Exodus

by Brian P. White

  *****

  Didi couldn’t believe it. Though she couldn’t see his face clearly, she knew that deep, sexy voice from all those public addresses he used to do about racial unity. She now stood before the Vice President—now claiming to be the President—of the United States, and she didn’t have a touch of makeup on.

  Of course, she wasn’t just being old-fashioned; she was afraid of getting her head blown off.

  Then she remembered that the main man had just addressed Cody by name. Her partner had never mentioned meeting the V.P., and the stunned—albeit strained—look on his didn’t clear that up any. “How did you know his name?” she had to ask the man.

  President Peter Ramsey stared her down for a long moment, looking either surprised or put off; she could barely tell even with her contacts back in. “Check them,” he said.

  While Didi and her friends stood their ground, a few soldiers rushed out of the mobs and laid fingers on each captive wrist. Three of them nodded to each other, but the one fretfully holding Didi’s wrist shook his head. “No pulse,” he told the literal big man upstairs before he returned to the armed crowd.

  “What’s with him?” the President asked his minions while pointing at Cody. “He looks sick.”

  The one who checked Cody’s pulse searched him, found the bandage on his side, and ripped it off, making him grunt. “Looks like a gunshot, sir. No sign of infection.”

  The President nodded, then faced Didi begrudgingly. “Our scouts keep open comms when they go out, including that Lieutenant you’re holding. That’s how I knew his name.”

  “Oh, really?” she snapped. “How’d you like hearing him try to rape my friend, huh?”

  “Wait a minute,” Cody interrupted with his shaky hand out. A few guys near him cocked their guns, but he just stared up at the big boss. “Sir, what happened to President Simpson?”

  “Saul Simpson died of the plague last year,” the supposed President replied. Then his head tilted. “Why did you desert your post, Sergeant?”

  Didi got nervous, wondering how he could’ve known what went down at that base in Chicago.

  Cody played dumb. “Sir?”

  “You were posted at Womack Army Medical Center on Fort Bragg when the plague hit. No one made it out of there. So, again, why did you leave your post?”

  Didi’s head filled with fear—not the nicest break from all that pain—at wondering just how much Cody was about to admit.

  “Sir, I was T.D.Y. … visiting Twentieth Group … when the plague spread. We were … then tasked to,” he paused to catch a few breaths, “study the reanimates … before we were overrun. I survived how I could … and helped others do the same.”

  After another tense silence, the President nodded at Cody and faced Lavon. “Corporal Higgins. What’s your story?”

  “She was one of mine, sir,” a deep base with a New York accent spoke up.

  “Captain Washington,” Lavon uttered, dutifully adding a salute with the, “sir.”

  The fabled man with a round, chocolate face stepped ahead of a line of jumpsuits. “That’s Major now, Private,” he practically spat at the bewildered Marine before facing the President. “She was a prisoner en route to Miramar, sir, bucked down after trial. I put her on guard detail like I did with the other felons. We couldn’t get any of them back when we got locked down. Our patrols found the others long dead, their posts empty.”

  “But you missed this one?” the President chided lowly but by no means softly.

  The major ate whatever words he was about to say with a grain of shit. “Yes, sir.”

  The man’s gaze fell on Lavon like he was trying to study her. “And you’ve been manning your post alone for two years?”

  Lavon nodded, though she looked more nervous than proud. “Yes, sir.”

  The self-proclaimed Commander-in-Chief nodded again, then looked at Isaac. “And you are?”

  Isaac flinched like he was offended. “Isaac Yancey, from Chicago.”

  The President nodded, then held the big man’s gaze. Didi counted the silent seconds that followed while glancing between the big cheese and Gordy’s gun pointed at her head. Exactly eighty seven seconds later, the President cocked his head at Isaac. “Six years in Cook County for grand theft auto. Early parole after two years. Good behavior? Nice.”

  Isaac sneered. Lavon regarded the big man with surprise. Cody looked as calm—yet alert—as Didi was, maybe figuring as she did that someone with access to such records was in the head honcho’s ear.

  The President nodded with an odd grin. “Well, Mister Yancey, as long as you behave yourself here, there should be no problems.” To Cody and Lavon, he reverently said, “Sergeant, Corporal, it seems you’ve done your duty admirably under the circumstances. We’ll be proud to cycle you both back into service.”

  Lavon’s lips curved tightly upward, her eyes beaming up at her big boss. “Thank you, sir.”

  Cody weakly said the same, though not with any delight.

  “Your first order is to terminate that,” the President added, pointing right at Didi.

  Cody desperately glanced between her and the President. “Sir, no. Sh-she’s a friend. She’s helped me all these—”

  “Your orders stand, Sergeant,” the President firmly said. “Take it out!”

  “Not so fast,” a horribly familiar voice droned, smugly adding, “Mister President.”

  Didi turned to find the haughty Gamesman stepping onto the opposite platform like a boss, dressed in the same black leather robes as the two jexes at his sides. Fury burned in her brain as she realized what this meant.

  “We had a deal,” the Gamesman casually stated.

  The President glowered at the creep. “That was before I learned what that thing is.”

  The Gamesman snickered at the default Commander-in-Chief. “I didn’t know it, either, but our contract was clear. In spite of all you’ve taken from me, I’ve let you invade my city, steal its children, take my game players for your little experiments.”

  “You had no choice, in case you’ve forgotten,” the President said coldly, after which a few soldiers cocked their weapons for emphasis.

  The Gamesman laughed it off. “Despite all that, I’ve even been your eyes and ears on the surface out of the kindness of my heart, giving you what you couldn’t get yourself—even now,” he added a wave toward Didi. “For all that and the manpower I’ve lost bringing these people in for you, my only price is the Death Doll.”

  “We can’t let that thing loose,” the President nearly yelled.

  “Relax, Peter. I won’t lose her.”

  “And how the hell do you think you guarantee that?”

  “Well, now that I know she doesn’t need to eat or sleep,” the Gamesman said with sick delight aimed at Didi, “she’ll never leave her cage.”

  Her head burned with such anger, she could’ve sworn it was literally on fire.

  CHAPTER 26

  ACCEPTANCE

  The cell door opened, and two more soldiers stared down Jerri like a nuisance. Neither the fit male nor the squat female looked imposing, but neither had to be with guns on their belts.

  “Let’s go,” the male said.

  Gut-wrenched and puffy-eyed, Jerri flipped off the so-called defenders of freedom.

  The two looked at each other and stepped into her cell. She expected more of the rough stuff, but the female firmly said, “We’re taking you for processing, now let’s go.”

  Jerri glanced at the female soldier’s name and rank. “Sergeant Rush. You have any kids?”

  “Don’t make this any harder on yourself, ma’am.”

  “You’ve taken my babies away from me,” Jerri hissed. “It doesn’t get any harder than that.”

  Sergeant Rush huffed, then grabbed Jerri’s arm and, with her cohort’s help, dragged her out of the cell. “You have no idea, lady,” the callous troop said gruffly.

  Jerri didn’t bother to fight; she was too tired from crying out her babies’ names the
whole night she had been a prisoner of her own government … for being too old. She let herself be muscled through the detention hallway and out the door into a large corridor as drably gray as the big entrance to the mountain. Lots of military equipment all around. Lots of soldiers doing whatever they thought was right in their eyes, the bastards.

  From there, they descended an elevator. The tension hung in the air worse than her musk—nobody bothered to offer her a shower—but she refused to succumb to it. They didn’t deserve it.

  Off the elevator and through a couple of hallways, the troops brought her into a massive, brightly tiled tunnel even bigger than the mountain entrance. This stretch burst with more life than she had seen in a long time, but she found it sickening. The potted trees stretching to the ceilings were lies. All the kids playing around them were clueless. Even the red-lined path the troops took her down was hollow; same with the yellow one they ended up on.

  Despite feeling a little like Dorothy in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Jerri couldn’t wait to meet the faceless witch who took her three loved ones. She just hoped that, if she did, she could wrest a gun from one of these lackeys and get payback.

  The soldiers wrangled her through a pair of milky glass doors, down a smaller hall, and into what they had labeled a processing center that looked like a giant school office lobby.

  “Jerri!” came from out of nowhere before she was seized in a bear hug by—

  “Rachelle?” she blurted, then grabbed the young warrior by the arms and drew her away just to get a good look. Mirth briefly flickered in herself before she remembered their situation. “Who else is with you? Have you seen my babies anywhere?”

  The girl looked troubled as she shook her head. “Just Belinda and Leticia, and they’re, like, Stepford now. They love this place.”

  Jerri took a moment to process what she was just told. The missing girls being here wasn’t quite hard to believe, but liking it? And where were the others? Her babies? “Do you know where the kids are being held?” she asked quietly.

  Rachelle shrugged. “All I heard is kids get matched to new parents, but I—”

  “Hey,” shouted a squat but wary troop name-taped CHECCINI, “you’re not done here.”

  Rachelle rolled her eyes, then hugged Jerri again and whispered, “Meet me in that big hall out there when you’re done. We’ll figure out how to bust everyone out.”

  Jerri hugged the girl back tightly, then let her go back to that soldier. She wanted to believe the girl could deliver—or that she could meet her instead of going back to her cell—but she could only dread what the government was doing to her babies. If her little ones were already in someone else’s care, then this Dorothy would punish all of Oz for it.

  *****

  The longer the two masters stared each other down, the more nervous Didi got. She hadn’t been this scared for her own life since before she had first ended it, but something kept nagging at her. How was President Ramsey’s firepower not enough to scare the Gamesman? Did the gladiator ruler have some advantage over the Leader of What Remained of the Free World?

  Isaac and Lavon looked just as confused; the sweaty Cody kept eyeballing Didi and the Prez.

  Finally, the President’s eyes fell in defeat. “Take it.”

  The Gamesman cheerfully waved the guys in hazard gear at Didi. “If you please.”

  The heavy door rumbled open, and the Gamesman’s men were waiting.

  Didi drew her sword as the jumpsuits closed in on her.

  “No, wait,” Cody said as he blocked it down before anybody—especially Gordy the Green Beret—could blow her head off.

  “Stand down, Sergeant,” the President shouted.

  “Please, sir, just let me say goodbye,” Cody begged his Commander-in-Chief. “She won’t hurt anyone, I swear.”

  The President looked confused, and Gordy looked antsy, but the Gamesman schooled him. “Let them have their moment, Peter. I’d like my champion cooperative.”

  The President seethed at the despot. “Everybody stay back.”

  The troops and the jumpsuits all took a few steps back, keeping their aim between Didi and the doorway. Gordy the Green Beret grumbled as he lowered his gun.

  Cody smiled at Didi with eyes full with heartbreak. “We protect all life, even their bugged rapist. NORAD won’t be so bad for us, and I know you can handle Denver.”

  Before she could say anything, he winked. Trusting his meaning, she faced the Gamesman. “I keep my sword, I go quietly.”

  The Gamesman laughed aloud, but Didi didn’t back down an inch. Then his head tilted curiously, his grin twisting pensively. “You’ll get it back … at home.”

  Knowing that was the best she would get, Didi surrendered her sword to the approaching jexes.

  The Gamesman chuckled his way down the stairs.

  Didi hugged Cody, which drew a few gasps and a couple of disgusted groans. When he released her, they locked eyes for as long as the masses permitted, silently saying everything they needed to say. Things being what they were kept her from kissing him, so she prayed it wouldn’t be the last time they would ever see each other.

  The Gamesman dared to smack his hand onto her shoulder and pull her along with him. She backed up to avoid falling over, watching Cody smile at her as the bay door closed.

  That Major Washington guy shook Cody’s shoulder and pointed out his exposed wound. “Let’s get you to the infirmary, Sergeant. Get that patched up.”

  Cody only held her gaze until the doors closed on them, which crashed in Didi’s brain.

  “You in love with him?” the Gamesman asked almost humorously.

  No longer needing to walk backward, she turned and followed her new captor, unzipping her jacket pocket and taking out her makeup compact. “What of it?”

  “How does that work?” he asked, either curious or amused. “Your heart is dead, isn’t it?”

  “Emotions come from in the mind, genius,” she said as she started slapping on concealer.

  “Humor me.”

  Didi rolled her eyes for a moment, then resumed dabbing. “Ever have a pet?”

  The Gamesman burst with laughter.

  “I’m serious,” she said, glaring at him. “Any you truly loved, like when you were a kid?”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted. “Are you saying one of you is the other’s pet?”

  “No,” she snapped. “My point is you love a pet differently than you would a lover. Right?”

  “Perhaps,” he teased.

  She held his gaze for another moment with disgust, grateful her skin could no longer crawl. “Ew,” she said, then resumed her disguise regimen. “Anyway, when you love someone, you do for—or with—them whatever’s available. It doesn’t mean you love one more than the other; just differently. And, as you saw, I’d do anything for him.”

  “Excellent,” was all he said like a movie villain.

  Didi shook her head and applied her foundation, praying God would keep Cody and her friends safe if she couldn’t escape this dickhead.

  *****

  Sean watched the satellite feed in awe as Didi willingly boarded a van with the Gamesman and two jexes, which then drove off with several other poorly armored cars and trucks. He had removed and destroyed the bug on the lieutenant as soon as Cody’s subtle message clued him to it, which forced everybody to get in the Ford to get out of here, but now he worried that he and his motley crew would be captured anyway. All he could do was hold his wife as still as possible next to him in this cramped backseat.

  “What do we do now?” he asked Cynthia, glad for his wife’s sake that Alan drove slowly. “They heard your plan. They’ll be waiting for us.”

  “They didn’t hear us,” Nick replied with a pat of the ceiling, or rather that little dish he had stuck on the roof. “I’ve been jamming their signals ever since I set up my satellite cloak.”

  Sean wanted to be comforted, but he feared the skinny hacker may only be that good in his own mind. “If that’s true, why
are we leaving?”

  “Because these two wouldn’t stop panicking,” Cynthia said from between the twins up front.

  “So, what now, boss lady?” Aaron asked snidely. “Your hair-brained scheme won’t work.”

  The lethal teen smirked at the obnoxious twin. “You sound like a cartoon. I’ve done stuff like this before, even without tech support like Nick. Trust me; it’ll work.”

  Alan didn’t say another word, but Aaron dared to, raising a hand like he was going to pat her. “You may be crazy, but I do love a girl with confidence.”

  “Touch me, I will bite your throat out like a fucking zombie,” she said without facing him.

  Aaron crossed his arms dejectedly.

  “I just hope we can do this before Didi’s N.S.U. runs out,” Nick said nonchalantly, still typing.

  Everyone glanced around at each other, puzzled and a little nervous. “Runs out?” Alan asked.

  Nick frowned up at the driver. “There’s only so much charge a little thing like that can hold, and the battery pack inside her probably fried along with her old N.S.U.” He went back to typing, adding, “I doubt they had time to replace it.”

  “How do you know this?” Sean had to ask, not remembering a word about a battery pack during Cody’s explanation to the camp about how Didi worked.

  “We told him,” Gilda admitted. “We hoped he could improve it when he got a chance.”

  Sean’s worry for his leader doubled instantly. “How long does she have?”

  “I’ll be surprised if she lasts the night,” the nurse replied gravely.

  Cynthia huffed and growled at the same time. “Change of plans, then. Denver first.”

  The twins gawked at her simultaneously. “How do you intend to get the Death Doll away from the Gamesman?” Alan asked.

  “She had to blast her way out with a grenade,” Aaron stated. “What do we have? A few guns? Some optimism?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes,” Cynthia said. “She had my back, so I’ll have hers, and we’ve got about an hour-long drive to come up with something.”

  “Maybe more if we can keep the speed down a little,” Sean said, which drew a mean glare from the girl. “I just don’t know if Paula can handle too many bumps in her condition.”