Intended Extinction

by Hanks, Greg

  He held a reassuring hand out and said, “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything, just calm down. How’re you feeling?”

  I stared at the strange man for a moment, trying to piece together some sort of coherent phrase.

  “Where am I?” I managed to say.

  “You’re alive, if that helps.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Well, I guess that ruled out Hell.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He looked me dead in the eye and said, “My name is Bollis. I’m a friend.”

  I think I was losing my mind. Bollis? What kind of name was that?

  “Listen,” he began, “we don’t exactly have all the time in the world to play the trust game. I can explain everything, but right now I need your help with Tara.”

  A whoosh of emotions coursed through my system.

  “Tara?” I asked, “Where is she? Is she all right?”

  “If you help me, she’ll live. But I need you now.”

  The VisoNote. The man standing in front of me had to be the one who saved our lives. He hadn’t killed me, he wasn’t wearing the same get-up as the metal-heads, and he was showing his face.

  “You’re him,” I said faintly.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You’re the one who left the Note. You saved us.”

  Bollis remained silent. His countenance was statue-like. The trusting aura surrounding him began to attract me into a whirlpool.

  “Like I said,” he reiterated, “I can tell you everything, but right now, you need to come with me.”

  I hesitated, but only for a slight moment. As soon as I nodded my head, Bollis led me out of the room and into a long, dimly lit corridor. Little pouches attached to him clapped against his odd suit. There were many spaced throughout his lower back, upper thighs, and below his ribs.

  I had to refrain from asking questions as they were practically jumping from me. Where the hell were we? What had happened after the crash? Most of all, why was all of this happening to us?

  I followed Bollis as he pushed open the next door, bringing us to a much larger commons area. It was at least twenty yards in length and width, with a multi-leveled ceiling. The wooden floors sported cracks and divots, and the walls were old and peeling. At the end of the room, three-fourths above the wall, a giant window cast an eerie, stencil of moonlight across the floor. Below the window, a garage door padlocked in two places, spanned the entire back wall.

  As we moved left, toward the front of the room, I was introduced to a massive fireplace, crackling away and shedding its warm glow. Facing the brick hearth were two dusty couches, placed to absorb as much heat as possible. Nestled on each couch were the only two people I cared about, Justin and Tara. Well, I cared that Justin was alive, I guess.

  I rushed around Tara’s couch and knelt beside her sleeping body. Her face looked angelic, lit from the golden licks of the fire. Her shirt was rolled up, revealing her stomach and a bandaged wound, stained with dark blood. Despite her condition, she looked peaceful. Justin was sprawled out on the other sofa, openmouthed, with a trail of drool seeping into the worn fabric.

  Bollis stood in between the two couches and observed me impatiently.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked, standing to his level.

  “I’ve slowed it down, but I can’t stop the bleeding. I’m no doctor, but the bullet must have hit something important. At least it went completely through.”

  “What are we supposed to do?!”

  “I just need you to stay with her. If she wakes up . . . well, just hope she doesn’t wake up.”

  He shouldered a small bag, getting ready to leave.

  “Wait!” I said. “Where are you going?”

  “To get something that can fix this. I won’t be gone long.” He moved away from the couches and approached a door to the left of the fireplace. Before he exited, he said, “Stay with her, Mark.”

  I watched in horror as Bollis left. Just as soon as he had come into my life, he was gone. I looked back to Tara, feeling the fear inside of me deepen. I moved quietly over to her delicate body and knelt again, careful to not wake her.

  I closed my eyes, feeling grief overwhelm me. Tears were starting to form—a rare event. How could I have let this happen? How could I let Tara suffer like this? I shouldn’t have stopped the car before the bridge. How could I have been so stupid?

  For the next hour I mentally writhed in contemplation, constantly observing Tara. When I wasn’t sitting against the edge of her sofa, I was pacing the room. My mind wore me down, like a blender starting to overheat.

  I watched Justin move multiple times, quietly fearing his response to all of this. In some ways, I was hoping that no one would wake up, allowing me time to make sure everything was okay. I wanted to fix this. I had to fix this.

  To try and cool off, I wandered around the giant room. I crept toward the massive window and retractable door. Dust filled every crevice. Floorboards were warped and broken. Except for the couches, there really wasn’t anything else occupying the barren hall.

  I approached the metal, corrugated door and crouched to handle the one of the padlocks. Was this some kind of storage warehouse? Why the couches and fireplace? I sat on my haunches for a second, thinking. I turned my head to the left and noticed another door next to a darkened hallway, splitting the length of the wall.

  I strode over to the door and gently turned to handle, paying attention to every sound. Inside, the invading light revealed a small kitchen and dining area, covering in more dust and cobwebs. Confused, I turned my attention to the hallway to my right.

  It was like looking into a never-ending hole. The darkness made me weary, and the thought of leaving Tara, even for a moment, kept me from discovering more. I turned and walked back to the couches with more questions.

  Just as I planted my butt onto the fireplace’s edge, Tara stirred. I jumped up and nervously approached her. I was helpless to keep her asleep.

  She started groaning. After a minute of stressed breathing and jerking, her eyes shot open and she clutched her wound, letting a raspy whimper escape her dry mouth. She attempted to sit up, not necessarily knowing what she was doing, and fell back onto the couch, moaning.

  “Tara!” I whispered. “Hey, I’m here. It’s me, Mark.” I grasped her hand and tried to comfort her.

  Her head slowly turned to mine and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “M-Mark . . .”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured, “Bollis is going to fix this, he’s gonna be here soon.”

  “Bollis?”

  “Don’t think, just rest. Everything’s going to be all right. We’re safe now.”

  She winced, lifting her head in a spasm of pain.

  I couldn’t take it. I was nearing the brink of an emotional explosion. I did that to her. That wound was my fault.

  The door behind us swung open and Bollis strode over, toting his black bag. He was sweating, and his breath was short.

  “Give me some room,” he commanded.

  I stood as Bollis set his pack down and began to work on Tara’s wound.

  “Where were you? And what did you get?”

  “Please,” he said, annoyed, “just let me do this.”

  I watched as he impaled her leg with a sedative, and she slowly drifted back to sleep. He peeled off her abdomen bandage, revealing a hole the size of a nickel. Blood immediately started to seep out of the opening. In a swift motion, he grabbed five white bandages, a little smaller than strips of bacon. He began to stuff one of the bandages into the wound. I stood in disgust as he pushed two more into Tara’s stomach.

  Despite my reticence, the bleeding completely stopped. As the strips absorbed the blood, it bonded with the tissues and started to form a crusty film over the wound.

  “What are those?” I asked.

  “They’re called Mend Lashes,” said Bollis, turning Tara on her side and doing the same work to her exit wound. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

  “All
right,” I said, kneeling next to him. “I’ve waited long enough. What the hell is going on?”

  He finished bandaging her up and sighed. The flickering light of the fire was amplified in his eyes, making my skin turn to bark.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let me finish and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  A few minutes passed as he gathered his things, rolled Tara’s shirt over her new bandages and stashed his bag behind one of the couches. He finally looked up at me, folding his arms.

  “You’re not going to like what I have to say, Mark.”

  “I think I’m getting used to that.”

  His face didn’t change, staring at me with thoughtful eyes. After a few seconds, he strode over to the fireplace and sat on the bench-like outcrop. I stood still, waiting with a magma filled core. The fire continued to crackle and Bollis exhaled once again.

  “Before I can tell you anything, you have to understand something.”

  I furrowed my brow.

  He scoffed. “Mark, you know as well as I do who’s responsible for this.”

  “What?” I said. His comment caught me off guard. It pierced my heart with a poisonous arrow. The toxin started to flow throughout my body.

  “You’ve probably known for a while now. But you’re too scared to accept it. You’re afraid to accept the truth.”

  “And how would you know anything about me?” I retaliated. Regardless of my show, I knew exactly what he was talking about. The Collectors had made sure of that.

  “You can try to escape it one way or another, but it doesn’t stop the truth from being the truth. Before we can continue our little chat, you have to be the one who finds the answer.”

  I remained in a wash of silence. The gears inside my skull began to turn once again, and I found myself staring at one of the deepest holes imaginable. The abyss loomed before me like open jaws, ready to devour. The double-bolted door in my mind burst open. My suspicions were being realized. And I was drowning within them.

  “No,” I started, “Slate was there. He was in the explosion.”

  Bollis lowered his voice to a low grumble. “Think about it, Mark. Who would have access to disposable soldiers with advanced equipment like that? There hasn’t been an attack like this since 2036. There’s no one left to do such a thing.”

  “But Slate—”

  “That’s even more compelling evidence. Look, I don’t have to tell you anything, Mark. You already know.”

  The words layered upon my mind, melting my tissues. The acid saturated my body. Bollis didn’t seem to know about the Collectors. But I knew. And he was right. Everything was falling into place. I could only muster one word. It burned my tongue on the way out.

  “GenoTec.”

  22

  Jonas Repik held the small, vividly colored globe in his hand, observing the intricate woodwork. He smiled and focused on the American continent. His charred eyebrows lifted.

  “It’s a beautiful planet, isn’t it?” he said. His voice carried throughout the otherwise quiet boardroom, filled with the leaders of GenoTec.

  Repik sat at the head of the large, oakwood table, not far from the portraits of previous founders hanging to his right.

  “We all live on this planet,” he continued, sitting up in his chair and setting down the model Earth. “And we are all working together to survive.” He stood and began pacing the room. The nine other board members followed him with their eyes. One of them, Thomas Burke, a fifty-five-year-old man with graying hair and pronounced jowls, interlaced his fingers and pursed his lips.

  Repik continued with heightened vigor. “We are all on the same sphere. The same level. Title means nothing here.” He rounded the back of the table and scanned his colleagues with pensive eyes. “I have been closely monitoring those sitting around this table today. For some time now, actually. And though some of you may disagree with me . . .” he stopped and shifted his eyes. He licked his thin lips. “I have decided to choose Miss Saunders as the new Vice President.”

  Hushed voices erupted from the table, except from the petite, brunette sitting at the very end of one of the rows.

  “Jonas, she’s only been here for a month!” exclaimed a silvery haired man with a slight English accent.

  Repik turned back to the table with a raised eyebrow. The men and women calmed down and were once again silent.

  “There was a point I was getting at,” he said, in his drunken brogue. “No matter who we are or what position we hold, or even how long we’ve been here, there are people that fit the position for the time at hand. I know it is a step away from what has been done in the past. But I want to make it clear . . . I am not Archturus.”

  “Jonas,” spoke Thomas Burke in an understanding tone, “this organization was built upon certain—”

  “Don’t presume to tell me how this organization was built, Thomas. If you forget, I was there the day of its conception. Where were you?” Repik gave Burke a poisonous look.

  “Jonas, let’s not pretend like we haven’t known each other for years. I may not have been there the day the red ribbon was cut, but I do know that there are only a handful of us left that knows as much as Slate did. I believe Sapphira is a wonderful addition to this council, but the knowledge and experience—well, they’re just not there.” Burke received approving nods.

  Jonas turned his gaze and nonchalantly said, “I’ve made my decision. Sapphira is to be the new Vice President of GenoTec, effective immediately—”

  The doors in the back of the room burst open and a younger man dressed in a GenoTec uniform stood at the threshold.

  “Sir,” he spoke to Repik.

  Repik smiled at the board members and said, “If you’ll excuse me.” He rounded the table and followed the young Volunteer out into the corridor. As soon as the foggy glass doors swung shut, they talked in whispers.

  “Well?” demanded Repik.

  “It appears Ellis Island wasn’t exactly a success,” said the Volunteer, trying to act bold.

  Repik’s droopy eyes glared back at the young man. One could never tell if the new CEO was angry or calm.

  “I’ve seen the pictures,” said Repik, “I’m very confident that it worked.”

  The young Volunteer hesitated. “Sir . . . Wenton and Tracer were pursued to the Island, but someone else was already there. He rescued them, after dispatching our men. They’ve also got some kid with them.”

  “It must be one of them.”

  “It has to be. Why else would he be helping Tracer and Wenton?”

  Repik’s eyes confiscated the Volunteer’s soul as he stepped forward, pushing the young man against the wall.

  “Let Celement know I want him running this operation. I want this done. I want this gone. Find them and kill them.”

  23

  “GenoTec,” repeated Bollis.

  I couldn’t even stop to let it sink in. Every ounce of hope I held on to for the past five years was gone in an instant. GenoTec was behind everything. They must have used the Collectors to lure us to the Turnmont. But why me? Why Tara? All of this started after Vax. Maybe something was wrong with the first two vials. Maybe they wanted to cover up anything wrong with the cure. What mistake did we have that GenoTec wanted erased? Slate’s death still remained a mystery to me. It was possible Repik wanted Slate dead, too. The questions became a vicious circle.

  “This is—well, you obviously have an explanation,” I said, recovering from a near blackout.

  “I do,” he stated, getting to his feet. He paused the conversation, grabbing a rusty fire poker. He kept his back to me as he quickened the flames, so I approached him, feeling the warmth of the fire on my skin. “But that’s as much as I can tell you for now.”

  Like an exploding rocket, I lashed out.

  “What?!” I caught myself before yelling. “No, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on! Now!”

  We stood toe to toe.

  “Mark,” he said, “I will keep my word—you will know everyt
hing. But right now, you have to trust me and calm down.”

  “Of course!” I stepped away, letting my sarcasm do most of the talking. “I forgot. This is my life.” I reveled in the ridiculousness of my sorry existence.

  “We aren’t safe yet. If I told you everything I knew, they could take you and torture you. I could compromise years of crucial information.”

  I gave Bollis the most dissatisfied look I could muster. I was more enraged than I had ever been. All this time we had been fighting for our lives, and for what? We traveled all this way for nothing.

  “You know what?” I seethed. “You’re not going to help us.” I walked over to Tara, about to wake her. I was done. I hated being someone’s pawn. I wasn’t going to let someone control my life.

  “All right, leave,” he responded. “Let Tara get shot again.”

  I stopped right as I was about to grab her hand.

  “You go back out there,” he continued, “and you’re back to square one. Back to running. More unanswered questions. No options.”

  I stood with my back to Bollis, infuriated. What was I supposed to do? Was he right? If we left, would I be sending us to our graves? But he wasn’t giving me anything! I turned to him and began another assault.

  “Why did you even bring us here then? Why did we come?”

  He hesitated, looked at the floor, and then approached me.

  “I can take you somewhere safe. Away from GenoTec. We would already be there, but I can’t let them find out where it is. That’s why they destroyed Ellis Island.”

  “All right,” I said rudely, “You’re insane. I’ll take my chances outside.”

  Before I could ride my prideful comment, Bollis grasped my neck and wrenched me into a paralyzing position.

  “I have had enough,” he stated fiercely. “Twice I have risked my life for you. I have given you refuge and I’ve healed Tara. I am not here to hurt you; I am here to help you. Now, stop creating excuses about your life. GenoTec is the enemy now, so get that in your head. Accept it. You either stay with me and live, or you will die out there with them.”