by Drew Avera
My grip grew tighter on the rifle in anticipation. In my heart I wanted this to be over, to see Tetrim in a pool of blood at my feet. Beyond that moment, I had no idea what the future would hold. I could speculate putting a bullet in my head and ending my worries right then and there. But there was a high likelihood that I would be captured, surrounded by the Guard and hauled in for conspiracy to commit murder. It would have a certain irony to it, but not the kind that ushered a smile from its victim of happenstance.
I told the Guard of my suspicions when they arrested me before. They released me for a lack of evidence, but that didn't mean I wasn't still suspect number one on their short list. When I kill Tetrim, they would have a motive. I gave it to them already.
Would I rot in prison, or would they end me quickly? Those were the only concerns I had moving forward.
The bullet to the head to celebrate my victory seemed more appealing with each passing moment.
A commotion lulled me away from the darkness of my thoughts and I gazed down at the double-doors leading to the tunnels. I was less than one-hundred meters from Castor, but it seemed a world away. I glanced at the actuating device in my hand and saw the canisters were already armed. That meant we were seconds away from detonation unless he was already killed. Then again, the sound I heard was not gunfire.
I waited with bated breath. The anxiety of failure loomed over me like a dark cloud. I knew our enemies would die in there, but by whose hand? Killing, even in self-defense, felt like murder. Every cop I knew who was forced to fire on a suspect said the same thing. It was hard not to equate those two acts together. It made me wonder, could I really do this?
I cleared my throat and watched, eyes wide, and my heart thrumming in my ears.
A single breath separated that moment of trepidation from my future. The next witnessed a magnificent explosion as a blast shook the ground, causing the rafters to quake from side to side. I rose to my feet to secure myself on the railing, holding on with a white-knuckled grip, letting the actuating device and rifle fall. The shaking grew worse as I realized I found the worst spot to be. The attaching point of the rafters to the library buckled, and it was that moment the rafters began to tilt away from the library and came crashing down.
I tucked in, bracing myself on the railing and holding on with every ounce of strength I had. The fall felt like it was in slow motion as I descended. But the crash at the end jostled me violently inside the metal cage, ultimately slamming me to the ground hard.
As I lay there, surrounded by a dozen small fires, panting and my heart racing, I tried to move but my body felt too heavy. I looked down to see part of the rafter system pinning my right arm to the ground. Panic washed over me, knowing if it was as bad as I thought it could be, then my mission was failed before I ever stepped foot in the World Council Building.
I rolled to my right side and soon realized I could still move my fingers. A second later and the weight shifted off my arm entirely, freeing me. I pulled my arm out and examined it in the dim light seeping through the white tent hanging over me. To my surprise, my arm was unharmed. It appeared to be a miracle considering how damaged the wooden pallets were as the heavy steel railing tore through them.
"I can't believe it," I said under my breath. "Any other day and that fall would have killed me." I took it as a sign from the universe that I was doing exactly what needed to be done.
I surveyed the area, desperately looking for the rifle and found it pinned under a section of collapsed railing. It too appeared unharmed, save for a couple of deep gouges in the stock and handle, neither of which should hinder its effective use. I resisted the urge to fire it to be sure, not wanting to attract more undue attention. If anyone in the perimeter was smart, they would move away from the sound of the explosion. Gunfire might bring curious onlookers to swarm towards the library and I didn't need witnesses. Especially not so close to the end.
"Guess I'll take you on faith," I said as I racked a bullet into the chamber, ready to fire on sight if needed. Come the devil himself this would be the end of the line and Marada would be avenged. I swore it and I meant every last word. "All right, Tetrim. You took my wife from me and now it's time to end this."
33
Tetrim
"Can I please just say one thing," Etan Nayep said in the open forum. "Tetrim, I'm sorry for your loss. I know you and Cherum were close for many years. I'm sure it is devastating for you to discover the horrific news. Please reach out to me if you need to. I'll be here for you, as many of us in the Council are if you need us. You're a great man and a great leader. I've learned more from you than any other councilman on this board." He sat down finally. Three times people spoke, each mini-speech similar to the one prior, urging me to reach out to them. More like urging me to reveal whatever secrets I might know, the nosy prudes.
I rose and lifted my hands in hopes of silencing the growing applause. As the sound died down to a dull roar, I spoke. "Thank you, everyone, for your concern. I don't see an immediate need for group therapy," I said, cracking a smile, intending it to be a joke. After a couple of moments, the crowd seemed to get the idea and a few faint chuckles emanated from the crowd. It was disappointing, to say the least. "Cherum was my friend, but knowing the truth, it reveals he was not a man of integrity. I have lost someone I once held dear. But that loss is marred by the wickedness of which consumed him. He was not the brother I once knew. How could such evil come from someone I cared about so deeply?"
I paused as a wave of murmurings rose from the crowd. I knew what I was doing, and I would feed off their energy until I had each one of them on my side.
"In Cherum's death note, he stated that his part in the conspiracy to kill Marada Scrimpshire was to ensure the building of the artificial atmosphere. On first thought, his wickedness should not be allowed to continue, because what does that say about our willingness to co-conspire with him?" Another pause. Another rise from the crowd. "But I tell you, he was right in that the artificial atmosphere is the only way to truly live free lives on this planet. The dome is not getting any bigger. We have surpassed peak population a century before it was expected, and our resources are stretched thin. We need to do something, and the artificial atmosphere project is our only hope. Let us not rely on a secondary dome in Clenist as the answer. Let us rely on inhabiting all of Mars and creating a new Earth to replace the one our forefathers left behind.
"Vote for that change."
As I turned to sit back in my chair I heard sounds I had not expected. Accompanying their applause was the growing chant of two simple words. "Build it!"
To hear them side with me brought a smile to my face. I felt the flush of my cheeks, but it was not embarrassment. It was pride. I had done what I set out to do despite the odds against me. Despite the losses I had to endure to secure the future.
"Well done," Etan said as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You did well, but we're very close to running out of time. May I suggest a recess before the public memorial?"
"Please do," I replied. "Perhaps those most eager to push forward will cast their ballot before heading to the restroom."
Etan stood before the council and lifted his hand to silence them. "We have half an hour before the media will begin recording the memorial for Pontiff Cherum. We would like to take a recess until them and allow the media crew to set up. In the meantime, if you would like to cast your ballot for the artificial atmosphere project, you can do so. I will bring this council back to order in thirty minutes. Also, please refrain from any outbursts over what you learned of Pontiff Cherum's involvement in Marada's death. We do not want to incite the public. Thank you."
I sat cross-legged as Etan returned to his seat. He plopped down with an exasperated sigh, leaning towards me as other members of the board stepped off the stage. "You know more than you're letting on, don't you?"
His question caught me off guard. He stared at me as I turned to look at him and I could tell he had spent the last hour or two putting puzzle p
ieces together in his mind. That was one of Etan's strengths, solving problems without all the data.
"I had my suspicions," I said meekly.
"Yet you said nothing, and now two of our own are dead. I thought we were clear on policing ourselves. We can't let one person amongst the board bring unbalance to the dynamic. We have to reign them in before it gets to this point."
His words stung. I had no idea if he knew of my involvements, but if he did, the sanctimonious prick would use the bylaws against me in a second. Just when I thought I was running out of enemies—
"I'm aware of the bylaws, Etan. I just didn't have proof and suspicions are meaningless. What would you have had me do, report him and be caught in a scandal of which the only byproduct is distrust amongst the World Council?"
My own question appeared to set him back in his seat. He no longer kept his eyes boring into mine as he sat, contemplating his next move. "You're right, but as a friend, I would think together we could have approached him to ward him away from such a devastating endgame."
"Maybe you're right, but we'll never know. I doubt he had too many thoughts as to what the future would hold anyway. You know how his head was always in the clouds. The man would forget to zip his pants if not for an automatic zipper sewn into his clothing."
Etan chortled. "Yes. Yet, he was able to fool all of us into thinking he would never mastermind a conspiracy to murder a councilmember. It kind of makes me wonder how calculating and cunning others in our midst can be when they have something to hide. You know what I mean?" Etan's friendly tone diminished the closer he got to the end of his pointed question.
I sat, staring at him and fighting to keep my eyes from going wide with fear. I knew in my heart he had figured out what I thought no one could. "I know exactly what you mean," I said, stone-faced.
"Betrayal has a way of haunting all involved, Tetrim. Sometimes, unshared knowledge, or unspoken truths, however you choose to label them, are a form of betrayal. Hiding in the shadows is something far worse when the truth is discovered. The disruptions and conflict on the cusp of realization can cripple an organization like ours. Balance is important. Maintaining that balance is more important as we walk a tightrope towards the future. Sometimes, reigning in those perceived threats means a one-sided negotiation with a loyal friend. The insistence to cease and desist before more gruesome steps are forced to be taken."
I exhaled loudly, unable to control the anxiety washing over me. I recognized the threat and the fact he intended to blackmail me to keep this a secret. "What kind of negotiations are you talking about, Etan?"
He smiled. "Forty percent."
"That's nearly half of the profit margins. Are you daft?"
He glanced at me with a scolding expression on his face before softening, disguising who he was to any onlookers. "Forty percent is nothing so long as you keep breathing. I will only make this offer once and you know I hate back and forth negotiations."
I rubbed my forehead and looked away, a victim of my own hubris. I thought I had it all figured out, yet just as Etan said, the shadows hid something worse upon discovery of the truth. "How did you find out?"
"Is it a deal?" he asked, leaning in with his question as he nudged me closer to the edge of losing everything. Or at least half of it.
I cleared my throat and croaked a strained, "yes."
"Good. I would hate to lose a savvy business partner such as yourself," he said, his smile returning as a group of councilmembers swarmed back into the great room.
"Answer my question now. How did you know?"
Etan glanced at me with a wink. "I didn't until you told me."
"You sonofa—"
"Excuse me. I need to use the restroom before we remember Pontiff Cherum's great legacy to Archea," he said smirking. Etan rose from his seat and walked towards the exit, leaving me to my shame and feeling conflicted, betrayed. As I watched him disappear through the doors leading out to the atrium, I knew my future would be dimmer than my dreams of it. I practically gave my legacy away because of fear. What he didn't know was how deep my pockets ran with shadow organizations within our government. I would climb back to the top regardless of how much blood had to be spilled in my path.
Even if some of that blood was mine.
34
Halem
The underground exit was exactly as I remembered it.
I took the stairs down from the private parking garage and strolled uninhibited down the long, narrow passage to the security door. The only thing separating me from the World Council was a number pad powering the locking mechanism. It was a false means of security for those relying on it. There wasn't a human guard in sight and anything can be breached when the person doing so is willing to do anything.
I keyed the six numbers Marada told me into the pad and watched as the lock clicked and beamed a green light signaling that it was unlocked.
"This is easier than it should be," I said before turning the handle and stepping in.
The temperature in the hallway was colder than I expected. The chill cut me to the bone and I felt myself trembling as I quickly made my way down the long corridor. Something didn't feel right the closer I got to the end. I stopped and listened and that was when I heard it.
The sound of someone speaking around the corner.
Had they heard me or seen me for that matter? This place was supposedly unguarded. Was the person alone? My mind raced with the possibilities.
I tiptoed closer to the corner, keeping my body as close to the wall as possible and hoping against hope I went unnoticed. As I peered sheepishly around the corner, the source of the sound revealed itself. Halfway down the hallway, a man dressed like Castor stood looking into his comm. If I heard it right, the voice was a report about the explosion outside of the library.
"Already?" I muttered under my breath. If the reports were already made public, less than an hour afterward, then that meant the World Council might be under stricter lockdown than I expected. This mission appeared to be shaping up as more of a challenge than I ever dreamed. With this level occupied, then how many other agents or Guardsmen were in the building to challenge my path for revenge?
To hell with it, I thought. If I'm going to do this, I may as well leap.
I turned the corner and kept as out of sight as possible, stopping each time the agent canted his head. Thankfully, his back was mostly to me and as long as I kept quiet, I could go undetected. Of course, that meant holding my breath. My plan went well until he unexpectedly turned, and we stood face to face, only five meters apart.
"Halem Scrimpshire, I presume," he said, his voice eerily cold; almost disembodied.
"You got me," I said, raising my hands in surrender, the rifle above my head now.
"Well, surrendering wasn't part of my orders. I'm sure you understand," he said. I acted as the agent went for his gun. Without a second thought, I slammed the stock of my rifle into his forehead with enough force to break the skin, splitting his head open before it smashed against the tiled floor. The dull, lifeless thud sent chills down my spine and it was in that moment I knew I was a murderer, just like Castor. I expected to feel remorse, but instead, I felt vindicated.
He would have killed me if given the opportunity. I was only protecting myself to ensure Marada was avenged. I shouldn't feel guilty about this, I thought.
I stood over his body for a while, the comm still displaying the report about the library explosion. According to the reporter, the lower level beneath the library was unstable and a sinkhole had formed, causing damage to the old structure. "It was the end of an era," the female voice said over the comm. "The library sustained too much damage and will need to be torn down to protect the other buildings in the area."
My thoughts drifted to Marada and how the library was her pet project a few years prior. She spearheaded the restoration project and helped secure the funding. It seemed to me, the end of the era the reporter mentioned ended with Marada's death, which led to the damage to the old bu
ilding. It was hopelessly ironic.
I cracked my neck, relieving some of the built-up tension and continued my way towards the hatch leading up to the stage. By now, the World Council would begin the memorial for Pontiff Cherum. If I had any luck at all, Tetrim would be seated close enough to the hatch that I could end him with all the coldhearted rage he deserved. A part of me wondered if my final act before the Guard fell on me would end with applause at what I intended to do. Surely I wasn't the only person who hated him.
I knew I would cheer on Marada's behalf as Tetrim's lifeless body slumped in his leather seat of power. I imagined Castor would have as well.
There was only one way to find out and that was to kill Councilman Tetrim Rine.
35
Tetrim
I felt like two people seated in the chair on stage as the umpteenth councilperson sang their praises for Cherum. A man in mourning and a man resigned to live in his own prison occupied my mind. I could hardly focus on the memorial due to the flood of thoughts and emotions washing over me. Never mind the fact that the longer the memorial went on, the more it became a political posturing campaign than a true ceremony for the deceased. Considering it was all a lie anyway, I had less of an issue with this, and more of an issue with how Etan manipulated a confession out of me.
Any other time and I would have seen it coming, but something inside of me was broken.
"I would also like to give my condolences to Councilman Rine for his great loss." I glanced up after hearing my name, fighting to keep the confused expression off my face and reveal how little I paid attention to the ceremony. Atria Lagimil continued, "He and Pontiff Cherum were friends for most of their lives. Having that connection to your past taken away from you can be exceedingly painful."
