the life left in his eyes. I already feel his body growing limp beneath my grip, his neck spasming as he makes one last attempt at saving his life.
He is no match for the beast inside me. The dark side to me is brought out by the danger of the moment, the same emotionless side to the Syndicate that allows them to commit such atrocities taking hold of me as I relish in the euphoric rush of adrenaline. Having someone’s life in your hands is a power that even the cube can’t match.
I let up a bit on my deadly grip on Drew, purposefully bringing him to the brink of death but not pushing his consciousness off a cliff into permanent blackness. Instead, I let a steady stream of air flow into his lungs as he gasps for air.
Then I prepare for my next move. I finally have my eyes stop scanning the holograph as I connect with the one setting that I want to press. On the control panel there is a red circle with yellow text in the middle that says “Engine Off.”
Although I’m no mechanic, I take an educated guess and reason that by slamming my elbow into that setting, while maintaining a careful grip on Drew, this plane will fall to the ground tens of thousands of feet below.
I jerk my elbow right before two of the operatives come within reach of grabbing me, a violent snap sounding from Drew’s neck in the process.
Even I am not prepared for what happens next.
The plane’s forward momentum propelling it hundreds of miles per hour through the air abruptly halts.
The next thing I know, the force of gravity has taken hold of the aircraft. We are falling to the earth.
This plane is about to crash.
Chapter 8
I didn’t think this through.
I figured having the plane free-fall to the Earth would be a great distraction to allow me to take control. Although it certainly is a great distraction, in order for it not to kill us, I have to make it stop.
That may be impossible.
The turbulence and wild change in directions of the aircraft’s momentum cause everyone to fall to the floor. The rough carpet digs into my bloody right hand as I keep Drew in a chokehold. I slam his body down onto the ground along with my fall, hoping that it knocks the wind out of him to allow me to regain my dominant position over him.
Both of the operatives close to me have dropped their rifles. Their masks are just feet away from me and their bodies are sprawled out on the floor. Everyone is shocked from the sudden acceleration downward, and now with us at the will of gravity itself, the aircraft has slanted to the side with the center of gravity, causing everyone to be thrown against the thick sheet of tinted glass that lines the walls.
Now the holograph that will allow us to start the engines again and stop our free fall is out of arm’s reach, the holograph only able to be reached if I had superpowers and could scale the wall. It hits me now that for all intents and purposes we are fucked. Even if I manage to end the threat of the Syndicate operatives, nothing will change the fact that in seconds this entire plane will be a ball of flames.
We hit another section of turbulence, this round causing the aircraft to tip all the way on its side. Now all the operatives that have not had their bodies thrashed against the sheet of glass get to experience that terrible sensation. The rows of wide, heavy leather seats all fall out of place to land on top of the operatives. The already mangled mess of bodies on the wall turns into a laughable scene as masked figures try and escape from underneath the crushing weight of hundreds of pounds of furniture and the array of drinks and trash that fell onto them.
Looking at Ai is the most painful part of it all. She remains unresponsive throughout the entire ordeal even though she likely bruised or broke a bone in multiple places of her body. The chair she is seated on has fallen on top of two operatives, crushing them while she is on the other side of the chair with blood dripping down her legs and her head stuck staring at the opposite wall.
I have to hold myself back from forcing myself forward to help her. I know if I do that, I will end up dead. I have one chance at survival, and that’s killing everyone here.
In front of me lies one of the rifles of the two operatives that were about to double-team me. Drew, me, and the two operatives were thrown into the corner, our bodies laid out on the ten-foot-tall sheet of glass that lines the side of the aircraft. In the handful of seconds that have passed since I pressed that button, none of them have managed to regain control of their rifles as they try and orient themselves with the world around them.
I take my chances and instead of continuing to choke Drew, I push him off me and dive forward in an attempt to grab one of the guns. My reaction time is faster than any of the operatives around me. I swivel the gun in the direction of the other masked figure that was close to me. Although they are unable to stand up due to the force of gravity weighing down our bodies, they aim their gun at me without a problem.
“Don’t shoot,” I yell above the sounds of the other operatives screaming and groaning as they try and dig themselves out of the pile of furniture on top of them and survive.
As much as I’d like to shoot the masked operative and get it over with, I know that doing so will only lead to the other eleven masked operatives firing back at me and likely killing me within seconds.
I can’t kill all these people alone.
But I can make sure they don’t dare shoot me.
I elbow Drew in the nose as he tries to grab me, all while keeping the barrel of the gun locked onto the person in front of me. We are all lying down on the sheet of glass, none of us even trying to push up against the overwhelming force of gravity that will soon send us crashing with the ground.
The operative seems to take my threat seriously given that he doesn’t fire their rifle at me, but that doesn’t stop two of the operatives from firing at me. The bullets miss my head by a few inches and crack the inner layer of glass next to Drew’s chest. All of the operatives are still trying to dig their way out of the furniture and the pressing weight of gravity.
I hope that keeps them distracted long enough for me to figure out how to stop this thing.
Then the one answer to getting out of here alive clicks.
No human has enough strength to stand up with how fast we are accelerating downward. The amount of g-force we are experiencin
g right now is enough to make my already empty stomach feel like it has to vomit again. It will be impossible for me to even think about standing up again and reaching the holograph.
But I might not have to.
“Pull out your hologlasses,” I bark at Drew as I kick him away from me. He is still so caught up in trying to strangle me so that the operative can shoot me that he is forgetting about the one thing that can save us.
“You must be able to control this thing from there!” I exclaim, but I really mean my statement more as a question. I know he has his hologlasses on him; he always carries them around in his pants pocket. But I have no clue if the device is connected to the aircraft.
From Drew’s sudden reaction, it is apparent that he has something in his pocket. He reaches into his pants, working quite quickly for someone who was almost dead a minute ago, and he swipes his hand so that a larger version of the images normally projected into his eyes is projected out in front of him.
He taps on the holograph rapidly, his motions way too fast for me to keep up with. I let my eyes constantly gaze back and forth between the operative in front of me and Drew’s body that is now to my side. Finally, he presses a spot on the holograph that seems to have an effect.
Just as suddenly as gravity caused this aircraft to accelerate downward, the moment the engines turn on, the deceleration happens at a similar rate. The fluid in my ear painfully moves around, causing a sharp ringing sensation in my head as my body attempts to adjust to the drastic changes in pressure.
I make the mistake of looking down to see how close we came to the ground. The once invisible earth beneath us that was shrouded in layers upon layers of white, fluffy clouds is only a few hundred feet away. The tall pine trees were only a blink away from smashing through our bodies and ending my chances of ever having the Chimera Cube in my hands again.
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