"Oh, honey, relax. I'm sure by later today or tomorrow, your brother will be old news."
❖❖❖
Claire Adams scans Minister Bannon's daily briefs while she sits in the break room of the Head Minister's mansion. When her espresso is ready, she downs the shot in one swallow. Then she takes a deep breath, gets up, and walks past the stoic Secret Service personnel to the Head Minister's briefing room. She knocks on the door and waits until it unlocks.
"Good morning, Mr. Head Minister," Claire says brightly as she steps into the room. There's not a perkiness clause in her contract, not officially, but there might as well be. HM Bannon hates it when she's not upbeat, and makes his displeasure known in spiteful little ways.
Bannon looks up. "Hello, Claire," he says as he directs her to have a seat. "I hear they're calling the incident in Port Jarvis an alien terrorist attack?"
"Yes sir! We've struck gold, Mr. Head Minister," Claire says with excitement. "Our base constituency is up in arms. Your Tweet this morning is all the news is talking about."
"Good. And the opposition?" Bannon asks as he stands and looks out the window, hands on his hips as he surveys his world. And Claire has no doubt that he does consider it his, as much as any king might see the kingdom as his, rather than his and his people's. Bannon's senses of loyalty and responsibility go no farther than his skin, but he does allow others to clutch his coattails for the ride — as long as they're useful.
"Still standing firm. Even with the incident, the polls have your approval rating at 40%, only a slight increase from last month."
Bannon starts pacing from one side of the room to the other, his dark hair already awry. It has a mind of its own and, though it adds to his boyish charm for it to be occasionally disheveled, neither of them wants him pegged as another British aristocrat. She'll have to call in the tonsorial staff after this meeting. "Why can't they see that I'm trying to get our world back? These aliens have exploited us nearly to the point of extermination. With only a fraction of the world still habitable, there's no room for them and us."
"Mr. Head Minister, your message is working," Claire says firmly. "It's just going to take some time. Even if we're outnumbered, our base is more committed, more loyal, and more organized than the opposition. Plus, with the downfall of the Euperians, the Ucte are more interested in our resources than in trying to police us as a people."
Bannon sits back down at his desk. "Well, we can't just let them take everything we have. They've already mined out half the asteroid and Kuiper belts. What's next? Halley's Comet? Dismantling Saturn?" His attention shifts in an instant. "Of course, I do have to keep giving our constituents the tools and resources to defend themselves and our movement," he says with a smirk. "It's time our people get their rights to bear arms again."
"Mr. Head Minister," Claire says, choosing her words carefully, "I think that's a brilliant idea, but I do think this is an act that the Ucte will ferociously object to."
"I don't care. We have to act now, while they're still occupied with the aftermath of their war. I want to be remembered as the man who won Earth back."
❖❖❖
Dr. Buchanan strides into the room to check on his patient. "Sorry, Jim — didn't mean to wake you up," he says to Zack's father, who's stirring in the green vinyl armchair next to the bed.
"It's fine. How's my son doing?"
"He's doing fine, Jim, better than expected," Buchanan replies heartily as he studies the monitors. "We expect him to come out of his coma soon."
"How soon?"
"That we can't tell you. Could be today, could be in a couple of days. But this is a healing coma, and he's improving rapidly. You know how hardy your kids are."
Jim looks at his boy. He has a hard time believing that Zack could ever get hurt this badly. When he was younger, he never really got injured, not even when he fell out of trees (a distressingly frequent occurrence), and he was never sick. That stymied his ability to fake illness so he could get the occasional day off from school, because his parents knew better.
"Did I ever tell you about the time we found out Zack was special?" Jim asks. "He was nine years old. We were out in the woods, and I was showing him how to make a campfire. He caught on quickly and had the fire going in minutes. He put a marshmallow on a stick and started heating it up. I went back to the tent to get Isabella and Olivia, and as we were coming back, Isabella starts screaming his name. Half of his right arm was on fire. We were expecting the worst, but there wasn't a single mark on him. His sleeve burned off, but he was completely fine."
Jim paused, trying to hold back his tears. "I don't know what's happening. Usually his injuries heal in seconds. A fire has never hurt him before."
Dr. Buchanan puts his hand on Jim's shoulder, knowing it wasn't the fire that had put Zack in this coma, but unwilling to tell Jim that. "He's going to be fine, buddy, I promise. He's taken worse damage on our training days and healed perfectly."
"True enough," Jim says, blinking back his tears.
Chapter 5
From his perch on the branch of a pine tree, Zack looks out over the forest, searching for any movement that might give away his target's position. After a couple of minutes, he finally spots his target. He communicates with Olivia, who appears in ghost silhouette next to him.
This is getting too easy, she says as she peers at their target in the distance.
Don't get too cocky. You know The Cannon always has a trick or two up his sleeve.
I think old age is catching up with him. The last two training exercises were too easy too, she repeats.
Seriously, don't overestimate him, Zack says, as he starts focusing and gathering energy from within. He only takes a trickle from the environment; too much would cause a cold spot his target might detect, since it's a warm spring. I want to keep our winning streak going. You still have eyes on Dad, right?
Yes, looking at him as we speak, Olivia says. Her ghostly silhouette vanishes.
Zack jumps down from the tree and dashes toward his target.
After their parents found out they had powers, Jim confided in the family physician, Dr. Buchanan, trusting in his ability to help Zack and Olivia learn how to control and use their unique abilities. Zack and Olivia have spent every summer of their childhood since training in Buchanan's complex outside of Port Jervis. Today, on Zack's fifteenth birthday, they celebrate by training on one of his favorite activities — Earthling vs. Azhalian.
Zack finds Buchanan leaning against a tree trunk, drinking from a canteen. The doctor is wearing his own invention, a magnetic headband that prevents Zack from reading his mind. Works way better than a tinfoil hat.
Buchanan looks up, drops the canteen, and sprints in the opposite direction. Zack smirks; no Earthling, not even one wearing the exoskeleton armor Buchanan is wearing, can outrun him. Zack easily covers the distance, and as he extends his hand to grab the doctor's shoulder, Buchanan spins around and smashes his gloved hand into Zack's chest, flinging him backward into a white pine, cracking the trunk. Buchanan draws the laser shotgun from the holster on his back, and sends a stun blast toward Zack that shatters the pine that had backstopped him, putting it out of its misery. Eyes narrowed, Zack had planted his left hand in the ground and released a quick pulse of energy that pushed him to the right just in time to avoid the shot. He leaps to his feet and starts gathering more energy, pulling from the surroundings this time, when a falling net enwraps his body.
Well, that's new. Zack heats up his hand to melt the cords until he breaks free. He stands and looks in all directions, but the doctor is nowhere to be found.
Sis, they're using new weapons. I lost The Cannon!
Got it. Olivia breaks the communication and strikes. She dashes out from her hide and heads directly toward her target, her Dad, extending a force field that freezes him in place. "Got you!" she shouts. A second later, she realizes she's been tricked — it's a hologram. Before she can react, she's sprung upward in a net. She frantically tries to get
free, but she's wrapped up too tightly. Telepathically, she cries for help from her brother.
Calm down, just heat up the ropes, Zack replies. You'll melt right through.
Olivia closes her eyes and relaxes. She follows her brother's instructions, and in seconds the cords break and she falls to the ground. Zack, I'm out. Are you headed to the base?
No, but you are, Zack responds as he sprints through the forest. If they both reach the base, we lose. And trust me, we're not losing.
❖❖❖
"John, I'm minutes away from the base," Jim says through the walkie-talkie. "Is everything set? Over."
"It's ready. Zack should be here any minute now. I'll let you know when he's captured. Over."
Jim smiles. For the past two years, they've been unable to defeat his kids in any of Buchanan's training exercises; but their losing streak will end today. They went to great lengths to acquire top-grade, milspec exoskeletons on the dark market — full-armor suits that boost strength, endurance, and speed, comparable to what the UN Special Task Force uses to hunt rogue Azhalians.
Jim hears the crunch of leaves nearby. He powers up his shotgun and looks around as Zack drops from the tree and lands a couple of feet in front of him. "You're not supposed to be here!" Jim says, surprised.
"Not going to lie, Dad. I'm impressed you made this interesting again, but it's over."
Jim aims his shotgun and fires a stun blast. Zack dodges the blast by turning sideways and dashes toward his father. He makes a hard stop when he sees that Jim is wearing the same type of robotic glove as Buchanan. Zack shoots an energy pulse directly at the glove, and Jim runs for cover. He hides behind an oak tree and presses the distress signal on his watch. He looks around the oak tree, but he can't see Zack. He creeps backward, looking left, right, and above.
Zack sprints out from a brush-lined gully toward his father. Jim turns and aims his gun, but Zack grabs it before he can pull the trigger and tackles his father to the ground. Zack pins his father's arm and squeezes the robotic glove until it cracks and breaks into pieces. "Oops! Broke your new toy! Sorry, not sorry."
Jim stops struggling and lays his head against the ground. There's no way he can overpower his son, but suddenly he sees Zack's attention shift. "You're too late, Cannon!" Zack shouts. "It's over."
Three silver balls land a few feet away from him. Once they stop rolling, smoke pours from tiny holes in their casings. The smoke is so thick that Zack has a hard time seeing. A mechanical spider drone comes flying through the smoke and attaches itself to Zack's right arm with a painful clawed grasp. Zack tries to pull free, which only deepens the pain. Jim starts wriggling out from underneath his son.
Zack blindly shoots energy into the smoke as he wrestles his Dad with one arm and the drone with the other. He rips off his father's headband as Jim slips loose and runs into the underbrush. "John, I'm free!" Jim shouts.
Buchanan emerges from the brush, and the two men sprint toward the base. Buchanan stops abruptly and falls onto his back. "What happened? Are you okay?" Jim asks, extending his hand to help Buchanan up.
"I hit an invisible wall," Buchanan grunts. "It's Olivia! Move!"
Jim looks around for his daughter as he pulls the Doctor to his feet. They're immediately knocked back down to the ground by a sudden force. They look up to see Zack and Olivia standing above them, grinning.
"Game over, old guys!" Olivia shouts.
❖❖❖
Dr. Buchanan hands Jim a glass of whiskey, neat. Jim, who's sitting in an armchair, reaches out slowly to avoid a flare-up of pain from his ribs, and takes the drink. "Thank you," he says as he eases back into the chair.
"I think we can officially say we will never defeat your kids again," Buchanan says wryly. "Zack has become a true chess player, always anticipating moves and adapting rapidly to unforeseen circumstances."
"All the credit goes to you, old friend. Cheers!" Jim says, lifting his glass.
Buchanan takes a sip of his whiskey and sighs heavily. "How are you and Isabella handling the stress of the upcoming election? All signs point to the Ucte getting seats in the UN Assembly for the first time."
"It's been stressful. I don't know what we'll do. I wish we were in my grandfather's times, when we the people had a vote."
"Have the kids said anything?" Buchanan asks.
"They're kids. They're just worried about high school. Plus, it's not like we've been completely honest with them."
Buchanan puts down his drink on the coffee table between them. "Once the Ucte get seats in the Assembly, it'll just be a matter of time before they get the majority. Once that happens, we must tell your children the truth."
"I know, but then what? It won't change the fact of who they are, and there's nowhere we can hide them."
"Don't be too sure. You know we can't believe everything the government tells us. There are rumors that parts of the West are still habitable, out toward Nevada and beyond."
"My family and I were part of the last great migration to the East," Jim says skeptically. "We left California because the land had completely dried up and earthquakes and fires had become daily occurrences. Believe me, the West is uninhabitable. I witnessed it with my own eyes."
"I'm just saying it's something we should investigate," Buchanan says quietly. "It's been decades since the last great migration. Many of my unregistered Euperian patients talk about a secret underground route to the West, where small communities have been created by refugees of all kinds, following the laws this country had before the Great War."
"You mean before the human race tried to commit suicide. And failed even at that."
Buchanan remains silent as he moves to top up their drinks.
❖❖❖
Fourteen-year-old Jim Parker searches through the shattered kitchen cabinets, looking for food. Nothing. He takes a small towel from his back pocket and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He then picks his way through the debris of the house, looking for anything of value. He comes to the partially collapsed stairs and decides it's not worth the risk. He's seen a person die that way.
"Find anything?" Janet Parker shouts.
Jim opens the front door and rejoins his mother on the sidewalk. "It's been stripped bare," he says, wiping more sweat from his forehead. "Hot as hell in there."
"We found some canned tuna," Janet says. They pass a group across the street who are standing in a circle and shouting at each other. "Guess they came up empty," she remarks.
The sun is setting when they arrive at camp. They empty their bags and turn in their harvest at registration, receiving their food and water rations for the next day. Jim and his mom return to their tent, when Janet walks over to her husband, Oliver, and kisses him hello. "Any trouble on your patrol today?" she asks.
"Nope. It was too hot for anyone to cause trouble." Oliver nods at his son. "How are we looking for the crossing?"
"It's going to be difficult, but we'll make it," says Janet. "Let's finish packing; tomorrow's going to be a long day."
After his parents finish packing and lie down on their cots, Jim lifts his head and checks to see whether they're asleep. He takes his pillow and grabs a book from inside the pillowcase. He quietly gets up, puts on his shoes, and exits the tent. He pauses, and closes his eyes to feel the breeze. He walks quickly to the other side of the camp and sees his friend Mark sitting on top of a burned-out car.
"I thought you weren't coming tonight," Mark says.
"Sorry. We were packing."
"You're actually going? After what happened to the last caravan, my parents decided to wait a bit longer."
"Yeah, Dad thinks it's now or never," Jim says, sitting next to Mark. He takes an atlas from his pocket and traces the route from Kansas to Illinois with his finger.
"Do you miss San Francisco?" Mark asks.
"I sure miss the weather," Jim replies, wiping his face with his shirt. "Until the wildfires started. And the earthquakes."
"Well, I hope you make it to the border
." Mark lies back on the hood and sighs.
"We'll make it. And my parents say there'll be ice cream!"
"What about the aliens? I'd want to meet them."
Jim lies down next to his friend and looks up at the stars. "Eh. My dad said they look just like us. It'll be a lot more exciting to eat something that doesn't come out of a can." Both boys chuckle.
The next morning, the Parkers are awakened by a very loud horn. They pack their tent and head to the dining area. They hand over their food vouchers at the gate and stand in line to get their last cooked meal before the march — refried beans studded with "ham."
A nearby intercom crackles to life. "Attention, everyone. The march to the east will begin in ten minutes."
The Parkers join the caravan and head toward a new beginning.
Chapter 6
Zack wakes up feeling awful, bathed in sweat, with a throbbing headache and excruciating pain in his shoulder blades and back. What's going on? He asks himself. What happened to my recuperative powers? How did I get out of the fire? Where are my parents?
Is Amy okay?
Dr. Buchanan walks into the room. "About time you woke up, kid. How are you feeling?" he asks Zack.
"I've been better," Zack admits. "Is Amy okay?"
"She was completely unharmed." Buchanan sits in a chair next to Zack's bed. "Do you remember anything?"
"No, nothing at all. How long have I been here?"
"Three days. I had to put you into a medically induced coma. I couldn't risk having you heal up immediately. That would have made everyone suspicious. But it seems we're out of danger. Nothing that exposes you or your sister was captured on video, and your friend Amy told a credible story that doesn't compromise you or your sister in any way. Let me tell you what she said, so your recollections can coincide with hers." Dr. Buchanan recounts Amy's version while Zack listens attentively, trying to memorize every detail.
"Is that how you remember it?" Buchanan asks.
The Dead Prince Page 3
