Authors: H.E. Goodhue
-35-
The shouts of the Reds on the tops of the buses fell silent. A large metal box sat at the far end of the arena. Remmy had no idea what was inside, held back by the rusted sheet metal door, but it couldn’t be good.
“Hey
, food!” one of the Reds shouted, “Better grab a weapon quick!” All the other Reds began laughing hysterically, even Jessica.
The large Red
that Remmy had injured, Tam, stood atop the box, a shark-like smile craved into his face. His nose hooked to the left at a painful angle. Remmy took some small bit of solace knowing that he had done that.
Tam raised his hand and the crowd once again fell silent. “We’ll start out easy. See if this
boy really has the salt to become one of us.” He reached down and pulled up the sheet of metal closing the front of the box.
Three small children scuttled out of the box. The children couldn’t have been older than five or six years old. They were covered with mud and squinted as if
even the pale moonlight hurt their eyes. Remmy figured that the Reds must have captured the children for this purpose, to make someone do something so horrible to survive that they couldn’t help but become angry, and allow the infection in. Remmy felt a burst of disgust and anger in his gut. He wasn’t going to do it. He would refuse, even if it meant death. He fought to control the anger, and remember that the Reds wanted him to lose control.
“I’m not going to kill children!” Remmy screamed, looking at the Reds on the edges of the arena. “Just kill
me, because I won’t do it.”
“We won’t have to
kill you,” Tam grinned, his yellowed teeth catching the light and glistening wickedly.
The three children crouched on all fours, rubbing their eyes, but appeared to be acclimating to the arena and the light. The children hopped forward
, a strange look etched into their young faces.
Remmy scanned the perimeter of the arena and saw Jessica behind him. She was sitting next
to a lithe woman covered in red paint. The woman had the predatory smile of a jungle cat and the look of a conquering hero. Remmy figured that she must be Hatch, the leader of the Reds. A thin, curved sword hung from Hatch’s belt, dark stains speckled the leather braided around the handle, stains that could only be one thing.
Jessica motioned towards the length of wood that lay at Remmy’s feet, urging him to pick it up. Remmy shook his head. There was no way he was going to bludgeon three children to survive. Death was a better choice.
“No,” Remmy said firmly, staring at what had once been his friend. Hatch laughed and pointed, whispering something into Jessica’s ear that made her laugh as well.
Remmy though
t they were pointing at him, mocking his refusal to commit such atrocious acts, but as he glared at the two, he realized that they were pointing behind him, pointing towards the children. A chill crept across Remmy’s spine. He had heard people use the expression of feeling like someone had stepped over their grave, but had never felt it himself. He did now.
Forcing himself to turn back towards the box, towards Tam and the three children, Remmy saw that the children had broken into a loping sprint, still on all fours, but
were quickly closing the distance.
The lead child, a young boy, let out a high-pitched howl and that was when Remmy sa
w his teeth, both rows of them set in blood red gums like tiny bone daggers.
Remmy snatched the club from the ground with trembling hands, widened his stance and prepared to face the three Red children that bore down upon him like a pack of rabid wolves.
The Reds erupted into screams and laughs, as bets and predictions were made on the sides of the arena.
-36-
Captain Ortiz and his men stood shoulder to shoulder. A perfect line, all silent and expressionless, even their breathing was barely perceptible. Eldritch momentarily found himself wondering if he would actually have to give the men the command to breathe.
Moments before
, screams filled the room as Ortiz and his soldiers writhed on the floor, grasping at the invisible force that assailed their heads. Eldritch had dialed back the frequency’s strength from what he had used on his aide, ever so slightly, but kept it strong enough to ensure subservience.
What stood before Eldritch was a contingent of the ERC’s most highly trained soldiers, who were now conveniently one hundred percent loyal to him. Concerns regarding Ortiz’s own motivations and possible betrayal vanished with the clicks of a few keys.
Eldritch couldn’t help but marvel at the genius of his father’s invention, but sneered at his short sightedness. How had he failed so miserably at attaining power and bringing the masses in line? The answer had been right in front of him the entire time. Was it a lack of vision or even worse, fear that kept his father from realizing the true potential of the Em-Pak? Either was inexcusable as far as Eldritch was concerned.
“Sir?” Captain Ortiz
asked, shaking Eldritch from his thoughts.
“Yes? What is it
, Captain?” Eldritch grumbled. Maybe he should increase Ortiz’s signal. Thoughts of his aide’s concave skull quickly dispersed such inklings.
“What are your orders
, Mr. Eldritch, sir?” Ortiz asked, not from a sense of impatience, but rather from a newly seeded desire to serve without question.
“Ah, yes,” Eldritch grinned. His Em-Pak chirped loudly. “Plans? Hmm,
well, Captain, I think it’s time we became a bit more proactive in our approach.”
“Proactive
, sir?” Ortiz asked. “Would you like us to continue the counterfeit Emo terrorist attacks? Maybe increase their frequency?” Eldritch smiled ever so slightly. It was good that Ortiz was asking questions. That meant that he still retained some of his ability to think, and be an effective captain, but not enough to lead to any problems.
“No
, Captain,” Eldritch shook his head. “I don’t think there will be any need to continue those activities. The citizens have been made fully aware of the threat posed by the Reds and Emos. What little resistance to my leadership there was has been neutralized and my power is now absolute. What we need to do now is give the citizens something to do, something to aim them at if you will.”
“Such as, sir?” Ortiz questioned.
“Such as the eradication of all threats,” Eldritch explained. “The citizens have enjoyed safety and that has made them soft. It’s time they began to give back to those who have protected them. I think it’s time for a draft.”
“A draft, sir?” Ortiz responded. “I beg your pardon
, Mr. Eldritch, but at this time, there are more than sufficient ranks within the ERC troops. Why institute a draft, sir?”
Eldritch thought for a moment, pretending that he had to consider
his plan, even though there was really no need to. He could tell Ortiz and his men that his plan was to dress in bunny costumes and throw marshmallows at schoolchildren and compliance would be assured. Perhaps this was simply a habit left from a time where emotions and motives mattered.
“The citizens need to feel that they play a role,” Eldritch finally answered. “They need to feel that they have a hand in shaping their future.
More importantly, they need to feel that they have something to lose. I need to ensure that I have the absolute support of the next generation, so what better way to do so than to bolster our ranks and wage a war against the Emos and Reds? It’s due time that we took the fight outside our city walls, and that we take it to them.”
“Understood
, sir,” Ortiz nodded. “Should I ready the ERC recruitment centers to assist in your efforts, sir? Perhaps have them draw up a list of the most eligible candidates?”
“That won’t be necessary
, Captain,” Eldritch answered. “I have already compiled a list of the candidates I would like from powerful families.”
“Powerful families, sir?” Ortiz asked. “With all due respect
, Mr. Eldritch, the lower classes have greater numbers and more suitable dispositions, sir. Would it not make more sense to draw from there?”
“
Eventually, Captain, yes it will,” Eldritch agreed. “But what we’re looking for now is support, and what better way to ensure that those who matter fall in line than to win over their children? By enlisting the privileged children, we all but ensure the support of their families.”
“But
, sir, why bother?” Ortiz asked.
“What do you mean
, Captain?” Eldritch snapped.
“Couldn’t you just activate their Em-Paks in a similar fashion to ours, sir?” Ortiz asked. Eldritch didn’t like that the Captain was aware of what had been done to him and his men, but figured that it really didn’t matter what he knew so long as he was subservient.
“Yes,” Eldritch answered. “I guess I could, but where’s the challenge in that, Captain? That simply wouldn’t be fun.”
-37
-
Samuel led the way through the woods, using his small wrist computer to guide them towards the Red camp.
“Does anyone else think it’s stupid that we’re actually walking towards the Reds?” Xander complained from the rear of the line.
“Do you honestly think that we care about what you think?” Cora growled over her shoulder.
“Xander,” Samuel said calmly, “there’s many things about life that make a lot more sense once your Em-Pak is removed.”
“
Oh, I bet,” Xander laughed sarcastically. “Because once you don’t have an Em-Pak your life is considerably shorter.”
“And yet here I am,” Samuel shrugged, unfazed by his grandson’s nastiness.
“About that,” Xander began. “How come you never tried to come back to the cities? Sure, you can claim that the ERC would kill you, but if citizens saw you, they would side with you. You’re like a god to most citizens.”
“Perhaps,” Samuel mused
, “but it was too risky. The citizens have become reliant upon Em-Paks and the ERC. Anything threatening that would be destroyed, even me. Just because they bow to my picture does not mean that they would still love the man.”
“Um, okay,” Xander grunted and fell silent.
“Samuel,” Cora asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. “I hate to say this, but Xander does have a point. How come you never tried to reach us? We’re your family.”
“I did,” Samuel said. A cloud of sadness passed
over his eyes. “I really did try to find a way, but the ERC monitors everything. All my attempts were dead ends. It was frustrating, but all I could do was keep tabs on you through the school computers. Contacting you would have exposed me to the ERC and possibly put you and Xander at risk.”
“What about our father?” Cora asked. “Did they tell him you were alive?”
“No,” Samuel shook his head. “My son believes that I am dead, but I’m not sure that knowledge of my continued existence would have made much of a difference to him. Sam was always such a driven boy, so focused. Now I see that those characteristics were his undoing. I once admired my boy for being able to ignore those things that didn’t seem to matter, and focus completely on what he wanted, but now I see how that and his Em-Pak made him weak.”
“Weak?” Xander snapped. “I can’t believe that you would actually call him weak. Look at
you, old man. You’re nothing, an outlaw. A ghost at best. Who are you to judge my father? My father is a great man.”
“But is he a great father?” Samuel retorted.
“His greatness is judged by his deeds, not his children,” Xander argued. “Who cares about what kind of father he is.”
“He should have,” Cora added.
“Oh, shut up,” Xander waved dismissively. “You are completely insufferable since your Em-Pak was removed.”
“She’s right
, Xander,” Samuel said, stopping on the trail. “Every man should be judged by his children. All of a man’s accomplishments pale compared to how he raises his children. Being a parent is the most important thing a person can ever undertake. I only wish I had done better.”
Xander made a rude noise. “Please. The two of you are ridiculous. How can you not see the importance in what our father did? He was insuring the future, making sure that we had a future.”
“No,” Cora answered. “He was making sure that
I
had a future, Xander. I was the one that father was grooming to enter politics to ultimately head the ERC. When did he ever do anything for your future? You were a Plan-B at best.”
“Shut up
, Cora!” Xander’s voice lost its ferocity as his Em-Pak pinged loudly, erasing his anger. “Father had plans for me. He would have been able to focus on them more if you weren’t such a problem, such a disappointment.”
“I’d gladly disappoint him and his plans,” Cora smiled. “I want nothing to do with his plans for my life. Father was,
and still is, a monster.”
Xander’s hands shot forward and shoved his sister. Cora stumbled a few steps forward, but Samuel caught her and steadied her.
“Enough,” Samuel said calmly, but firmly.
“Oh, no it’s not,” Cora grinned, a look of anger flaring in her eyes. “This has been coming for a long time. I’m sick of Xander’s tantrums. It’s time for baby to have
a time out
.” Cora lunged forward, striking Xander in the face. He tumbled to the ground in a cloud of red dust.
Xander coughed, the dust filling his lungs.
“Get up,” Cora growled. “Get up right now!”
Xander coughed a few more times, playing up the impact of the dust while grabbing a handful of it from the path. He sprang to his feet, throwing the dirt into Cora’s eyes before he dove forward, driving his head into her gut.
Cora grunted loudly and fell to the ground where Xander pinned her shoulders beneath his knees. Cora’s eyes were wild and angry. Xander’s were empty and cold.
“I said enough!” Samuel shouted as he pulled the two siblings apart.
Cora snarled and lunged at Xander, but Samuel had her firmly by the collar of her jacket. Xander stood rail straight, a look of equal parts disdain and indifference etched into his dirty face.
Cora opened her mouth to shout something unkind,
and continue the fight, because it had felt good, felt justified, but the sound of leaves rustling under foot and the dry snap of a branch silenced her. All three stood still listening to the sounds of the forest.
A Red sprang from the
nearby bushes. It was a boy, not much older than Cora was, but his face was twisted into a mask of rage and feral hunger. Row upon row of pointed teeth gnashed together as the boy loped forward. He stood slightly stooped, a rusted hatchet held in his right hand, his left empty, but tipped in wickedly sharp nails.
“Samuel?” Cora whispered.
“Get behind me,” Samuel said through his teeth. He released Cora and Xander, who did as their grandfather commanded. A look of deep sadness was in Samuel’s eyes.
Cora was worried. Worried about the Red and if there were more, but more concerned about how her elderly grandfather was going to handle the Red. There was no way Samuel could win against the boy in a fight. Samuel was old and walked with a slight limp. The Red was young; his body was lean and muscled, trembling with the promise of violence.
The Red leapt forward, hatchet raised high overhead, a feral scream rumbling from his young throat. Samuel barely moved, just shifting his weight and bringing his right arm forward. He held his arm straight, his hand flexed and fingers splayed and pointing upward. A loud hiss filled the air as a small cloud burst from Samuel’s jacket sleeve. The Red howled in pain. He stopped midair, as if colliding with some unseen wall and collapsed to the ground in a tangled heap.
Samuel slowly walked forward and checked the Red. He wasn’t moving. The boy was dead.
“Come on,” Samuel said, a look of remorse upon his face. “We need to get moving before more Reds show up. The noise will draw more.”
“What did you do?” Cora gasped as she stepped forward to look at the Red. Countless tiny holes riddled his body and face like ruby freckles, each trailing its own thin, crooked line of blood.
Samuel slid back the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a small cylindrical container. Four black nylon straps held it in place on his wrist and forearm. A small lever was on the front of the canister, just within the reach of Samuel’s thumb, but far enough back that no one would see it within his sleeve. “A simple device, really nothing more than small metal BB’s packed together in front of a small container of compressed gas. When I pull the lever, it punctures the air canister and launches the BB’s. Very similar to a shotgun, but silent,” Samuel said as he turned his wrist over, exposing the weapon. He ejected the empty air canister, loaded another and refilled the BB’s. “I take no pleasure in having invented it and even less in having to use it, but I will do whatever is required to keep you children safe and save your friend.” Two more of the weapons were in Samuel’s bag, but he prolonged giving them to his grandchildren, worrying about arming them and feeling guilty for having to do so.
“Why feel sorry for this…this
thing
?” Xander asked as he toed the body of the Red. “It was going to kill us and you killed it first. There’s no shame in that.”
“He was a boy, Xander,” Cora replied. “Not much older than you or me. It could have been you or me!”
“I could have been
you
. I have an Em-Pak, so it’s never going to be me,” Xander shrugged as he kicked some dust onto the Red’s body. “It was a Red, that’s all. Samuel simply put down a rabid animal. There’s no reason to feel remorseful over that.”
“
I’m sad because he was a child,” Samuel replied, his words strained and raw. “And if the Em-Paks had been used properly, he probably would still be alive. His death, countless deaths are on my hands.”
“But it’s the ERC’s
fault, Samuel,” Cora protested, but he waved his hand and continued down the path. It was clear that Samuel had already convicted himself of countless murders.
Cora watched the weight of Samuel’s words press down upon him. Most
days, he seemed so at peace, but now she could see the internal battle that was silently plaguing her grandfather, slowly killing him. Cora suddenly found herself worrying that maybe Samuel had accompanied them for reasons beyond the rescue of Remmy.
“Here,” Samuel offered, looking even sadder, if that were possible. He held out two of the guns. One for Xander. One for Cora. “And this is perhaps the part I enjoy the least, but you need to be safe. I am just saddened by the fact that my
grandchildren have to exist in a world where weapons are required to keep them safe, a world that I helped create.”