by Mark Tullius
27 Generals
December 25, 2076
Prior to the liberation, Jordan Longley had never been on a Transport. Now she practically lived on one, about to finish her fiftieth sortie in the last six days. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon with Matthew, but there could be no time off. Instead of lying on the beach sipping cocktails, she was fortifying her husband’s army.
The light armored bus rumbled through the deserted trash-strewn streets of the District. Jordan rode shotgun, on the lookout for potential recruits, as images from the past week flooded her mind – a slow-motion slide show of the people she’d killed, the ones she couldn’t save. Some were Controllers, but most were citizens wearing their silver and black. A lot of them just kids. The memories Matthew couldn’t modify.
Jordan sat up straight. She checked the streets, re-gripped her plasma rifle.
Elias, a Disciple turned driver, said, “Everything cool?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Nothing on my side.”
“One more sweep. This is it for today. Then home.”
“Good.” But Jordan had learned not to get her hopes up. They’d started with thirty-six generals and had already lost a fourth of them. And even if they made it back to the City of Lights, there was no telling where Matthew would send them next. Each District crawled with loyalists who were prepared to die.
They drove into the shadow of Inner Block Four which had been built bigger and badder in its resurrection. The message to the “terrorists”: You will never win.
It was a message the loyalists heard loud and clear. On her first sortie in Block Fifty-Three, Jordan had been stupid enough to just walk through the front door. She found a group of men claiming they wanted to join. They recognized her immediately, went after the price on her head. If it hadn’t have been for Elias, she’d never have made it out.
Elias was all business, his dark eyes darting between the road and the screens. He was eighteen like Jordan and had been in the same Camp, but they rarely talked. Not about him saving her. Not about what she did to the Preacher. Not about Savanna, Elias’s live-in, who became one of the Rebellion’s first casualties when he caught her attempting to report them.
The Transport slowed to a crawl as it approached the intersection, a practice they’d started after the first ambush attempt. Elias pointed out Jordan’s window, down the shadowed road to the Block’s main entrance. “Something’s going on down there,” he said.
Even with her upgraded vision, Jordan couldn’t see more than a few hundred feet. She turned to the Transport’s screen and tapped into the Block’s cameras, stopped when she got to the group of people gathered around the benches just outside the entrance. They appeared to be shouting. Jordan turned on the speakers in her helmet. Frightened voices filled her ears. These people needed help.
“Look, Elias. We have to get them.”
Elias pointed to the route pulsing on the dash. “No, we’re steering clear of this.”
Jordan tapped the side of her helmet. “I hear them. They need help.”
Elias shook his head. “We don’t have enough room. And we have orders.”
Jordan saw there were too many people and not enough men, the ones Matthew wanted as warriors. But she also heard a baby, a mother pleading for a ride. “Screw the order. We’ll get as many as we can.” Jordan hit the e-brake and the Transport jerked to a halt in the middle of the intersection.
“What the hell, Jordan?”
“We’ll be in and out.”
Elias scrolled through the camera feeds, three miles of Block Four on the left, a strip of grass and the aqueduct on the right. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary except the two dozen citizens crowded around the benches. “All right, but this is on you.”
Jordan got up and grabbed the handle of the cockpit door. “We swing by, load them up. In and out, just like that. It’ll be tight, but we’ll be fine.”
Elias shook his head, but waved her out. “Hurry up.”
Jordan lowered the visor on her helmet and entered the back of the Transport. She didn’t know any of these men, didn’t want to give them any temptation. Every seat was taken, 32 males, as young as 10, as old as 30. A few sat up straight, most of them white as ghosts. “I need five men that know how to use a rifle.”
Seven raised their hands. Jordan took them all, brought them to the rear of the bus and passed out the weapons. “I want the three of you covering this door, and you three covering the front. Open fire at serious threats. Be wary of anyone in silver or black.” Jordan pointed at the man with the bushy mustache. “You’re with me. You help any stragglers, rush everyone in.”
Everyone nodded their heads like they knew what they were doing. She told them, “Get set. Next time we stop, the doors will pop open. You protect this Transport.”
Jordan returned to the cockpit, closed the door behind her. Elias waited until she was back in her seat. “I don’t like this.”
Jordan nodded down the street. “Noted.”
They had gone close to a mile when Jordan could make out the citizens waving their arms by the benches. Jordan lowered her audio, muffling the screams, in case shots were fired.
None of these citizens wore silver or black. They were jumping up and down, arms flailing. Jordan opened the door, stopping suddenly when she saw the woman with the baby. The woman was violently shaking her head no. Something was definitely wrong.
Jordan said, “Get us out of here.”
“What? We’re here now.”
“JUST GO!”
Elias looked beyond the benches and his eyes widened. “Oh shit.” He punched the accelerator and headed for the end of the street.
The first missile blasted the bench. Body parts thudded against the side of the Transport. Jordan lost hold of her rifle just as the second missile struck the ground in front of them. Elias angled for the middle of the street as they picked up speed.
Something hit just outside the Block’s entrance. As the Transport drew closer, Elias asked what it was. It wasn’t a missile. Jordan turned up her audio, the plummeting screams and Blam!, a child smashed onto the windshield. Bodies rained down, cries interrupted mid-scream as flesh splattered the street and smacked the Transport. Jordan checked the cameras that viewed the back of the Transport, saw there were only a few dents in the roof. Most of the recruits sat gripping their seats, but her seven stood by the doors, guns ready.
Jordan activated the intercom, said, “It’s going to be okay.”
Matthew came over the Connect. Get out of there now! They’re filing in from the back. You have less than two minutes.
Jordan thought, They need us. We can’t just leave.
Matthew said, Elias get off that street. Immediately. That is a direct order.
Jordan looked out the window. A line of men stood along the Block’s roofline. They stood on the ledge with their hands up. Controllers appeared, moved in and fired. The men plummeted, became one with the street.
Elias kept his speed, headed for the end of the Block.
“Elias, stop. We can’t let this happen.”
“No way. Orders.”
Jordan clicked off her Connect, put her gun to his head. “Stop now!”
“Jordan, don’t do this.”
“They’re running them off the roof. Take me to an entrance!”
Elias told her that’d be suicide. A wide-eyed boy thudded five feet in front of them. Elias swerved but they still felt the crunch.
Jordan, get out of there! Matthew must have overridden her Connect. He’d never sounded so frightened. It’s a trap!
Jordan paused, took her gun off Elias. They had already lost several Transports, the Controllers torturing every survivor, making a game show out of it, guessing how long a person would make it before ending their own life. As much as she wanted to help the people in the Block, she had a duty to protect those already in her care.
Something thwacked against the roof, collapsed it, screams exploded from the back. Elias turned the wheel hard and got the Tr
ansport as close to the grass as possible, bodies flinging forward and landing a few feet in front of them.
Jordan felt like she was about to puke, not just for the sight in front of her, but for what Matthew had done to her, taking her from a fast-tracked live-in to the ultimate traitor.
Elias said, “Jordan, up ahead!”
The end of the street was plugged with vehicles, men pointing their weapons at the Transport. A flood of armed citizens poured from the Block, the flashing lights of Controlling Force Agents flying up behind them.
Jordan told Elias to head for the fence separating the street from the aqueduct.
Elias said, “We won’t make it.”
The vehicles up ahead were stacked five deep, no way they’d bust through. “Over the fence!”
Elias turned the wheel, popped onto the grass, blasted through the chain-link. The edge of the aqueduct was a few feet away, the tires spinning in the mud as Elias tried to correct. The Transport shot forward, its back wheels still spinning, drifting over the edge.
Elias gave up the wheel and covered his face. Jordan held onto the dash. The Transport busted through the railing, slid down the concrete and slammed onto its side in the sludge. The windshield had cracked and Jordan kicked it out on her second try, foul blackness pouring into the cab.
Elias unbuckled and splashed down beside her. Jordan told him, “Take them out the other end. Don’t stop.”
Jordan clicked on the intercom and commanded her seven to gather everyone at the back. She told Elias, “You lead these people out.”
“You’re coming with us.”
“No. Tell Matthew I’m sorry.”
Jordan, no! Retreat as one down the aqueduct. That is an order!
A wave of opposition crested the hill. They were mostly citizens, only a couple cyborg Controllers. Matthew had warned her not everyone would accept change. To some they’d only created a martyr when they killed the Preacher, a saint when she ripped out his eyeball to access the armory. Jordan now saw the reasons why. For many, life in the Blocks was only worse. It’d only been six days and already there were food shortages, riots, corpses rotting in the streets. The news replayed the new Preacher’s ordination in D.C., an unknown kin brought forth by the Controllers, the Chosen One who’d crush the loathsome Rebellion.
Jordan raised her plasma rifle. “Do not come any closer, or I will shoot!”
The opposition opened fire first. Jordan hid behind the Transport, chucked a plasma charge. A blue light ripped across the hill, temporarily immobilizing both the cyborgs and the people. As Elias and the recruits slogged through the aqueduct, Jordan blasted the cyborgs, watched them spark and collapse.
Elias and the recruits still had a hundred yards to the wall, but the immobilizing effects of the charge would only last another five seconds.
Jordan reached inside her jacket and squeezed her one and only disruption grenade. “Last resort,” Matthew had told her. She’d expected it to be heavy, considering what it was capable of, but it was so light she feared she’d crush it like an egg.
She peered around the side, saw the final traces of the blue light. A cyborg was already raising its pistol. Jordan pressed the detonation code with her thumb. Three seconds. She looked back at Elias and the others crawling through the grate.
Jordan, please. Come on, we’ll go on our honeymoon. Don’t do this.
“I hate the beach.”
You can still run.
No, I can’t.
Jordan heaved the grenade, watched it arc through the gray sky and land in the middle of the crowd. She stepped out from behind the Transport, ready for everything to end, when a stream of children, dressed in colors of the Way, sprinted through the crowd.
So young and filled with rage.
“Oh God…”
The End
This is the end of the story, but not of this series. I’ve had so much fun diving back into this world that I plan on adding at least a few stories every year. Also look out for Try Not to Die: in 25 Perfect Days in 2015.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
(Warning – May Contain Spoilers)
Walt Jaworski, the father of Brian and Todd Jaworski, is a Controlling Force Agent just doing his job.
Brad Dreschner, is a Controller who retires to his estate in the Hills where he provides homes to needy teenagers.
Vincent Morrison served in Iraq with Walt Jaworski who later helped Vincent become an analyst for the Controllers. Vincent’s wife, Laura, is very close with Walt and his sons.
Gabriel Kingston, the son of Wayne Kingston, and the nephew of Enrique and Maria Salazar. Gabriel is a conflicted teenager who rebels against the system.
Frank Hollister, the cousin of Kaiden, a Disciple that convinces him to join their side.
Derrick Procter, the new boy in town that Gabriel befriends.
Steven Cooper, the son of veterinarian, Dr. Matt Cooper. Steven married Loralei Morrison and together they have a son, Matthew.
Loralei Morrison/Cooper lives at the Dreschner residence after her parents are killed. She later goes to work for Dr. Cooper, marries his son, Steven. Their baby, Matthew, came with a heavy price but makes an impact on the world.
Kaiden Hollister, a self-absorbed teenager who struggles with life in the Way Camp but eventually becomes a Disciple.
Matthew Cooper/Longley, adopted at five, visits his great uncle, becomes a Disciple to infiltrate the Way, is a crucial part of the Rebellion, and takes charge of a very large army.
Jordan Longley/Newell, lived in a Way camp until she was selected as a live-in for Disciple Matthew Longley. Matthew convinces her to join the Rebellion and they are married the day after they liberated the City of Lights.