Cataclysm Epoch

by Paul Heingarten

  “You'd better get a drink first, might help you absorb it better.”

  “More than your mom dying and you being fired?”

  “Much.”

  He flagged the bartender. Once he got a sip of beer, he nodded to me. “Go.”

  “You know that novel I'm writing?”

  “Um, yeah. That sci-fi thing, right?”

  “Yep. Few days ago, right after I got canned, I was out and met this girl.”

  “Yeah?” he raised his glass and winked.

  “No, we didn't, hook up or anything. We talked. And I swear this is the freakiest shit ever. Got a strong feeling this is a joke. But it's too wild for a set up.”

  “What happened? Tell me.” His lips curled with intrigue.

  “Alright. She knows about my book.”

  “What do you mean? You told her?”

  “No, man. She told me about it. With details. Specific details. I never told anyone about it, except you and my folks.”

  He shook his head. “I haven't said anything.”

  “That's not all, either.” I leaned to Harvey's ear and lowered my voice. “She wants me to come to the future with her.”

  Harvey leaned back in his seat and gave me a hard and not the most supportive gaze. “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  He arched an eyebrow, which was his typical look when he detected a line of BS. “You copacetic, man?” He grabbed my shoulder, and looked at me like a doctor about to give a patient some awful test results.

  “I'm fine. Look, I'm telling you, it happened. I was in a bar with other people around. She was standing right in front of me, talking like we are now.”

  “That's insane.”

  “I know, right? I mean, yeah, a few people know about the book.” I paused. “You're not fucking with me are you?”

  He set his drink on the bar, eyed my almost empty glass, then clutched my arm. “Look, I know you're in a tough spot, but try and get a handle on things, man. I think you should lay off on the drinking for a little while.”

  “You didn't deny it.”

  “Nelson, it's not me. It’s not anyone. Damn, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. You've been pretty stressed these days, it’s getting to you.”

  I squeezed the bar as if I could've splintered that mahogany under my hands. Would've been nice if I could've. Maybe Harvey was right, it sounded too wild for reality. Had my writing brain concocted this?

  “I should get more sleep.”

  “Couldn't hurt, buddy. Give it a break. Take a few days. How about some exercise? I can get you to my gym on a treadmill. That'd be good for you.”

  The gym? If sex hadn’t gotten my head straight... “Thanks for coming out, and sorry to lay this on you, man. How're you doing?”

  “No worries. I'm good, working as usual. Real estate biz kind of slow at the moment, but it always picks up sooner or later.”

  “I see. Well, I'm sure you'll figure that out. You usually have some kind of plan.”

  “Hope so. How's your dad?”

  “He's adjusting. Slow though. Guess it'll be awhile.”

  “Gotta be rough. How many years were they together?”

  “Forty.”

  “Oh damn. Yeah, so rough. I feel for him.”

  “Yeah, it's hard.”

  “And you, how're you handling things?”

  “Don’t know. Mom and I were real close. Tough not having her around to call or anything.”

  “Sorry, man. Wish I knew what to say.”

  “It's alright. You're listening, and that's a lot right there.”

  My smart phone rang. I checked the number, but it wasn't familiar. It was too soon for a call back about the jobs I'd sent resumes out for. Whatever it was would be handled later.

  I ordered another Guinness. I held it before myself and gazed at the glass of dark brew and its thick whitish head for a moment. “So, real estate is kicking your ass right now as opposed to the opposite?”

  “Yeah, the condo market is fucking fierce, dude. I'm scrapping for whatever I can get.”

  As soon as anything real estate entered the conversation, Harvey took on a whole new energy. Even though real estate was the last thing I’d ever have considered for a career, Harvey’s flailing arms and bright expressions as he discussed it made it as compelling as it could’ve been to me.

  Then again, I already knew the IT rat race. I hated the idea of having to learn another line of work. “So, I shouldn't try and jump careers into yours, from what you're telling me.”

  “Are you nuts? Stay where you are, dude. IT is great. Something's bound to come along. And now you have time off you can work more on that book, right?”

  “Yeah, if I can get myself into writing it.”

  “Well, you should look for that girl again and see if she can 'inspire' you.”

  We both laughed at that. My head cleared a bit and I chuckled a little more, both at Harvey's off putting jokes and at how my imagination would be considered a dangerous weapon in every state, in particular, my state of mind.

  Chapter 18 (Nelson)

  A fter a few weeks of scouring job websites, Craigslist and anywhere else I thought might hire me, I landed an interview with a consulting firm in town. The pay was a step down, but I wasn’t very picky at the time.

  The interview went well, with a “We'll be in touch” at the end. Yeah, I had heard that one before. Long as I kept up the search, I figured something was coming my way. I sounded like Dad.

  I left their office building and walked down Poydras. The hot and burned rubber smell of bus exhaust greeted me on the street. I weaved around people and was almost back to my car when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

  “Nelson!”

  Oh, not her again.

  She was about ten feet back, a faint smile on her lips. People walked past her as if she were a smooth stone in a rushing stream. Her eyes stayed locked on me; I don’t think she even blinked. She approached me slow.

  I squinted at her. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to talk with you.”

  Even in the daylight, her eyes gleamed, and I was fixated on her that quick again. But this time, I shook the thoughts from my mind and glared at her. “No, you don't. And I don't appreciate the weird messages and crap, alright?”

  “Messages?”

  “Yeah, I'm assuming that's you telling me to meet at the Moonwalk and everything?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What's a moonwalk?”

  “Forget it. I'm gone, you stay away.” I turned back toward my car. About two steps later I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Stop.”

  Either her hand or her tone sent a chill straight through me.

  “You know, some people would consider this stalking.” I looked over my shoulder at her. Her eyes pleaded with me and, I don’t know what happened, but I gave at that moment. I felt like whatever it was, whatever she needed, I at least should listen after all she’d done to get in front of me more than once.

  “I really need to give you the details. Gimme five minutes.”

  “Alright, Ana. I've got an idea, let's go down to the Moonwalk, should be decent this time of day for a brief conversation.”

  Her eyes darted about when I said “Moonwalk” again. “Wait, that's not good.”

  “Oh? Few seconds ago you were dying to talk and now you aren't so social?”

  She sighed and glanced downward. She looked like she was a second away from taking off down the street. “Remember I told you I wasn't the only one looking for you?”

  “Mmmhm.”

  “Well, that person, whoever left you that message, Nelson, don't you realize? If they know you're Xander-”

  “-Well, you can both have a nice reunion and fly away on the Millennium Falcon on whatever the hell you rode to get here.”

  Her jawbone moved back and forth, and her eyes burned into me. “You refuse to make this easy, don't you?”

  “Honey, if you knew half of what I'd been through
lately. Excuse me if I'm not completely sold on this story about me predicting the damn future over a thousand years from now.”

  I tried to leave again, but she gripped my shirt and pulled me closer. The top locks of her hair slid down a bit over her eyes, but they still showed up, almost too well. “Yag.”

  “Huh?”

  “Wick, Remy.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Her eyes widened a bit. “They're people who tried to get to you. And now they're dead.”

  “Friends of yours?”

  She nodded, slowly. “It wasn't even supposed to be me who came, but that's what it is.”

  My mind ached in calculations over these names I’d never heard of, and I thought more about what I wrote about.

  “Cataclysm. Did it happen?”

  Her gaze softened a little. She shook her head. “A small one, but the world’s not gone, not yet anyway. Look, I know you're hurting. You're not the only one in pain.”

  My chest tightened at the idea, and I saw in her eyes the same look that nurse gave me back at the house after Mom died. I saw the hurt that I’d felt but hadn’t been able to explain to anyone, waved in front of my face like a ninety foot billboard.

  Her voice hitched. “My little brother. He's not dead, but he doesn't have long.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  Her lip twitched, and she glanced downward. “Me too. If there was anything I could do to prove this to you, believe me, I would.”

  Her grip on my shirt relaxed, but her breaths remained agitated.

  I grabbed for her hands. My throat quavered and my voice began to break. “My mom died, not three weeks ago, alright? I try to not think about it, I… it’s tough. I’m so damned angry. I don’t know what good I am for anything right now.”

  She looked away, her eyes faded shut.

  “I don’t know what you think I can do, but you got my attention with that book. I can at least hear you out. Let's get somewhere less visible first.”

  I took her over to PJ's in the Quarter. Besides the barista, the place was empty. No surprise for that time of day. I grabbed a table in the far corner with a view of the street.

  I sipped a café au lait as she laid everything out. The classification system, the punishments, the torture, done in the name of a better world.

  “Is it my fault?” I asked.

  “People in power make choices that affect the rest. They didn’t pull this trigger because they were told to. At some point people have to take responsibility. Anyone can wage war, doesn't mean they have to.”

  “I imagined a major disaster that would just about destroy the planet. But people would somehow survive.”

  “We are open to suggestions.” She flashed a quick half smile.

  “I can’t believe I wrote this.” I set the cup down and drummed my fingers on the table. “Sounds like it's set in stone. Can we really make a difference now?”

  “Baudricort thinks so.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s in charge of the Action. It’s what they call the resistance.”

  “And what about you; what are you in this for?”

  She shrugged and studied her water bottle. “I want my brother back so I can get us away from it all.”

  “Yeah, but you said the raids and patrols happen all over the Outlands. Think you'll ever be away from that?”

  “If I can get away from the Action, and the Valentium, which is what Lebabolis wants, I won't be around anything valuable anymore.”

  “And the Omegans?”

  “Best I can tell, they just want to be superior, with no one to challenge them. If I’m out of their view, and don’t pose a threat, can’t see why they’d waste their time.”

  She spoke pretty plain in spite of everything she said. I was never one who roughed it, and I couldn't have imagined me on my own in the wilderness, much less with someone I took care of.

  “Ya got balls, have to say. Still don't know what I make of this. And suppose I start rewriting this book. I can change it or even destroy it. Maybe that's the best option.”

  She watched me as I spoke. “Well, someone else had that same idea. You already said you didn't finish it, remember?”

  “Yeah. Well, we're back to me not being able to help you, I suppose.”

  She slapped her hand on the table. “I'm bringing you back, and that's all there-”

  Her voice trailed when her eyes slid toward the counter at someone else who'd entered, a tall man in a dark outfit. His face was hidden behind the counter displays, but when he backed up a bit I recognized him. Ana crouched lower on the table, her head almost lying down on it.

  “What's Bruel doing here?” I asked.

  Ana dropped her voice to a hissing whisper, her face twisted in agitation. “Who's Bruel? That's him, the guy I told you about!”

  “What guy?”

  “You know, the man sent to kill you.”

  I looked back at her on the table. “Alright, you’ve gotta chill, dear. I know this guy. Look, I’ll get him to join us, you’ll see.” I walked over to the counter and caught Bruel's attention.

  “Why, hello. Mr. Forrester, right?” Bruel smiled warmly.

  “Yeah, didn't think I'd run into you here.” I chuckled.

  “Well, who doesn't enjoy coffee?”

  I nodded and glanced back toward my table.

  Ana was gone.

  Chapter 19 (Ana)

  I ran even though my sides ached. I sucked down gulps of air until my lungs scorched and I worked my way to the side of the road.

  I leaned against a building and glanced back toward where I had left Nelson with the one person who knew who I was and would've killed me without a passing thought.

  My pulse thumped in my throat. Did Azrael get a message to Brenn before I killed him? Had Brenn followed me?

  OK.

  Focus. I hunched down by the road, pressed my arms close, and thought about next moves, theirs and mine. Nelson’s family relations were also a target, in case he wasn’t grabbed. If I convinced them about everything and they reached out to Nelson...

  No more games. I pulled out the bloody piece of paper from Azrael and read the location: 3117 Fleur De Lis Drive.

  #

  I parked my vehicle under a large concrete structure, an elevated vehicle road. I squirmed over the soreness in my back and pressed myself into the soft cushion of the seat, but that didn’t help the pain any. One of these days I was gonna sleep for a month and let everything heal for a change.

  Once my eyes focused, I glanced at the screen of my P-LAD in the darkness until my mind drifted back to Treg. How he wanted me around him in the Action.

  “Would rather have someone I can trust with me,” he had said. “So many Encampments, we’ll be making regular supply and Valentium runs, and you know how those can go. We need people who can deal with problems like that, like you can.”

  “I know. We could still make a break for it.”

  Treg. My mentor. My best friend. I wished he were with me. He knew how Warrior Products thought. I was blind here, and anything would’ve helped.

  A loud noise startled me, and I realized I'd dozed off. A blue light pierced and enveloped the inside of the vehicle. My eyes ached from the intrusive glare. I squinted and saw another vehicle alongside mine. A loud squawk sound like I had heard in the alley with Azrael rang out into the night.

  I silenced my device and laid it on the seat next to me.

  Whatever it was looked like some kind of security force. The loud squawk changed to a man’s voice. “Driver, exit the vehicle and place your hands on the hood.”

  I swallowed hard and shoved the P-LAD under the seat as I got out. Once I was in place, they exited their vehicle, approached me and stood to my side.

  “Whatcha think you're doin’?” he asked gruffly.

  “I was just-”

  “-License and registration.”

  I nodded slowly. “I… what?”

  “You t
hink I’m playin around? Let’s go.” He tapped the metal on my vehicle. I shook my head in response.

  He eyed me for another moment, spun around and spoke into some device on his chest.

  Great. Time to improvise.

  I had gotten a better look at his vehicle as I exited mine. NOPD emblazoned on the side, and the blue lights atop it blinked rapidly. The squawk sounds still came from inside like it was some kind of comm unit.

  He nodded toward my vehicle. “I won’t find drugs in there, will I?”

  “Drugs? I don’t know what-”

  “Cut the bullshit, you ain't in this part of town right now if you aren’t dealing, honey.” I felt his glare on me. “This car was reported stolen. You don't have any ID on you?”

  “That's right.”

  “Well, you need somethin', or I gotta take you in.” I lurched forward when he kicked my feet further apart. He clutched the back of my jacket and added, “Spread your hands, dammit!”

  His hands ran up my legs and around my midsection. My whole body tensed up like a rope yanked tight. Otto's words to Remy echoed in my head.

  No killing unless it's life or death for you. Try not to be seen by too many people. And for God's sake don't get arrested or anything.

  So much for that.

  I recalled when Treg and Nycole held an exhibition for us while we were in instruction. Each Product demonstrated some of their skills to the entire school. One time, Treg and Nycole showed unarmed fighting techniques like escape from various holds. Nycole braced against a wall, and Treg stood behind her. In a few short moves, she flipped Treg around and slammed his body to the ground like a rag doll. Had there not been a padded mat he’d have been in bad shape. He still had the wind knocked out of him.

  My mind raced as I thought back on what I saw her do. When he grabbed one wrist, I spun around, and speared a hand at his throat. He gasped and took a few steps back, then thrust a small can in my face. “Get the fuck on the ground now!” he yelled, his face crumpled in anger.

  Instead, I lunged for him and connected with his head in a roundhouse kick as he sprayed me with the contents of the can. Scorching liquid hit my eyes. I shut them but the pain was as bad either way. I heard his groans and the sound of his body as it hit the ground. My eyes burned and it hurt like hell, but I kept ‘em open, enough for blurry vision. I dove into my vehicle and groped until I clasped the P-LAD, and took off down the street. As I fled, I heard him in the distance as he yelled into his comm unit.