With a wicked smile he devoured her spittle then slid the blood-stained steel beneath her shirt. She took in a breath, still undeterred in her anger. She felt the edge of the cold steel graze her. He scissored the knife upward slicing her shirt then did the same to her bandeau. “I’ll find another, easily,” he said. “Maybe not as pretty, no surely not, but obedient for sure. I’ll make sure of that.” He tilted the knife above her naked chest and brought the point slowly into position between her breasts. He could see her chest thumping, and he liked it. “This time I’m going to enjoy the sensation,” he said. “The feel of it going in. I’ll do it slow baby, just the way you like it. We can both enjoy it.”
She tried to keep her determination, but feeling the prick shocked her. Sobbing, she shrugged her head rapidly and pleaded. His weight prevented her from screaming and claustrophobic terror set in.
Amy jumped onto his back knocking him off. The knife didn’t penetrate deep enough to cause internal damage; mostly it had knocked the wind out of her. She was back, and mad. George had been so fixated on his final moment with Jessie he didn’t lend a thought to the little girl behind him. Taking focus off a dream character, something that had become almost second nature to him, didn’t work in the real world. This was not a dream world, it was real. The painful gouge George had surprised her with earlier served to electrify her adrenaline surge.
They wrestled on the dusty ground. Amy slapped and kicked putting up a considerable fight. She was quick, fast, and knocked him good several times. Unbelievable! She was getting the best of a man twice her size—then George landed a dizzying punch to her left eye. Her mouth fell open and the back of her head hit the dirt. She saw three of him and felt the punch all the way down to the pit of her stomach.
Methodically he reached down and grasped her throat with both hands, one at a time to get a good solid grip, then lifted her into the air. He raised her higher and laughed. But Amy, still, was barely getting started and she kicked him in the nuts. George heaved as the pain quickly started to climb into his gut, and she followed up with a direct right—claw. She grabbed his throat, with her robotic arm.
Her left eye was swelling, her body was bloody, dirty, and beaten, but she managed a healthy laugh herself, and squeezed a little. In return George squeezed his grip. Amy knew she had a good twenty seconds left, even if he gave it his best, and decided to play the game. She squeezed a little more—and George realized he was in trouble.
Her face swelling, air, almost, gone, she felt the dizziness coming but held resolute with her focus and determination. She decided to finish it, and commanded the arm. The fingers went like a knife into butter, deep into George’s throat. Sliding on sweat-glazed skin, slipping past his jugulars, the fingers touched on the inside.
Lying on the ground Jessie gaped. Her eyes popped in disbelief and she winced.
A pop, his grip loosened, a pull, his eyes bulged, a final wrench and twist, and Amy fell to the ground with it. Like ringing a church bell she kept pulling and jerking the stretchy pipe from his neck until the entire throat had been gruesomely extirpated.
And she kept on pulling, until every connecting tissue and vessel eventually snapped. His very windpipe, the longest most solid part, was stretched thin and ultimately snapped, sliding its entire length from the core of his chest like a ribbed worm; a glossy dangling vacuum hose. He was really perplexed now. He stood there aghast while his tongue wriggled like a snake and slid through the crater below his chin, falling out like a ten-inch long necktie.
George fell to his knees and forward onto her, his head landed face first onto her belly.
As horrible as it was, under his lifeless and grisly carcass, she exhaled a sigh of relief—because it was over, he was done.
But, he still held the knife. Pinned, Amy saw and reached for it with her left, and then, he twitched. With a reflex action his muscles jerked and he took in a gurgling breath from the hole. His body returned to life in a spasmodic finale. Once again he became solid with his pernicious resolve.
Sitting up she kicked herself out from under him, then rolled, pulling and thrusting herself away; in such a panic she didn’t realize she was still clutching his hoses. But this time it was bad. Her legs went limp, losing all power instantly and she felt nothing from the waist down. He forced it in with all he had, and twisted it deep into the center of her back. Along the ground she heaved herself, using the lock-fisted robotic arm as a powerful lever. She managed a small gap. She was able to slide half out from under him, dragging her benumbed limbs.
The dripping red covered her legs like hot wax. The blood percolated from his gaping maw and his grip on the knife didn’t falter. He continued crawling behind her, slashing at the back of her legs.
The only way to get away! Use gravity to my advantage, fall down the bank. She gave one final pull with everything she had. Blood jetted several feet into the air. He’d managed one final stab. Amy rolled down the bank of the canal landing half in the water.
Jessie watched, trembling, frozen, shocked, unable to mutter a peep or move a muscle.
George looked down at Amy’s motionless body, satisfied, then turned her way. His open wound was a flustering hot-hole, gagging and wheezing with inhales, blasting gobs of mucous and blood with each blubbering exhale. He gave her a sickly deformed smile, and wobbled side to side dizzily, propped-up like a lizard on his front arms. His unscathed and throbbing jugulars kept his brain online, and his brain kept the adrenaline flowing. Petrified, Jessie watched as each thump of his heart throbbed the blood-pumping duet of exposed blue veins.
Dragging his tongue long pointy tongue he crawled to her; the swinging pink snake funneled most of the blood leaving a trail. Its end curled and wriggled to his airless cursing. His breathing changed frequency to that of laughter, flicking hot blood from the hole with each palpitation.
Just the sight of it strangled her mind. Jessie gasped and felt faint. Tunnel vision narrowed her sight and she could see only him, dragging himself toward her. She managed to dig deep and root out some hate, and some love, for Amy, and what she’d just done. She saved my life! She converted her emotions into a burst of action. George arched his lizard-like back watching her rise, gurgling steam from his volcano of blood.
He too attempted a rise but merely lifted one hand, wavering like an dazed fighter; adrenaline alone could no longer power the blood-soaked glob of meat he’d become. His color turned ghost white, then blue, and his head wobbled in a circle. His lungs gurgled; the pitch rising as his cavity filled with blood. And he could do nothing to stop the sockdolager that was her foot.
Something deep inside of her had awoken. Really, she’d completely lost it. Unhinged, Jessie kicked him mad like a dog until he rolled down the bank. The tongue lapped like a fifth limb, around and around: flap, flap, slap, flap.
At the water’s edge, six feet from Amy, he kept striving, for what, he didn’t even know. That unsettling sensation, nausea: it has to come out; the terrible feeling of an upchuck on the way. He managed the lizard stance and pushed up with his front two one final time, then took a bow. At least a gallon of blood and fluids poured out from the hole mixing with the dirty water of the canal. With the sudden discharge, he finally collapsed.
His neck bubbled, head mostly submerged. Only a quarter-inch below the murky surface the pupil of his unblinking right eye danced rapidly, then stopped and focused. With the last five seconds of his consciousness he saw her, Jessie Star, standing atop the bank illuminated by the morning sun.
Dirty and distraught, frantic and out of her mind, she took off running.
41. David
Jim sprinted down the hallway to the control room; Rico trailed closely; Ted lagged way behind. They’d made the wet run nonstop from the courthouse. Jessie shattered David’s security clearance with her shocking allegations and they had no choice but to take her at her word.
As they reached the door Rico pressed the com button. He yelled breathing heavily, “David open the door!”
No reply. Rico looked up to the camera. “Open up David. Chang open the door!” Chang was the only other on duty with David. Could Chang be in on it too? No way, he thought. That would make things even worse. Rico tried his override code. It didn’t work. He tried it again but already knew it, not good, not good at all. Still, the door didn’t move.
“David must’ve changed control room status to yellow alert,” Rico said, anxiety flaring. “The door will remain sealed until reverted to green from the inside.” Worry flooded his thoughts and he started pacing. The camera above the door followed. “No, no, no,” he spoke his thoughts, “the fate of the entire town rests on getting that door open. I should have known better leaving only two on duty. It’s been a long time since anything like this has happened. We’ve gotten way too lax around here—we must get that door open now.” Rico tried the com again. He implored, “David please open the door. We’ll work everything out, it’ll be okay. I give you my word, just open the door.” Ted arrived; panting heavily from the run he bent over hands to his knees. Disconcerted, Jim looked to Rico and shook his head. Neither could offer an idea at the moment.
A stuttering voice came over the speaker, “I, can’t do that Rico.”
“David!” Rico spun around. “You have to open the door now, it’s not worth it. Why David?”
“I assume you know the reason by now,” David said. “I’ve been watching you all very closely. I saw the courthouse doors fly open. I’d feared she would… And—Chang is dead.” The speaker clicked off then back on again. “I can’t come out now—not ever.”
Shit. The three huddled together, away from the camera and commenced with desperate whispers.
“Not good,” Ted said coming to grips with a dizzying thought. “From inside the control room he could shut down the whole operation. And the broadcast—we’d be in the dark—and the feed.”
“Oh we’ll be in the red alright. Literally fucked,” Jim added, “defenses down, completely vulnerable. I never trusted his beady eyes.” Jim knew the workings of the control room; Rico had been teaching him the systems here and there over the past few years. He also knew how solid the door was; the room was a bunker designed to endure a last stand.
“Well we don’t know his intentions,” Rico said. He’d caught the nervous wobble in David’s voice. “He sounds panicked, like he doesn’t know what to do. This could buy us some time.”
“Suicidal?” Jim surmised.
“Perhaps Jim, but if he wanted, and he knows it, he could hold out for a long time. There are enough food and supplies in there to last for more than a year. And if he does something to disturb the broadcast feed, he also knows that even his time would be limited. The machines would drill day and night and get him, of course after we’re all dead. He’d be the last to go. My guess is—he’s gonna sit tight. We don’t have a choice either way. We must come up with a plan to get the door open as soon as possible.”
“Is there way to force it open?” Jim asked.
“That door is as impenetrable as are the walls around it. I don’t think so—at least not—” Rico’s eyes lit up. He stood up straight and faced the camera and said loudly, “David, we’re going to leave you alone for a while. Time to think. Please, come to your senses, and again we promise no harm will come to you if you open the door. We’re all human.” He turned back to Jim and Ted and whispered, “Hopefully that will by us some time. Come on, follow me. I think I just might have a plan.” Following him they commenced another run (after rounding the corner): turning left, down the hall, past the bay access door, aside the mood path; they arrived at the broadcast room. Abell arrived carrying Lia and met them in the hall.
Inside ten pairs of lenders powered the feed, status mid green; things were calm, ordinary. They headed to a workstation behind the HAT and Rico quickly loaded a schematic vector diagram of the town. It displayed the massive wall and all of its structures like a blueprint. He zoomed in on the facility which enlarged a view of the wall on the east side.
Jim watched curiously as he’d never seen the inner workings in such vivid totality. It displayed the entire facility, extremely detailed, which was much simpler than Jim had imagined it was.
The BROCC was quiet but their frenzied actions expunged its normally tranquil atmosphere. Ron, Devon, and the twins who’d been monitoring the HAT, approached and Ted quietly informed them of Chang’s death, furthermore David’s takeover. The entire group, now quite distressed, expressed a moment of shock and sadness. Ted sent them back to their stations. And he had Abell and Lia log in immediately. Rico duplicated the view on the larger screen above him so Jim and Ted could more easily see. He pinched and pulled with his fingers above the screen. The 3D view rotated and zoomed in on the facility reaching the control room door. The glowing blue-lined schematic made clear just how impenetrable the control room was, like a vault. There would be no blasting and they didn’t have the necessary tools in the town to cut it open, nor the time.
“Well we can’t force it, but—” Rico said, then further navigated the schematic. He went under the control room, way under. Accessible by a vertical shaft, or service elevator, it opened up to a cave-like excavation at least a few hundred feet into the earth. Beside it were several rooms, the first being the most ample. It contained four cylindrical machines in its center; three were highlighted with green lines, the other with red. The schematic read: FUSION POWER ROOM.
“No one has been down there since the first survivors were deposited here. The builders put my father Felix Castillo in charge of all of this,” Rico said pointing. “They taught him everything he needed to know before they left. He passed much of his knowledge to me but passed away during an attack over fifteen years ago.” Ted nodded in recollection, sadly. It felt like lifetimes ago.
“What happened?” Jim asked. His thirst for knowledge peaked. He’d heard vague stories, little else. And he realized how much he had changed as of late: the contrast of his old and new mind. He was curious of the past, and now, of much else as well; unlike the townspeople, just running through the motions, mostly. He thought of Amy and the gift she’d bestowed onto the team.
“The feed,” Ted replied, “many perished.”
“We’d let the broadcast feed slip into the red, and for too long. A stupid mistake. The machines jumped at the chance when four of our perimeter defense ships had to set down. The others spread to fill the gap, but it wasn’t enough. It was an ambush—like they’d just been waiting for it. They have the time you know—they’re always waiting.” Rico sighed deeply and continued, “My papa died that day. He saved many lives, mostly children, rushing them into the safe room. He could’ve stayed safely here in the facility but he chose to go outside and help. Many were selfless that day. When assistance finally arrived—more than half of the town had been exterminated. It was the same battle that disfigured Lia.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone about this Rico?” Jim asked.
“It was a long time ago,” Rico said, “and my father was told to disclose nothing, trust no one. It was a rule from the builders, perhaps outdated now. Very few people know much of, anything, which I suppose contributed to our survival up until now. See what happens when we have one bad apple Jim.”
He nodded. He understood but craved to know more—later. “So what’s the plan then?”
“There are four fusion reactors down there,” Rico pointed, “any one of which can power the entire town, and we know from this three are operational. They are designed to last, nearly forever, maintenance free. There’s a code panel right here. We open this door.” He pointed to a door at the top of a deep shaft. It looked equally impenetrable as the control room door.
“I see where you are going with this Rico,” Ted said. “At the source we can reroute power so broadcast room operations won’t be disrupted by power loss. We can also shut down power to the control room itself.”
“And the systems should reboot,” Rico replied. “And the control room door should open after they do, but
we will only have a moment before David closes it again. The system does reboot quickly. The plan is, get full control of the power at the source. We need to get down to that fusion room.”
“I suppose your father told you the codes,” Jim said, “because that door looks just as solid if not more.”
“Well—” Rico paused delving into his thoughts. “—not exactly.”
“Then does anyone else know the codes?”
“Unfortunately no, but—look here.” Rico rolled his chair to another screen and starting pulling records. It wasn’t a moment later that his father, Felix appeared on the screen. Felix Castillo: Lender. Security Status: 1. He was an older very dark Hispanic man with skin that looked like he’d taken the best the sun could dish out. He looked hardened and thin, but strong, like he could have built the town with his bare hands, and had a thin determined face under the thickest jet-black wavy hair. His lending stats came up next, all high, exceeding Jim’s, but still not anywhere near Amy’s. His head rotated on the screen showing a large vertical scar under the left side of his jaw. His information completed with: Deceased.
“A Lender? Unmodified?” Jim said surprised. “But how?”
“The strongest man I’ve ever known, a dreamer and a doer,” Rico swiveled his chair to face Jim. “He was the best Lender for years in his time, until Amy of course. Before the war, 2024, he hid in a sealed underground bunker—somewhere in this very town, his hometown. When the cleansing was released onto the world they were shielded from its changes. He wanted no part in any worldwide DNA modification, even if it was touted to be the greatest miracle of modern science. He would’ve rather died than be changed—made unnatural. My Papa, he preached to all of the family—that he had a vision from God. Back then he was very religious. He said it came to him in a dream and told of a great loss to humanity—disguised as a blessing. Anyway the day after his vision he started making the bunker with a shovel and his bare hands, right here in this town—somewhere. He told me about his dream many times: a fog blanketed the world, and people emerged from it stumbling, expressionless, like zombies. He talked of people losing imagination, their creativity and wonder, their very humanity after breathing in the false savior, and he was right, it did steal our dreams.” Rico paused. “He was a gift to his time. If only we would have listened.”
Lenders Page 35
