Seppukarian_NEW WORLD DISORDER

by George Mahaffey

  I found a bench and slipped on my neural glasses and slid my finger over the trackball. I found an application that allowed me to take photos simply by blinking which I did, snapping photos of the campus that were saved in a folder. Then I reached for the trackball and began drifting through the intranet. I perused announcements and messages from whatever entity ran The Hermitage, mostly stuff on worker morale and dress-code policies and that next Tuesday was going to be sloppy joe day in the cafeteria, which sounded pretty awesome.

  Continuing to fiddle with the glasses, I was surprised to find that a portion of the larger internet was already back online. I scrolled through the handful of websites, and wouldn’t you know after the world was almost destroyed, the first thing that came back online was porn sites. I laughed and bypassed the porn (after bookmarking the sites), trawling through articles on the rebuilding efforts and food and fuel shortages in the outside world. In the days before the invasion, a good portion of the ‘net had been censored by the government after a series of terrible Supreme Court decisions, but the aliens had destroyed the agency responsible for policing the ‘net, so it looked like almost everything was completely uncensored once again.

  There were videos and images of the defeat of the aliens, startling clips that showed Syndicate fortresses being obliterated; alien gliders shot out of the sky, rows of mechs blasted apart by rockets and missiles. There were videos of low-level attacks caused by collaborators and aliens who’d refused to surrender, sniper attacks and homicide bombings mostly. I’d watched a documentary on the same thing happening after the end of World War Two, where Nazi “Werewolf” units rose up to wage a guerrilla war, only to be crushed, just as I imagined the aliens and their collaborator BFFs soon would be. There were also tribute videos dedicated to the female warrior named Quinn, her daughter Samantha (who was supposed to have mystical powers), and her Marine comrades, the ones who’d taken down the Syndicate, along with stories about another female Marine named Riot who’d purportedly been tasked by some dude named Captain Harlan with jetting off into space to round up some extraterrestrial allies to help defend the planet.

  This sounded like fake news to me, so I swiped to other movies which featured shaky, handheld shots of bulldozers and earth-moving equipment being used to clear the highways and roads, the bodies of dead aliens and their stricken machines piled into great pits on the ground and set ablaze as the soul-worn survivors stood by watching.

  I continued to flick through the images, watching videos of politicians who sounded like they were reading off note cards, spouting all sorts of slick, talking-point bullshit about how things were going to get better if we only placed our full support behind them. Some things never changed, I thought. The world had almost been destroyed, and people were already in campaign mode. My healthy distrust of politicians came largely from my mom, who used to say that people who ran for office had “honeyed tongues,” even though that’s probably much too polite. A better description is probably “professional liars.” I grew tired of the forked-tongue bullshit and turned off the political videos.

  More interesting, however, were the amateur videos that showed shots of what looked like the military, erecting scores of missile batteries that faced the skies. The videos were invariably shot by bearded, wild-eyed men who faced the camera to discuss conspiracies and various fake news stories about new groups of aliens who were spying on us, preparing to attack. Some of the wackos on these vids said the invasion was fabricated, or instigated by the government to steal our freedoms, while others talked in hushed tones about the “Ancient Ones” or the “Elders,” a cosmic force that would soon be coming to bring about the end of times. “Why else would those be there?” one of the bearded men on the video said, pointing to the missile batteries. “Why would Big Army have those pointed up at the sky if they weren’t worried about something coming down?” I laughed at the man and his video even as my mind wandered back to what Vidmark had said, that the “worst may be yet to come.” A chill worked its way up my spine, and I removed the glasses. I’d seen enough. I needed some fresh air to clear my head.

  I stood and stretched my still-sore muscles and then set off, walking toward a dirt path that snaked between rows of greenhouses where people were tending to vertical gardens filled with all sorts of vegetables. I’d seen a sign or a message touting The Hermitage as a self-sufficient compound and I assumed that most if not all of the food was grown on the grounds.

  Passing the greenhouses, I continued on the dirt path that cut through a stand of trees that fronted the metal fence I’d seen earlier. The fence was fifteen feet high and topped with razor wire and armed sentry drones. I ran my fingers down the metal loops, past the various warning and no trespassing signs.

  On the other side of the fence was what was left of the outside world: several partially destroyed strips of blacktop that ran through deserted clumps of rowhouses that had been torched during the invasion and occupation. For the longest time, I’d wondered where The Hermitage was located, but now I knew that we were near Washington, D.C., because I could see the skyline off in the distance, down a hill and over what I reckoned was the Anacostia River. During the occupation, the aliens had constructed a wall around the portions of downtown D.C. between the Anacostia River and the Potomac River, but that was slowly being taken down.

  I followed the fence line, limping through the potentially ankle-twisting underbrush. Eventually, I came to a rise partially hidden by several tall pine trees. I could see a large gated area, what looked like the main entrance to The Hermitage. There was a checkpoint manned by guards and more sentry drones, including several that circled lazily far overhead. Horns honked, and I looked to the right to see two huge tractor-trailers coming down a road from an area behind the hangar. My eyes went wide when I saw what was bolted to the beds of the trucks.

  Mechs.

  A pair of them.

  Two of the giants I’d seen back inside the hangar.

  They were secured in place by thick chains and a series of metal cages. Behind the trucks were three Jeeps that held Simeon, Baila, and some of the other operators who’d confronted me earlier. I stood in stunned silence, watching the trucks and Jeeps pass through the main gate before disappearing down into the wrecked neighborhood. Where were they going? And what were they up to?

  A buzzing sound filled the air, and I looked up to see one of the sentry drones atop the fence swiveling in my direction. I ducked into the undergrowth and headed back toward the main buildings.

  * * *

  Sleep did not come easy for me that night. I tossed and turned, curious about the mechs, but also still distraught about what had happened to Jezzy and Spence. Jezzy had been right of course. She’d intimated that I was responsible for what had happened on the hoversurf, and I guess for all intents and purposes, that was true. I was the one who’d convinced the others to go to Alpha Timbo’s lair; I was the one that was driving when the hoversurf was blasted out of the air. If it hadn’t been for me, Spence would probably be alive and Jezzy would still have her leg.

  Feeling guilty as hell and unable to get any rest, I stood and stared out one of the windows of my room. Something flickered and flashed in the distance. I moved over and peered outside and saw it again. A flash of light, coming from somewhere inside the hangar. It was late, nearly the blue of dawn. I knew people worked in overnight shifts inside the black-glassed buildings, but I didn’t think anyone did in the hangar.

  Shrugging on my compression shirt, I tiptoed forward and exited my room, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while threading down the interior walkway. I knew that the hangar would likely be locked at that time of night, so I snagged a keycard from a worker snoozing inside a nap pod, one like Dexter’s that had a giant, orange “G” in the center. I pocketed this and left the building.

  The night air was cool and refreshing, and after several days of remaining vertical, I was starting to get my legs back. I crossed between the admin buildings and kept to the s
hadows as much as I could. Drawing near to the hangar, I closed my eyes and noted the disturbance I’d felt earlier in the air. Only this time it was slightly different, a kind of crackling sound followed by a humming, as if the world’s largest guitar string had just been plucked.

  Slapping my “borrowed” keycard against a security pad, I entered through a rear door and crouched, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Notes reverberated off the walls, something beyond the constant, industrial whir of the hangar’s cooling and air-circulation machines.

  I glided past Mech Recovery Room until I was obscured behind supplies stacked high on pallets. I was in a good hiding spot and could see the pyramidal room which was the only illuminated area in the hangar. A strange kind of violet light strobed inside the room. A keening whine suddenly built, followed by a BOOM! that rattled the ceiling and caused me to flinch.

  The massive doors to the pyramidal room burst open. Two people carrying a stretcher rocketed out. I could see a body lying on the longboard, one of the white guys I’d seen next to Vidmark back in the mech room. His chest was matted red, and he was groaning, his body convulsing. The people carrying the stretcher moved briskly past my hiding spot, melting into the darkness. I looked back to see several men wheeling out one of the smaller mechs. I squinted, noting that the armor on the machine was blackened, dented, punctured. The strangest thing was that there were objects sticking out of the soft joint, a known-weakness for mechs that lay where the legs met the turret. I looked closer. The objects were arrows. Why the hell were there arrows protruding from the mech?

  “Hey,” somebody whispered, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  I wheeled in fright to see Jezzy eyeballing me. “What in God’s name are you doing?!” she whisper-snarled at me.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So, you decided to come here and spy on the operators?!”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” I replied.

  She grabbed my arm and dragged me back. She placed a finger to her lips and leaned in close to me. “Do you know what’ll happen if they catch you in here?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea about anything anymore. I don’t even really know why the aliens originally invaded. That’s sorta why I’m here. To get some answers.”

  She paused. “Yeah, well, it probably won’t be good if they find you snooping around.”

  I gestured back at the mech. “Did you see what happened? Somebody was taken out of there on a stretcher, and the mech had arrows sticking out of it.”

  She moved ahead of me, back toward the Mech Recovery Room. I darted after her. “Hey. Did you hear me? There were arrows in it, Jezzy!”

  Jezzy pivoted and stopped me with a look. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” I asked.

  “The only thing I’m curious about is why I’m hesitating to report your ass,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Um … for breaking the rules.”

  “There are no rules,” I said.

  “I gotta imagine in a place like this, that someone has written some rules down. And you’re probably violating them right now.”

  “Are you telling me, you don’t want to know what they’re doing back there?” I asked.

  “They’re training, you idiot.”

  “Who?”

  “The mech operators,” Jezzy said. “How many times do I have to tell—”

  “Training for what?”

  “For whatever it is they do.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What are you? Three years old? What’s with all the questions?”

  “I just want to know what’s going on and why Vidmark brought me here.”

  “You know what the problem is with asking questions, Danny? Sometimes you get answers.”

  “Well, I’m going back there,” I said, pointing back at the pyramidal room.

  “Over my dead body.”

  I took a step, and Jezzy karate chopped me in the back of my shoulder. I saw it coming peripherally, but it still hurt like a sonofabitch. Pain spiked, and I tumbled to the ground, and she fell on top of me. She ground her prosthetic leg into the middle of my back. “You’re not going anywhere, buster.”

  “Alright, alright,” I replied. “You win.”

  She eased the pressure on my back, and I rolled over and looked up at her. She raised a balled fist. “Next time, I’m going for the larynx.”

  “Down, girl, down. Jeez. Talk about toxic femininity.”

  She stood over me but didn’t help me up. I rose and dusted myself off and tossed her a look. “Further proof that women should come with disclaimers.”

  “We do. It’s called a personality, Einstein. If you’d bother to take to the time to get to know us, maybe you’d know where we’re coming from.”

  “Okay, alright,” I said, holding my hands up defensively. “The only reason I’m doing any of this is because I’m concerned about the future. I’ve got a feeling something bad’s gonna happen.”

  Jezzy slow blinked. “Earth to Danny Deus. Lots of bad things have already happened. The world was almost destroyed, I lost most of my leg. Does any of this ring a bell? Hello.”

  “What if it’s something worse?”

  “What if you stop talking in circles?”

  “Okay, alright. Vidmark told me that something worse than the Syndicate might be coming and I’ve been watching these videos made by people who are super paranoid. Y’know the ones with the guys going around to film the missile sites that are being established everywhere.”

  “What size do you want, Danny?”

  “What?”

  “What size tinfoil hat do you want me to get for you?”

  “I’m serious, Jezz. I’m pretty sure that’s why this place was set up. To prepare.”

  “For what?”

  “For what’s coming.”

  She grumbled. “Could you be any more vague?”

  “I can’t be specific because I don’t have enough information,” I said. “Hence me coming here to see what’s going on.”

  “I don’t believe you, Danny.”

  “So, prove me wrong. Help me find a way to that training place and let’s see what’s really going on around here.”

  “Why would I do that?” Jezzy asked.

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll go there myself and when I’m caught, I’ll say you told me to do that.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said.

  “Try me.”

  “They won’t believe you.”

  “They’ll believe me over you,” I said.

  “Why? Because you’re a guy?” she asked, some heat in her voice.

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re a sexist pig.”

  “I’m a sexist pig who wants to know what’s going on,” I replied. “The truth is out there.”

  I smiled. She didn’t. Instead, her lips pulled back. I was preparing for her to attack and quite possibly strangle me, but she just leaned into me and whispered. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hate you.” I grinned because I knew what that meant. She was down. It was time to go.

  16

  Jezzy and I moved back toward the pyramidal room, spying on it from a distance. The strange violet light that had been strobing inside was gone, but there were people still milling about. I could see Simeon and several of the others engaged in a heated conversation.

  Jezzy grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “You happy now? There is no way we’re getting inside that place.”

  She was right of course, but I’d anticipated this and had what I thought was a solid fallback plan. I held up the security card with the orange “G.”

  “That’s gamma clearance!” she gasped. “Where did you get that?!”

  “I borrowed it from a friend.”

  “You stole it!”

  “And?”

  “And that makes you a thief!” she said.

  “Why does that surprise you? We were both thieves, like, two week
s ago.”

  “Zip it.”

  “Besides, it can’t be stealing if I plan to give it back.”

  “Don’t use that circular logic crap on me. You’re in deep shit, bud,” she said.

  “Well, a man who’s got nothing has nothing to lose,” I replied.

  I took her hand and ushered her back into the shadows. We exited the hangar and moved down toward the admin buildings where I hoped to get some answers from Dexter.

  We tried several of the doors, and the security card eventually opened a backdoor on one of the black-glassed buildings. We stealthed inside, surprised to see that it was deserted. We moved through a bullpen and past cubbies and little alcoves filled with tablets, TVs, and other computer equipment. Some of the equipment was still on, including a wall screen that showed what looked like news footage from various cities, including some that appeared to be overseas. We watched a reporter pointing at workers or soldiers (I couldn’t tell which), building bunkers and what looked like defensive positions, complete with walls and defensive weapons. The subtitles on the screen contained the reporter’s words, “… while other government officials, recognizing that the Earth is in a weakened state, nonetheless deny that it is a potential target for another alien invasion.”

  I immediately thought about the bearded guy on the conspiracy video pointing at the missile batteries. The dude might’ve been a conspiracy nut, but it looked like he was onto something, and besides, some conspiracies were true, weren’t they?

  “I told you,” I whispered to Jezzy, pointing at the wall screen. “Something bad is coming.”