Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  While Paradise is the shining achievement and the pride of the Unified State, it isn't the only city of its kind. Being the capital, it serves as a trade route with the other countries still viable in the world. Those are The Red Republic, Common Ground, and Great Victoria. Separated from the Unified State by continents and oceans, it is rare for any of them to meet. The other cities each have their own purpose, be it modified agriculture, medicine development, ranching, water purification, or all manner of industry. Everything works as President Evans has dictated. The only problem? The unworthy people forced to live their lives in the wasteland.

  Even now, hundreds of years after the war, cleanup efforts haven't started. It's likely that the government wants to keep the oppressed and dirty out in the wasteland as a place to send the undesirables, the criminals, the failed experiments. It is one vast graveyard where the exiled, the unworthy, and the defeated go to snuff out their miserable existences.

  Byron can't help but laugh as he remembers all he has read in those books while he was in prison. While the wasteland may be devoid of books and knowledge to a point, the government made sure to force enough propaganda down the prisoners' throats to drown them. They wanted them to know how worthless they were. He can still see the giant picture of President Evans painted on the wall of every cell. When he got the chance, Byron would always deface it in the crudest and most hilarious ways possible. Then he would be beaten in the main hall of the prison and returned to his cell where it would be repainted. The cycle never ended. And the beatings? It was worth it. It was his silent and constant show of rebellion.

  Byron needs to win this hand, but the thoughts in his mind about the wasteland and the history of this place aren't helping him concentrate. He lifts up the cards from the table and glances at them. He's not going to win this. There's no way. The greasy looking man across the table from him doesn't understand what a poker face is. Even with his scratched up sunglasses, the man can't hide his excitement. What to do? What to do? Byron glances around the room and at the tables next to them. No one is watching them and he sees his chance. He can only pray that the man across from him is either bluffing or doesn't have an ace. He really shouldn't do this . . . but he's going to. It's too much fun to take extreme risks like this. Byron stretches his arms then sneezes loudly and knocks over a glass from the table. As the other man jumps up, Byron slips the cards from his sleeve and seamlessly replaces his cards with them. When the mess is cleaned up and the man sits back down, Byron is ready to end this. He flips over his cards. All aces.

  The man throws his sunglasses on the floor and reveals his cards. All aces. They glare at each other for a few tense moments until Byron picks up the deck and flips through it. Four aces. Well, this is unexpected. He holds out his hand and the man storms away.

  Leena laughs and shakes her head. "Really? Both of you cheated?"

  "Are you actually surprised? You should get to know me better."

  "How much have you won today?"

  Byron leans back in his chair and drinks his tequila. "About three hundred."

  "That's good, right?" Leena asks.

  "Not if we are wanting to stock up on pills for everyone. No one makes Isidore's 'cause he's the only one on the planet who needs them. The dealers who can make them want to charge five hundred dollars per pill."

  "For each one? How many does he need?"

  "He isn't very dependent on them so for a week, he will need around fourteen." Byron says.

  "That's seven thousand dollars a week?" Leena asks with wide eyes.

  "Sounds about right."

  "Byron, that's ridiculous. We can't afford that. I haven't even had a thousand dollars in my entire life."

  "Calm down, will you?" Byron asks then shuffles the deck of cards. "Mine and Damien's are the cheap ones at fifty cents per pill. So it's not a problem."

  "What about Blice's? Dark matter manipulation ones are expensive, aren't they?"

  "I was trying to forget about that crazy man. His are twenty dollars per pill. So still not as bad as Isidore's. We will do what we have to do in order to keep them from losing control. Besides, I don't take pills."

  "Why don't you take them?" Leena asks. "Don't all M.A.G.E.s need them if they aren't around lead?"

  "First off, have you noticed how expensive lead is? To get enough to nullify one of our abilities would be a hundred times the price of Isidore's pills. Second, that's not true about everyone needing them. I'm enough of a man to keep my urges under control."

  "Don't hurt yourself or anyone else because you refuse to do what you need to do in order to take care of your problems."

  "You worry too much. I have never had a slip up." Byron says.

  Leena looks around the room. "Do you hear that?"

  Byron jumps up and grabs Leena's hand as the popping of gunfire sounds out in the streets. He glances out the window of the bar as people run by screaming. The dust in the streets swirls and is stirred up while the humming of a helicopter sounds overhead.

  The bartender stands on the counter and calls out to everyone. "Get out there in the streets and figure out what is going on. If any of you can fight, then get to Commander Alexi at the front gate."

  Leena draws her machete and sweeps her hair back behind her shoulders. "Are we going to fight?"

  "You're not fighting." Byron pushes her down to the floor under the table. "You are going to stay right here so nothing can hurt you. I won't let them get into this building so you stay here and keep quiet."

  "Like hell I will. I am coming with you. You can't just leave me here and expect me to watch people dying when I could do something about it."

  Is she joking? She's a woman. What good is she going to be against the Inquisition? She will only get in the way. Byron sighs and pulls her to her feet. "Fine. But if you slow me down, you are never going to fight again. Do you hear me?" He pulls her outside.

  The streets are alive with shouting and smoke fills the air as the crackling of fire surrounds them.

  Someone runs up and grabs Byron's shoulder. "Can you fight?"

  "Um, yah, I guess." Byron says. "What's going on?"

  "Inquisition forces have landed outside the gates." The man says as he loads his grenade launcher. "We managed to chase off the few who landed inside, but we need all the help we can get. You're a M.A.G.E., right?"

  "I am, she's not."

  "Good. At least you can do something." The man pulls down his gas mask. "Get up there on the front lines and do whatever it is you do. We can't let these bastards kill anyone else. There's a gas threat so if you have a mask, use it. If you hear a chopper, get under the awnings. Their machine guns don't discriminate."

  "Gotcha." Byron leads Leena through the streets towards the front gates just as the sound of a helicopter approaches. He darts behind a wall near the courtyard as it lands.

  A tall man in an ankle length tan trench coat with red sunglasses steps out of the helicopter. His short blonde hair flutters in the whipping winds of the large helicopter. The gold pendant around his neck glitters in the sun. A daisy inside of a triangle, the symbol of the Inquisition. A number of other inquisitors join him with their machine guns drawn. The man whispers to one of them then steps forward and holds up his hands as the fighting and screaming die down and the citizens are rounded up in the courtyard. "Your little resistance is over, Rubble City. Now, if you value your lives, you will hand over the three escaped prisoners. Why do you harbor them when they pose a tremendous risk to everyone here?"

  Someone calls out from behind them and leads a man into the open dusty streets. "Here's one of them, sir." He pushes the man to his knees at the inquisitor's feet.

  Byron's stomach turns and Leena covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps. This isn't happening. How did it come to this? Byron doesn't have a plan now.

  The inquisitor grins and claps his hands together. "Damien Montgomery. You are under arrest." Two inquisitors grab his arms and secure lead handcuffs around his wrists. "You remember
me, don't you? I am Grand Inquisitor Allen."

  Byron's hand tightens around Leena's arm. It's him, the man who tormented him and tried to befriend him with false intentions so long ago.

  "Are you enjoying yourself, Allen?" Damien asks as he pulls against the men holding his arms. "I trusted you. I did. I believed that we were above killing innocent people."

  "You brought that on yourself. You wouldn't have been turned into a M.A.G.E. if you had followed orders. You had so much promise and the Inquisition could have used your intelligence and resourcefulness. It's a shame, really."

  "When I joined the Inquisition, I was told of the creed of the Inquisition and in that creed, there was nothing about taking the lives of innocent children. That's what Isidore was." Damien says.

  Inquisitor Allen puts his sunglasses on the top of his head and crosses his arms. "Isidore? Isidore Williams, one of the other escaped prisoners? That was him? I'll have to have a talk with headquarters when I get back to Paradise. So, you know where he is, don't you? Tell you what. You tell me where Mr. Williams is and you are free to go. How does that sound? I will even let Byron Erikson go." He turns and stares directly at Byron.

  Byron's heart begins to race as the cold slate grey eyes bore into his mind. He wants to look away, but fear keeps him fixated on the inquisitor.

  "Hello, Mr. Erikson. Come join us, will you? Not that you have a choice. I've known you were there this entire time."

  Inquisitors move up behind him and drag him into the courtyard as Leena screams out for him. Byron is pushed to his knees next to Damien. They share a nervous glance before Inquisitor Allen moves in front of them and continues speaking.

  "If you value your newfound freedom and your lives, I suggest that one of you begins talking. We need to find Isidore Williams and retrieve the technology from his brain. It is invaluable to us and if you continue to stand in the way, you will be executed right here. So look around at the faces of the people who will be the witnesses for your deaths. You have to the count of three before we fill you with bullets."

  A line of inquisitors spreads out behind them and lift their guns, aiming at the two men.

  "One."

  Byron looks to Damien for any sign of what they should do. Damien only stares at the sand-covered street.

  "Two."

  He can't put Isidore at risk. He can't do it.

  "Three."

  Someone screams and something hot hits Byron's back as a man's head rolls past him and stops near his knees. An inquisitor. Byron spins around and takes Damien's arm, pulling him to his feet and they take off running. The gunfire sounds behind them and Leena screams.

  Byron turns back around to see Leena decapitate another inquisitor then stab one in the stomach as the sand turns red with the pools of blood. She slides on her knees to narrowly avoid a cattle prod then dashes up and joins Byron and Damien. They crouch down behind a building and Leena pulls out a key.

  "Turn around, Damien." She quickly unlocks the handcuffs and they fall to the ground.

  Damien holds up his hands and sparks of electricity dance in his palms. "Thanks. Good job, little woman."

  She turns to Byron and grins. "Told you I can fight."

  Where is his sawed-off shotgun when he needs it? He should really start carrying that around with him for times like this. He has a feeling that things like this are going to happen more often now that the entire Unified State is hunting for them. He has to be armed and prepared at any time.

  There's a loud explosion and the wall next to them crumbles. Shards of bricks and wood splinters shoot out. Byron grabs Leena and Damien and pushes them down. They cover their heads with their arms as the dust and debris shower down on top of them. Byron hears a strange hissing sound nearby and his heart leaps in his chest. When he peers through the settling dirt and sand, he sees it. The bright green plume of toxic gas rising from the other side of the street. "Get up. Run!"

  Damien and Leena jump up and they take off, going deeper into the city. Byron takes off his shirt and tears it in half, tying one around his mouth and nose and giving the other to Leena. Damien starts coughing and drops to his knees. Byron takes Leena's machete and slices through Damien's shirt then secures it around Damien's face. He helps him to his feet and they reach some clean air.

  Byron lets go of Damien who collapses and begins heaving and gasping for air. His eyes are red and puffy. He slams his fists on the road and manages to scream out.

  Byron turns to Leena. "Get the water out of the bag."

  She digs inside and hands the bottle to Byron. "Here. Is he going to be okay?"

  He unscrews the bottle and pours the warm water on Damien's face. He takes Damien in his arms and wipes his swollen skin with his shirt. "Talk to me. Say something, Damien."

  Damien leans into Byron's chest and takes a deep breath. "I . . . I’m okay." His voice is raspy and dry.

  "Can you walk?"

  He only groans and grabs onto Byron's arms tightly.

  "We have to get out of here, Byron." Leena says as she draws her blood-stained machete again.

  Someone runs up behind them. "You're not going anywhere. Get down on your knees and place your hands behind your head."

  Byron holds Damien who is now trembling uncontrollably. They are in no condition to put up a fight. If he lets them take Damien as he is right now, he might now make it. There is no way to know how bad off he really is at this point. He can only hope that someone finds them and helps them to escape again. Just as Byron lays Damien down in the street, Leena screams and a blast of gunfire rings out. When he looks up, the inquisitor's tan trench coat is quickly turning red from the gunshot wounds in his chest and stomach.

  In one last attempt to kill them, the wounded inquisitor lunges forward at Leena. Byron jumps into action and holds up his hands as the surge of power rises in his veins. In one thrust of his arms, the flames leap out and engulf the inquisitor who falls over and rolls around on the ground until he burns to death.

  Just to ensure he's dead, Leena stands over him and squeezes the trigger again, spraying bullets into the corpse.

  "Where did you get that?" Byron asks.

  "This AK-47? I found it." Leena says as she wipes the smeared dirt from her cheeks and tosses it down on the ground. "It's empty, though. How's Damien?"

  "I'm fine." Damien says as he rubs his eyes and struggles to his feet. "Just . . . hurting a bit when I breathe."

  There is shouting and someone issuing commands nearby and they make their way over towards the authoritative voice. Byron holds onto Damien and supports him as they step into the main street. When they see that Inquisitor Allen is the man issuing orders, they step back into the alley and watch.

  Inquisitors surround a group of around fifty citizens and unleash a torrent of bullets into them. Their cries and screams are so loud that they echo off of the mountains in the distance. Byron wants to look away, but he can't. The raw and senseless violence is abhorrent and beyond what he believed the Inquisition was capable of.

  Damien steadies himself on the wall of the building next to them and tears streak down his face. "So many. There were children in there."

  Leena turns away and her sobbing catches in Byron's ears. What can he say to make her feel any better? This is what they do. They don't care who they kill. It's all a show of power. They have to make the biggest bang and strike fear into the people in order to keep them down and submissive. This is the first time the Inquisition has managed to get inside the gates for this long and the damage is more than significant. They want to send a message. There is more screaming followed by gunfire as another group of citizens and Rubble Rebels is gunned down. A few try to fight back, but they are overpowered and underequipped. This was a losing battle to begin with.

  Byron looks up at the sky as a cluster of objects fly through the air and land in the group of inquisitors. When the inquisitors begin to scurry around and dart into side paths, he realizes what they are. Grenades. The explosions shake the ground an
d a couple of buildings collapse.

  From deeper in the city, a group of Rubble Rebels in their white camouflage pants and red shirts shout out insults at the inquisitors and draw their assorted scavenged weapons. Crow bars, nail guns, lead pipes, a wooden chair, some rusty knives, and a makeshift flamethrower. They are absolutely fearless and run headfirst into close combat with the inquisitors. They make short work of a few of them and push them back towards the city gates and away from the unprotected parts of the city.

  When the inquisitors pile back into the giant helicopter and take off into the sky, leaving behind a bloody massacre, the citizens of Rubble City cheer and raise their guns into the air. Then the cleanup and grieving processes begin. The bodies are being dragged through the streets and piled on top of the gory mess in the courtyard. Women cry and children cling to their remaining parents if they still have any left. The green fog of the gas is rising high in the sky as it dissipates and is picked up by the winds and taken far away from here. People throw off their gasmasks and the rags covering their faces. Medics rush to tend to the dying and the injured while the leaders of the Rubble Resistance talk, plan, and survey the damage.

  A sudden sting of panic flashes through Byron's mind. Isidore and Blice. They were outside of the city the entire time, unprotected and vulnerable where the Inquisition could find them and take them away to their slow and painful deaths, especially Isidore. Byron, Leena, and Damien look at each other and they take off towards the front gates, jumping over bodies and discarded weapons.

  They run past the smoldering rubble and the crumbling walls of the city and out into the desert where the stench of blood isn't lingering as it is inside. Sliding down the short rocky cliffs, they land in the dunes and quickly move across the deep hot sand to the van. Damien doubles over to catch his breath and wipe the blood from his arms. Leena sighs and pushes her bangs behind her ears. Byron wants to turn around and go back to the city.

  Blice is sitting next to the van. He looks to be asleep and snoring. If only Isidore was asleep.

  Isidore screams and falls to his knees in the sand. He crawls to the van and embraces it. "My van. No!"