Apocalypse's Prelude

by Carl Damen

  Lanlin shrugged. "Guess I can kill one more bystander, though to tell you the truth, I'd really rather not." With his eyes still on Edarus, he pointed off towards one wall. "And don't think I don't know about you over by the door. It's useless; I've got 'em shut."

  The room fell into something approaching silence. The injured moaned, the terrified whimpered, but for a moment everything else fell away as the tension between Latterndale and Lanlin mounted. A few yards away, the president floated haplessly above the bloody floor.

  The near-silence ended in a cacophony of pure silence, and Edarus found himself sprawled on the floor, though whether he had been knocked down by the wind that filled the room or by the nausea that was twisting his guts, he did not know.

  He closed his eyes, tried to stop the room from spinning. He pushed up, his hands slipping in blood, and looked over the tops of tables to see a squad of E.H.U.D.s rushing through the remains of the door that Mistaren had cleared. The armored figures slid out of focus, and then Edarus was back on the floor, his vision blocked by the body of an agent. He followed the lines of the body up to the mangled face, realized this was someone he had known for a few years now, someone he had worked with. The nausea flared, and Edarus vomited.

  He crawled away from the body, found himself out in the killing field, where he had a clear view of the podium.

  The E.H.U.D.s had formed up in a ring around Lanlin, each of them with a thin metal cylinder strapped to their chests. The cylinders vibrated as they pulsed with a frequency that was, for the moment, disorienting Lanlin enough that his powers couldn't manifest.

  And the cylinders—the scramblers—were evidently doing their job. Lanlin was at the center of the ring, half-crouched, clawing at his ears. His mouth moved, yelled something, but Edarus couldn't hear anything, or if he could, he wasn't functioning well enough to understand the words.

  One of the E.H.U.D.s approached Lanlin, handcuffs outstretched.

  Something finally clicked through Edarus's mind: they wanted to take Lanlin alive. They couldn't do that; he would tell everything if he were alive... Another thought followed, giving Edarus some peace of mind. Mistaren was orchestrating all of this, to some degree. He was at the very least controlling what memories the Defenders were allowed to keep from their time in captivity. No matter how much Lanlin told, Edarus was safe from recrimination. Besides, Lanlin had gone after Isaac, not Edarus... not Loblen Mistaren...

  A moment later any lasting doubts disappeared. Lanlin jumped up, put his weight behind his elbow and tried to force the approaching E.H.U.D. to the ground. All the attack succeeded in doing was to rock the E.H.U.D. back on his heels, but it was enough for Lanlin to break away. He made it maybe ten feet before one of the E.H.U.D.s brought a rifle up and—

  Edarus had seen enough. He closed his eyes and curled into a ball. He shuddered as the rifle cracked, then tried to block out the world.

  Following Lanlin's abrupt death, Edarus found himself being carried outside by rescue workers operating E.H.U.D. suits. The part of him that wasn't locked down with shock was privately proud that he had decided to license the suit for rescue purposes, but that part quickly fell silent as he rose over the tables and saw the entirety of the night's carnage.

  The floor was deeply rutted in places, with blood pooling and congealing in the depressions. All around were bodies, some moving... most not. He saw the president in the arms of another E.H.U.D., surrounded by agents, being hustled through the shattered main door to parts unknown.

  Edarus's shock slipped away long enough for him to remember Amanda, to wonder where she was. He desperately wanted to find her, but he was barely able to move on his own.

  As he was carried through the door he spotted Mistaren overseeing the E.H.U.D.s as they retrieved Lanlin's body and removed the incriminating little tubes of the scramblers.

  As if he could sense Edarus's gaze on him, Mistaren looked up and smiled briefly.

  Edarus passed out then. He woke up in the tent, surrounded once more by screams and whimpers, but also by men and women in mint-green jumpsuits. One of them approached him and asked him his name.

  Edarus identified himself, the medic entered the information into his palm-top, and then began to poke at Edarus's forehead.

  Edarus batted the hand away. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "I've got to stop the bleeding, sir."

  "What bleeding?" Edarus reached up and winced as he touched the deep gash on his forehead. He didn't remember receiving it, but he knew that the entirety of the night's events would take some time to process.

  "Where's my wife?"

  "I wouldn't know, sir. Please keep still."

  The medic jabbed some kind of antiseptic gel into the gash on Edarus's forehead. It burned, and Edarus pulled away, hissing. "Shit! Will you stop that? I'm fine!"

  "I'm sorry, sir," the medic said, still jabbing at the gash, not taking his eyes from his work, "but if these aren't seen to they can easily become infected."

  Edarus still tried to step away, but the medic's grip on his shoulder was too tight. "Don't you have someone worse off you can help?"

  "No, sir, there're plenty of us for everyone." He let go of Edarus's shoulder and gripped his forehead, doing his best to hold the edges of the gash together. He applied a thick gel to the wound with his other hand, then pressed a bandage over the wound. "And that should do it. Just try to keep the area dry, and don't remove the gel for at least four—hey!" The medic flailed his arms and tried to keep his balance as Edarus pushed past him and out of the little tent they occupied.

  Outside the tent was a disaster. Nearly a hundred booths covered the White House lawn, each one swarming with medical staff, injured party guests, and soldiers. So many soldiers. It had been like this for almost an hour now.

  He set out in search of Amanda, picking a direction at random and following it.

  He passed near the White House's outer fence and noticed, far down the street, a veritable wall of humanity. Tourists, reporters, the rabble, kept at bay by a thin line of police in riot gear; thank God for that.

  Edarus continued searching, growing ever more concerned as he reached the last of the tents, becoming afraid that Amanda may be among the white-shrouded figures that continued to be brought out of the tents at a steady pace.

  The tent flap pushed aside as a medic left the tent and—there! A quick flash of a red dress. Edarus pushed inside and rushed to Amanda. "Oh my God, I thought you were dead."

  She looked up at him from the cot she sat on, then returned to her previous pose.

  "Hello? You in there?"

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Than…"

  Edarus sighed in relief; she seemed to be okay. "He's at home, he's fine—you know what, that's not important. You're fine right?"

  "Than… I want Than."

  A medic approached them. "Sir? Do you know this woman?"

  "Yes, she's my wife. Why?"

  "I haven't gotten any responses from her."

  Edarus opened his mouth to speak but the medic cut him off.

  "There's nothing wrong with her, as far as I can tell. She's just in shock."

  Edarus crouched down next to Amanda. "Amanda? Honey? Are you okay?

  "Than…"

  He gripped her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes. "He's fine, he's at home safe—"

  "Than!" Amanda screamed, shaking her hands.

  Edarus released her shoulders and grabbed her hands. "Shh, no, don't worry, it's okay—"

  "Than!" she screamed again, then began to sob.

  "Okay, okay, we're going home now, we'll go get Than."

  Amanda took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded.

  "Okay, good?" Edarus wrapped his arm around her and helped her stand. She continued nodding as they walked out of the tent.

  The medic followed them. "I'd suggest getting her in to see a doctor; tonight, if possible, but definitely tomorrow."

  "Okay, yeah. Hey, do you know if the valet s
ervice is still running?"

  "No idea."

  "Hmm."

  "Than…" Amanda interjected.

  They walked together for a few minutes, going slowly, heading in a roundabout manner towards the valet pickup. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Edarus felt the shock really kicking in, unpleasant memories assaulting him in a steady rush. Just the thought of standing up to Lanlin as he had done sent him into a shivering fit. He could see himself spread on the floor; his head burst open, Amanda off somewhere else, afraid, dying—

  He squeezed her hand, and was reassured when she squeezed in return.

  They were now within sight of the abandoned valet station, and Edarus was wondering just how far away their cars where when he heard the opening bars of "Hail to the Chief" emanating from his pocket. He waited it out, letting the music fall silent. It started again, and Edarus felt a pang of guilt. Something unprecedented had happened—no, other pictures flashed across his memory—something almost unprecedented had happened, and Isaac would need advice on what to do next.

  As he moved to reach into his jacket pocket, he again felt a squeeze from Amanda, reminding him that he had already done his duty for the president tonight, had duties at home. How long until Than found out about the night's events?

  The music continued.

  He could still consult from home...

  Ignoring the reproachful gaze from Amanda's dead eyes, he pulled out his mobile and clicked it open. "Hello?"

  "Edarus?" Not the president; the chief of staff. "Good. We, uh… we weren't sure you were alive."

  There was no good answer to that.

  "Well… glad you're still alive."

  "Me too." Neither man spoke for several long moments. Edarus cleared his throat. "Look, unless this is important, I've got to get Amanda home and—"

  "No, no, no." There was a hint of hysteria in the Chief's voice. "The whole cabinet's needed. Isaac wants this thing contained and we have to figure this out and—"

  "I can't." Edarus looked down at Amanda.

  "Than…" Amanda muttered.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  "Edarus. This is important. This is the whole fucking country here." Yes, there was definitely hysteria there.

  But there was also truth. The needs of an entire country did seem to be more important than the needs of his family. And if the country couldn't be sorted out, if society was collapsing around his ears, what good could he do for his family.

  A quiet voice reminded him that he was involved in collapsing that society...

  "I need someone to get Amanda home. We're at the valet post now."

  "I'll send someone."

  "Good."

  Before Edarus could even end the call, Amanda had released his hand and taken a step away.

  "Mandy, please...

  "Don't you fucking leave me, you fucking bastard," she hissed, her eyes wide and her shoulders quivering. "Don't you dare leave us now..."

  "Amanda, I have to go now. I know it's hard but—"

  "Fuck you."

  Edarus stared at her, completely unsure of what to do next.

  Their stare-down was interrupted by the clatter of E.H.U.D. suits moving near them. "Mr. Secretary?" a modulated voice asked.

  Edarus turned to see two armored soldiers standing behind him. "I need to get a car, or a cab or something to get her home-"

  "No!" Amanda yelled, the word made almost incomprehensible in her anguish. "No, no, no, no, no...

  Edarus turned back to her and saw his wife on her knees, curled forward, sobbing. His leg started twitching in sympathy, his whole body succumbing to whatever emotions where buried under the shock.

  "What's the address, sir?"

  The emotion passed, and suddenly Edarus was back in control. "We're, uh, we're on the web..."

  "Sir."

  "Good." Edarus nodded, then turned towards the White house. He took a few steps, stopped, and turned back to Amanda. "Mandy?" He hadn't called her that in years. "I still love you. You know that. I'm not leaving you."

  Amanda fought her way to her feet and turned her back on her husband.

  Edarus nodded again, and walked away. Behind him, he could hear the soldiers talking, could hear them comforting his wife, doing the job he was meant to do.

  Five words echoed through his mind, then. Five words he had asked, had promised to Mistaren when he decided to be a part of what had just happened. What's in it for me?

  Not his family...

  Most of the cabinet was gathered when Edarus arrived in the Oval Office. Some of them looked up as he entered, the fear on their faces slowly changing into reverence. They had seen his confrontation with Lanlin.

  "Good," Isaac said, not looking up from where he sat behind his desk. "Everyone's here; let's start."

  Edarus gestured at all the empty seats scattered around the room. "Where's everyone else, then?" In his mind, more white shrouded figures were being brought out of the tents.

  There was a burst of nervous giggling from Eli Rosencrantz, the press secretary. He pulled his tie out from under his jacket and pointed to a brown stain. "That's the treasurer!" He laughed again, then curled in on himself and began to sob.

  "Sit down," Isaac muttered. "We have a lot to do. I just want to go to sleep, but we've got shit to do."

  Edarus pulled out a chair and sat. He took a quick census of who was there. Assuming the speaker and the president pro tempore were still alive, Edarus was now fourth in line. A shudder moved across his body as he recognized the nature of the calculation he had just made.

  Movement in a corner of the room caught his eye and he saw Mistaren standing by the door. He wore only slacks and an undershirt, his bare arms mottled with reddish stains.

  "Lob," the president said. "What happened out there?"

  Mistaren moved further into the room and and slumped into a chair. "Well, he was definitely one of the Defenders—"

  "Goddamn it!" Isaac slammed his fist down on the desk and glared at Mistaren. "You think I don't know that? This is the second time a Defender's gone rogue on us, and don't you dare give me that 'it somehow failed' shit! Someone is deliberately doing this, deliberately trying to bring this whole thing crashing down on us!"

  All eyes turned to Mistaren.

  He shrugged. "It's possible." His eyes began to wander around the room.

  The secretary of the interior, Julia Telk, leaned forward. "What aren't you telling us, Lob?"

  This couldn't be happening. Edarus tried to take in Mistaren, usually so calm and collected, now looking hunted. His stomach clenched. Had Mistaren involved Edarus in this plot only to turn on him, let him take the blame for what had happened tonight?

  "Lob?" the president prompted.

  Mistaren sighed. "Okay, yeah, there... there might be the possibility of sabotage."

  There was a collective groan from everyone except Edarus and Eli. Eli continued to giggle nervously to himself; Edarus was suddenly calm. Allen. Mistaren was finally going to play Allen.

  "Details, Lob," the vice president quietly prompted.

  Mistaren folded his hands in his lap and stared pointedly at the VP. "Shortly before we began the release phase there were, ah, complications. One of our scrubbers expressed reservations about what he was tasked with doing."

  "Christ," someone muttered.

  Images of the scrubber's "reservations" flashed through Edarus's mind. It looked something like what had happened tonight...

  "You all right?" Julia asked.

  Edarus shuddered and nodded. "I just fell, uh, I thought I was going to—"

  "Yeah." It was clear from her tone that Julia had had her own struggles with nausea that night.

  The VP shifted in her seat and tapped the table to refocus the room's attention. "Names, Lob."

  "Captain Fendleton."

  "What?" The president looked up, eyes wide with surprise. "Allen? No. He was a good soldier. Hell, the whole thing was his idea in the first place."

&n
bsp; Mistaren shrugged. "I guess he didn't like the way we implemented his ideas. Anyway, we don't know if it was actually him."

  Isaac rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, he's a lead, anyway. Get him in here and let's ask him."

  Again, Mistaren seemed evasive.

  Isaac sighed and buried his face in his hands. "What now?"

  "Allen's dead. Killed himself about a year ago, shortly after we finished the scrubbing. Simple overdose. I guess his conscience got in the way."