“Look at this. I’m like Wolverine. I feel great doc. What was in that you gave me?”
“You bear the mark and are now blessed and protected under its light. And I am not a doctor. Now get up, we need this bed for other patients.”
Knowing that hospitals store the best pharmaceutical drugs, Cholo tries his luck at getting his hands on something. Could fetch a nice price on the black market, could be nice to self-administer. Probably the latter if he is being honest.
“Hey puta, get me some of those pain killers they keep locked up here. Something for the pain.”
Marianne whips out her computer and runs a diagnostic on him. Several items show up on the screen. “I see you’ve got some scarring on your liver and and damage to your lungs, both of which are being repaired as we speak.
None of which are causing you any pain.”
“What do you care? You’re not a doctor. Just get me the damn drugs bitch and I’ll be gone.”
“You’re not the first person who’s tried that on me today.”
“Did you have a gun pointed at your head last time?” His threat was serious. He leans to the side and pull the gun out, waving it in her face. Marianne freezes. She’d never had a conflict escalate to this degree before, and has never seen the countermeasures that ensure that violent crimes are now a thing of the past. Cholo just holds her gaze, grinning a hate filled smile at her. “I thought not. Now you’re going to take me to your drug cabinet and I’m going to get a little something for, my pain.”
Marianne leads Cholo out of the OR and down the corridor assumedly towards the medicine lockup. She has turned sheet white, pins and needles running down her hands, feet heavy and clumsy, sweat starting to bead on her forehead and upper lip. Occasionally he reminds her of his seriousness by jabbing the gun into her kidneys, making her flinch with a rush of reminded mortality. The sound of a door closing behind them grabs their attention, and within seconds Cholo is confronted by Marianne’s Guardian. The Guardian just looks down on Cholo with disrespect and distain--a look that they share with most humans they’ve met, but this time the commitment to the cause is clearly evident.
“Don’t do it, don’t even think it.” Simple words booming out of the giant clone doesn’t seem to affect Cholo’s determination. A lifetime of violence and crime has left him immune to threats.
“You talking to me hombre aterrador?” Cholo has now turned to face the Guardian head on, looking up to him with impudence. The Guardian doesn’t budge. Cholo continues, trying to get a rise out of him. “What is it you think I’m thinking? Something like this?”
Cholo raises his gun to the Guardian with every intent of firing. Squint of the eyes, contraction of the muscles in his arm, the pull of the tendons that connect with his fingers…
“Arrgggghhhh!!!!!!” Before he is able to pull the trigger every bone in his gun carrying hand breaks and the gun falls to the floor like a dead weight. The pain is excruciating and Cholo drops to the ground clutching his decimated hand. “The fuck is this…?”
Marianne step forward, the colour has returned to her face. Her hands steady, her presence no longer that of a victim. “The nanotech in your system that giveth also taketh away. No court rooms, no prisons, your injuries are your penance and will be a scarlet letter while you slowly heal, the scars forever bearing your indiscretions of our divine law. You bear the mark now.”
She may as well be speaking a foreign language to him because nothing of what she said hit home to him. Maybe it is his pain or just his upbringing, but she could tell this isn’t going to end well. The Guardian just turns its back on Cholo, inviting him to try again. Cholo seizes the opportunity and grabs the gun with his good hand, raises his arm and readies to fire.
The only sound the permeated the halls was the gun hitting the floor one final time and the collapse of a body that died on its feet. Of the dozens of on-lookers, not one made a peep. A real demonstration of registration, the reality of the new world order is becoming now clear. The Guardian just walks off, leaving the cadaver as a warning to those who challenge the rite of the Church of Light.
CHAPTER V
Noah
What the hell. Why am I waking up?
All groggy eyed and dry mouthed, Noah slowly shakes his head back and forth to try and wake. Glen, Raythe and Winters are still unconscious. Noah sits up and reaches out to shake Winters awake but no amount of shaking could wake her.
Bastard.
Noah grabs the nearest gun and runs out to the tarmac as fast as his legs would allow.
Titus is loading explosives onto the hover plane, stepping over the unconscious bodies of Jason and co-pilot. Titus stops what he’s doing and turns around to see Noah on his feet pointing a gun at him.
Standing like a parent miffed at their child, Noah says, “That was sneaky.”
Titus relaxes and carries on with loading the plane, “It was necessary. Think of it as a field test. One that you all failed.”
“So you’re going to take them on single-handedly?”
“That’s the plan. You couldn’t stand a chance against
one Guardian let alone the army that is stationed there. I, however, can move undetected. The very presence of you four would raise alarms instantly.” Titus has made a point but Noah is not ready to let go of it yet.
“Do you even know how to use any of these explosives?”
Titus stops loading the plane and looks into Noah’s eyes for a moment.
“Now I do.” Titus smiles and returns back to work.
Noah recoils as if violated and squishes up his face. “Auh, stop that! You telling me you don’t have the power to mask my ‘presence’?”
Titus isn’t especially quick to respond. “Maybe.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. I’m coming with. You may be a thief, one that was caught if history serves me…” Titus tries to butt in to defend himself but Noah continues, “But I am a soldier, and you need me.”
Titus isn’t especially quick to respond again. “Maybe.”
“And when we’re done I’m taking the plane.” This is not the sole reason he’s insisting on tagging along, but a pretty big one. Titus deliberates for a minute--Noah did wake up after only ten minutes and he got a full dose.
“Agreed.”
❖
Noah is in the pilot’s seat with a baffled look on his face. A strange flat control panel, no buttons or switches, no indication of how to turn the thing on.
“Problem?” Titus sounds a little self-assured, as if he knew all along.
“You might say. I thought if Jason could pick it up…” Noah looks out the window at his former friend and his co-pilot face down on the strip. “Wake him up can ya?”
Titus closes his eyes for a second and exhales. Jason suddenly wakes up and looks around.
Noah gets his attention. “Jas. Come here.”
Jason turns to see Noah sitting in the pilot’s seat and pauses. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
Jason repeats himself. An old habit to get under Noah’s skin. “No.”
“So for old times’ sake, pretty please, get your ass over here so I don’t have to shoot you or let my friend Titus here mind rape you again.” Noah’s not usually this crude but manners is a luxury he can’t afford. Jason gets up and reluctantly approaches the plane.
“What?”
“How do you fly this thing?” Noah has no shame.
Jason begins to crack a smile; he has missed flying with his friend. “With the amount of explosives I see you have one might presume you plan to take on the entire country, and single-handedly? And here people thought I was the crazy one.”
Noah does not look impressed with his response and begins to gesture Titus when Jason elaborates further, “You can’t fly one. The plane won’t respond to anyone without the mark. A registered Atom Chip.” He holds up his arm and points to the back of his right hand. Noah is surprisingly composed after hearing such bad news.
�
�You telling me the thing I need to fly this thing is in your hand?” Noah pulls out a machete from his side and eyes off Jason’s hand. Jason’s heart rate doubles and he start to step back.
“Wait, Noah. It’s not that simple.” Noah ignores Jason’s plea and gets out of the cabin sending Jason running down the tarmac.
Noah turns to Titus, “Couldn’t you just make him fly us there?”
“Yes. That was always the plan.”
That was sneaky.
CHAPTER V
Elder Sacro
It has been a long few days. The nanotech in his system is working overtime keeping the body of this old man upright. It is going to be a long few more days more.
Level five. Restricted. Time to see the old monk. The head programmer. Mother’s keeper.
And people think I’m the old one.
At the end of a long corridor and through a set of reinforced doors is the central processing room. A large room with a huge cylindrical computer standing in the centre looks as if it is holding up the ceiling. Dozens of computer monitors are embedded in the wall along with holographic displays and thought activated controls. All very much state of the art.
Elder Venark spends most his time in this basement freezer. There are still things that require a human touch. Even with state of the art technology.
Sacro pushes open the large doors makes his way inside the room, unannounced. This is something that annoyed Venark greatly, but the matter is time-sensitive. And being the boss has its privileges. He heads straight to a monitor and begins investigating his hunch.
Through grit teeth Venark welcomes him, “We haven’t seen you on level five for some time Master Elder. Have you missed our mother and protector?” Sacro continues with his search, so Venark shuffles forward and asks, “Can I assist you with your enquiry?” Sacro flicks his wrist and a map of Argentina is displayed, overlaid with recent flight paths.
“What do we know from missing flight M twenty-four twenty-nine?” Sacro turns to face Venark for the first time. Elder Venark moves straight to his console and brings the file up.
“We received reports that the pilot performed an emergency landing near the Gulf of San Matias. After one hour it resumed course. It’s not showing any malfunctions but there’s been no radio contact since the landing.”
“Good. Cease all contact with the vessel and send every Guardian we have to its assigned landing bay. Inform me the second those on board are in custody.”
“Of course.”
Sacro feels satisfied, as if a weight has been lifted. Titus will return as prophesied--launching a division of Guardians is just precautionary.
He is about to leave when a nagging thought claws its way to the front of his mind. “If an emergency evacuation was sounded, how quickly could you secure and move this equipment?”
Elder Venark looks offended, replying with, “This ‘equipment’ is a highly sensitive quantum computer that manages every bit of working technology on the planet, including the Guardians. Moving it will be a delicate and meticulous procedure.” Sacro is still waiting for an answer. Venark takes a breath and continues, “Seven to ten days. Or else we run this risk of having to perform a complete reboot, of which in itself takes somewhere from seven to ten days. Being in the dark for that long without our safeguards in place would be costly, not to mention dangerous.”
Sacro thinks on it for a bit, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. “Thank you.”
❖
The central control room is alive with activity.
Desdom reads from the most recent report, “Fifty-one per cent of our population, including Guardians, have been successfully transported. In under two days they have given the mark to over ten million people in twenty countries and suffered no casualties.”
“At this rate we will occupy the entire planet in weeks, not months.” The eager monk again speaks in a way that Sacro objects to.
“We are here to save humanity, to liberate them. The burden and the blessing to see out this prophecy falls to us, and know that it will get a lot darker before the world will see the light. Now do something useful and call Dumachus to the…”
The door abruptly opens and right on cue, covered in snow, is Dumachus. He slowly enters the room and pulls back his hood, showing off his sculpted features and cold demeanour. “You’ve found the traitor.”
Elder knows not to pussyfoot around mind readers. “We believe Titus is on his way now and you are not to seek him out.” Dumachus pauses, almost amused at the demand.
“And pray tell, why.”
Dumachus wanted it too bad. The chip in his head might not let him commit murder, however killing in self-defence is a grey area, and Titus must live if there’s any chance to see out the prophecy.
“The Guardians can handle him. But if for any reason his incursion is successful we’ll need our strongest protecting our most valuable asset. You need to guard the Mother computer.” When Dumachus hear this he changes from causal to serious in an instant and stops to focus on his thoughts.
“This is an error… As in that was a lie. You think I’m unstable, emotionally compromised, and you don’t trust me. But you trust the traitor? You love him?” Dumachus catches himself losing control and stops to let Sacro speak.
“I wish to see neither of you hurt. Please understand, none of this was prophesised and we are flying blind for the first time. What I do know is killing him today will not serve our cause.”
“Neither will having him off chain.” Dumachus has said his last words and turns to leave. Sacro knows if it’s between Mother and Titus, Mother wins.
He calls out to Dumachus as he leaves, “Defend the asset at all costs. Just promise me that his death is a final resort.”
You two were meant to lead the Guardians to the final battle.
You still can.
CHAPTER V
Elias
Elias moved quietly through the levelled city. Disasters bring out either the best or the worst in people, and he has seen evidence to suggest that using precautions would be wise. Lucky for him Seth sleeps for nineteen hours a day.
Any buildings made with cheap materials is now in heaps. The shops that are left standing have been looted. Peoples’ front doors left wide open where others are boarded up. He feels exposed being out on the street, even though he rarely came across another person.
It would be another two hours before he reaches the closest hospital. That could mean from anywhere up to three diaper changes.
Don’t forget to pick up some diapers.
Two hours later Elias arrives at the hospital grounds. He stays at a distance for a few minutes to survey the area-- the army coming out in him again. The soldier. To his surprise there are more people leaving the hospital than entering. Their fine health juxtaposed with their heavily torn and blood-stained clothes. There is a sense of relief in the air, even while the world burnt around them. A confidence. There is something unnerving about it, but he did promise Camila he would get to the hospital.
Inside looked like it has seen some action; waiting room benches torn from the floor, bullet holes in the walls, blood all over the floors and walkways. The smell of death and chaos lingered but there is no physical sign of it now. Elias is not a man to linger. Maternity Ward, seventh floor. No lifts.
Damn.
As he approaches the seventh floor he hears a man scream long and loud. He reaches the landing and bursts through the door to see a heavily tattooed cholo on the ground, writhing in pain and holding onto his hideously disfigured hand. Standing over him is a tall large robed man dressed in robes and a missionary from Antarctica speaking with an awful accent.
“…your injuries are your penance and will be a scarlet letter while you slowly heal, the scars forever bearing your indiscretions of our divine law. You bear the mark now.”
The cholo grabs the gun with his good hand and tries to shoot the robed man in the back. Before he is able to pull the trigger he suddenly shudders slightly and d
rops to the ground, blood pouring from his eyes and ears. Every tendon in his body slowly contracts, pulling and contorting his limbs as if in the grips of tetanus, squeezing the last breath from his body. A graphic and public display of capital punishment. The robed giant strolls past him when the female missionary approaches and smiles as if nothing has happened. “Hi, I’m Marianne from the Church of Light. You must be looking for our maternity ward. It’s this way, follow me.”
This experience is becoming increasingly surreal. Disturbing even. He’d felt this sensation on the battlefield before, but not in a civilian hospital. She is honest and unapologetic. Genuinely disinterested when the cholo died. Not sorry, not shocked.
He knows this is not for him, whatever the hell is going on. “I was actually just leaving. Thank you all the same.”
Yup, get out Elias.
“Have you and your baby received the mark?” She asks casually, when thirty seconds ago she described it to a dying man as his executioner.
“Yes, just now.” Her expression freezes for a few seconds, before she tilts her head and smiles. This seems to have appeased her suspicion. Elias is proud of his performance. Now if only Marianne could step out of the way, he could leave.
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