Authors: Brian Darr
The
Moderator's jaw was down. He couldn't understand how The Guide had
learned so much, but he'd also mixed it with false statements. He'd
said so much that The Moderator didn't even know where to begin in
defending himself. This case would need some major PR later, but all
he could do was try to turn the conversation another way.
Iris
couldn’t help but smile and from off the camera, The Surfer
watched proudly as well. The Moderator was at a loss for words. His
neck twitched and he gathered his composure. “I don’t
even know what you are talking about,” he said simply. “There
was no downed chopper. I never spoke to Iris in my life. I’ve
always been a man of my word and I’ve proved that time and time
again, and I grieved plenty over my family. You don't know what I've
been through.”
“
I'm
not sure you're allowed to grieve over people that you yourself
needlessly killed,” The Guide said.
The
Guide understood why they were doing what they were doing. The
Moderator was on the defense, a position he wasn’t used to.
Even if people believed him, somehow the conversation was making him
look like a fool. He was backed into a corner.
“
That’s
okay,” Iris said, interjecting again. “We would say the
same thing if we were you. We don’t want innocent people to
die, so we are willing to retract our claims if it will save those
you intend to murder in the morning.”
“
Please…”
The Moderator said, growing frustrated. “I am punishing the
actions of The Troll. Please don’t twist my intentions into
such a negative light.”
“
I
apologize,” Iris said. “I didn’t mean to imply that
ending the lives of random innocent people was murder. You are
right.”
The
Moderator opened his mouth and closed it again, suddenly aware of
what they were doing and eager to end the broadcast. “I see we
are not taking this seriously,” he said.
“
A
day from now, we won’t be alive,” The Guide said. “What
would we find important enough to take seriously? If anything, Iris
and I were enjoying our conversation until this broadcast. You're
wasting the only time we have left on unimportant things.”
“
Then
let’s get down to business,” The Moderator said. “Because
I'm a man of compassion, I will allow you to choose the death you
would like.”
“
You
say you’re a man of your word?” The Guide said.
“
I
am.”
“
I
choose a murder suicide by your hands,” The Guide said, smiling
cleverly.
“
I
see,” The Moderator said, nodding thoughtfully as Iris tried
not to laugh. The Surfer was on his feet, aware they’d somehow
verbally beaten The Moderator at his own game. “Then I will
allow your captors to choose for you.” He turned to the camera
and addressed the audience with a smile. “Thank you for tuning
in,” he said. His voice shook unexpectedly before he ended the
broadcast.
“
He
didn’t recognize you,” The Guide said, quietly.
“
I
told you he wouldn’t.”
“
Are
you angry about that?”
“
Leaving
me to die along with millions of people is why I’m
angry,”
Iris said.
“
Right…”
“
It
went well,” Iris said.
“
It
was fun. I’ll give you that. But in the end, it won’t
change anything.”
“
Maybe
not, but I like to think that we just exposed a
piece
of him tonight, that all over the world, people are reminded that
he’s an evil man. When we die tomorrow, we can die knowing that
maybe we helped jump-start the revolution. It's not much, but we have
to assume that we've set something in motion.”
The
Guide nodded with a smile. He watched clouds cover the sky and began
to shake as he became suddenly aware of how cold he was.
“
The
Surfer is very proud of you,” Iris said.
“
He’ll
be disappointed at the outcome of all this, but it’s no one’s
fault. This was always uphill. I’m happy I got to fight the
good fight and not be killed hiding or running. We faced this. That’s
going to have to be good enough.”
Iris
watched the remainder of the sun disappear in the distance. The shape
of the bridge began to fade in the dark and the only sound they could
hear was the Mississippi in the distance. They’d gotten so
close to a waterway. It didn’t feel like it should be over yet.
“I wish I could see you right now,” Iris said.
“
Me
too,” The Guide said softly.
Chapter
4
The
Troll had about three days of catching up to do to make it to The
Guide and Iris. Luckily, The Acrobat and the powers that be at
Circular Prime had plenty of luxuries squirreled away to make life
easier for themselves.
The
Troll had seen each bounty hunter carry a hand-held computer for
tracking and communicating. Not long after The Troll and Acrobat set
out, The Acrobat retrieved his own device and displayed a map which
had small red dots all over the state, each one representing a hidden
mode of transportation. The Troll’s mind spun. He always knew
things like this existed, but to see proof…he wondered if he
could have actually gotten somewhere with Rainbow if only he had this
knowledge before. There were certainly a lot more modes of
transportation than he expected. A quick glance at The Acrobat's map
opened a lot of other questions up. There were all kinds of icons and
colored areas on the map. It seemed the geography of the land had a
few secrets.
There
was a bus and a compact car in the vicinity, but they walked an extra
five miles so they could grab a couple mopeds. The Acrobat insisted
they draw as little attention to themselves as possible, and wanted
to stay off the main roads. Another setback occurred when The Acrobat
realized The Troll had no idea how to work an automobile and spent
the next hour teaching him how to drive, and another two, stopping
constantly along the way as the moped kept tipping over. By the time
darkness started to fall, The Troll had a rhythm and was driving
along the prairie, the wind in his hair as he kicked up dirt behind.
With nothing but time to think and drive, he couldn’t help but
smile. He was free of the cell, still alive, and driving—which
he’d only heard about as a thing of the past.
The
Acrobat led the way and The Troll followed, daring himself to trust
that The Acrobat wasn’t just going to turn him in. Somewhere
along the way, there seemed to grow a mutual respect between them.
Maybe it was that he spared The Acrobat’s life, or that they
spent days in a cell together, that The Troll released him, or maybe
The Acrobat didn’t truly respect The Moderator—that it
was a long time coming for him to finally stand up.
But
if The Acrobat was anti-Psi…then anyone could be. The Troll
allowed himself to rethink Psi again but came up with nothing more
than his creed not to fight battles that you can’t win and to
try to get through life without falling victim of corruption, whether
it was The Moderator or in the time before him. The same problems and
fears always existed and most of the world tried to navigate around
those issues and turn a blind eye when their neighbor fell victim to
them. It was normal to want to live, be happy, to simply not fall
victim. People like The Surfer were a rarity. The unique individual
who didn’t fear death or give up when the odds were against
them. For The Surfer, it was about principle first and his own life
second. The Troll could never accept that creed. The alternative was
his own. But what had once seemed impossible had taken The Troll
further than he expected and forced him to do things he never thought
possible.
The
Acrobat’s moped skidded to a halt and a cloud of dust puffed up
in front of The Troll. He halted abruptly and the moped jumped a
little as it came to a stop. He turned to The Acrobat to see why they
were stopping and saw he was facing to the left.
“
We
have time,” The Acrobat said. “I want to check something
out.”
Half
an hour later, they pulled into a small town and The Acrobat led The
Troll on back roads until they were outside of the town where the
land was outstretched for miles of nothingness. It was one large
plain, except for a giant circus tent. The Troll stared at the
Acrobat as he slowly climbed off the moped, hypnotized by the tent.
He walked slowly toward it, without any concern as to whether or not
The Troll followed, but he did.
The
smell of burnt tires lingered in the air and as they got closer to
the tent, The Troll could taste it in his mouth. He followed The
Acrobat into what was once presumably a very meaningful place to him.
It didn’t look like much to The Troll’s eyes though. He
could only imagine the colors that were once displayed throughout the
arena and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. It was now covered
in dirt and dust and everything was tossed on its side or pushed into
a corner haphazardly.
The
Acrobat wandered slowly to the center, right where he remembered a
large net had been. He looked into the air, but there was no
tightrope. Only the ladders on each end which he’d once climbed
to perform were still there.
He
stood in one spot and turned, his arms outstretched as his mind
traveled in time to when the applause of the crowd fueled him. A ray
of moonlight shining through a tear in the fabric shined on his face
and he closed his eyes, as if pretending a spotlight was hitting him.
He
opened his eyes and a smile spread across his face. “It’s
been a long time since I’ve been to the circus.”
“
Was
it filled with dead people then too?” The Troll asked, nodding
toward the stands, where skeletons were draped over chairs.
“
This
must have been a place where people gathered,” The Acrobat
said, stepping toward the stands and scanning the crowd of bones.
“Unbelievable…”
The
Troll watched him with his eyes, relieved The Acrobat was distraught
by the sight. He needed him on his side, and the more exposed the
world was, the easier it would be.
“
What
if you help me save Iris and Guide?” The Troll asked.
The
Acrobat turned and shook his head. “You say that as if it’s
a possibility.”
“
Maybe
it is.”
“
Then
describe your plan to me Troll.”
The
Troll thought, but was stumped. “I don’t know. I don’t
have one, okay?”
“
What
good is a rescue mission without a plan?”
“
The
plan is to wing it.”
“
Sure,”
The Acrobat said, irritated. “Let’s just walk into town
where Coach and Mortician
are guarding them, with The Pilot
overhead
and The Moderator with his finger on a button, willing to kill
millions of people. Let’s wing it. Sounds like a great plan.”
“
The
Pilot will be there?” The Troll asked. “How do you know?”
“
He’s
part of our group. He scares the shit out of
everyone.
He’ll be there if he wants to be, and he’ll want to be.”
“
Did
he say that or did he just stare at you? You ever consider that he’s
just a sissy who figured out how to fool everyone into thinking he’s
not?”
“
If
you want to go hand to hand with him, be my guest. I’m helping
you turn yourself in. That’s it.”
“
But
you
want
to help me, don’t you…” The Troll said, as if he’d
figured it all out. “You don’t approve of anything
they‘re doing.”
“
Of
course I don’t!” The Acrobat said, suddenly passionate.
“Look around you. How many people have you seen along the way?
Everyone’s dead or hiding in groups, trying to find their next
meal. You know who was among them? My own parents. They’re
probably among the people in the stands.” The Acrobat threw up
a hand and scanned the crowd with it. “We expressed concern
before he did it. We said people would die. He told us it would be
seconds that Psi would shut down, but it was two whole minutes. When
that time expired, I wanted to call my parents and siblings. I wanted
to rush out and find my friends, but he forbid it. He said we
wouldn’t be safe out in the world right now. Later, he told me
my parents were still alive and well, but one night, about a year
later, I’m in his office and he steps out, so I decide to look
and see for myself and looked them up in the computer. Both my
parents—dead. They died the night Psi froze them. I don’t
know what they were doing or where they were—just that they
died. And he knew that too. I should have known he didn’t care.
His wife died, he thinks his kid died, and I swear to you Troll: He
didn’t shed a tear for them.”