Regress (The Alliance Chronicles Book 1)

by SF Benson

  “Think again, Aoki,” announced Asher. His Glock pointed at my father’s head. “Tell them to drop their weapons. The Alliance has this place surrounded.”

  My father slowly raised his hands. “Do it.”

  His men placed their weapons on the floor. The Alliance soldiers moved in to take them into custody.

  Ko stepped from the shadows. “Take the good doctor into custody as well.”

  I sighed. It was over. My father was in custody and nobody else got hurt. I couldn’t wait to see Tru.

  All seemed right with my world. The cloud over my head moved on and let the sun shine bright. Peaceful. It was perfect. Too perfect.

  A flash of steel.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  No!

  Ko screamed.

  I grabbed a gun off the floor, turned, and fired back. My father fell forward.

  Bile rose up my throat. I leaned over and puked my guts on the floor. Killing him was not my intention. I only wanted to protect Ko. Blood poured from her body. Why wasn’t she in combat gear? Asher checked for a pulse, and then called for a medic.

  Time stood still. The medics carried Ko out. My vision blurred. Voices morphed.

  “Dude, thank you.” I read Asher’s lips. His voice was muffled. “You saved her life.”

  I nodded. I knelt beside my father’s lifeless body. There was so much blood. I choked back another wave of nausea. I don’t know why, but I felt for a pulse. None. The body was barely warm. I trained as a sharpshooter. I did what I had to do without a second thought. If I hadn’t pulled the trigger, I would be in his place. I. Had. No. Choice.

  “Don’t let them blind you. Science and technology are a bad reality. Wrong is wrong and they can’t disguise it.”

  —Malcolm Rivera, leader, The Alliance

  The Ubernet café, a small colorful space, was empty. Perhaps it was too early in the day for the masses. Countertop computers lined one side of the room. The opposite wall had multicolored armchairs for people using portable devices. A separate desk with a small server sat in the back of the room. A tall woman with a boxy blonde hairstyle lounged in a chair studying a screen.

  I walked past her and headed for a desk in the corner. I removed the SIM card from my pocket and stared at the little harbinger of evil. People lost their lives to protect it. A man sacrificed life with his son to destroy it. My mother died to hide it.

  I wanted it gone. I looked up at the back door to the café. A simple solution. Destroy the card and walk away. Disappear into the city. No one would know. Bury Tru Shepard. Reinvent myself. It was the first time I ever wanted to run away, but could I live with myself afterward? Was I willing to live my life without Zared? Not an option. I’ve never run from a challenge. I’d lost too much already to start now.

  I loaded the SIM card, typed in the passcode, and waited for Intrepid to install. I prayed this little act would change things for all Creatives allowing us to live our lives the way we chose.

  Intrepid installed. I popped out the card and placed it in an envelope. The desk had a drawer. I slid the envelope inside it and then typed the message I committed to memory:

  Citizens of the American Republic, you have been misled.

  Your illustrious leaders have filled your minds with fairy tales.

  Ebola has been eradicated. No other country forces their citizens to partake in mandatory inoculations for an eradicated illness.

  Refuse to be a lab rat!

  Do NOT report for your Inoculation Day!

  Your leadership has big plans and they are NOT in your best interest.

  LEARN before it’s too late.

  Welcome to the World of Intrepid.

  —This message was brought to you by the Alliance

  A breeze blew past me. The hairs on my arm stood at attention. Someone was behind me. I hit the Enter button.

  A man’s voice made the announcement, “Truly Shara Shepard, you are under arrest.” Riza soldiers were on either side of me.

  I raised my hands and stood. They grabbed my arms and held on to me.

  “Finally. We have you.” Eden inserted the syringe in my neck.

  Welcome to my nightmare…

  READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF

  RESCUE:

  the alliance chronicles

  book two

  by

  SF BENSON

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Citizens help the New Order find and eliminate terrorist agitators!

  The keys to spotting traitors of the American Republic:

  Traitors don’t support Inoculation Day.

  Traitors doubt the Government.

  Traitors don’t watch AR news streams.

  Traitors talk of Alliance.

  Traitors avoid mandated educational questionnaires.

  Traitors don’t support Riza.

  Don’t be caught supporting a traitor! Be a loyal citizen. Report any and all suspected traitors.”

  —A communiqué from the Bureau of Homeland Protection

  Zared

  I saved a life, and I took a life in a matter of mere minutes, seconds. Watching the medics wheel Ko away, I knew she’d be fine, thanks to me. Another set of medics claimed my father’s body, my fault also. I did the right thing. He would have killed Ko and anyone else who got in his way. My father’s blood staining my hands was what mattered. A stark, brutal reality.

  Children don’t kill their parents. We love them and cherish them. Moreover, parents don’t incite their children to commit murder. Perhaps I could have overlooked his faults. I searched my memory trying to latch on to the good times we shared. The memory bank went dry.

  My father abandoned me, but I wanted to forgive him. All I needed was one reason, an excuse would have worked. I wasn’t picky. I needed to know why he discarded me when I needed him the most. Thanks to my actions, he’d never tell me his explanation.

  “Aoki, we need to talk,” the loud, acidic voice cut through the silence. Malcolm slithered his way across the floor. I had no desire to go up against the former rapper turned activist. I needed a moment, an hour, a few damned days.

  “Can it wait?” My voice croaked.

  “I need a status report.” The man formerly known as the Ice Pimp stood with his arms crossed, staring me down with those intense, eerie blue eyes.

  “And I need to deal with what happened,” I pushed the hair off my forehead. A slight tremor quaked through my body followed by a trail of sweat etching its way down my spine. The tremor morphed into a fully-charged piston. Its incessant revving urged my feet toward the door. Either time needed to speed up, or Malcolm needed to shut up.

  “We appreciate what you did for the cause.” I bristled at the callousness in his voice.

  I jabbed a finger at him. “It wasn’t about the damn cause. It was self-preservation. Don’t you get it?” I screamed at my superior and, for once, I didn’t care. What I did mattered more than a status report or this militant’s battle. “I killed my…my father. It was him or me.”

  Malcolm sneered. “What would you like me to do? Throw you a party? Get over yourself. You had a job to do. You did it. End of story.”

  He was an arrogant-ass prick. Killing my father, killing anyone, wasn’t the job. Damn it, I loved my father. At one point in my life, I’m sure, the man loved me. I know he did. I believed he did. I guessed he did.

  I needed time to handle my loss and the person I’d become, a murderer. One person understood me. Tru would get me through this mess.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  He blocked my path. “I need the report.”

  I stared up at him. He jutted his chin, squinted, and a hard smile crossed his face. Damn! I’d been a complete idiot. I didn’t put the puzzle together until now.

  “You planned this,” I said.

  “And you carried it out. Mission complete.”

  Unbelievable. I fell for it. Malcolm wasn’t man enough to kill my father himself so he set me up to do it. I wanted to rip his heart out
with my bare hands, but something said leave it alone. Killing him would serve no purpose. My father would still be dead, and I’d be a punching bag for Riza. Men like Malcolm would cause their own demise. I brushed past him and stormed out the building.

  A few Alliance mercenaries stood around outside the building. I approached a burly, sepia-colored soldier dressed in tan camo fatigues. The name emblazoned on his shirt pocket read Niang. Most likely a Purebred from Senegal.

  He saluted. I returned the gesture. “Aoki.”

  “Private Niang, Sir.” His French-accented voice boomed from his body. Definitely not native to the AR.

  “No need for formality. No rank here. Did you take someone to an Ubernet café today?”

  Niang frowned. “No, but I know where it is. I can take you there.”

  “Good, soldier. Can we leave now?” I hopped into the passenger seat, leaned back, and closed my eyes. My father’s inanimate body surrounded by blood kept invading my thoughts. A heavy, acrid odor filled the vehicle. I raised my hand to cover my nose and noticed his blood smeared on my hands. Bile rose in my throat.

  “Pull over, now!”

  As soon as Niang stopped the vehicle, I jumped out, spilling my guts across the cracked asphalt. Reality kicked my ass. The gun blast played in my head like an earworm while the image of my father crumpling to the ground looped in my mind.

  My God, I killed my father. I rested my trembling body against the Jeep. Where would my father’s soul find its final resting place? With all the havoc he caused on Earth I hoped he owned asbestos lined boots.

  “Sir?” Niang’s voice floated to me from inside the Jeep.

  I scraped my hand down my pants leg before wiping my mouth and climbed back into the vehicle. “Let’s go.”

  My life had never been easy. The green kid who stared at a pretty girl across the schoolyard years ago no longer existed. Life on the streets hardened him, corrupting his youth, and left behind a guy who discovered not everyone had his best interests at heart.

  Working with the Alliance wasn’t something I could avoid. The deal included a promise with a codicil. My options were clear-cut. Join the cause and help in any way requested, or face punishment for a crime I didn’t commit. I disagreed, but lost the war of words.

  Malcolm’s possession of a video showing a remarkably different altercation sealed my fate and guaranteed my cooperation. If anyone had to die today, it should have been that cold-hearted Hybrid.

  Life on the New Detroit streets should have taught me lessons about trust. New perils presented themselves every day. Deviants hung out on corners waiting for guys like me. They wanted to play the proverbial game of cat and mouse. Guess which role I played?

  When I joined the Alliance I exchanged a familiar predator for a craftier, secretive one. The demon on my back fatigued me. Malcolm may have pulled me from the abyss, saving my life. But I was tired of being the mouse. Time to grow a pair and strike back.

  The soldier stopped the vehicle before a red brick storefront. I pulled out my phone and called Tru. It went to voice mail. I exited the vehicle, hoping Tru waited inside the café.

  Counter top computers lined the perimeter of the small colorful room. Multicolored armchairs and small tables took up the other side. In the rear of the cafe was a separate desk next to a small server. A woman with a blonde boxy haircut emerged from a back room. I used to go for her type—nice assets. Her brilliant blue-green eyes were like ink spots on a white board.

  “Can I help you?” The woman’s detached voice startled me.

  “I’m looking for a girl.”

  “Wrong place. No soliciting here.” She turned from me.

  “This is important.” I clasped her elbow. “She was here earlier.”

  The woman shrugged half-heartedly. “I don’t keep track of customers.”

  Her lack of a harsher response astounded me. Most females would deck a guy who laid hands on them uninvited. My gesture didn’t even illicit a curt look. Depths of emotion were missing from this girl. She acted doped up. If she weren’t, maybe she should be on something.

  “My girlfriend is about five seven, a little shorter than you are. Dark, wavy hair. Oh, and she’s a Hybrid.”

  The woman ambled to a counter. She smoothed out a slip of wrinkled paper, scribbled something and passed it to me before retreating to the back room. I glanced down at the scrap in my hand. Scrawled on the back of a receipt was a local address on Windsor Avenue.

  My mind instantly went to the worst case scenario. Did this woman do something to Tru? Maybe she held her hostage in exchange for…for what? Speculation wouldn’t answer my questions. My gut told me something awful happened to Tru. I hoped she was at the address.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “The betterment of mankind is what everybody wants, but the United Nations is blocking that desire. An obsessive concern with equality is preventing freedom from disease, illness, and heart wrenching physical disabilities. It’s time to call for an end to the UN’s ban. It is in no one’s best interest.”

  Jacob C. Venter, Leader, American Republic

  Zared

  I convinced Niang to drive me to the address the woman gave me. He pulled the Jeep up to the curb in front of a white brick high-rise building near the water. The unblemished façade was a serious contrast to the ravaged buildings back in New Detroit.

  The woman from the café stood outside near a glassed-in entrance. I followed her into a pale yellow lobby devoid of furnishings and entered an elevator.

  My muscles twitched when she pushed the button labeled PH. I remembered the elevator in Tru’s building. It functioned if the power grid was at full capacity. On any given day it might not work. The most reliable elevators were on New Belle Isle. Obviously, Canadians fared better than those of us in the AR.

  The doors re-opened to a spacious open floor plan apartment. After the elevator doors closed, the woman moved to a panel embedded in the wall, and pressed a series of buttons.

  “Where are we?” I gawked at the modestly decorated living-dining room combo. The worn furnishings looked comfortable.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured towards a dark brown leather sofa. “I’ll be back.”

  She sashayed down the hall giving me a glimpse of her tight ass. A raw sexiness radiated off her. She’d tempt a weaker man, but she didn’t affect me. The dispassionate female had nothing on Tru.

  I looked out the window. Nice view. The St. Clair River and New Belle Isle were visible from here. I took a seat on the sofa, my muscles jumping beneath my skin. Where the hell was Tru?

  This scenario rubbed me the wrong way. I followed a stranger into a secured apartment. What if the sexy, cold fish did something to her? She may have signaled Riza to come for me. Not one possibility or prospect had a favorable outcome.

  “Now, we can talk.”

  I gazed up at a striking woman with waist-length dark red hair. Without the abundant caked-on makeup, she appeared closer to my age. Much better.

  “Who are you, and why am I here?”

  She sat beside me. “My name’s Gliese. I brought you here to talk. It’s too risky outside these walls.”

  I never considered Canada had its own set of eyes and ears monitoring citizens’ every move. With that in mind, I had to wonder why talking here was safer. She could be a spy for the government.

  “What makes this place so safe?”

  “It’s been modified to keep the prying eyes and ears of the government out.”

  I tapped my foot. Maybe she wasn’t a spy after all. “What do you have to tell me?”

  “Let me start from the beginning. Your girl, Truly, came to the café. We spoke briefly. She needed help with this.” Gliese passed me a small white envelope. “She uploaded it. I’m sure the AR is scrambling to cover up the damage.”

  I glanced inside the envelope, noticed the SIM card, and placed it inside my jacket pocket. “What happened to Tru?”

  “CHA came for her. They injected her with something and dra
gged her out.”

  Injected? It couldn’t be the vaccine. If I recalled correctly, people received inoculations in a clinic for observational purposes. That’s how the New Order duped the public into believing the vaccines were safe. Eden most likely gave Tru a tranquilizer. Either way, not good.

  “You’re sure it was CHA?”

  “Black sedans…men in suits. It was CHA.”

  “Any of them happen to be a regal looking African-American woman?”

  “Yes. Bitch came in tossing her weight around. She ordered everyone to stay put. Said if anyone even wiggled a finger, she’d shoot them,” she said flatly. Man, more passion came from someone reciting the alphabet.

  Damn, Eden had Tru. I hoped to God they didn’t return her to the island. Eden wouldn’t hesitate administering the vaccine. “I’ve got to go after her.” I pushed my palms on my knees and stood.

  Gliese lifted a slender, well-manicured hand. “Not so fast, Hot Stuff.” Her eyes glazed like a yeast donut. What was her drug of choice? The crap must last for hours. Or she took another hit when she changed her clothes.

  “One, you have no idea where she might be. Two, CHA grabbed her. You’ll need help rescuing her. It’s a suicide mission going on your own.”

  “I can’t stay here.” I fidgeted with my Riza-issued jacket zipper.

  “Staying here is a good place, for now.” Gliese stood. “Hungry? I make a mean pot of spaghetti.”

  Something was wrong with this girl. She changed the subject like we were discussing decorating a house or something. The idea of food teased my senses, but it seemed wrong contemplating a meal with Tru in danger.

  “I’m going to have pass it up, but I got to find my girl.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll help you. Just relax. They already have a head start.”

  She moved slow and unsteady, like an addict shaking off a high, leaving the room. All the more reason not to sit around and wait. Besides this girl was unknown to me. She could be some psycho chick collecting bodies…Get a grip!