Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Blice chuckles and cracks his knuckles. "About ten years. Oh, and my dear old daddy wants me to kill every single one of you, but I am going to take you in and let justice take its course."

  "Your daddy? Who-"

  "My father is the great President Evans of our nice little country here." Blice says. "Please show some respect and address me as Master Director McSage. I am the newly appointed Master Director of the Inquisition. You're turning pale, Mr. Erikson. Have something to hide from us? We knew you were working with Isidore Williams and we needed to know more about the other two T.I.M.E.s who were left behind down here. We suspected that you were more involved with a string of terror attacks on military bases and now I know the truth. Now I suggest that you get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head. Oh, and give me my ring back."

  Leena's ring? "What? This was Leena's."

  "Leena? Leena was my property. I bought her two and a half years ago." Blice says as he steps closer and a static barrier appears between his hands. "I gave her that ring on our wedding day."

  "You can't own people." Then Byron stops as he is stunned by what he just heard. "Wait. Wedding day?"

  "According to our laws, I can own people who are deemed too inferior to live in Paradise. I saved her from a life of hardship. We could have been happy. I was going to take her to live in Paradise with me. Besides, she was my wife, hence the last name issue. She broke my heart and ran off before we could consummate our marriage. After that, I looked for her, but I took the head position in the Inquisition and I had to infiltrate the prison to figure out why we had so many inquisitors dying to a random M.A.G.E. That's you. As director of everything, I couldn't trust those under me to get the job done correctly, so I became the drug addict you have known me as. It was all an act, Mr. Erikson. I do believe I have put on the perfect performance. I should have been an actor. You should know that Inquisitor Allen has been demoted and publicly humiliated and tortured for his involvement in Leena's death. He was under strict orders from me to not touch her."

  Byron's mind races as he tries to glue all the pieces together. His hands turn clammy and he can't breathe. Master Director of the Inquisition? Second only to the president. All this time, the person they have been running and hiding from has been inches away. They slept in the same van, ate the same food, and shared the same information. This isn't happening. He glances back over at Damien who has stopped moving. What should he do? If he surrenders, Damien will be killed. If Byron tries to fight, Damien will die from bleeding out. At this point, Damien's fate is sealed and no matter which way Byron decides to take this, he is more than likely going to die.

  His hand tightens around the shotgun and he locks eyes with Blice. What does he have to lose? No one betrays him and lives to get away with it. No one pretends to be his friend for months and then goes against the very people who have taken him in and provided for him. Especially Isidore. Isidore would have done anything for Blice. It was all a lie, a performance, a show. Isidore. Where is Isidore? "Where's Isidore? I swear. If you did something to him, you are a dead man."

  Blice grins and holds up his hands where the swirling purple barrier spreads between his fingers. "Don't worry. We have to get the equipment from his brain so until then, he's alive. I can't guarantee that he will be in the same state afterwards. Though, he is a slippery man and he managed to evade our forces. I'm sure we'll find him. If he still had a working tracking device, it would be so much simpler. It was so sweet, the way he would talk to me and confide in me. He gave me so much information and I didn't even have to pry it out of him. That man is too open and trusting for his own good. For a man who relates better to computers and machines than people, he sure is trusting. I almost feel bad for what we're going to do to him."

  "You can go to hell, McSage." Byron says as he shoots twice at Blice who holds up the glowing purple barrier and the shots bounce off and ricochet around the room.

  "I will warn you one more time, Mr. Erikson. Either drop your weapon and get on your knees, or you and Damien Montgomery will both die right here." Blice says.

  "How dare you do this? We trusted you!" Byron shouts.

  Blice shrugs his shoulders. "As many times as you've been burned, you still play with fire. You never learn your lessons, Erikson. That's not my problem."

  "You killed Leena."

  Blice looks down at the floor. "No. I already told you. I had nothing to do with that. She was supposed to be safe. Then she falls into your arms. A filthy pig-headed idiot who shouldn't even be called a man. You stole my wife from me, bastard."

  "Well, you're the president's illegitimate son. You're the bastard."

  "Shut up." Blice orders. "You don't even know what you're talking about. You have been messing with things far beyond your power and intelligence. You think you have me all figured out? I'll tell you this right now. You have no idea. We may be close to the same age, but my life is worth a thousand times more than yours. I had it all. I was taking over the Inquisition and I married the woman I loved the day before I took that office. Then she pushed me away and said that she didn't love me, that she couldn't do it. She said that everything she vowed just hours before was a lie. Then she left. Imagine my surprise when two years later, she is dressed like a hooker and sitting in your lap, pretending that she doesn't have any idea who I am. Do you know how much control it took for me to not kill you that first day we left the prison?"

  "I didn't know she was married. I'm sorry." Byron says.

  "Leena was a regeneration M.A.G.E. She could have healed herself. You told her to not use her magic, didn't you? You made her stop."

  "That's not true." Byron says. "I didn't know she was a M.A.G.E. And if I did, why would I tell her not to save herself? I loved Leena."

  Blice's purple eyes turn darker. "I did too."

  "Please . . . do whatever you want with me. Just get Damien to a medic." Byron begs.

  "Damien, Damien, Damien. That's the only thing you care about. Well, why don't I tell you about your little friend? Did he tell you what he did to his partner?"

  Damien moans again and Byron feels sick. "You can tell me everything later. I'm begging you. Don't do this. I can't lose him."

  "He deserves a death much worse than this." Blice says. "Traitors must pay for their treachery."

  "Traitors? You want to speak of traitors? Look at yourself, Blice."

  "That's your last strike." Blice says as he sends the first blast of dark matter speeding towards Byron.

  Byron looks down at Damien who has stopped moving. This is it. Blice McSage dies right now. He reloads his shotgun and tries to steady his breathing. Someone is going to die before this day is over and Byron wants to make damn sure it's not him. Just as he aims to shoot again, Blice laughs and sends out a ball of purple dark matter. Byron rolls to the side to dodge. Fine. If Blice wants to play dirty, then they'll play dirty. He holds up his hands and lets the power surge into his veins. He focuses his mind on the feeling and the flames jump up around him. He's so grateful he forgot to take his pills the past couple of days.

  Blice screams out and falls down as the inferno overtakes him. Just for good measure, Byron shoots twice into the raging flames. "Let's see you get out of that, bastard." He wipes the sweat from his face. Now to get Damien out of here.

  From behind him, Byron hears Blice's laughter and the flames fly past and slam against the far wall where they dissipate. Well, that's not good. Instinctively, Byron drops to the floor. The ball of black and purple energy passes by inches from his head. That's too close for comfort. He scrambles to his feet and the flames spread up his arms again and he stares at Blice whose skin glitters with the glistening barrier of dark matter. He wasn't hurt at all, not one burn.

  Blice grins darkly. "Nice try, Erikson. Dark matter counters every other kind of magic. It's useless. Now give up or you will force me to kill you. Torturing you and hearing you scream will be so much more fun."

  Byron tries to catch his breath as his eyes dar
t between Blice's outstretched hands where the membrane glows with increasing power. How does that stuff work? His flames do nothing against it. He reaches to his pocket then tosses down his shotgun. No more ammo. There has to be something he can do. He didn't come prepared to fight like this. He doesn't dare look over at Damien. With the rate he was bleeding out, there's no way he's still alive. Byron takes a few steps back. He only has one choice left. Burn down the building and maybe the smoke will catch the attention of the Rubble Rebels.

  Byron closes his eyes and feels the power surging inside of him. He jumps on the boxes to avoid the dark matter eating away at the floor. With another thrust of his arms, a mass of flames spreads out around Blice and again, the flames are useless. Blice pushes them away and sends a wave of dark matter at Byron. The dark energy slams into his leg, right above the knee. His magic fades and he grabs the bloody wound. Before Byron can move, the floor under his feet is eaten away and dissolved by a pool of dark matter. He trips and falls flat on his face. He knows he hit the floor hard because his ears are ringing, he can't breathe, and he tries to blink in order to focus his vision.

  "Now!" Blice shouts.

  Byron looks up from the bloody floor where his nose has bled and he sees the same soldiers in their tech armor and a few inquisitors run inside and surround him. His head is swimming and he feels dizzy. Even if he wanted to fight, he couldn't. But he has to try. He hits at them and kicks them away, but something sharp pricks him in the back and the world spins around him until he blacks out.

  19

  "Wake up, will you?"

  Byron opens his eyes as someone hits him hard with something across the face. What the hell is going on? When he sees the Inquisition emblem on the far wall and a man in a long tan trench coat, he knows this isn't going to be good.

  Inquisitor Allen removes his leather gloves and slaps them on his leg then puts his red sunglasses on top of his head and grins. "Byron Erikson . . . we meet again. You've become quite the popular man around here."

  Byron pulls against the lead bands securing his arms to the wall. "Where's Damien? Do whatever you want with me . . . just tell me that Damien is okay."

  Inquisitor Allen paces back and forth as he removes his tan trench coat. "Your little friend? He died from blood loss, I'm afraid. Your scuffle with Master Director McSage really kept Damien Montgomery from getting the medical attention he needed. We could have saved him if you had done what Blice asked of you. We only wanted your cooperation in these matters. You just couldn't put your pride behind you and Damien paid for that. I hope you feel guilty. I really do."

  Damien. No. He can't be gone. Damien was too stubborn to die like that. Still, Byron feels the hatred building inside of him. How dare they do this? Now they take his friend away from him as well?

  "Now, Mr. Erikson, I suggest that you tell us what we need to know or your other friend will meet the same fate as Mr. Montgomery."

  Other friend? Isidore? "You have Isidore?"

  Inquisitor Allen grins and picks up a syringe from a row of tools and instruments. "Of course. The technology in his brain is extremely valuable . . . too valuable to waste. But Mr. Williams has proven quite uncooperative. Let me state this clearly for you. We can remove the technology in his brain by removing his brain. What happens when a person doesn't have a brain?"

  They wouldn't.

  "That's right. So, what will it be?"

  Byron knows he can't let Isidore die. However, if they care this little about Damien's death, then Isidore may very well meet the same fate regardless of what Byron divulges. "I'll never tell you bastards anything."

  "Is that so? Fine. We'll get dirty." Inquisitor Allen pushes a button on his watch and holds it up to his mouth. He speaks into it. "Begin the extraction."

  No. "No. Stop!" Byron shouts as Isidore's screams filter in from the room next door. "I'll tell you everything. I'll do anything. Don't kill him."

  "Tell me what you know about Blice McSage."

  "Why do you need me to tell you about one of your own inquisitors?"

  "He's not just an inquisitor." Inquisitor Allen says. "He's the head of this entire faction. I need to know what you found out and what he told you, if anything. Get talking or Isidore Williams will be taken apart and his brain will be turned into scrap metal."

  * * *

  The darkness inside the cold lead room does little to comfort Byron's racing mind and the growing feelings of hopelessness. Every so often, he can hear the distant muffled sound of an alarm going off and he wonders if someone is coming to rescue him. But then he thinks back over everything and realizes that there isn't anyone left who can save him.

  Damien. Nothing can make this all right. It will never be all right and Byron knows that even if they don't kill him, he will die soon enough and he won't have to live under the torturous existence that the Inquisition has planned for him. He's lost every single person he has ever cared for. Was he always destined to be this alone and live on while forced to watch them die around him? No matter what he does, he is ultimately powerless to save them. Byron can't stop thinking about Damien. He was his first real friend and dare he say it . . . if two men can have something closer, maybe they did. He was beyond a friend to Byron. If he could go back and give himself for Damien, he would. But in this icy isolation with no promise of salvation, Byron knows that what's done is done.

  Then emptiness is slowly overrun by agonizing guilt. It was Byron's idea to break out of the prison in the first place. He had orchestrated the entire thing and he dragged everyone else into the foolish plan. What were they supposed to do? Damien didn't want to do it. For weeks while they developed the plan, Damien tried to talk Byron out of it, but Byron wouldn't listen. Now as a direct result of that plan, Damien is dead.

  Surrounded by lead walls, there is nothing Byron can do to try to escape. How long has it been? There's no way to tell the passing of time in a dark empty room with no sunlight, no windows, no hint of life outside these walls. This could be his coffin for all he knows. Are they planning on leaving him in here until he dies? That wouldn't surprise him except for the fact that the Inquisition likes to watch people suffer as they die. And Blice's threats of torture still ring in Byron's ears. Why don't they just do whatever they want to do to him and get it over with? He has no information to tell him. Surely Leena's ring isn't worth all of this trouble. Still . . . Byron promised her as she was dying that he would protect it with his life. He intends to keep that promise no matter what. He owes her that and so much more.

  What would she say about all of this? Why did she never tell him anything about Blice? No doubt Blice threatened her to keep quiet. No wonder she ran away from him. Someone so cruel has no right to be with a woman as delicate and loving at Leena was. Byron misses her so much and carries her memory with him every day. Now it seems like he will be joining her soon enough. There are so many questions that have gone unanswered. He almost tells himself that he will ask Damien if he gets out of here. But the thoughts of him only pull him further down into the darkness.

  Damien is gone. There's no doubt about that. He couldn't have survived something like that. Even if he was still alive when the Inquisition took Byron away, there wasn't anyone who could have helped him. The closest allies they had were in Rubble City and that was miles away. And what of Isidore? Deep inside, Byron knows the answer to that question and he ignores the obvious. Isidore was right. God did abandon him.

  Byron's concern switches back to his own injury. He doesn't want to look at it, but he knows he has to. For the force that Blice's magic hit him with, he sure doesn't feel much pain. That's the concerning part. He runs his hand over the wound and feels the cold swirling emptiness of dark matter magic. He pulls the bloody fabric back and a wave of desperation and panic sweeps over him. There on the bloody skin right above his knee is a small hole of dark matter. Byron never imagined dying to dark matter magic eating away at his body. Can this come off? Well, this should be fun. What is he going to do? It doesn't
seem to be spreading very quickly. At least it stopped bleeding. It doesn't hurt, it just looks really bad. If this continues to grow like the medic said about Leena's wounds, this could a death sentence. There has to be a way to keep it from reaching his artery.

  Resigned to his fate of staying in this hellish place for as long as the Inquisition deems it necessary to keep him alive, he curls up on the floor and closes his eyes. Byron tries to not think about the dark matter that is slowly eating away at his leg. There's no reason to worry about it right now. If he's stuck in here and destined to die soon, what's the point in trying to figure out a solution or a cure?

  20

  Something buzzes inside Isidore's mind and he wakes up in the brightly lit white room. He is strapped down to a cold table and he care barely move. Where is he? His head is pounding and his vision is a bit blurry as he looks around the room at the rows of computers and screens. Then he sees it. He traces one of the cables with his eyes from a computer up to behind his head. He can feel it. Is that connected to him? This can't be good. Something is altering the files in his mind and he can't control the data he is seeing. It could be from that computer. He almost drifts back to sleep, but is awakened when he becomes aware of people watching him.

  A section of the glass wall in front of him slides open and five men in white lab coats walk towards him with knives and drills in their hands. Someone speaks over the speaker in the ceiling. "Begin the extraction."

  Extraction? Isidore's heart races as he panics. They're going to kill him. As the men surround him and grab his head, he starts to cry. Stop. Isidore begs them in his mind to stop, but he can't form the words. He can't speak. A flurry of numbers goes through his mind and an all too familiar and painful high pitched ringing echoes in his ears. If he could, he would scream. The noise grows louder until it is the only thing he can hear. He closes his eyes against the blinding light that is pulsating in his vision, but it doesn't go away. He pulls against the bindings holding him down. He has to get away or he knows he will die right here.