The Good Death Box Set: A Hard SciFi Science Fiction Series

by Doug McGovern

  “When I look at you, New Orleans, I don’t see frightened people. I see a people that’s ready and willing to stand to the last man, woman, and child to defend the sanctity of your human life in this city.

  “We are faced with more than impending war, brothers and sisters. We are faced with something greater than extinction. For the enemy that we face has the power to plunge us body and soul into a living hell. We face more than death but an eternity of being sustained by science we cannot fathom.” He looked from each upturned face to the next. They saw in his eyes the same horror they felt to the last quaking fiber of themselves. Yet in the face of fear he was resolved. He smiled at them with a blessed reassurance that strengthened their knees and hands.

  “I won’t lie to you. We are facing impossible odds and you have every reason to panic and to run from here. Yet hear me, brothers and sisters! There is nowhere to run from this. There is nothing that can hide you from this destruction. Even if we could get beyond the explosive wall, the world just isn’t big enough. It’s in the water and in the air! It will find you.

  “This is a fire that cannot be extinguished by the distance. Unless you stand up against it, unless some of us water it with our blood, then it will overtake us. We will not die but be kept alive without the right to retire.

  “We are not merely protecting the sanctity of life, New Orleans! We are protecting the sanctity of the course of Nature! We are not gods but men. We must protect our right to remain human, to not be subjected to this forced evolution into the monstrosity of her vision!” Harrison raised his rifle to the air. His eyes had fallen on Kingsley whose breath came in constricted gasps. He could see in Harrison’s eyes all the pain he had caused him with the botched euthanasia.

  “People of New Orleans. Be strong. The entire chain of DNA from Adam to us is being unraveled. Humanity is being ripped up at the seams by the nature of this hyper extract. We know that a single line by itself will snap, but a many folded cord cannot be broken. Today, sons and daughters of the dust, we are one family. We have one blood. Human blood. Now let’s make the ocean red. Seal ourselves in history as Humanity! If we die tonight, then we will die as one race. If we continue on as something else, something unnatural, then all of us will remember and smile. We will all say that all She-Hitler’s labor managed to do was make peace between us as one people. She did not conquer us. Remember, whatever happens after this, that I said it. She did not conquer us. We will not be there. We shall all rise up as one. We will never die. She did not prevail against us because our memory remains.”

  No sooner had he said his peace, than did the sky begin to darken with the machine-grinding, locust-whirring hum of those many pastel colored planes in the pirate ring’s employ.

  “Okay, Dexter. It’s starting up now,” said Reilly. “Let’s say a prayer for each other. Then you can stay beside me. I know what it’s like to stand against the wind. Stick with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Reilly craned her neck to look at the sky, her auburn hair blowing all around her face. Dexter felt his eyes stung by silent tears. Wise men had said that a little child would lead them in the end.

  Jane, wherever you are…I hope you know that I loved you. This is for you. He hummed to himself and closed his eyes to shut out the spray of rippling concrete in the wake of sky fire.

  *****

  Chapter 19

  This was a moment when they as a legislative body realized the grave consequences of their action. While the plan had been executed with tactical sagacity, it had been a question of morals.

  They sat in their air conditioned Congress room, with a massive television screen before them. Kendra Reagan had been forced to cast the news that their Andromeda, Jane Lewis, would be executed.

  “Ms. Reagan, I would like for you to advertise for the audience what this actually is.” Leona produced from a cello case a massive whip-like weapon, more like a club.

  Kendra faced the screen, clenching her teeth together. Her mascara had bled somewhat and her eyes were tinged red. She took the whip from Leona and held it up to the camera.

  “This is a modern reconstruction of the Roman Flagrum. Much like a cat of nine tails, the Roman Flagrum was created to be like a whip club, with nine tails that each had lead weights at the end for producing as much pain as was possible.” Kendra posed the whip for the camera with shaking hands.

  “This flagrum is crafted out of a steel Louisville slugger, with nine log chains serving as the whip strands. Each chain is braided with razor and electric wires that are charged by the box at the end of the handle. In place of the lead weights at the end of each whip, there are nine iron pulleys.” Kendra caught her breath. Leona took the whip back.

  “Yes, thank you, Ms. Reagan. Now then. I would like to address the American Government considering the intended use of this Roman Flagrum.” Leona smiled as the cameras focused on her.

  “President Matthews. I believe explanations are in order for the controversial legislation that you and the Congress recently passed after tactical advice was given you by those citizens that had been on the ground when I launched my executive overthrow.” Leona’s eyes flickered with the fire of condemnation. She wanted the guts of the powerful to spill on the table.

  President Matthews sat directly in front of the screen in the White House war room, surrounded by his cabinet, several members of Congress, and the Joint Chiefs. His hands clenched before him in red fists, he held his breath, trying to weigh the words, knowing his tongue would now be the rudder for the direction history would take. This decision of his administration may have been the last straw in losing the people’s faith. It might have also been the only thing they could have done to save them.

  “Rather than discuss it with you, Leona Kelley, I believe I owe it to the people to see with their own eyes that private emergency commencement of the Congress that led to our precarious decision to surrender a beautiful American woman into your hands.” The President held his breath. Many eyes of his fellow politicians bored holes through his skin. That information was initially intended to be classified. Yet now he wanted to expose it to the world in the face of the mother of all dictators?

  “Ooh, a risky move,” cooed Leona. “Are you certain you are making the right choice? Because whatever you reveal will pale in comparison to what I am about to show the world.” Leona’s chilling laughter stilled every viewing heart around the globe.

  President Matthews stood up to face the camera. The eyes of the world were looking to him now to have an adequate rebuttal for this woman that threatened the global ecosystem with the poison she meant to unleash.

  “I will confess before God and all mankind that when we made the decision to sign the Andromeda Act into effect we were acting out of haste and without the voice of the population. It was in the same way that a parent makes difficult decisions of maturity with the intent of furnishing good things for their children. The people have often viewed the legislative body with the same sort of disdain a teenager has for an incompetent parent and we have merited that opinion on many occasions.

  “How quickly we forget that we the people are all of the people of the United States of America. Leaders and citizens. Husbands, wives and children. Young nurses… We are all the people of this majestic country and we each have a responsibility in ensuring the domestic tranquility.

  “All of us are responsible for establishing justice. It was cowardice to thrust that necessary responsibility upon the shoulders of one willing sacrifice. It was the worst kind of scapegoating. We shall not be so cowardly again. We shall pay for our sins with honest words, open doors, and great rivers of our blood.” The President snapped his fingers. The camera crew moved like the mechanics in a clock to play the footage of the day the emergency act was signed.

  The camera lit up with the image of a simple girl. Short blonde hair, stonewashed jeans, a camo hoodie zipped to her chin. She stood before the Congress, nervously toeing the floor with the tip of her red, white, and blue starred sn
eakers. Behind her was a small card table that she had set up many different photographs on like a show and tell presentation.

  “Permission to address the Congress at the President’s request?” She cleared her throat and ran shaking hands through her hair. It was clear to the viewer that her hands had been bandaged. She was terrified, looking over her shoulder for exit doors and bodyguards.

  “Yes, that’s why we called you here. You don’t need any further permission.” The Speaker waved at her in irritation not understanding why she was present.

  “Ehem, okay then. Ladies and gentlemen, throughout history society has often times chosen a person even a fictional person to proceed them as a symbol of their purpose, a face for their struggle and sometimes even as a shield for their defense. Consider Anne Frank, Rosie the Riveter, Joan of Arc or even the mythical Andromeda as examples.” She indicated the board of photographs she had printed. Her knees were beginning to knock together violently. Dr. Joseph Kingsley could be seen rising to his feet ready to offer her medical attention.

  “What I propose, what I have been invited to propose after careful discussion with the President and various consultants for his administration, is that we make a symbol out of the very thing that our enemy has chosen to wield for terrorism. To symbolically counter the alleged Andromeda extract, I propose an ‘Andromeda’ figure. A person in the spotlight posed at the front of the resulting press conference replies to the insurrection in Louisiana. In short summary, a legalized fall guy. Someone’s face to act as the mask for a proverbial military Spartacus. A diversion allowed to act as a vigilante under certain conditions to attract the already inflamed attentions of our enemy while U.S. Special Forces and Armed Service members perform escort and reconnaissance, using the enemy’s interest in the suggested vigilante’s antagonism as a means of extracting knowledge that will lead ultimately to the enemy’s termination. Cut off the head of the snake. Use a mouse to do it.” She folded her hands in front of her, patient and composed.

  The Speaker howled with jeering laughter.

  “Okay, and who would be the person to back your ridiculous theory? What kind of raving lunatic would actually volunteer for such blatant suicide?” The Speaker wiped tears from his eyes and turned to Matthews, shaking his head. Who was this, and why had she been allowed to come in here?

  “I would,” said Jane.

  “You what?” said the Speaker.

  “Sir, I don’t suppose you’ve been fully informed of the situation. I am Jane Lewis, the woman that stood up to Leona Kelley in the Shreveport attacks. My presence at this meeting alone is a target risk of terrorism.” Jane swallowed, chewing her lip.

  The Speaker stood slowly up.

  “You?”

  “You expected me to be taller, huh?” She pretended to curtsy. The image cut.

  President Matthews shook off what he and world had just seen, and addressed the people. “While it was cowardice to expose a civilian like a raw nerve, it proved to be highly effective in the first trial. Your flagrant appearance at the football stadium gave our military’s finest the eyes we needed to track you down. We now have coordinates and have prepared maneuvers against at least three of your major bases. This has shifted the board somewhat where instead of holding all the cards, you are now just one side of the board and this is chess. If war is what you wanted, war is what you get. All thanks to her.” The President bowed his head on live television, threatening to break into tears. This would have been no easy address for him to make even if he hadn’t known the girl. But he did. She’d been in his company for over a week while the situation was being processed.

  For the first time, Leona Kelley was actually speechless. Her lips quivered and her fists clenched in frustration as she took all that she’d seen and been told in. Then she smiled, lips turned the color of diamonds, eyes tinged with the viperous hue of rage.

  “I see how it stands. Symbolism. Mmm, yes, it does have great power in the theater of the human experience, yes? Well, I will bring home to you the full meaning of symbolism this afternoon. Bring her out!” Leona turned. The camera’s spun to the face the mansion.

  Jane was lead forward, dressed in a white one piece swimsuit. Her hair was soaked and she grit her teeth. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the single telephone pole-sized piece of timber that they had chosen for her flogging stake.

  *****

  Chapter 20

  Only now in the moment that it was time for her to give her life did she feel too weak to do it. There stood She-Hitler, still in uniform, with the cruel whip in her hands. Jane remembered the pain she’d previously experienced at her hands, but then it had only been her toying like a cat with yarn. Now her claim to the Global throne had been challenged by Jane’s actions. If she’d despaired of mercy before…

  Jane felt her knees giving out. She bit her tongue to keep from throwing up and felt her heart beating through the center of it. She wanted to squeal, scream and cry. There were no means for that. Her breath was gone.

  Her whole body quaked as they lifted her hands above her head to where a chain was hung from the post. They braided it around her wrists and arms, clamping the ends close to her body with padlocks. She felt a small cry escape her that was muffled. Her lips quivered and she twisted her neck back to look at Kendra Reagan. She instantly recognized the reporter that had kept Dexter, Ivy, and Lindsey in her care while all of this went down despite her fallen countenance.

  “You’re here? How are you here, Kendra?! Are they alright?!” She was losing her will. They grabbed her by her face and turned her around wrapping razor wire under her arms and lashing her body in a rigid position so that she couldn’t twist away from the post.

  “Kendra?!” Jane thrashed, flinching as the wires bit into her skin.

  “They took just me, Jane. The others are okay.” Kendra’s voice was hoarse and barely reached the condemned girl.

  Leona leaned closer and pressed a finger to her throat as Jane hyperventilated.

  “Oh dear, how nervous you are…”Leona giggled and raised the brutal whip to the girl’s face, barely tracing it against her cheek. Blood began to well up like multiple razor nicks.

  Jane closed her eyes. She didn’t whimper or cry like those watching expected her to do, as they probably would have done in her position. To universal viewer shock, she leaned back her head and began to sing.

  “Kyrie Eleison…” Her song started off, hoarse and almost mute. It swelled with the moment, rising gradually like the tide to meet the sky above her. She looked to find that the heavens shrouding her last day were a holy blue. The faith of her fathers was flooding back to the Catholic girl in her time of dying.

  “Cry to God for mercy! Beg and sing! No one will save you now!” Leona shrieked and swung the whip hard enough to shake the post. Jane felt like she’d been shot directly in the spine. She sobbed and heard her own voice shrieking. Then she began the chanting song again, forming the words around the pain as the blows fell frenetically.

  A Roman executioner would have stopped in a mix of exhaustion and disgust long before Leona Kelley had her fill. The only pauses between her blows were when she was too exhausted to swing the whip that she’d made much heavier than the ones used in antiquity. Blood splattered like an abstract artist’s paint. Kendra was drenched after the third blow. She stood shivering, eyes closed against the dark red rain. The song remained the same, breathless now, rising only in broken stanzas cut off by the shrieks and garbled pain. Jane never lost her faith as she was afflicted. In this last moment, with nothing more to lose, she refused to surrender who she was to the torment of her disbanding form.

  Leona persisted with rhythm. Even the most sadistic centurion might have been pressed to keep a count, but she had no intention. She’d lost track of the blows long after the standard fortieth of a Roman flogging fell.

  The pious song continued to rise from the dying girl up until the tenth lash. After that, she had no more strength in her lungs, no air reaching her as hypovolem
ic shock began to set in. She dug her teeth into the post, sobbing to the heavens, hoping that someone had heard her anthem. Worse than the pain was the weakness and tachycardia resulting from her blood loss. She could feel her heart melting within her like a lava lamp oozing from its container. Her voice died after the seventh scream and she could do nothing more than croak from the agony inflicted upon her now over a hundred times.

  The cameras were splattered with blood until they were completely blind. Eventually, the whip unraveled sticking into the rut it and Jane’s teeth had dug into the post. Leona hurled the pieces to the ground and ordered that the cameras be wiped carefully clean.

  She then ordered a car battery to be brought to her. She siphoned the acid from it into a metallic container she’d had at her feet, this entire time and splattered it viciously across Jane’s raw back. The girl’s whole body tore in a violent seizure of pain and complications. Ripping her chains away from the post, she fell into the dust.

  Leona stood over her kicking her like a soccer ball throughout the cedar shavings and sand that littered the ground beneath the post. She screamed at the Dolls to bring her bags full of rock salt, which she proceeded to pour on the girl’s mutilated shoulders.

  Jane groaned, hands spreading to the sky. Over their heads, a single white dove rose up to meet the blue. She watched it, brows curling wondering if it was only a delusion, or a sign from Mother Mary herself, guiding her on her way to Eternity. It was Elysium at her end, the last clear picture she had. On her knees amongst the dust and salt, Jane managed to drag in a few last ragged breaths. Her eyes were wide open as she gave up the ghost directly before the screen. One of the Doll’s had thrust the camera in her face at that exact moment, wanting the World to see the injustice the She-Hitler had wreaked upon them all as close and personal as possible. She hoped in her fractured mind it would inspire their assistance.