Voice of a Crimson Angel [Part I]_Persecution

by Joshua Landeros

  Neeson was scared stiff.

  “Because now we’re going to do everything in our power to get justice for Will, and it can start today here with all of us. We need each other for any of this to work.”

  Julissa brought the hand back on top of the table. “Go on.”

  “The plan is to build a movement based on soldiers like your husband. Neeson’s children have friends who’ve been affected by this as well. There are a few other families too. We came to you because we believe you are the strongest of them. We believe you have the courage to speak out about this.”

  “And what does that accomplish, Captain?”

  Now it was Halsey who gulped.

  “We think public opinion can be swayed against Venloran. A year ago, to work toward this goal I started a group with a few of my old friends from the Marines. I convinced them to help me and then they did the same for me, and it kept growing. This group I’ve started has a mission to bring back the democracy we all used to live by. We call ourselves the Crimson Angels.”

  Halsey saw a flash of recognition in the woman’s eyes.

  “You’re the head of the group going around tagging buildings and statues.”

  “Yes, ma’am. There is something else you need to hear—”

  “That you roped my daughter into all of this. If she’d been caught, minor or not, she’d be in a cell. You’re a true son of a bitch.”

  “I apologize. I’m sorry I put her in danger. I only knew of her trying to join up a few days ago. She’s still not an official member.”

  Julissa crossed her arms. “Tell me then, did she make the cut? She officially one of your soldiers?”

  “I haven’t reached a verdict yet. Not until I talked to you.”

  Julissa scoffed, “Oh, please. You expect me to believe you take the time to ask the parents of every kid who signs up with your little gang? This just happens to be a special case. Hell, me and Will must be the juiciest damn assets you two ever had for your political bullshit in quite some time.”

  Both Halsey and Neeson sat there without a word to defend themselves. Julissa saw this and gladly ripped into them some more.

  “You people and your agendas. You sit on your hands content as ever for fucking years until you finally grow a pair to do something! Years!”

  Julissa stood from her chair, shoving the portfolio into her large purse. Neeson put up a hand. “Please, Mrs. Marconi, let’s talk about this.”

  “You shut the fuck up!” she said as she brought both her hands down on the table. The force knocked both glasses over, spilling beer onto the wooden planks at their feet. The yell had been so loud even the drunk men across from them turned their heads. When Julissa spoke again, she was right in Neeson’s face, but she spoke calmly now.

  “Now listen up, Doctor. I’m going to take these files and read them over with my daughter tonight. I want a direct line of communication with you, and I don’t give a shit if it’s email, phone or damn smoke signals, I better hear from you when I come calling. Whatever you got planned Friday, you’d better scrap it because you will meet me here again and I will bring whoever I damn well, please. Then I’ll discuss what we’re going to do. I’ll see you then.”

  Neeson was left there trembling and mouth dry. Julissa next came to Halsey, who stood. Disgust was evident on her face.

  “I want a line to reach you too because if I find out my daughter was out doing your bidding again, I promise you I will track you down and cut off your goddamn nuts. You get me, Captain?”

  “Yes, ma’am, understood,” Halsey said.

  She held no official rank above him, but he was instinctively stiff as a board as if she were his C.O. Without a word more she was off, not looking back even once.

  Neeson and Halsey looked at each other.

  “You know what? I had my doubts, but you really did pick a winner, Robert,” Halsey quipped.

  All the doctor could do was nod weakly.

  ***

  Elsa, Texas

  Eli brought his car in slow to Zaneta’s neighborhood. He was mindful to avoid any kids on their bikes. They were both intrigued to see a red Primetech S7 pickup truck parked alongside the sidewalk in front of her house.

  “Whose car is that?” Eli asked as he brought his car behind Zaneta and her mother’s in the driveway.

  It took a few seconds for her to remember.

  “That’s Mr. Duvall’s. He hasn’t visited us in a while,” she said.

  “Then you better hurry inside,” Eli said. Still, Zaneta didn’t rush.

  “I’m sorry we had to cut Milkshake Night short, Eli.”

  “Don’t be. If you’re mom called you to come home, then it must be important. I just hope everything is all right.”

  “Me too. I gotta admit I’m scared.”

  “Whatever happens, if you need someone to talk to I’ll be there,” he said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  They hugged tightly before Zaneta got out of the car and headed for the door. Unlike every other night when she came home, the lights in the living room were on and the telescreen was off. The smell of wine also wasn’t present. Her mother was at the kitchen table with a mess of paperwork. At the table with her was Mr. Duvall and Barry were on the couch. They all stared at her as she entered the room.

  “Uncle, Mr. Duvall. Mom, what’s going on?”

  Julissa walked up to her daughter. “It’s about your father.”

  ***

  Julissa broke the news to her child, and as expected she sobbed. She cried and cried, and Julissa held her just like she used to. Back when she’d had the strength to be a pillar for her daughter. After she’d let it all out, everyone patiently waiting, Zaneta gathered herself enough to speak.

  “Now what do we do, Mom?” she said. “How do we help Daddy?”

  Julissa didn’t know what to say at first. It was the first time in years Zaneta had come to her for answers.

  “I arranged for us to meet with the doctor again Friday. This time I want you there with me. He and Captain Halsey want to take this public. They want us to lead some crusade against the Chancellor.”

  At this, Clint spoke up.

  “I don’t like the sound of that. What it all would do is bring heat down on you. There’s gotta be something else.”

  “I’m not for it either, but what do we do?” Julissa didn’t want to appear without resolve, but she’d reached her limit.

  Barry gawked at all of it. The only thing he could do in the midst of this thought of his fix. Old memories were emerging from the woodwork, and now more than ever he wanted to retreat into that familiar comfort.

  “We should see Daddy before we do anything else. That’s all that matters,” Zaneta suggested.

  The idea permeated the room like blood in the water.

  “I agree, but can Neeson arrange something like that?” Clint said.

  “We’re gonna find out how useful he is,” Julissa said in support, “nothing is gonna stop us from seeing him.”

  Later on that night, after Clint had headed home and Barry knocked out on the couch, Julissa remained wide awake. The table was still covered with reports and photos of Will ranging from all over the past few years. There were pictures of the gunfight that had killed Bryan and maimed Valerie. Pictures of him in laboratories receiving physicals. A lot of those contained Dr. Neeson as well.

  Then came the ones that she’d hid from Zaneta earlier. Photos of Will being dissected at every conceivable angle. Diagrams informed her of his new body structure from the biomechanical eyes to the miniaturized plasma power core that gave him life.

  Did Will volunteer for this? That’s what she’d been told, by why believe it now? Why believe any of it?

  She saw her wine bottle sitting on the counter only a few feet away. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs swayed her from pouring a glass. She hurriedly buried every image of the surgery, but the table was indeed covered. She could only do her best.

  “Can�
��t sleep, baby?” she said as Zaneta entered the kitchen.

  She was in her pajama pants and a tank top, but her face didn’t look the least bit fatigued. It was a dumb question. They both knew it, but they accepted it.

  “No, I don’t know if I ever can again.”

  Julissa pulled out a chair for her. “Come on, sit.”

  Zaneta did so without hesitation. She stared at all the leaf litter.

  “Do you think seeing us will help him?” her daughter asked.

  “I’m praying it does,” Julissa gathered herself, “and there’s something we need to talk about. I know about the Crimson Angels. Did you drag Eli into this too?”

  Zaneta did not react with hostility. She didn’t bother asking how her mother knew.

  “And now I’m gladder than ever I joined up, Mom. Look at what they’ve done.”

  Julissa gazed at the pictures, choosing her words carefully. The one she was ogling was of Will and Bryan with their tank squad. Seeing the husband and father as he once was, she knew what to say.

  “We both reacted to your father being gone in different ways. I let myself rot while you kept on fighting. For that, I am proud of you, Zaneta.”

  Hearing this stunned the young woman.

  “I will promise you this: if the Chancellor does not let your father come home then we will fight. Then, and only then. If Will does come back with us, I want you to drop all of this. Their mission isn’t ours, and Will would not want you out there fighting a war either. You promise me that, Zaneta.”

  “I promise, Mom. What about Damien?”

  Julissa shuddered. Damien, my baby boy. In her weakness, she’d lost him, and now it was hitting her as hard as the first time she’d heard the news. Pain ripped through her body.

  “He’s too young to be mixed up in all this,” she said as she began to choke up, “I don’t want—”

  The women couldn’t finish the sentence. Zaneta saw this and hugged her mother. It was a long night of revelation, rediscovered love, and agony.

  ***

  August 22, 2050 - Windsor Heights, Iowa

  Halsey stirred the macaroni and cheese thoroughly. The pot was big enough to feed a family, but it would be just enough for him and Jacob. He turned to the island across from the stove and poured a large serving of the food on one plate and the rest on another. As he did, he noticed a book laying on the countertop, Stephen King’s The Gunslinger. He finished pouring before calling over the young Neeson.

  “Jacob, chow time!”

  Jacob, who’d been lying on the couch still in his UNR trainee uniform, rose slowly. He trudged over to the island in the kitchen, pulled out a stool, and sat. He took small bites compared to his usual voracious pace. Halsey stood on the other side digging into his.

  “Looks like you haven’t made much progress on that book,” Halsey said before scooping up another spoonful. “What gives?”

  “Guess I haven’t been in the mood,” Jacob said.

  Halsey set down his utensil. “It’s been hard lately, but you gotta pull through for the kid. For your sister.”

  “What can I even say to her, Joe? Tyler is gone, and Dad is barely even around himself. Things just don’t make sense anymore.”

  “It may feel like the world’s closing in around you right now, but it’s not over yet. I can’t tell you everything, Jacob, not yet, but believe me, your father is trying to change the world as we speak. He’s not here right now because he’s trying to do the right thing. He’s risking a lot, and we could all learn from it. Even me.”

  Jacob eyed Halsey and nodded. If anyone could lift him out of the funk, it was always him. The captain saw the teen begin to eat like his usual self and began to do so as well.

  “Gotta pick up the pace. Gabby’s out in thirty,” Joe said as he ate.

  “I bet I can finish before you,” Jacob challenged.

  Halsey made sure to take note of how much both had left.

  “We look decently even. You’re on!”

  The two began to overeat like no tomorrow, claiming a bit of normalcy in a tumultuous time. Halsey especially needed this. Today was the day their course of action would be decided.

  ***

  Pleasure Pier, Galveston

  This time Dr. Neeson was alone, and Julissa was the one who had someone next to her. Though cautious of her disdain for him, he still decided to shake her daughter’s hand.

  “Zaneta Marconi, I presume. Delighted to meet you. I am Dr. Neeson.”

  This time, Julissa did not pay Galaxy Wheel any attention. Friday had brought countless more people than Wednesday had, but to her, it might as well have been just the three of them.

  “Let’s talk, Neeson,” Julissa said.

  The trio sat where they had before. It was a warm day, but clouds brought a lot less sunlight. Under that overpowering shade, they got down to business.

  “I talked it over with my daughter, and we agree to help only if you can arrange for us to see Will,” Julissa spelled out.

  “See Will? How do you suppose I manage that?”

  “I can’t tell you, but you’ve come this far. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  “I still think going to the media is our best route,” Neeson argued.

  “The media that Venloran controls? Besides, if we go about this the slow way you envision they could easily put Will back into hibernation anywhere in the country. I’d rather hit them fast and unexpected. We get to see Will, and we’ll do our part in turn. Those are my terms, Doctor.”

  And once he’s back with us, we’re out. It was the one part she left out, and what she needed now was for Neeson to bite.

  “All right, I can start preparations. For this to work, I need to know how many people I’m dealing with. Obviously, you two. Should I include your son?”

  Zaneta drank the lemonade that Neeson had bought her.

  “No, not him. I’d like my brother to join us instead.”

  “Barry Davis? Okay, three people. I cannot do any more than that most likely.”

  “That’ll be fine. Thank you, Doctor.”

  “I’ll notify you when Will is inbound. Most likely the meet will happen at UNR Headquarters in Virginia. Luck is on our side, and he’s due back in early September. You just need to be ready when I say. If you don’t move fast enough, odds are he’ll end up in Mexico or Cuba.”

  Chapter 8 – The Fire

  February 2, 2042

  “Today marks the layoff of another two hundred thousand warehouse employees. This brings the US unemployment rate to above fifteen percent with over forty-eight million people out of work or with fewer hours than they need to support their household. Here in Moreno Valley, California, angry unemployed protested at the entrance but were barred entry to the places most of them had worked for the past twenty or thirty years. One of these workers is Jaime Ennio. Sir, how have you been affected?”

  The footage switched to a man who still wore his company T-shirt. The reporter handed him the mic, which he snatched away all the same.

  “How have I been affected? I went from a steady paycheck to unemployment that barely covers the bills! I’m fifty-one, man. I’ve still got twenty years before I retire!”

  The reporter nodded. “So, what would you say to those who say this is a move toward the future?”

  “Future don’t mean shit if we can’t provide for the people living right here, right now! I still ain’t got it the worst, honey. It’s the young guys. They needed this job to put their kids through college! To pay their mortgage so they don’t lose their house! What are we gonna tell them, huh?”

  “That begs the question, Mr. Ennio. Do you support the push to ban companies from using advanced robotics for menial labor as well as office jobs? The ban could put hundreds of thousands of tech firms out of business in turn.”

  “Who do you think there are more of? Us, or them? President Howard needs to get off his ass and bring down the hammer on these guys. End of story.”

  “I s
ee. Thank you, Mr. Ennio. This is Cynthia Pauletti reporting live. Back to you, Jimmy.”

  Will opened the door to Barry’s office, finding the man seated with his shoes on his desk. On top of that desk was a box of his belongings: family portraits, laptop, and even his tie. Barry himself paid no mind to Will, intent on watching the broadcast on TV.

  “Barry, can we talk for a moment?” Will asked.

  “Not now. You see I’m watching the news.”

  “Come on, what the hell is the point of watching this shit?”

  “Will, my friend, you sound like a day-one jackass. What was the first thing I taught you once you stepped into this building? Always be watching the news. Speculation is the market. Whether people decide to bet it all or run for the hills is all decided by,” he pointed at the TV, “those guys right there. You hear about that International Exclusion Act?”

  Will sighed off, “Of course, I did.”

  “Good, good, so tell me what you think, Mr. Marconi. Do you think arbitrarily stopping incoming immigration is good for us? Do you think slamming big fucking tariffs on all imports is gonna stop the bleeding now?”

  Watching Barry slam his hand down on the table as a madman told Will enough, but he had to stop this.

  “What I think is that we need to look at the small picture for now.”

  Barry reached for something under his desk.

  Don’t Barry. The man slammed two cups onto his desk and then placed a decanter full of brandy between them. He talked as he began to fill both cups.

  “That’s ignoring reality, Will. Today alone I had ten clients pull out on me. I’m drowning in fucking chargebacks. More than half the office quit because of this shit! How many clients bail on you today?”

  Will didn’t want to answer. He sat in front of Barry’s desk and sipped from the glass. The liquor burned, but Barry finished half his cup, not minding a drop or two getting on his shirt.

  “We can change gears, Barry. Let’s start chasing really big clients. It may take some time, but we convince just a few and we can give a fresh start to this company.”