Persecution

by Joshua Landeros

  “They’re in range! Fire!” Neal yelled.

  Alex and Gabby fired away with him, but Jacob was still typing in codes on his keypad. His face was strangely calm amidst all the noise. His sister could never understand how he did it.

  “Order not recognized. Recommended action: retreat.”

  “Maybe we should run,” Alex insisted as he took down another target.

  “We’ll get overrun if we leave now! No way!” Gabby retorted. Neal didn’t speak. He just kept shooting. Jacob, however, grinned. He once more typed in a series of numbers and letters.

  “Order recognized. Temporary access to satellite granted.”

  Gabby saw Jacob pull a hologram map of the area from his control pad. Using nothing but his pointer, he selected the target zone: the center of the nearing mass of creatures.

  “Jacob, no! We’re too close!” she protested.

  Alex and Neal either ignored her or couldn’t hear over the intense hum of their weapons. She knew Jacob had, though. She saw it in the glimmer of his eyes.

  “Ladies and gents, it’s been a pleasure serving with ya,” he said as he shut down the image of the map.

  Up above, one of the stars began to grow brighter and bigger than the others. A lime green ray of light shot down from the sky, striking, as Jacob had planned, in the center of the army. It was wide enough to incinerate three of the creatures completely. That three became ten, and then ten became forty, and then forty became one hundred. The deformed monsters that had already been scaling the hillside were vaporized, but the green light wasn’t stopping. It would reach them in under five seconds.

  “You asshole,” Alex said as the four of them were erased in a flash.

  ***

  The lights in the room turned on but remained dim. In the middle of the room were five pods attached to a metallic pillar. Each pod was comparable to an apple seed in shape, and now each one split down the middle. Jacob was the first to step out of his, his socks touching the cold floor. He looked up at the telescreen at the top of the pillar. The scores appeared as his friends stood behind him. He was giddy with excitement as they all read the numbers on the screen. Load already, damn it!

  JDeschain: 105, 793

  Nealster: 103, 287

  QueenGabbyXoXo: 103, 912

  TimoTolkki16: 87, 661

  HIGH SCORE: 110, 686

  All of Jacob’s hopes sank in one fell swoop. Gabby was laughing herself to death as Neal placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Hindsight’s a bitch, man,” he said.

  Alex studied the numbers. “Look, Gabby, I almost hit ninety thousand!”

  “Congrats. Maybe if Sergeant Dumbass doesn’t screw it up next time, you’ll get there,” she said with a chuckle.

  Suddenly the door to the game room slid open, the lights brightening to normal level. Halsey had entered, a large box of pizza in his arms. Stepping in with him was another man.

  “Daddy!” Gabby cheered as she ran to hug the old man. Jacob didn’t run, but he joined the family embrace as well. Gabby didn’t notice it, but Jacob caught on to the hug lasting a little longer than the usual one. Alex and Neal approached as Neeson released the hold on his children.

  “Glad you’re back, Mr. Neeson,” Alex greeted.

  “Good to see you, sir,” Neal said.

  Robert looked almost startled by their presence, once more telling Jacob something was up with his father.

  “Good to see you too, boys,” he said after a few seconds. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Neeson paid the teen at the front desk before leaving the arcade behind, now back in the daylight of the Valley West Mall. The food court was right below them, clogged with hundreds of families. Right across from them was the mall movie theater, its recent movie posters were plastered all along the walls. Alex was looking at them along with Neal while Gabby stuck close to her father. Jacob ignored the noise of all the people around them.

  “Dad, how did your trip go?” he asked. Halsey threw him an angry look while Robert hesitated to answer.

  “Jacob, you know your dad can’t tell you what they talk about during meetings,” Halsey scolded. Luckily, the boy backed down without a fight.

  “Daddy, I thought you were going to bring Pat on your way back. Where is he?” Gabriella questioned.

  “We need to get home. Halsey, do you think you can take Alex and Neal?” the doctor said. Before the captain could even respond, Gabriella was mouthing off.

  “Head home? But, Daddy, Joe was going to take us to see ‘Dinosaurs vs. Aliens’!”

  “Enough! I don’t want to hear any backtalk!”

  The mild yell was enough to stop any more protest. Alex and Neal didn’t voice their opinion, but the disappointment on their faces was obvious.

  “Robert, let’s at least let them eat the pizza here. They all have to go back tomorrow morning, you know,” Halsey intervened.

  Dr. Neeson first glared at the captain before looking at his children. Gabby, Alex, and Neal all appeared outright defeated. It was only then he noticed all of them were wearing T-shirts with the identical image on the front of it: Barry Sonnenfield and Grant Morrison’s first issue cover.

  “You already bought the tickets, didn’t you?” the doctor asked. “Yours too.”

  “All right, but after everyone is heading right home.”

  The other kids cheered, but Jacob could see past it. His father still hadn’t smiled once since he’d arrived. He’s gonna save it for after the damn movie, really? Earlier he’d watched Joe buy seven tickets, and yet no Pat and no answer as to why. Down the escalator, sitting at the table, even putting the parmesan cheese on his slice, he kept quiet and kept pondering what his father wouldn’t tell him. Robert chose to ignore this, but Halsey was watching this constantly.

  ***

  Elsa, Texas

  On the outskirts of town, Julissa walked back to the edge of a clearing. Waiting for her on a rock was Barry, sipping on a beer. In Julissa’s hand was a Colt Python. It was a sunny day with little wind, perfect. She checked the frame before cocking her weapon.

  “So why did you drag me out here, Julie?” he complained as he tossed the can and went for another.

  “Two birds with one stone. I get to practice while also babysitting your ass,” she said as she aimed at her target.

  Some distance away was a tree which she’d attached a large sheet of paper to. On it was nothing but a simple bullseye. Barry’s attention was more on the gun itself than anything else in the field.

  “I can’t believe you kept Dad’s gun,” he said softly.

  “Why not? Works just fine,” she rebutted. She raised her arms to aim. The goal was crystal clear in the afternoon sunlight. She squeezed the trigger, and the firearm went off with a crack.

  A tree behind her target was hit, far off to the right. Shit! She adjusted her aim hastily and fired off two more shots. This time they indeed hit, but only the tree itself and not the piece of paper. Julissa only grew angrier, but she lowered her gun.

  As much as Barry hated being there, he now stood, analyzing the distance for himself.

  “Maybe you’re too old, Julie. You want some reading glasses?”

  “Fuck off,” she said as she grabbed a beer. She cracked open the can while brother kept on glaring at the tree.

  “What is that a hundred? A hundred-ten yard?”

  Julissa took a long drink, not minding the bit of beer that ran down her chin. She didn’t dare look at Barry.

  “85,” she said.

  “No! 85?!”

  Julissa couldn’t hide her frustration. “It’s been a while, okay? You want to try?”

  “No, no, take it easy. I’m just saying Dad would be furious if he saw this.”

  “Which is why every day I’m dragging you out here with me until I get it right.”

  Julissa finished her beer and placed the can back in the box along with the one Barry had tossed. Three rounds left. She walked back to the same spot as before, cocking the g
un. Barry backed up to give her some room, but he did not sit this time. With those worn pants and stained shirt, it was easy for her to forget he had an ever-calculating mind. She remembered those analytical eyes had critiqued her at every turn when she was young, but they’d also pushed Will through college.

  ***

  Windsor Heights, Iowa

  Neeson and Halsey sat on the porch together, listening to the night’s chorus of crickets. The doctor’s house was nice to spot with a cozy amount of distance from the other houses in the upscale neighborhood. Halsey knew better than ever to call the place a mansion, something that had always unsettled the old man, but both found a simple pleasure in staring out as his massive clean-cut lawn. On a bleak night such as this, with a million other things on his mind, he still found the sight of the father chain-smoking painful to watch. The mint aroma the smoke gave off didn’t fool him. All the same, he let it be. There were other things to worry about.

  “So, what’d you tell them?” Joseph asked. He stared up at the moon, its sheen filing an emptiness filling a void in him.

  “What I’m allowed to tell them. Tyler died in combat,” Neeson answered. Halsey’s mouth went dry. He felt disgusted, but he wasn’t entirely sure of what.

  “I can’t blame you, Robert. I don’t think they’re ready to hear something like that.”

  “When would they ever be ready for it?” Neeson said rudely. Halsey wasn’t blind to the snide tone, but he brushed it off.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Tyler’s folks must be hurting. Pat, poor kid,” he said softly.

  “And I’m the man who got their son killed.”

  “Robert, don’t say shit like that! Your hands were tied.”

  “Then I should’ve fought back. I should’ve told them. I’m not going to make excuses for myself. I thought this had ended in 2046 when we won the Hollow Wars. Caught up in the success of my work, I saw that victory as a new dawn. Now we have a new war on our hands, and Tyler is gone because of it. Because of me.”

  Halsey wouldn’t insult both by refuting that, but there was something he could say.

  “And now you’re trying to change things. So that’s the next move?”

  Neeson turned to the book bag he had beside him and opened it. Out of it, he pulled a portfolio of papers which he handed to Halsey. The captain began to look at them as the doctor patiently waited.

  Inside, Halsey found report after report on a single man, William Marconi. He skipped around at the beginning, finding the oversaturation of details painstaking. Born March 24, 2019. Went to the University of Texas, became a licensed financial advisor in 2037, married in ‘38. He went a few pages ahead, stopping at one image halfway through: a photo of the man, but now his eyes were dead. The same scar and bandanna were there, but he no longer wore a standard issue military uniform.

  “A cyborg, but what makes him so special?”

  “If you’d kept on reading, you would have seen he was one of The First Fifty. He helped end the war, but by the end of it he was recalled due to chronic episodes of mental breakdown. He never stopped seeing his friend who died back when he was still human. He’s due to be reactivated in a few days by Krenzler.”

  “No doubt after heavy velocide treatments, which doesn’t make him useful. I don’t see where you’re going with this, Robert.”

  “In these files also is his family, a wife and two children. The wife, Julissa Marconi, is a vet from a military family. Her father was a major.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “A heart attack in ’47. Mrs. Marconi was last checked in on by the PSID three years ago, and they reported she was moderately healthy and only had minor depression.”

  “And you think she’s lying?”

  “She’s never said a word against the UNR, but she was testified during the Rafha Trial in 2036. She was the only soldier in her platoon to do so. She has balls and initiative when given apt reason to. Unit 21 being reactivated gives us a chance to show her the truth.”

  “You mean William,” Halsey corrected.

  “Yes, yes, my mistake,” fumbled Dr. Neeson. In his embarrassment, he got ash on his pants. “If I give her those files, then I’m willing to bet she’d speak publicly about how Venloran deceived her for years.”

  Halsey found himself looking at the husband’s file again. He never would’ve guessed such a man, with that piercing stare, had a wife waiting for him. A wife he’d never come home to. There were plenty of pictures of the broken family, including one of Mrs. Marconi on a hospital bed knocked out cold. Halsey read the report attached to the image.

  “She was so bad she lost custody of her youngest in ’48. You’re betting an awful lot on one person.”

  “There is no perfect candidate. As a servicewoman, she’s the best we’ve got. I see no one else who would dare speak out,” Neeson said confidently.

  “The movement needs a voice,” Halsey admitted. “I guess it’s a start.”

  Inside the house, at the kitchen counter, Jacob watched the two men talk. Looking through the glass was like looking at another world. He could see them well enough, but he could not hear a thing. He was dying to know what the hell they were talking about, but he didn’t draw any closer to the window.

  ***

  With nothing but darkness to accompany the man, he was petrified. So much so the pair to his right and left were at this point almost dragging him along. His breathing was rapid, feeling his hot breath on his face.

  “Fucking guy sounds like he’s gonna have an asthma attack. That in his dossier?” said the voice to his left.

  “Nope, no history of respiratory problems. Guess he’s just scared shitless,” said the voice to the right.

  “Can’t say I wouldn’t feel the same.”

  He heard a door opening, feeling his bare feet go from cold tiles to a freezing metal floor. He was planted down in a chair, also metallic and cold. The burlap sack over his head was finally pulled off, blinding him thanks to the lights above. As his eyes tried to adjust, he heard the footsteps fade before the door was slammed shut.

  His eyes began to gain focus, spotting something blue in front of him. Slowly, he began to see clearly and immediately began to shake.

  It was one of Venloran’s cyborgs seated on a silver table in front of him. He was reading a few papers, seemingly taking no interest in the little man before him. The cyborg flipped through the last five pages incredibly fast before tossing the files onto the table. That alone made the man nearly fall out of his seat.

  The cyborg now ogled him, placing one hand down on the table and the other on the hilt of his sword. Amusement was all over his face.

  “Hello, Dwight Terry, I’m S.S.C Unit 18, but feel free to call me Luis,” greeted the soldier. He took note of the plaid pajamas the man was in. “Sorry to wake you at this ungodly hour, but we need to talk.”

  Dwight sat there frozen, Luis staring back.

  “Mr. Terry?” Still, he got nothing back.

  “Mr. Terry, if I don’t get at least a nod I’m going to start breaking your fingers. Do you get me?”

  The man nodded as he took his eyes from Luis’ sword to his face.

  “Good, now back to business. First, let me say that I apologize for my rudeness. I forgot that I’m in the presence of the Dwight Terry, former governor of Texas. That’s you, right?”

  “Y-yes,” he answered.

  “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but when our Chancellor was put in power in ’44, all you senators, representatives and governors were offered a big paycheck to keep your heads down and mouths shut, right? Well, that or you ended up here at UNR Headquarters with guys like me. Not much of choice, I know, but a choice it was.” Luis laughed. “And weren’t you one of the ones who took the money like a good boy?”

  Dwight nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

  “No, no need to get all formal. The point remains, though, that you did accept the Chancellor’s offer. See, this leaves me confused because from what I just read it
sounds like on August ninth in San Antonio you got to talking a whole lot. We let you and a few other million people write your little blogs and even broadcast those funny little satires that air on Saturday nights, but you were trying to start something. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why.”

  Dwight opened his mouth to speak, but Luis put up a hand, instantly stopping him.

  “Stop right there, Dwight. I have no interest in your reasoning. Hell, the Chancellor even let you get away assuming you learned your lesson. I’d like to think you did but then this happened.”

  Luis took a photo from the pile of papers and slammed it into the table. It was a picture of the desecrated statue at Laredo.

  “You saw that on the news, right? Everybody did.”

  “But I didn’t do it!”

  Luis snickered. “Of course not. I mean look at you. Pushin’ seventy or so? No way you took the time to get your ass up there, but your little speech seems to have had an impact, Dwight.”

  “What’s gonna happen to me?”

  “That’s all up to you. As of right now, a deal is on the table. Damn good one too.”

  “I’ll never speak again, I swear!” Dwight said, but Luis shook his head.

  “Nope, you’re coming out retirement for a little. We might even pay you if you do good, but from now on you’re a spokesperson for Chancellor Venloran. Each week a PSID officer will come to you with your latest material. All you have to do is sing it out on the streets. You have experience doing this, so it should be easy for you.”

  Luis now got off the table, stepping right in front of the terrified man.

  “But if you deviate from this in any way, we’re going to come get you again and next time I’ll be snapping your limbs. Do we feel each other?”

  Dwight nodded, a dog now at best. “Yes, yes!”

  Luis kept his hand on the sword as the door opened again. “Excellent, Dwight. We’ll get ya back home in no time. Soldiers are with your wife right now informing her of the deal, so when you get back there’s no need to say a word.”

  Chapter 6- Galveston

  August 12, 2050 – Leonard Cyborg Medical Institute, Albany, New York