“Wow.” Two bushy caterpillar eyebrows climbed his bald head. “Code worked.”
“Where does this lead?” asked Kevin.
Tarl’s brutal face didn’t do subtle shades of emotion well. His apparent attempt to project confidence felt more like ‘I want to break you in several places.’ “Surface. Probably near the HC port.”
“Again, that sounds painful.” Kevin closed his eyes and tried to radiate some kind of mind powers that could keep Tris alive.
“Hovercraft port,” said Alex. “There’s a canal leading out from about the middle of the Quar to the Bay. Not as heavily guarded as the primary gate.”
The elevator arrived, and opened, revealing a smallish room with walls mirrored from the waist down and polished wood grain inlaid with decorative gold accents around the upper half.
Kevin walked in shaking his head. “I’m not going to leave the Quarantine Section without Tris.” He clenched his fists and stared into nowhere. “Even if I’m carrying her body.”
Come on, Tris. You got them nanites. Don’t fuckin’ die.
Heavy glances passed among the ISF team.
Tarl patted him hard on the shoulder. “You got it, man.”
Alex entered the elevator last, and spent a few seconds staring at the controls… only two buttons. He pushed the top one, earning a soft electronic ping from the wall. “Well, that makes the choice easy.”
Kevin glanced to his right, at his reflection in the high-polished woodgrain panels, and past it at two tiny doors. Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened one. A rack held about twenty tiny bottles of various alcohols. What the hell? He shrugged and shoved the door closed with contempt. These people are ridiculous… drinks in an emergency escape elevator?
The ISF guys discussed where they expected to emerge on the surface. They couldn’t reach a consensus. Tarl kept insisting Doctor Jameson told them to take the hallway marked ‘44.’ Kevin bounced with anxiety, squeezing and releasing the grip on the Enclave pistol. The squishy rubberized handle didn’t feel right. His beloved .45 sat heavy in his pocket. Even if it couldn’t dent this armor, its presence comforted him. He stared at the digital clock on the elevator panel, watching cyan numbers tick up from 04:33:16.
One minute and twenty-two seconds after Alex hit the button, the doors slid open.
A grey floor spread out in front of them, ending at a black curtain about fifteen feet away. Strong overhead lights forward of the curtain made the space outside glow. Several men and two women’s shouts echoed as if in an auditorium.
“What do you mean the override is not working?” yelled a man with a hint of a Japanese in his English.
“Not working. The absence of working. Not functioning as intended,” snapped a woman with an accent that reminded him of the couple who’d said ‘namaste’ at him.
The first man let out an exasperated sigh. “How is it that not one of the systems is responding to our commands? Who is this person in our network?”
“The old man or the girl?” asked a calm-sounding voice reminiscent of a stern grandmother. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. What are the repair teams reporting?”
“They’re reporting that they’ve been surrounded and captured,” yelled the Japanese man. “This is an absolute disaster.”
“Do it,” bellowed an older-sounding man. “You have permission to use whatever force necessary to contain the situation. Citizens are to return to their homes.” He paused a few seconds before yelling, “Please,” and dropping back to a hushed speaking tone. “Will you give me a damn moment? I can’t record an announcement with you four bickering like children in the background.”
Kevin crept across the open space to the curtain. A few seconds of feeling around located a seam, which he pulled aside enough to peer out. About fifteen feet in front of him, four people sat at a wide shared desk with their backs to him. Rows of black seats spread out into the distance, positioned behind thinner tables lined with small silver nameplates he couldn’t make out. Larger signs overhead read ‘First Tier Administration’ near the front, ‘Second Tier Administration’ near the middle, and ‘Third Tier Administration’ closest to the exit doors.
Left of the giant desk, a tall man with neat grey hair, somewhere between sixty and seventy, stood at a podium loaded with computer displays. His thick grey eyebrows, dour, square-jawed face, and impeccable appearance made him look too perfect to be real.
If shady military government was a person, he’d be it.
A black-haired man with Japanese features and paper-white skin sat closest to the podium. He looked over sixty, and stared daggers past a somewhat younger, brown-haired Caucasian man between him and a woman with darker skin and black hair. She appeared middle aged, easily in her fifties, and pointed one finger at the Japanese man as if she wanted to ram it through his eyeball.
At the far right end, a pewter-haired woman leaned her elbow on the desk, massaging her temple. She had a hint of a tan, a subtle wrinkling to her face, and looked also in her sixties―with a frustrated scowl as if about ready to throw her arms up and walk away. “So what you’re telling me is, there’s no way to kill this rogue process that’s opening all the pods?”
“I’ve done everything,” said the man at the podium. “Not one of the control routines are responding. The team we sent to the facility encountered resistance.”
“Do you mean they encountered Resistance or they encountered resistance,” asked the brown-haired man.
The dark-skinned woman slapped the table. “Will you stop babbling?”
“I’m not babbling!” He thrust his hands up. “I mean the Resistance or just―”
“Enough!” roared the Japanese man. He closed his eyes as if meditating for a split-second, and continued in a normal speaking tone. “Citizens were resisting reinsertion to the simulation.”
“Shit,” whispered Alex. “T-that’s the Council of Four.”
Kevin glanced back at him. “There’s five people…”
Alex gestured toward the standing figure. “That’s the Speaker.” He exhaled. “This is unbelievable. No one but the upper administrators have ever met them face to face.”
“No shit?” whispered Kevin. “These four old people are what everyone’s afraid of?”
“That’s Director Gerhardt on the right. She’s the Prime Council. Doesn’t have too much more power than the rest, but she usually gets whatever she wants. Director Khan”―he pointed at the dark-skinned woman―“she’s fairly new to the council, only about four years. Whitford’s been on it like forever. Same with Kuroyama.”
“All we ever see of them is still images and sometimes a recording,” said the youngest ISF man. “The Speaker’s everywhere. Floating head always talking. All the information the Council needs to pass to the people goes through him.”
“Yeah…” He sighed. “Tris said that. I don’t think she likes him much.”
“What are you doing down there?” roared the Speaker at his podium. He pounded his fist on the top twice. “Find a way to stop it and start getting our people back into their pods.”
A faint warble of a voice emanated from the podium.
Kuroyama screamed at a middle-aged man with spiky black hair and military armor on a monitor in front of him. “You’re telling me that all of the equipment has failed at once? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Stalemate?” yelled the Speaker, at whoever he had on video chat. “What do you mean the soldiers are refusing to fire? They’re traitors, not citizens!”
Whitford, the not-quite-fifty looking man with brown hair, cleared his throat while pointing at something on his section of the giant desk. “A combined force of ISF and military are approaching the council chambers.”
“There are still some loyal men out there.” Gerhardt stopped rubbing her forehead and sat straighter. “Vogel, put something together to counteract that media kit. Make them understand we are acting in their best interest.”
The Speaker’s
face reddened. “Do you not think I haven’t been trying? I’ve sent four speeches to the distribution cluster, and each time it begins playing, that same young woman appears telling them the truth. These people can’t be trusted with the truth. They don’t understand the danger.”
Shouting from outside became apparent beyond the far wall.
“Perhaps it is time for us to consider relocating to somewhere less conspicuous,” said Director Khan.
“And go where?” Gerhardt glared at her. “The entire Enclave is currently engulfed in the throes of chaos. Are you so eager to head off into the wasteland?”
Khan gasped and fanned herself. “You cannot be serious. It’s not fit for human habitation.”
Oh, fuck this.
Kevin swept the curtain aside and stepped out. “Am I late for bingo?”
The Council of Four froze as if time had stopped―except for Khan who screamed and clutched her chest.
Tarl and the others crept out behind him. Alex gave him a ‘huh’ face.
“Bingo… it’s a game old people play.” Kevin chuckled. “I have no idea how it works, but I know old people play it. Sometimes they jump up and yell bingo.” He pumped his fists overhead. “Sometimes they pee themselves… you know, old people.”
Director Whitford coughed and looked insulted.
“Okay, people.” Kevin clapped. “Oh, I’m forgetting something.” He pulled the Enclave pistol and almost pointed it at them. “There. Now that I have your attention… I think it’s time for you to take a good look at the situation.”
“Who do you think you are?” asked the Speaker, invoking a deep bass voice that might’ve frightened a boy… or someone who gave a shit.
“Me? I’m just some asshole from the Wildlands who’s sick and fucking tired of dodging goddamned zombies.” He raised his left hand as if about to swear an oath. “I know, I know… They’re not technically dead. You think that matters to a little girl watchin’ her whole city turn against itself?”
“You are from the Wildlands?” asked Gerhardt. Her severe presence eased a bit with genuine surprise before she recovered herself and glowered at him as if her words could kill. “How did you get in here?”
“Same way you were about to go out. Handy little elevator. The wet bar was a nice touch.” He smiled. “So, here’s the truth… and I know the five of you ain’t really on speaking terms with the truth, but I’m gonna try anyway. Your virus… all gone. Burned that shit myself. Five thousand degree incinerator. No more exterminating the innocent. Your people? Yeah, we kinda let ’em out. Doesn’t seem to me like they’re too happy being stuck in the freezer like leftovers.”
“Why are you officers standing there doing nothing?” bellowed the Speaker. “Remove that man.”
“Well, for one thing”―Tarl took a step forward, his rifle held sideways across his chest―“the law doesn’t explicitly give the Council the legal authority to murder at will. Two, you don’t actually have any authority or political power. You’re a mouthpiece; you don’t give anyone orders. Three, we saw the drone footage of those settlements. Agent-94’s been wiping out innocent settlers for years. That ain’t what any of us signed on for.”
Fear showed in the faces of the council, except Gerhardt, who held herself calm, though her slightly narrowed eyes suggested she schemed, or perhaps considered.
“A friend of mine went and got herself lost around town. Tryin’ to find her, and we kinda made a wrong turn and wound up here. But…” Kevin grinned. “Since I’m here, I might as well at least say hello to the people who cooked up the idea to spray that shit around. Thanks for the nightmares and stuff by the way. Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I was small. Now I gotta kid to take care of who watched her whole damn city implode on itself with paranoia. They shot her father right in front of her. I gotta look into those wide brown eyes every damn night and come up with something to say that makes sense when she asks me why people would do such a thing…”
“Traitors, all of you!” shouted the Speaker at the ISF men. He jabbed a button on the podium. “Get in here now, we’ve―”
Kevin shot the podium, causing an eruption of sparks that made the older man jump back. “I’m still searching for the reason why I haven’t just fucking ended all of you…” He touched two fingers to his forehead for a second and flicked his hand at them. “Damn, you know sometimes that ‘humanity’ thing gets in the way.”
“What do you want?” asked Gerhardt, sounding calm.
“Mostly, I want to find my girl and go the hell home and live in a world without having to watch the friggin’ sky all the time for zombie juice… or worry about what kind of marauders are running around hopped up on synthetic narcotics and slingin’ around weapons you people are throwing out there.” He pointed the gun at the grey-haired woman. “Tell me one thing. Do you really believe the world is disease-ridden and unfit to live in, or do you like killing people for the fuck of it?”
“Uhh, he’s pointing a gun at Director Gerhardt,” whispered the teenaged ISF officer. “Should we stop him?”
“There are reports indicating that several new strains of pathogen have developed as a result of unexpected interactions with gamma and beta radiation.” Gerhardt stared at him, hands on her knees, her tone as even as if she spoke to an old friend who didn’t have a gun trained on her face. “Our people have lived in isolation for so long it seemed only logical to eliminate dangerous tribes of nomadic scavengers.”
“You’re actually talking to this caveman?” yelled the Speaker.
Kuroyama grumbled to himself before shaking his head. “We have other things to worry about now than making the world clean.”
“Clean?” Kevin switched to aim at him. “You call a biological weapon attack that has claimed hundreds of thousands… probably more, lives… cleaning?”
“The information we had suggested less than two thousand.” Gerhardt looked down at her lap. “We thought them all… what is the word you use? Raiders? Slavers? Killers? Savages… People whom the world would be better off without.”
Kevin clenched his jaw. “There’s a couple of those kinda people right here.”
The Speaker scoffed. “Indeed.”
Gerhardt shot the old man a warning look. “By the time the reconnaissance drone program had developed to the point where more accurate intelligence became available to us, the agent was already loose. I ordered the program stopped once I learned the true… scope.”
“It’s still going on.” Kevin glared. “They hit Amarillo only months ago. Who knows how many others?”
“What?” Gerhardt looked up, shocked. “Months ago? I never authorized a launch of live agent.”
“That was probably our ol’ friend Nathan.” Kevin scowled. “Still going after Tris.”
Gerhardt’s jaw shifted and her glare hardened. “I gave that man a direct order.”
“What does it matter?” asked the Speaker. “Fewer tribals to remove later on. This fiasco has cost us decades. Our population won’t be able to thrive out there at current levels. We need at least another ten thousand.”
Tribals? He squeezed the pistol grip, making his hand shake. “We did a number on your computer thingee. There’s no going back. As Tris would say, it’s time to open the doors and join the world.”
“Absolutely not!” roared the Speaker. “Again, I say, why are we still talking with this cretin? We cannot allow the taint of the outside world in.”
“Agreed,” said Kuroyama.
“It’s too dangerous.” Khan nodded.
Whitford glanced at Kevin with a contemplative look, but kept quiet.
Gerhardt pursed her lips as if in thought.
“Right now, our priorities need to be getting our citizens back where they are safe”―the Speaker gesticulated at the smoking podium―“and repairing the damage these savages have unleashed.”
Director Gerhardt stared down her nose at the Speaker, a hint of a smile showing. “If they’re such savages, how have they
managed to turn our entire computer system against us?”
The Speaker’s face reddened further. “We have spent the past thirty years working to ensure that humanity continues into the future. I will not sit back and tolerate talk of abandoning all we’ve worked for. There is no discussion. There is no negotiation.”
Kevin glanced at the gun. Tris’ voice in the back of his mind pleaded with him not to kill a helpless old man. “You’ve been working for bullshit. Opening the gate is your only option now… unless you’re willing to kill more than half your people.” He gestured at Gerhardt. “And this one almost had a damn stroke over Nathan getting a handful of soldiers killed.”
“Enough!” roared the Speaker. “You are in the Enclave. We are the future of Earth. You do not even deserve to be breathing the same air―”
Bang!
The Speaker’s head exploded in a shower of gore.
Kevin raised an arm to shield from the spatter while ducking and hopping to the side. “Fucking hell…” He glanced at the front end of the room.
Above the rows of empty seats, in the middle of a pair of wobbling double doors, stood Tris.
Holding a smoking rifle.
“I’ve wanted to shut that guy up since I was nine…” She lowered the rifle and marched down the aisle, followed by a naked woman who could’ve been her somewhat older sister. “He never stops talking, and he’s frickin’ everywhere.”
Tris! Kevin rushed to the right, ducking around Gerhardt’s chair and heading down a short stairway to meet her at the base of the auditorium.
In the shadow of the Council’s tall desk, he wrapped his arms around her and held on; she kept her rifle trained on the four elders. The angle lined his gaze up with a pair of bare breasts on the woman behind her.
He blinked. “Is that a Persephone? Oh, and don’t mind those ISF guys… they’re with us.”
“Yep,” said Tris. “Nathan thought it would be ironic for me to kill myself.”
34
The Future of Humanity
Tris held back the need to cling to Kevin and forget the world existed. She glared at the Council, finding them far less intimidating than they’d been when she thought they lived in the center of the Core City surrounded by thousands of soldiers. In person, they seemed so fragile.
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 128
