General Ryker lowered his head and stared at the table. From his aged lips, he murmured, “so fight, Xavier. If this is the destiny you wish to proceed with, we will allow it.”
Another voice from the right side of the table protested: “but we still should not engage in war! President Starr, I beg you to seek another solution!”
Zav stood up. “Anyone who avoids the war is only siding with the rebels. You are either with me or against me; if you are against me, leave now, and we might see you again in the enemy lines. I do not want traitors! I do want a drink, though!”
Zav’s finger had pointed at the contesting man sometime during his outburst, and he let it point for a moment longer before leaving the room. He wandered around the White House until he found the kitchen. He dug around in the pantries and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, decorated with convex flames around the bottom that thinned out to textured stripes.
He searched for a shot glass but gave up when he couldn’t find one right away. He opened the odd, hourglass-shaped bottle and began to drink.
He ignored the pain from the whiskey hitting the back of his throat. After a long pull on the bottle, he walked in circles around the kitchen, pretending to explore.
A half hour passed before anyone entered the kitchen. The contesting man walked into the kitchen slowly and stood up straight when he saw Zav.
“Oh, Mr. Starr, I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to talk about the conversation we had at the meeting table. I think you have me completely misunderstood. I am not a traitor—”
“Meh,” said Zav, wobbling forward and backward. “If...you’re against me, then you are not nice—” he said.
The man looked at Zav. “Are you...drunk? Here, let me help you to your room. Please, I am no enemy of yours.” The man placed his hands around Zav’s waist and assisted him in walking out of the kitchen. They entered the main hall and the man slowed down when he saw Ryker at the end of the hallway. “The kid’s drunk. Incredibly. Do you want me to take him back to his quarters?”
Ryker put his hands in his pockets and looked at the stumbling Zav. “Yes, please do. I’m sorry that you had to clean him up,” Ryker said, and returned to the basement.
Zav decided to fall backwards into the man, and the man resorted to pulling Zav by the wrists and dragging his heels against the carpet in order to haul him to the bedroom.
“You probably won’t remember this, partially because you’re drunk and because I think you’ve passed out, but my name is Carter Stevens. Served in the Arabian War of 2044, then came back to the States to prevent future wars like that happening. Crazy what we used to do for oil, huh?”
“Huh,” responded Zav, half asleep.
Carter laid Zav on the ground and then grabbed him by the waist, propping him over his shoulder before gently placing Zav onto the clean, silky, king-size bed. Carter looked around the bedroom, amazed.
It was very orderly, very clean. The bed was centered on the back wall, with two yards of empty space on both sides. A silver and glass vanity table, the only furniture in the room, stood at the foot of the bed.
“Okay, I’ll turn on some music and let you chill,” said Carter, and pulled the computer out of Zav’s pocket. He bounced it in his hand, admiring its light weight, before powering it on and browsing the unlimited music library provided. “Oh, here’s something I used to listen to. Sometimes war stays in our hearts forever.”
Carter placed the computer on the table and left just as the music began to play.
“The eastern world, it is explodin’,” sang the music.
Zav shifted on the bed and began to doze off as the music drifted into his head.
“Violence flarin', bullets loadin',”
Zav rolled to his side and snuggled his head against the pillow. It was quite a peculiar song, and Zav made a restless attempt to fall asleep.
“You're old enough to kill but not for votin',”
Zav squirmed. The music entered one ear and sank itself into his brain, the melody clawing at his mind and scratching at his imagination.
“You don't believe in war, but what's that gun you're totin',”
Oh! The many wars Zav had fought. He smirked to himself, replaying the past. Never had he imagined that at one point he would’ve been fighting for his life and killing so many, yet shouldn’t any person know that is the price for becoming powerful?
“And even the Jordan river has bodies floatin',”
Everything felt weird to Zav. Lost in his drunken thoughts, he could only imagine the streets of Indianapolis, or Fairland, or Shelbyville, or Chicago...especially right here! The thousands who had given their lives so that so many more could stand in their place and complain that the world is unfair. So distasteful!
“But you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.”
Zav’s eyes opened. In a mad rush, he swiped at the computer and turned off the song. His head rattled and bobbled with the explosions of weeks of battle and the constant chaos inside him. He tripped over backwards and fell onto his bed, clutching at his chest as a new sensation flooded through him. He felt like a log caught in a river.
“I—don’t—this cannot be!” Zav choked, flailing his limbs around as he thrashed about in his bed. He flipped to his stomach and buried his face in the sheets.
He found himself sitting in a bar. Ivan was alive and high, drinking the night away. Ivan turned to Zav and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wake up, Zav, I think you had too much to drink.”
Zav lifted his head slowly from his folded arms beneath him and groggily looked around. The bar was nearly empty. The TV above him was off, and poker cards were scattered around the table.
Zav looked at Ivan. “Are you real?”
Ivan stared back. “Lad, I think you’ve had too much to drink. You’ve been passed out for a couple hours, how much could you have dreamt up?”
Xavier rubbed his eyes and placed his head back down on his arms. After a moment, he looked back at Ivan. “You were dead. I had so many dead friends. The whole world was crumbling and it was my responsibility and all my fault!”
Ivan laughed. He pulled Xavier’s glass away with one finger and moved one seat over so that he was directly next to Xavier. He placed a hand on Xavier’s back and whispered, “Or are you serious? Must have been a nightmare from all the noise in the bar. Tell me about it, Zav.”
Xavier sat up and looked at Ivan. “I need a glass of water, first,” he said.
The bartender, standing idly by, overheard the request and filled a glass of water. Xavier grabbed it and drank it quickly. “Okay, let me begin:
“First, we saw on the television there was a nuclear war between the United States and Russia. Or maybe it just said we were under attack—parts of this dream are obviously very foggy. You and I rushed out of this very bar and hopped in your car. We drove straight to Indianapolis—”
“I don’t think I could have driven very straight while drunk,” chuckled Ivan.
“We arrived at the city. We raided an apartment. There were riots. You died. I slept in someone’s house. The owner took me hostage. We went to another town. I joined a gang. Everybody liked me. After I recovered from some injuries, I was put in charge of that gang. A friend of mine killed himself and overall a lot of people died in that battle.”
Ivan held up his hand to silence Zav. “No...no...don’t tell me what happened. I want you to tell me why it happened. But continue from where you left off in the story,” Ivan said.
Zav bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling. “After that battle, people trusted in me because I was a triumphant leader. I decided to use people’s weaknesses as steps towards achieving my dreams—I wanted to be powerful. Everybody decided to make me a leader because I was able to appear strong than everyone...but at the time I don’t think I saw any strength in myself.
“I saw the many opportunities and I took them. Oh, Ivan, why does any of this ma
tter?”
Ivan stared at Zav. “Just continue. It’s getting warm in here.”
Zav returned to thinking. The bartender refilled the glass and leaned in to listen to the story as Zav finished the water. “I became increasingly stronger socially and politically. I had a strong grasp of the world around me with only a few sacrifices. Well, I suppose you could consider the sacrifice of a human life to be a large one. But as more people died, death phased me less.
“After reaching Chicago, I had begun to come to terms with myself. My biggest fear and my worst enemy were the evil inside myself. I refused to admit to anyone, even God above, that I had done anything wrong in the actions I made. Every choice was made for survival—it was completely necessary!
“In Chicago, I rose to the top not only because of the experience I had, but also because I had an insider. Jimenez worked for the government and was able to help me in any way I needed. He too eventually died. I don’t know how, but I imagine he would’ve made it quick. So many people were dying around me that I had begun to isolate myself. Life did not entirely matter; and as far as I was concerned, I was still a good guy in this whole situation.
“I began to focus only on politics. This was not a bad thing at all—in fact, it was pleasing to my mind. It offered a challenge in the world where everything was seemingly broken and it was my responsibility,” Zav said, looking at Ivan.
Zav squinted and attempted to focus his eyes on Ivan. “You’re sweating...why?”
Ivan’s eyes grew large and he looked down at his arms. “It’s very hot in here. If you don’t tell me what you’re really here for, then I’m going to have to leave.”
The bartender refilled the glass. Zav drank the icy water and decided to ignore Ivan’s strange comments. “But the less respect I had for others and the less I cared about life, the more I realized I was demanding the world around me to be orderly. But is there order only through more chaos? War! War! War! It’s all I can ever think about. The city of Chicago was falling to the ground, just like the rest of the world, and all I could do was break away at exactly what I was trying to rebuild.
“But yet...it’s rather feasible, wouldn’t you say? If I stand under the broken world and attempt to support it, I will only be crushed and meet my fate. But if I stand on top of it as it falls...I reign superior over the ashes of the fallen and am granted the opportunity to rebuild to my pleasing.
“And every body and building and aspect of life that was under me was required for me to get to the top of the world. I was on top of my self-made pyramid. But in the distance, I could always see that there were others.
“I think this was where I attempted to build a bridge. I saw a woman in the distance, and I wanted to build to her so bad that I did! And when I found out she only intended on using me to build that bridge so she could destroy my pyramid, the bridge beneath me disappeared and I began to fall. I caught myself by a thread though—just a tip of metal sticking out of the broken concrete…
“That small ledge was Major General Ryker. Using the strength of the military and the weakness of the world around us, I was able to take control of everything I had ever wanted. Until the woman on the far pyramid swore revenge.
“A rebellion began brewing, and it did nothing but cause more chaos in this broken world! And such awful people too! Lunatics, mad men, incompetent, stupid, ignorant, hypocritical, monsters...I could kill them all! And only best I do, before they kill me!”
Ivan stared at Zav. “You know why you’re here. You’re at the place it all began. And as the fire builds around you, you find no choice but to fight the ones that have sworn to destroy you.”
Zav looked at Ivan. “I’ve missed you, old friend.”
Zav looked around the bar and realized not only was it completely empty, but smoke had begun to creep into the building through the windows and the front door.
Ivan continued to stare at Zav. Zav ignored this, however, and began to panic as he stood and spun and gaped at his surroundings as everything began to simmer. The bar was set ablaze, and the red hue and the smell of smoke and the tall flames made Zav feel as if he were trapped inside a fireplace.
He turned to Ivan. “Have I created the monster? Or am I the monster?” Zav said, stepping to Ivan.
Ivan only stared back.
“ANSWER ME!” screamed Zav, saliva spraying across Ivan’s face. Sweat accumulated on his skin but quickly evaporated.
“ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME! WHY HAS THIS FIRE BEGUN? WHO IS TO BLAME? IS THIS THE HELL I DESERVE?” screamed Zav.
He shoved Ivan off of the bar stool and stood at his feet. Zav huffed and let out petrified noises between his heavy breaths. The fire had encumbered everything at this point, and was only inches away from Ivan.
Soon, a small flame crawled onto Ivan. It spread across his chest, and then traveled over every inch of his body. First, the shirt began to blacken and burn. The hairs on Ivan’s chest burned next and the flesh began to crust and peel. Some bubbled, other places melted. Ivan was left hairless like a child, and then began to fade from the world.
Zav screamed at the top of his lungs as he knelt next to Ivan, sitting in the mess of flesh, blood, flame, and tears. His voice halted and he fell forward, smashing his head against the floor. He felt as if he was being pulled through the ground…
And pulled out of bed. Sweating, panting, screaming, and in a state of pure discomfort, Zav was hauled out of his bed and out of the smoky bedroom. He could not see who was carrying him, but decided not to thrash his limbs in defense and submitted to his kidnappers.
The three men carried Zav through the White House and down the steps to the basement, carefully guiding Zav’s unresponsive body around obstacles. They placed him upright in the chair at the end of the table and then took their seats.
A dozen soldiers filled the basement and one sealed the door to the main floor. Generators had been activated and guns loaded.
Zav swung his head around, cracking his neck. He took deep breaths in hope of filling his lungs with as much oxygen as he could. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting, he began to make out the figures and faces in front of him.
Surprisingly, it was exactly the same people sitting in exactly the same seats as earlier. Zav looked around at each of them and felt a brush of relief when he saw Ryker at the front seat.
“I’m daze…”
“Then I hope this will wake you up. The rebels attacked before we could prepare completely. A turbine was ignited and blew up one corner of the White House, starting a fire. Now, Xavier Starr, the future of humanity lies in your drunken hands.”
Chapter 22
Zav stared at Ryker like Ryker was speaking a foreign language. “The rebels attacked. I almost died. I now make every decision that will determine the future of mankind as we know it?”
“Precisely. Now you better snap the fuck out of whatever daze you’re in and give us a very clear plan, or in the least agree with us and let us carry out everything we have ordered,” Ryker barked.
Zav looked at Ryker. There was a disturbance in the calm man that he had never seen before. “I understand. It’ll take me a few moments—”
“WE DO NOT HAVE ANOTHER GODDAMN MOMENT!” screamed Ryker, his yellowed and chipped front teeth clenched.
Zav shook his head, startled, and placed his palms against the table. “Yes sir. Okay, okay. Relay every bit of information you have to me, and we will come to a consensus,” responded Zav, furrowing his brow and reluctantly glancing away from Ryker’s hold.
“This is what our intelligence has informed us: Rebel trucks broke through a construction zone on the west side of this district exactly twenty-two minutes ago. However, it took 11 minutes for the message to be delivered because an explosive was placed and detonated at one of our communication towers. Soon, hundreds of soldiers flooded our west border and shot every last person on the site. Hundreds of casualties. Fortunately, because of the relaxed gun laws of the area, civilians were armed and able to
fight against the rebels. Battle continues as we speak. But THIS is only the beginning of the hell that has fallen upon Earth, Xavier.”
Zav blinked.
“Rebels are invading. Unidentified outside forces are breaching our north and east walls. We have calls from border patrol all over the fucking city that this is the end of the line. The United States military is fighting back. Civilians are fighting back—”
There was static from the radio in the middle of the table. “Somebody, please report it!” chirped the speaker.
Ryker grabbed the radio and held his thumb over the small round button for responding. “This is Major General Ryker, who is this and what are you reporting?”
“Travis Clinton! I am stationed on the southern border of the Auth-Right state and I have to report that I see enemy forces from the south advancing toward our position. I don’t understand why a right-wing branch would fight against its own kind…”
Ryker turned to Zav and lifted his thumb from the response button. “Now, we have the capitalist hippies from the South fighting against us too! All because you seemed like a dangerous fascist to them. But it’s only a matter of time before this entire quadrant is filled with dozens of factions ready to fight to the death. 227 square miles of absolute brutal combat—and when we take into account limited resources yet the high-pressure situation, we know people will use whatever they can to kill in any way they can!
“Homes turned into bunkers. Potholes in the streets used as trenches. Man, woman, and child, wielding weapons against their own neighbor in hopes of making it out alive. Airplanes, helicopters, trucks, boats, feet, swords, knives, guns, explosives, the whole FUCKING city will be fighting against one another. We have militias standing, rebellions sprouting in friendly territories, men fighting for justice and league…”
Fall, Rise, Repeat Page 23
