by Mark Lingane
Sebastian thought back to the way Melanie and Nikola had carved their way through dozens of cyborgs and infected; how nurse Florentine and her support team had saved hundreds of men and boys from the cyborg wars; how the desert walkers could track a fly across a thousand miles of shifting sand, and bargain with the spirits to bring back the near-dead. He thought of the towering Merv and his superhero ability with his axe, able to bring down a mighty sullivan on his own.
“You have to be kidding me.” Sebastian suddenly lost interest in watching them. He turned and started to walk away. “This is dumb. And so are you,” he called over his shoulder.
“You think you’re so big, freak boy,” Edward shot back.
“Yeah,” Will said. “We can make a mess of you.”
They approached him and stood a matter of inches away, puffing out their chests and pushing him about.
“Get away from me.” He pushed back and stepped away from them.
“Don’t push me,” Will shouted. “Who do you think you are?”
They stood so close Sebastian could smell their breath and body odor. He lunged at them, bringing them both crashing to the ground. They struggled to get a grip on him. He rolled into Will and grabbed him in a headlock. Edward jumped on both of them and struggled to wrench Sebastian off his friend. While Edward and Sebastian tussled, Will slipped free. They both jumped on top of Sebastian and wrestled him roughly. The grass had turned to mud beneath them.
There was a shout. “Hey! You guys!”
Brad ran across the grass, picked Will up, and pulled him to one side. He separated Edward and Sebastian, and ordered all three to the admin building.
Brad paced up and down in front of them. Will and Edward sat together, leaving space between them and Sebastian. Sebastian slouched against the wall with his arms folded, looking out the window at the sea.
“This kind of behavior is not tolerated on the island,” Brad said. “We work by respect and discipline. Respect the chain of command, and have the discipline to carry out orders. Without the ability to trust one another, we fall apart, and we’re all dead.”
Sebastian noted the use of the word “trust,” just like the Chargers had done.
“Let me hear your mitigating circumstances,” Brad said, looking from one to the other.
“We did it for the laughs,” Will said. “It’s not our fault he took it so seriously. We’re just innocent bystanders.”
“Bye-stand-ass,” Edward added. They joined voices in a bizarre howl.
“Then, why were you attacking?” Brad pointed at Edward.
Edward sat upright. “Because he was.”
“And?”
“What and?”
Brad looked over the paperwork. “It says here you’re both hoping to be a part of the Division.”
“Yeah,” Edward said. “The army is where the men go.”
“And you’re men, are you?” Brad shook his head. “You’re both so much like my brother, and he ended up being nothing but an embarrassment.” He looked at all three teenagers. “If I hear one more word about any of you showing lack of respect or inciting violence, I’ll put you on the black list. Now, get out of here.”
All three bowed their heads and scuttled toward the door.
The center grabbed Sebastian. He waited until the other two had gone before saying, “I find myself wanting to apologize to you, which infuriates me. You’re supposed to be an enemy spy, yet those two idiots have … been idiots.”
“They remind me of some of the guys back home, at my school,” Sebastian said. “They hated school and wanted to become farmers, because that’s what their dads did and their dads were men. I never understood why they were so desperate to be like their dads.”
Brad sat down on the bench and looked out the window west toward the sea. “My younger brother Dylan wasn’t the brightest of men, but he was dangerously aggressive. My dad never paid him much attention unless he was in trouble, so Dylan did all these stupid things to try and get our dad to notice him. He joined up because our dad was in the force. But he didn’t have the discipline. He did stupid things, got himself caught and shot.”
“But, you’re different?” Sebastian asked.
“I was smarter. I never needed or wanted my dad’s approval. I knew for sure I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.” He shrugged. “But here I am.”
“You could’ve done something else,” Sebastian said. “Who is your father?”
“I can’t tell you that. We can’t let the enemy find out about any familial ties within the troops. It would become a weak point.”
“When are you going to trust me?”
Brad turned from the window and looked at Sebastian. “When the enemy shoots you.”
19
THE TELESCREEN FLASHED. Crusted blood obscured most of the display. Q-backer Charlie Baxter of the Chargers hit the answer button. A voice crackled down the line.
“Master,” Charlie said. “Thank you for responding—eventually—to our distress signal.”
“You’ve sent Matthew, the tesla?”
“Yes. He’s on his way via the normal methods, but we have a new problem. We have a virulent outbreak that seems to have turned people into green, crazed murderers.”
“I’m sure you can deal with it.”
“We’re struggling. Until we get some support, we won’t be able to accept any more teslas from across the void.”
The line crackled in the silence that followed, punctuating the lack of response. Then: “I will arrange assistance.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“The truth prevails.”
The line went dead.
There was a fierce pounding on Charlie’s door. He checked his ammunition levels. The figures registered half. He’d never seen anything like these horrible creatures. He didn’t know how to win against them. They fell down filled with bullets, but then got back up again.
The pounding on the door was unrelenting. He knew the creatures didn’t have the strength to smash their way in, but he and his men couldn’t stay in the room forever. They needed help.
The Master turned in his giant iron throne toward Reeves, who was scratching nervously behind him.
“Do we have any information about this outbreak?” the Master said.
Reeves picked at his nails and glanced at the Master. The glow of the fires below shimmered off his visor, the reflected image yellow and distorted. “It could be an infected outbreak, like the guests have described. But, Master, we have continuing problems with several of the other things imported from across the void.”
The Master waved him off. “Seal the gates of the Great Wall. Make sure no one gets through to the east without my permission. Let’s see how the Peacemaker keeps the peace when all his pawns are ripping each other apart.”
The telescreen flickered.
“Speak of the devil,” the Master said. “I wonder what he wants.”
The Peacemaker sat behind an extravagant table that was covered in a thick, dark red cloth. His back was straight and his head held high as he quietly read over the paperwork in front of him. He wore a deep purple military jacket with gold brocade. It was tight, and highlighted how thin his frame was, his arms barely thicker than stovepipes.
The main doors slid aside and in strode a huge man wearing black armor and a dark helmet. He was surrounded by four heavily armed guards, also in black but with bold orange stripes down the sides. The Peacemaker waved the guards away. They saluted, turned, and disappeared back through the doorway.
“Good day, Peacemaker.” The guest spoke with his helmet on, but the snarl and sarcasm could be heard clearly. “Thank you for graciously allowing me through the Great Wall.”
“And a cordial greeting to you, Master.” The Peacemaker’s voice was flat and emotionless.
The Master looked around the room before leveling his gaze at the Peacemaker, who was perched at the ridiculous table. There was a seat opposite, but it was absurdly diminutive in comp
arison to the Peacemaker’s seat, although it supported an ornate back that towered in comical fashion.
“Please, take a seat,” the Peacemaker offered, extending his hand elegantly toward the low-slung throne.
“What are you wearing now?” the Master said.
“It’s designed to encourage trust and authority.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“You can talk.”
“You live in a hall of mirrors, dressing like a peacock, ignoring the reality around you.”
“Our reality is what we make. I know you know this.”
“Have you seen the world outside your window?” the Master said. “You hide from it. I make the reality, I am the—”
“Yes, yes, you are the Master. Master of nothing worth owning.”
“You need to be careful. One day your Great Wall will fall. Or worse, you’ll be trapped against it, in a prison of your own devising.”
“We’ll see.”
The Master wrenched back the guest chair and sat down. “Why did you call me here?”
“You’ve been a busy man over the last year. You search for these pets, still?”
“Our guests are called teslas.”
“Whatever you name them.” The Peacemaker waved the comment aside. “I’ve received news that the Forty-ninth has one, a powerful one, secreted beneath their eternal reservoirs.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
The Peacemaker slowly lifted a glass and sipped quietly before gently placing the glass down. “I give you the option … an olive branch … maybe a way of working together.”
“You have a lot of nerve bringing me here after what you did.”
“After what I did? Look at what you did to me.” He smashed his hands down onto the table.
The Master leaned forward and raised his finger at the Peacemaker. “We were all scarred, yet I don’t beckon you over to New York to rub your face in the victory.”
“It was no victory.”
The Master sat back and chuckled. “So, she wasn’t worth it?”
“She’s not a possession. She made her decision. You need to accept that.”
“A decision, was it? I didn’t know people could decide things when they were unconscious. Very well, Peacemaker, I’m not interested. I don’t need another tesla. The one I’ve been looking for is coming to me now. Once he’s in place …” He paused. “Was there anyone else with the tesla?”
“I thought you said you weren’t interested.”
“Tell me,” the Master roared. He stood up abruptly.
The Peacemaker stared up at him, unblinking. “I’ve known you for too long to be intimidated by you.”
“As you wish, Peacemaker. I see this discussion is going only where you want it to go. This is the last time I come here. Next time we meet, I’ll kill you. As soon as I walk out the door, the agreement is over.” The Master turned and stormed out.
The Peacemaker watched the door slide shut, accompanied by a hydraulic hiss. He pushed back from the table and the wheelchair rolled out, its metallic, utilitarian styling in stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. He gripped the lightly rusting wheels and pushed himself toward the rear of the room. The crumbling ruins of Salt Lake City scrolled past as he made his way along the panoramic window. The sky was clear, and the glass magnified the heat from the sun.
A door slid open and he entered his office. The large room had a glass ceiling, and several tropical plants were positioned around the walls. Acacia was tending to the plants, pouring water into the large pots and pruning the occasional branch. Her dark skin glowed in the daylight.
“How did your meeting go?” she asked.
“He was himself, as always. He asked after you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said what I always say.”
“I can detect instability in your vocal waves. You can tell me the truth. Does he still have feelings?”
“I think it best if you give me a little time. I have some work to do.”
Acacia turned and gave him a small bow. Her dark hair momentarily covered her beautiful face, hiding her sadness. She looked at him and blinked, then disappeared in a cascade of pixels that vanished as they hit the floor.
The Peacemaker waited for a few moments, focusing on the folio in front of him. He opened the cover of the file and looked at the figures. The lights flickered around him, making the whole room change suddenly and become a darker place. He looked up at the ceiling, then at the tropical foliage surrounding him.
The telescreen next to him flashed. He touched the message on the screen.
A soft voice purred out of concealed speakers. “The entirety of Salt Lake City is now functioning on critical energy.”
“Christopher,” he said, continuing to look down at the paper.
“Yes, Peacemaker,” the hollow voice replied.
“Is Acacia fully shut down, one hundred percent?”
“Yes, Peacemaker,” Christopher intoned.
“Reveal please.”
The wall faded and collapsed in a rain of pixels, revealing another battered and decaying wall, half claimed by plants and mold. He wheeled around and pushed his wheelchair to a small alcove. It contained a glass-topped stasis chamber. Acacia’s figure lay within it, eyes closed, her body still.
The readings on the glass were dim, and he had to squint to read them. The power gauge indicated slightly above critical. He sighed and wiped his hand over the glass. The label 2,538 days flashed on the surface then faded.
Something had to be done. He couldn’t stand by impotently and watch her die, again. There were so many things he had to do. He had to get power. He had to stabilize the region. He had to find Niels.
He really had to find Niels. Niels would fix everything. And then he would kill the madman for what he had done.
“Christopher, play the footage,” he called out.
He stood next to the great tropical plants. Bitter winds roared past the window, which frosted in the frigid air, and snow tumbled past in a blizzard.
Acacia stood nearby, facing him, but staring at the ground. “I // love you.”
It wasn’t accurate footage, but it was representative of the truth.
“The truth prevails,” he mumbled.
The loop played over and over. He twitched each time the footage hiccupped, but he remained sitting, unable to look away.
The Master stormed through the building, its walls so fragile he felt he could have pushed his way through them. The guards ushered him at gunpoint to a heavily armored vehicle, all steel and rivets, with two tiny windows in the front. The rear door was unlocked and the Master stepped inside. The door slammed closed behind him and he heard the heavy bolt slide into place.
A scrawny man sat hunched in the far corner of the small metal vehicle. He was wearing a brown robe, a leather cap, and a patch over one eye. His twitchy fingers pulled at the corner of his robe with incessant regularity. Dim light fell in through a small mesh plate on the roof.
“How was the meeting, Master?” the man said.
“It was like it always was. He’s as slippery as an eel, but …”
“You hesitate.”
The Master looked around cautiously, aware that the driver and guards could be listening. “He might have intercepted something I was expecting. We’ll have to hold off locking the gates on the Great Wall. I’ll need you.”
The vehicle lurched forward and awkwardly rocked from side to side as it progressed over the cracked and broken road.
The thin man nodded. “I understand.”
“As long as the Peacemaker has Niels, he has the upper hand. There must be a way to get him. How did we let Niels slip through our fingers?”
20
CENTER WILLIAMS ENTERED the counsel room and saluted. “Q-backer, we’ve received a distress message from the Chargers.”
“Is this a trick, Center?” The q-backer’s voice was full of suspicion.
“It says they’re under
attack by a growing army of green …” he looked away awkwardly and paused before continuing “… things.”
“Things? Like triffids? Or environmentalists?”
“They have a word here, but I’m unwilling to read it out because it’ll make me sound like a fool. But it begins with a zee.”
“Zebras?”
Brad sighed. “Yes, Q-backer, they’re being attacked by killer zebras.”
“I knew it.”
“No, Q-backer, there are no zebras.” He sighed again and looked at his message. “Let’s call them mutated people.”
“I’d prefer zebras.”
“I think I speak for everyone on the planet when I say I think we’d all prefer zebras.”
Brad was worried. Ever since the two teenagers had arrived, Alan had been acting oddly. Usually a man of single and strong resolve, the q-backer now seemed flighty, easily distracted, and bordering on the edge of some inner madness.
Alan looked up at him through milky eyes, aged and distant. Brad was shocked by the age suddenly apparent in his leader.
“Sir, are you all right?”
“What do we do, Brad?” Alan stood still and stared at the center.
Brad tapped the card between his fingers, trying to take his mind off the sorry state of the q-backer. “I think it’s a trap,” he said. “The Chargers have never done this before. Why now? And really, their message touches on the absurd.”
“What do you think your brother would do?”
Brad bit his tongue. The q-backer always did this; obviously he wasn’t completely devoid of his faculties if he had the spite to bring up the old topic. But the frailty of his leader suddenly offered a new opportunity. He dived in.
“I believe Dylan would agree with me, sir. And I think you would agree with that.”
“Yes, yes, I think you’re right.” Alan nodded. “Good choice.”
Sebastian managed to avoid Edward and Will for the next week, but their loutish behavior was earning them both good and bad reputations. The younger soldiers idolized the two young men because of their unconquerable self-belief, but the older soldiers despised them because of their unconquerable self-centeredness.
