Fall, Rise, Repeat

by Matthew Schneider

  “BLEH!” he spat, the intense smell of the powerful perfume filling his nostrils and tickling his nose.

  Marx straightened up and shook his head, marching to the TV and powering it on, downloading the file to the microchip in his palm – a small hard drive he had installed, much like many other wealthy folks, so he had access to any information, anytime – and turned the corner, tucking in his shirt, and collided with a heavy force in front of him.

  “What the hell is that smell? Why does it reek like my ex-wife?” snorted Jimenez, eyeballing Marx.

  Marx stuck up his nose and stepped around Jimenez. “Hmph! We have much more important matters to attend to.”

  Jimenez squinted and watched Marx trot ahead, turn around, and wait at the elevator. Jimenez stuck his head into the bedroom and called, “Zav! Hurry your ass up – your German friend is getting feisty.”

  Zav hurried out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He followed Jimenez to the elevator, where an impatient Marx was tapping his foot.

  Zav inspected the elevator floor, biting his lip. “The bodies are gone? And...well, the stains are still there. I wonder who?”

  They rode the elevator down to ground floor, and Marx turned around to face them. “Follow me. D’I have been preparing something very fascinating! Together, we can execute my sophisticated plans and retake Chicago.”

  Zav and Jimenez glanced at each other. “I like the sound of that! Another victory for us,” commented Zav, following Marx into the lobby and around a corner to a conference room.

  “I will set up. Mexican, go to the counter and see if there is a way to call every resident of the hotel down to the lobby. We must get right to work!” Marx chimed, pointing his index finger in the air and raising his eyebrows.

  Jimenez stared at Marx and shook his head. Nonetheless, he went to the computer at the front desk and began digging around. With his career in the government, technology was one of the many things he was educated in.

  Marx held his hand up to the projector in the conference room, syncing his interactive schematic file. The small cuboid turned green and painted the modified map of Chicago on the wall. Zav raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the technology transfer and the interesting model Marx had created.

  Zav watched the analog clock glowing in the center of the glass of the conference table, sighing as he concluded that he had been sitting, bored, at the table for fifteen minutes as Marx scribbled lines onto his work.

  Zav stood up and stepped into the lobby. Astounded, he saw the entire militia standing around silently and awkwardly.

  Jimenez walked over and placed his hand on Zav’s shoulder. “I forgot to mention, everyone is waiting for you in the lobby.”

  Zav stiffened up and cleared his throat. “Attention! I’m assuming this is everyone, since this looks about equivalent to two cartons of eggs being spilled in a room…” Zav chuckled to himself and looked around for anyone who understood his joke. “Tough crowd. Please enter the conference room so we may get down to business.”

  Zav and Jimenez led the mob into the conference room and the many people sat as they pleased. There were not enough chairs, so the last six had to stand in the back of the room.

  Marx stood proudly in front of his creation and inspected each member of the audience. His lips curled into a smile and he lifted his chin. “Gut, dich zu sehen, schön,” he said quietly, winking to Jaiyana.

  Jaiyana returned a soft smile, although it was obvious she did not understand what he had said.

  She was nothing short of a beautiful woman; young, athletic, and charming. She had very dark brown hair that went just past her shoulders, highlighted with soft maroon at the ends where the strands began to curl. Her skin tone was light, but definitely Middle Eastern. Her dark eyebrows were thin and well done, with slight arches. Underneath, hypnotizing brown eyes with defined eyelashes stared into Marx’s soul. Her nose was not entirely long and was rounded at the end, which gave it a slightly bulbous appearance. High cheekbones defined her face, mixing with pudgy cheeks and smile lines. Her thick, pink lips opened just slightly as she stared at the man. She rested her hand on her rounded chin, the rest of her fingers cupping her face.

  “Marx, you’ve been staring at the girl for two minutes, can you get started?” Zav whispered to Marx.

  Marx blushed and panicked, turning away and stuttering to the projector. “O-o-okay, I apologize, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marx Schneider, I traveled here with Xavier from Indianapolis. I have developed a schematic with plans and instructions to fortify our base and begin reconstruction of the city.

  “Just assume that you will be reporting to me for these types of duties, and all the technical stuff, but everything will be run through our leader, Xavier.”

  Zav nodded his head and gave a brief smile to the room. “That is correct. Now, I have not talked this over with Mr. Schneider yet, but I’d like to promote him to the rank of General. He has the combat experience, and the brains to negotiate and create plans. As our group grows, I do suppose we will implement more ranks to ensure there is a prestigious value to this whole thing, but also to make sure that everyone is cooperating and the group is orderly.”

  Marx rubbed his hands together and pointed his finger at Zav. “Correct. I will see to it that everyone is given orders. Now, to introduce my creation. You’ve probably been eying it up as we’ve been talking. Essentially, I made use of the wonderful technology in the luxury suite to render a model of the city and apply my figurines – the people and the cars – as such…” Marx pinched his fingers over the projection and it zoomed out.

  “Now, as you can see, we begin our operations by moving cars to these intersections. This will form a roadblock. This grants us the entirety of these two roads, which I hope to use as a footstep to our expansion, but we can also set up refugee camps. This will be a safe-zone. This being said, it will be crucial that we have guards at the roadblocks. Further orders will be given when you reach your post.”

  Marx inspected the projection and Zav began speaking to fill the awkward silence. “We must remember that our end goal is to retake the city. We are not simply out here fighting the Russians. We will liberate the oppressed and rebuild the homes that crumbled during the chaos. I expect everyone to be a leader and show strength through these hardships,” Zav concluded, and returned the attention to Marx.

  “Thank you. I have also gone out of my way to design routes that I highly suggest soldiers take. Using some more recent schematics, I have been able to map out the sewer systems and select pathways through buildings that will help us get the upper hand when advancing through the city. If you’d like, show some appreciation by clapping,” Marx said, giving a calico smile.

  Zav clapped his hands together once and cocked his head. “Okay! So, you can see that he definitely has a plan. Don’t be afraid to ask questions; we will collectively work our way through this time of struggle. And keep in mind, Mr. Marx and myself will always be available for conversation when we are not busy leading the revolution of the New World,” Zav said, placing his fingers at his lips and pondering. “Actually, that gives me a sudden idea. We need a name for our group.”

  Zav glanced at Marx and gave a hesitant look around the room. There was little movement, whether that was because people were still half-asleep or because nobody had any ideas.

  Marx cleared his throat and looked to the room. “We were one day from becoming New Russia. So I will offer my cliché idea of calling our land New America?”

  Jaiyana looked at Marx and they uncomfortably locked eyes for a moment. “That’s such a creative name, Mr. Schneider,” she sneered, but her emphasis on “such” implied it was friendly sarcasm. “But we’ve all got something in common: we’re all fighting for our country. The Patriots?”

  Zav licked his lips. “Sounds nice...but I feel like it would sound overused if it were written down on paper. Let me think about our own American history for a moment...what have we called ourselves in the
past? The Americans, the Union, the Confederacy, the Continental Army, correct?”

  “Correct,” Jimenez said from the side of the room. “Although I’m not really sure I would describe the Confederates as American.”

  “Regardless, we have to include the word ‘New’, because that makes it sound cooler. The New Patriots? Too close to the football team. The New Continental Army? The New Confederacy – wait, not only is that stupid, but we’re all in the North,” Zav chuckled, and looked to Jimenez and Marx for support.

  Marx shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t ask me, I’ll just suggest something German.”

  Zav squinted and rolled his eyes quickly, looking back to the room. “Tough crowd, I expect more participation. Hopefully you aren’t all this tired when we have to defend our homeland. Anyways, I’ll just have to say something at random because it seems I’m alone in determining this...the Continental Army of New America! See, it works, because they were the army when we were defending from the Brits, and we were a new country, and now it’s like the same thing…”

  Marx put his head in his hands and went on his knees, his elbows resting on the table.

  “Fuck all y’all,” Zav laughed, and put his hands on his hips. “So that is all. Meet with Marx and Mr. Jimenez for further instruction, we will get right to work today.”

  The group shuffled out, and Zav followed, turning off the projector and the lights as he left. He glanced behind him into the dark room and huffed out a deep breath, then pulled the door closed.

  Chapter 13

  Marx and Zav stood shoulder to shoulder on the third floor, overlooking the army of men and women on the street, moving vehicles, bodies, weapons, litter, and even heavy rubble.

  “Mighty fine, wouldn’t you say? We’ve created such a powerful something out of nothing! We’ve made ourselves kings over these people willing to die at our command. Crazy how that works,” said Marx, sipping a cup of tea.

  Zav gave a soft smirk. He lifted his hot cup of tea to his lips and sipped in sync with Marx. His tongue ran across his bottom lip and he placed the mug on the small wooden table beside him.

  “I know what you want, Xavier Starr,” whispered Marx, pressing his arms against his lower back and standing tall.

  Zav continued to stare forward, watching the tiny people work on the ground. “Do you? You’ve known me only days.”

  “Well it’s very simple. If I took everything you said and wrote it down on paper, then picked out a few words to describe you, it would all fit together like a giant puzzle; my completed product would paint your desires.”

  Zav stiffened up and bit his tongue. He refused to turn his head to Marx, but could tell from his peripheral vision that he was being watched like a mouse is watched by a wicked hawk. “I imagine you’re very smart, so I don’t doubt your conclusion, but I think there are things that I am still figuring out myself.”

  “Hmm...certainly. But this trait has stood out more than anything else you’ve said or done. And I think it is only the beginning, Xavier. It is a growing desire that will eat you up inside until you cannot get enough and you will fall to your knees begging for mercy at the very hand that fed you that you tried so hard to overpower, to force, to bend others’ will for your own sake.”

  Zav turned to Marx and they stood, their noses just millimeters apart. Marx breathed softly, but the gut-twisting smell of the tea on his tongue and lips wafted to Zav’s nose, a horrid scent, and an uncomfortable feeling that discomforted his stomach.

  But something else had already flipped Zav’s stomach. He stood as tall as he could and darted his eyes back and forth between Marx’s two blue eyes. “I don’t care how weak you think I am—”

  “That is not it. You may think you are physically weak, or mentally, and that drives this lust, but those are not what I speak of.”

  Zav began breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of herbal tea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re hungry for power, Xavier. Your desire to become powerful has stood out from the very day I met you. And that is why I stand by your side...because I know you are the one man who will not falter. Together, we can rule over New America, but you cannot do it alone,” whispered Marx.

  “Is that all you see my leadership as? An attempt to rule over everyone?” spat Zav.

  “First, the greed was instigated by your rule over the junkyard tribe. Then Shelbyville, then the four of us back at the White House, then you’ve placed yourself in charge of New America...you have this appetite for ruling that will never be sated—”

  “This is unbelievable. Do you take me as some wicked person? I am nothing of the sort!” shouted Zav, still holding the gaze of Marx.

  “I am not disowning you for this thirst. I am merely saying that I see it in you. I saw it in your posture as you overlooked these people. It is a strength, Xavier, do not fear. But do not let it overcome you. We still have much to do.”

  “And so what? Don’t you have the same desire to rule over the lower classes? You defended me when we overruled Ethan and Christopher, so I say speak for yourself!” Zav responded.

  Marx released the tension in his muscles and stepped back. “That I do, Xavier. Why am I standing next to you? Because we have the same mindset. We can use both of our strengths to become kings. Difference is, though, I have sated my appetite for ruling...you still want more. I fear one day you will attempt to overcome me, and that is why I warn you to watch your step carefully…”

  Marx turned away and watched the roads from the window. Zav lowered his eyes and exhaled. There was silence in the room, not even noise seeping in from outside.

  Zav put his hands in his pockets and walked away from the window, stepping slowly to the door, deep in thought. Marx licked his lips and held his militaristic posture.

  Marx’s eyes lit up and a tingle of panic crawled through his spine. “Xavier, come back to the window, you must look,” he said, pressing his face against the glass.

  Zav spun around and jolted to the window, following the direction of Marx’s face. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched the scene in the road.

  The Russians had interrupted the construction of the wall. They had arrived in two large trucks, then had traveled on foot in two single-file lines down the block where the makeshift border prevented the trucks from coming through. But it looked like there was confusion between the two parties because the Americans were dressed in Russian combat gear.

  “Xavier, find Agent Jimenez and Jaiyana. I’m going to defuse the situation!” Marx said, running to the door.

  Zav followed closely, sprinting out of the room and down the slim hall, sliding into the elevator next to Marx. The doors shut only a blink after his back foot came through, and they began going down.

  “Wait, why Jaiyana?” asked Zav, looking over at Marx.

  “Just do it, Zav!” barked Marx, running out of the elevators as the doors opened.

  Zav raised an eyebrow as he bolted into the lobby, looking around desperately, panting for breath as his heartbeat began to speed up. He caught a glance of Marx waving his arms as he pushed through the front doors.

  Zav slowed his pace and came to a halt in the middle of the room, standing in utter confusion, his eyes locked on the front doors as if he was stuck in a trance.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Jimenez put his face close to Zav and squinted his right eye. “Come on, son! We need to get outside, now!” Jimenez yelled.

  Zav did not respond but made for the doors. He thought for a moment that he should explain to Jimenez that he was supposed to find Jaiyana, but ignored the idea and continued out the doors.

  They skidded to the left and sprinted down the messy street, where Russian soldiers were standing in a line across from the Continental Army. It would only lead to disaster, or simply massacre, because the laboring Americans did not have weapons, aside from the guards who were currently on duty.

  Marx was already at the front of the group speak
ing to a Russian officer. Jimenez grabbed Zav’s arm and pulled him back.

  “I have to say this out of earshot. Head straight to twelve o’clock, behind me, and climb up the wooden tower. The German specified that it would be a temporary guardpost, except the goddamn guard left the tower. Disarm a friendly and head to the tower without attracting attention and wait for a signal,” whispered Jimenez in a forceful tone.

  Zav snuck behind a Continental man in front of him and grabbed at the man’s gun, holding a finger to his mouth to silence him.

  Zav slid the gun over his shoulder and ensured it was tucked to his left side, hidden from view. He walked towards the miniature tower and climbed the ladder, impressed by how smoothly he was able to escape.

  He kneeled and slid the gun off, then positioned the barrel against the two-foot tall wood wall. He pushed the safety off and cocked the gun, his eyes watching Jimenez.

  The Russians were becoming uneasy and Marx began yelling, hands and fists in the air, as an officer stepped forward and began raising his voice.

  The Russians were stepping back and readying their weapons, so the Continental Army began preparing themselves. Several laborers turned away from the gathering and attempted to innocently return to their work.

  Zav focused on Jimenez, who had his arm perched at an angle to grab the pistol at his side, and the opposite hand in the air, arm extended, fingers out; the universal hand sign for “stop.”

  Then, his fingers closed to a fist and he jerked the pistol forward, but didn’t fire. Zav held his breath as he held his finger close to the trigger.

  Jimenez yelled to Marx, and Marx pointed to his right, then directly at Zav. The Russian soldiers bobbed their heads left-to-right as they became aware that there were guns pointed at them from many directions.

  Zav let out his breath and continued to watch Jimenez’s hand gestures. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Russians lowering their weapons. The Continental Army gained confidence after realizing they held the high ground and the few that were armed prepared their weapons.