Road to Abaddon

by Vincent Heeringa

  “Anyway, my mum was the first to see them. They came over the wall. I can still hear her scream. They shot her and she died instantly. My dad pulled a laser out and killed a couple before he was shot himself. My sister dived on top of me. I would’ve been dead if she hadn’t taken the bullet. It went straight through her neck and shattered my leg.”

  Grace tapped her metal limb.

  “What happened to the Landers?” asked Jonah.

  “It was over before I knew it. Airdrones arrived in seconds and blew the rest of them away. Medibots and cops were all over the place. I was in an ambupod before you could say Stephen Hawking.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Jonah. “Did they all die, your family I mean?”

  “My sister lived for a few more days but never came out of a coma. My dad and mum died straight away. They were buried at sea – for the sharks to eat.”

  Jonah thought about Petreus’ casket being pushed over the edge of Madrid the sea. It was almost two months ago now, yet it felt so raw.

  “How long ago did this happen?” he asked.

  “I was just ten. Six years ago. It was the anniversary last month – and no, I didn’t do anything to commemorate the date.”

  “Why not?”

  Grace looked at Jonah with burning eyes.

  “Because every day I wake up thinking about what they did to my family. And every day I think about those idiots who let them through. I don’t need a party to remember what it feels like to have my sister die in my arms.”

  Grace’s voice grew angrier.

  “You wonder why I don’t like Clunes or join in any of his fun? It’s slackers like Clunes who allowed the mutants to get into our city that night. I might be a hard-arse to you. But I don’t really care. Because I’d rather be a living cow than a dead friend.”

  Jonah was silent for a time. She made perfect sense. He couldn’t blame her for being so cold. What he’d interpreted as pride was grim determination.

  “It’s funny really,” Grace continued. “I don’t think they wanted to achieve anything except cause mayhem. They really are scum and deserve to die. And I’ll be on the trigger.”

  “Not if I get there first,” said Jonah and for the first time he saw Grace smile. It transformed her from cold and morose to magnificent. Revenge had its upside, he thought.

  “It’s a race then,” she laughed. “First to kill a mutant wins!”

  ◆◆◆

  Jonah stood alone in a far corner of the field watching Scorpio prepare for its final match of the round robin.

  They’d worked hard, in practice and on the field. Jonah’s impact was immediate. Scorpio won its next game and then smashed the second. Morale had been restored and Grace was, if a little reluctantly, allowing Jonah to run the practices uninterrupted. On field, she executed his ideas to good effect. Grace was still captain, but everyone knew that Jonah pulled the strings, even if it was with one arm.

  Off the field, Grace had softened immeasurably. She continued to discipline the recruits and didn’t hide her contempt for Clunes. But with Hugo and Jonah she let her guard down and would find time to play hologames or swap stories in the common room. And that smile. Jonah found it beguiling.

  On a hot Tuesday afternoon as Jonah watched from the sideline, his back to jungle perimeter, Sergeant Clunes appeared besides him, his hands in his pockets and a tooth-pick hanging from his lip. Clunes must have snuck through the forest to arrive so unseen. How odd, thought Jonah. It made him nervous.

  Jonah went to salute but Clunes waved him down.

  “At ease, soldier. I’m just here to chat,” he said in a low southern American drawl. “Nice work on the turn ‘round, Salvatore. You’re as cunning as your father,” he said.

  “Um, I think that’s a compliment,” said Jonah.

  “Darn right it is.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, watching the players move in their prescribed patterns. Fans were beginning to fill the stands but few would have noticed the two figures almost melting into the undergrowth below.

  “I spent some time under your father’s command in the Malaysian Encounter. Did you know that?” asked Clunes.

  Jonah’s heart leapt. He’d never met anyone from Petreus’ fighting days – ever.

  “A fine soldier and a good man,” Clunes continued. “One heck of a strategist. Could negotiate his way out of a steel box.”

  “I never beat him in anything,” Jonah said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “I didn’t even try,” the sergeant laughed.

  “Did you serve with him long?” Jonah asked.

  “Nah,” the sergeant drawled and scuffed the dirt underfoot. “We joined his division in Malaysia to drive out those mutant freaks. Pushed them out to sea, we did. Your daddy was in charge of Scion, the intelligence unit that oversaw the ground attacks. I was just a soldier. He was quite the leader. Not big, not even much of a shot, I’m told. But canny. Able to see a victory where others see chaos. A little bit like you’re doing now.”

  Jonah blushed. He felt embarrassed. Rushball was hardly war.

  The sergeant paused and for a moment Jonah thought he was about to leave but he continued, this time conspiratorially.

  “Don’t look at me, boy,” growled Clunes. “Focus on the players. I need to tell you one thing about your daddy.”

  “Yes?” said Jonah, his eyes fixed ahead. This was getting weird.

  “Everyone hates those damn mutants, and there wasn’t a single person who was sad to see them drown. But not your Petreus. He saved the lives of those foul-faced critters. Don’t rightly know why to this day. He sure upset the boys who wanted to see them disposed of once and for all. A blight on the gene pool, they said. Not even human. But he defied his instructions, which was to send those beasts to a watery grave. Instead, he set up a camp and let ‘em live.”

  “Why?” asked Jonah.

  “I still can’t figure it out myself. You’d think that might see a man court martialled, but here’s where it gets even stranger. He was given a military honour and promoted to consul only twelve months later. Now I don’t mean any disrespect for your family, because you’re still mourning your loss an’ all, but your daddy was lucky to miss the brig.”

  Jonah stared ahead but felt a strong urge to look at the soldier. Was this some kind of joke? What was he getting at?

  “Instead he got a hero’s welcome and a promotion,” Clunes continued.

  “But he deserved it,” protested Jonah.

  “Oh sure, he was a good solider, no doubt. But, you tell me, how does a man who defies his superiors and disappoints all his fellow soldiers get promoted so fast? Is it because he is married to a general’s daughter? Maybe, but that general would need to be like, top dog. Your granddaddy ain’t that. He’s important but he isn’t that important. Is it because perhaps Petreus was following someone else’s orders? Is it because there are things happening in Metricia that you and I don’t understand?”

  Jonah’s mind was starting to spin.

  “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  “What boy, are you so dim that you cannot see? What I’m saying is this. Your daddy created plenty of enemies in Malaysia. But something protected him from punishment. In fact, he got rewarded. Which in turn created even more enemies. What I’m saying is that whoever killed your daddy wasn’t a terrorist. The bomb in Sky London was most likely planted by someone within this army.”

  “Are you saying that my father was killed by a Metrician?” Jonah was incredulous.

  “You bet that’s what I’m saying. Your daddy made some powerful enemies in this war machine that we call Metricia.”

  Jonah couldn’t help himself and looked hard at this man, searching for evidence of deception, like darting eyes or a sweaty brow. Or maybe even a smile. Nothing. Clunes continued to chew his toothpick as if they were chatting about the weather.

  “Just look ahead boy. Pretend we’re talking rushbal
l,” and Clunes pointed to some of the players, as if they he was discussing the game like a normal person.

  “Now, I liked your daddy. And I like you. But you need to watch your back, Jonah Salvatore. Not everyone in this army regards you and your family with the respect that you deserve. There will come a time, sooner than you think, when you will need a friend. I’m not talking about your granddaddy or your nanny or whoever else you’ve got that’s close to you. I’m talking about a friend who will help when you really need it, when you will only need to say the word.”

  Jonah went to speak but the sergeant silenced him with a gesture and changed his tone to barely a whisper.

  “I will say this once and once only. There’s a word you will say that only this friend will understand. This word cannot be said by you, but you will recognise it when it’s said. It’s the word of your only true friends.”

  Clunes paused, then said: “are you ready to hear it?”

  Jonah stared at him and nodded.

  “The word is this: Concordia.”

  Clunes hissed it. Concordia. It was barely audible, but Jonah heard it. The sergeant spat out his toothpick and straightened his jacket. “Oh, and one more thing, we did not have this conversation.”

  Clunes then slapped Jonah on shoulder and smiled. “Good work on the squad, boy!” he shouted and then slipped back into the twisted mass of jungle.

  Jonah dragged his hand through his hair and pondered what had just happened. Academy was a game, physically and mentally. Perhaps this was a test. He looked around to see if anyone had heard the conversation. Nobody. The sergeant had chosen his place to drop this bombshell. He must have been waiting.

  For the second time in a year Jonah’s world was turned upside down and he didn’t notice that the teams were singing the Metrician anthem. The last thing he cared about right now was a game of ball.

  Chapter 8 - THE SURPRISING visitor

  In military school, every moment, every inch, every thought, is dictated by some person with a clipboard. Free-time is like a gift from the gods. It meant time to play or watch holoclips or just snooze away precious minutes of unplanned nothingness.

  So everyone groaned when their pods bleeped with news of a special assembly at 1545, the beginning of free-time: Formal attire. In the hall. No exceptions. End of message.

  It was three days after Clunes’ weird conversation. Jonah had spun Clunes’ words around his brain but no matter which way he considered it, he couldn’t make them out. “The bomb in Sky London was most likely planted by someone within this army,” Clunes said. It was baffling and worrisome. It kept Jonah awake at night and distracted him during the day. He didn’t tell anyone. Not even Hugo. Clunes had told him not to, and Jonah was frightened.

  Grace was exasperated but for different reasons. “There goes practice,” she said and threw her helmet on the bunk.

  “What gives?” asked Hugo, as he stretched on his cot.

  “Apparently some VIP’s come to visit,” Grace said tossing her gloves down.

  Jonah’s pod vibrated. Report to barracks office, ASAP, Sergeant Clunes, the screen flashed. His pulse quickened. It meant trouble. Were there more revelations to come?

  “What’s up with you, Salvatore?” barked Grace.

  Jonah’s face betrayed his feelings. “Oh, you know, I hate missing practice,” he muttered and dashed into the matrix of hallways and pipes that lead to Clunes’ office. Outside, a thick cloud was rolling up the mountainside, enveloping the jungle in mist and smudging the foliage into a patchwork of greens and browns. He could feel the heat radiating through the glass. It felt almost as if the air itself was dripping with the expectation.

  Despite the humidity, Jonah shivered and his fears were heightened when, rounding a bend, he noticed a Republican Guard standing outside Clunes’ door. Encased in a carbon-fibre exoskeleton with laser weapons built into its hands and machine-powered limbs, the Rep-G was an elite guard of the Metrician command; a kind of super-soldier, able to leap twice as high as an ordinary man and crush a grenade in its fist. The Rep-G could have been a male or female soldier, you’d never know because its black facemask revealed only two blinking, blue lights. The lights tracked Jonah as he approached.

  “I’m, um, supposed to go in here,” he apologised but the guard stared at him, the blue lights pulsing. Jonah stepped past and entered the office where Clunes was waiting. Large circles of sweat stained his shirt, and he was breathing as if he’d been running. More likely he’s nervous, thought Jonah.

  “Oh, Private Salvatore, um, Jonah. You have a visitor,” Clunes said and raised his eyebrows before opening the door to a small meeting room.

  “Enter,” Clunes instructed, waving his arm. Jonah could smell the perspiration as he passed. Inside, there was a simple table with a tea pot and cups. An old soldier sat in a chair, his hands folded over a cane.

  “GK!” exclaimed Jonah.

  “Hello, son,” said Kenrick and the old general stood up arthritically and embraced the boy.

  “What on Earth are you doing here? You know that we’re not supposed to see family until after graduation!” said Jonah, incredulous.

  “Oh fiddle-sticks. Who makes these rules? I happened to be passing by so I thought I’d drop in. Anyhow, who’s going to complain? They’d have to report me to, um, me!”

  And they both laughed and hugged again.

  “Come, sit with me. Clunes has brought us some tea. Tell me all about school. Have they given you hell?”

  Jonah sat down and took a sip. It was milky. Just how he liked it. He couldn’t answer, not straight away. Seeing GK triggered emotions that he’d suppressed. Loneliness and anger had been bubbling below the surface the whole time. This is probably why they don’t let you see relatives, he thought. He concentrated on his tea.

  GK changed the topic.

  “Isn’t it hot here? I’d forgotten just how stifling these wretched tropical places can be. Do you know that the great Captain Cook camped in this very cove? When it was a cove that is. Now it’s just ocean.”

  “I did not know that,” replied Jonah, trying his best to think of the British Empire and Polynesians and things from his history classes – anything but his tragically murdered father. It was coming back in waves.

  They sat for a moment and Jonah wiped the corners of his eyes. “I seem to be sweating out of my eyes,” he said and blew his nose on a handkerchief.

  “That’s the heat for you, alright,” said GK tenderly.

  Jonah took another swig of the brew. “You don’t happen to be just passing the Rock,” he said. “We’re miles from anywhere. Why are you here, GK?”

  “Does there have to be a reason, other than seeing my grandson?” GK asked.

  Jonah felt foolish, quizzing his grandfather, and a general at that. “The chief of the armed forces must be a busy man, a bit too busy to take twelve hours to fly here on a Thursday to have tea with his grandson.”

  “Six hours on the Presidential pod, actually.”

  “Six, twelve let’s not quibble,” said Jonah.

  “Well, six hours is not a quibble it’s more like half.”

  “GK!”

  “Okay, okay. Gosh, you are more like your mother than I remembered.”

  GK paused and laid his cane on his lap.

  “There was just one thing. A minor thing, really, but worth dealing with straight away. Sometimes, little things grow. And then you have a big thing. And we don’t like big things, if you know what I mean.”

  Jonah looked confused.

  “Okay let me be more specific. There’s a funny little rumour doing the rounds. I don’t mean funny ha-ha. I mean funny weird. Normally I don’t bother with rumours and old women’s talk. I prefer to deal with facts. Wars are won on intelligence, not gossip. But this rumour, well, it’s so wrong and so hurtful and so persistent and I wanted to confront it immediately.”

  “You mean the one about Petreus being murdered by a Metrician,” replied Jonah. He thought he might as
well say it.

  “Ahhhhhh,” said GK, stroking his chin. “You’ve heard it, then. I was hoping I might catch it before it got here. But it seems fiction moves faster than fact.”

  “Everyone’s heard it.”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  Jonah was going to mention Clunes but thought better of it. This conversation didn’t happen, he recalled Clunes saying. And Jonah had agreed.

  “Recruits, mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Only recruits.”

  “Any officers? Teachers? Staff?”

  “No,” Jonah lied.

  “And what do you make of it?”

  “I think it’s a bunch of crap,” said Jonah.

  “Good. Very good. It is a bunch of crap. People talk crap ninety percent of the time. And the remaining ten percent is pointless babble.”

  GK sighed, as if he was carrying a terrible burden and Jonah saw him not as the Metrician general but as a seventy-six-year-old grandad. He was moved but also puzzled. It seemed a ridiculously long way to travel to check on his grandson’s state of mind.

  But GK wasn’t finished.

  “Most rumours are just static in the air that can cause minor interference. But this is not one of those, Jonah. We need to clear this out. It’s dangerous and has come at a time we can least afford it. Most Metricians believe the war’s over. They clamour for freedoms and luxuries. They tire of war. But how little they know! The Republic is yet a kid, surrounded on all side by predators that prowl like jackals, waiting for the moment of weakness in the flock. Do you know what our greatest threat is, Jonah?”

  Jonah hesitated, not sure if this was a trick question. “Um, mutants?” he suggested.

  “No!” said GK. “It’s disunity. Division. Suspicion. Our enemy lies within, Jonah. When we stop acting in unison we give the jackals the opportunity to pounce. Scavengers are patient foes. The wait and watch. They sow the seeds of discontent. Their agents whisper and suggest, they spread rumours and half-truths – until eventually the flock loses trust in itself and splits, or worse turns on its own. I don’t believe that Petreus was murdered by a Metrician but even the suggestion is enough to convince some that the Metricia is divided. That’s why I must know who is spreading this rumour. You must tell me.”