“What do you want man?” pleaded the man as he keeps his gun trained at the Guardian’s head.
“Hell on Earth.”
“Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Seth has something to say about that. Elias had been so gripped watching it all unfold outside he neglected his other duty, and now has given away his location.
The sudden noise catches both the Guardian and the man off guard. The Guardian turns his head to look--he couldn’t sense any other life forms around. The tattooed man flinches and accidently pulls the trigger, shooting the Guardian’s brain’s out. He looks down at his dead friends for a minute and is angry and confused. He shoots the dead Guardian one more time before running up to the front of the semi-collapsed building. Elias tucks his gun under his belt and has moved back to comfort Seth when the man enters with gun drawn. “Who’s there?”
“Just a father with his newborn son looking for shelter.” Elias could kill this man in twenty different ways, but thought to play that down for the moment. The man looks around with a sense of paranoia.
“What’s in the fucking bag?”
“Baby formula, nappies…” he interrupts Elias and snatches the bag from the ground and rummages through it. Elias slowly puts Seth on the bench and starts thinking of the many ways to kill him.
“Supplements. I’m taking these.”
“No you can’t, they’re for my…” As the man pushes his gun into Elias’s head he snatches it with lightning speed and before the man knew what has happened Elias knocks him on his ass.
Bleeding from the mouth but seemingly unperturbed and insolent, he spits “You motherfuc…” before Elias shoots him in the head.
Who steals from a baby?
Elias grabs the man’s boots, knife and backpack, collects his things, his baby, and goes on the move again. Wondering if there’s any way home that’s not on foot.
CHAPTER VII
Elder Desdom
Smoke spews out from vents and open launch bays across the Antarctica plain. Columns of ash and smoke so familiar to everywhere else in the world have finally reached home. Total communication blackout, catastrophic system wide failures. Confusion, panic, chaos.
And where is Sacro?
Desdom thought he’d planned for everything. The Moirai are scrambling about desperately trying to grasp at regaining some form of control, some intelligence into their prognosis. Alarm bells ringing and red lights flashing from the walls and monitors aren’t helping. This is crisis mode.
“Secondary processor coming online.”
“Getting word that the recovery team has finally reached level five. They think.”
“We won’t have any wireless Atom chip connections but when the satellites realign we’ll have communication back. We should sustain our registration network for now.”
Desdom is getting a headache from the lights and alarms, “Can someone turn that alarm off?”
Decia looks up towards the ceiling and a second later they cease.
Nina’s computer lights up and she nearly jumps from her seat. “We’re back online. To some extent.”
Marta, ever the pragmatist, looks to clarify, “Thank you. Just to clarify, no wireless connection means no automatic correction or punishment, and no incentive to toe the line?”
Decia has a bombshell she’s just realising, “It’s a bigger problem than that. They’re no longer medicated.”
Before they have a chance to digest that sobering thought, Simon bursts into the room looking like hell covered with burns and cuts. With tears streaming down his face, in between breaths he manages to squeak out, “He’s dead. They killed him. Shot him.”
Decia leans forward in her chair, “They? Who are you talking about child?”
Simon is in no state to answer. Barely in a state to stand, he begins to bleed on the floor and his body is in shock, but a pain in his side is beginning to cause him some serious trouble. Decia grabs a scanner and mobile computer and dashes towards Simon. After scanning his hand she commands first aid and Simon’s wounds begin to heal. Decia put her hand over the boy’s forehead and reads his mind. There are times Desdom wishes he could have explored studying the arts.
“Elder Sacro is dead. Some American tagging along with Titus shot him.” Decia’s announcement has left the room silent. Desdom realises the power now fall to him.
“Ground every plane. Shut the hanger doors. No one leaves until we restore order. With Sacro gone seniority falls to me.”
Marta can smell someone who wants this job more than the responsibility. “Well, presuming Dumachus, Titus and his friend are also dead, how does your seniority think we should precede with managing the behaviours and actions of five million Guardians without the use of Mother?”
Damn. Good question. “When I have all the information I’ll be able to make an informed decision. I don’t engage in hypotheticals.” A politician’s answer. Only at the job for a few seconds and has already dived head first into the role.
Nina decides to change the subject with her update on the recovery team. “They’re approaching the room. Bringing up visuals now.
CHAPTER VII
Dumachus
The faint glows from the bioluminescent microorganisms trapped in the ice is the only light breaking through the pitch blackness of their prison. The plasma oozing from the various holes in his body are freezing on the cold hard floor. Dumachus is unsure if he is trapped or too broken to move. He can still sense life behind the door he was defending, so that’s good. The fact that his wounds are not healing is not good.
“Hey!” echoes a voice in the darkness. “Got something!” An invasive piercing light fills the caved-in corridor. Massive chunks of ice blocking the path are pushed back into the wall clearing a path down the walkway. A number of Guardians and people make their way through the debris, one with the radio calling in, “Outer walls and doors still intact. Moving in.” He walks up to the door but fails to open it. After a few seconds with his hands on his hips he resorts to banging on the steel reinforced doors, “Hey old man, open up!” Hands back on hips, he waits. Amongst the dead bodies lies Dumachus, camouflaged but alive. He musters the last of his strength and reaches out with his hand and rests it on the man’s foot. The scare he received nearly gives him a heart attack and he squeals octaves above his normal range. Another follower rushes forward and scans Dumachus’s hand, bringing his file up on the computer. SEVERED FEMORAL ARTERY, DISMEMBERED LEFT FOREARM, SEVERE LACERATIONS TO LEFT SIDE OF HEAD… He reads the report in his radio, “We have confirmation that Dumachus is alive. He will require extensive surgery but for now is stable.” With his final word he hits ENTER on his computer commanding the nanotech to stabilise his body. Dumachus just smiles as the nanotech takes hold and whispers the word, “Open.” Almost immediately the reinforced doors open by two large Guardians blocking the doorway.
Hands on hips man moves forward to inspect the asset but the Guardians stand in his way. “Let me pass.” No reaction. Dumachus raises his hand and gives a little flick of the wrist. The two Guardian move aside and let the team in. “Report!”
Elder Venark is looking dishevelled and very stressed. “Like I told Sacro…”
“Sacro’s dead. Just skip to the part I care about.” The impatient man is callous with his remarks.
Venark does not take it too kindly. He has known Sacro a very long time. “Mother has crashed. There’s been no damage to the hardware but we’re going to have to manually reboot every system separately before it is operational.”
“How long?” As if his disrespectful abbreviated sentences will somehow speed up the process.
“Seven to ten days.”
The man nods and turns his back to Venark as he concludes his visit. “Ready the equipment for transport and prepare for evacuation. This entire sector is now off limits.”
Venark knew this post would come to an end, just not barked from the mouth from some little snot with no respect. “You can shut the door on your way out, son.” Elder Venark t
urns back to his console and returns to work. The impatient man turns up his nose and storms out.
❖
Desdom is sitting in his chair, starting to sweat. Marta is now facing him, awaiting a response. They’re all listening in. “Now I have all the information, I can begin to process the next course of action. Excuse me.”
As he gets up from his chair Marta mirrors his motion and stands deliberately in his way. “Where are you going? You don’t have all the information. Where’s Titus and the American? Are there any more bombs hidden in other sectors? Where is the pilot of flight M twenty-four twenty-nine and are there any more accomplices? We are technically still under attack. Sit down, no one goes anywhere. Especially council members with such seniority.”
Boom. Marta enjoyed that.
❖
The impatient man is stopped halfway into the elevator by the person on the other end of his ear piece and ordered back into the corridor. Dumachus is being strapped to a gurney while ID checks are being performed on the dozens of dead clones. Impatient man stands over Dumachus and borderline demands “Where’s Titus?”
Dumachus takes no offence. All humans look like ants now. What sort of person would be offended by an ant? “Ask his buddy over there.” Dumachus lazily points in the direction of an adjacent corridor.
“Hey you!” he barks in the direction of a nearby Guardian. “There any humans alive down there?” The Guardian shows signs of cracking and does his best to remain professional. It is rare to see them emote. But he obediently walked a few paces down the hall and finds Noah lying unconscious. He picks him up and drags him back to the corridor where he holds him up with one arm like a fish.
“Bring him over here.” His demands are starting to test their tolerance. The Guardian stands there and flings Noah’s limp body through the air, sliding to a stop at his feet. Noah is missing his left forearm and left leg. He has burns over half his body and dozens of broken bones. He is alive, but barely. “Wake him up.”
A busy follower looks around as if to say “you talking to me?” but carries out his demands under silent protest. Noah is injected with millions of nanotech and two Atom chips and they are set to work. Moments later the bleeding stops and minor wounds begin to heal over, bones begin resetting and the burnt skin sheds away. Noah slowly opens his eyes, looks around almost surprised that he lives. Dumachus sits up in his gurney and waits till he has Noah’s attention.
“You missed,” he says while missing half his face from a gunshot.
Noah, though exhausted, croaks out a chuckle. “That’s true. I was aiming for your brain. If you could stand still next ti…”
“Where is Titus?” yells an impatient man. Both Noah and Dumachus look up to him as if he just interrupted old friends reuniting.
“Dead, isn’t he? Although just before the end there I presumed we were all going to be.” Noah is being honest.
Dumachus’s turn to try. “Think about it. Where is he?”
Noah is unmoved. “At some point in time you are going to have to realise that I don’t know. You know the guy, where would he go? Maybe he went back to Jerusalem. Your guess is as good as mine at this point.”
Dumachus can feel some of his strength returning, his power returning. He locks onto Noah’s mind and goes for a wander. Noah starts to feel the intrusion and begins trying to bat him away. “You left half the explosives in the weapons cache back at your airbase. He’d be returning to resupply and try again.”
Noah is in agreement. “Yea actually, that sounds like something he’d do.”
Dumachus is beginning to warm to Noah. “I see why he likes you. You remind him of me when I was your age. The person I once was.” Noah begins to compare their similar arm and leg wounds in a patronising way. Dumachus tries to take some of wind out his sails, “And so here you are. One of us now. Marked.”
“What?” This is news to Noah.
“How do you think you survived, or even stopped bleeding?”
“Good genes?”
“No.” Dumachus is starting to enjoy this.
“If you say it’s God’s plan I’m going to punch you with my stump.”
This makes Dumachus laugh. He signals to the followers to wheel him away. Impatient man steps in to finish his assignment, “Get him to the infirmary and learn what you can; accomplices, if there are any more explosives, whatever we can use. Go.”
The last two followers carry Noah away leaving the impatient man to look around for evidence of Titus. Near the reinforced door there is ice that has broken away from the ceiling. As he positions his is head directly underneath he can see that it is a hole that goes all the way up.
CHAPTER VII
Gloria
This is her third night on the street. Her place was demolished in the quake, likewise for the rest of her troop. There is no organised government aid and the emergency services have been overrun and abandoned. The food markets and warehouse are now run by the cartels, so finding supplies there was a bust. Then the Antarcticans began moving in, putting people in camps and tagging them, so that too was a bust. Her little band of derelicts is all she has left. Them, and a destination. Far away from the city. The Estate.
In between two fallen buildings, in the middle of what was once a road, nine people sit around a fire, sharing a loaf of sliced bread and trying to keep warm.
“If we sleep indoors we risk a building falling on our heads. We sleep outside we risk running into an Antarctican, and I saw them pull unconscious bodies out of the rubble. So I don’t think the flimsy walls of an OH&S nightmare would suffice offering protection from them.”
“How about those who want to sleep indoors, sleeps in…”
“We should split up and scavenge for more supplies.”
“Why not go back to the cartel?”
Gloria can see the conversation is getting lost and reins the group in, “At first light, we move. There’s enough food and water where we’re going to get us started. I am not waiting around for you to waste time scavenging and risk further exposure. Not with those things around. We shouldn’t even be here now.”
A dark voice speaks from the shadows, “You’re right.”
The group scatters, all except the dangerously curious Alejandro. The youngest of the men, the one trying the hardest to prove himself fires a single shot into the dark. He stands alone on the mound, backlit from their humble fire, aiming blindly into the night.
The dark voice continues, “Let me make it easier for you.” The well-spoken Guardian walks out of the shadows and presents himself. Smiling. Alejandro fires again but the bullet bounces off a force field. “You see your problem is that you telegraph it before you fire, but I suppose that’s a fault all humanity bears.”
Alejandro raises his gun again but the Guardian just flicks it out of his hands, leaving the young man defenceless. “What do you want?” he asks nervously. The Guardian is savouring the moment, well aware that he has an audience.
Gloria and Matias are hiding behind a dumpster, Matias fumbling as he tries to load his rifle. Gloria gives him a disappointed look, “Seriously? Don’t be so stupid.”
As the Guardian approaches Alejandro he begins monologuing, “The Elders will have you registered and sheltered, like branding farm animals. My brothers would use your blood to line their walls. I, however, am far more interested in seeing how the human spirit has evolved. What you people have become.” He grabs Alejandro over the mouth and jaw with one hand and by his hair at the roots with the other.
Gloria and Matias are at a loss. He is giving her the “we should go” gesture, but she is torn. Before anyone is able to make a decision a noise only a short distance away grabs everybody’s attention. The cry of a baby. Even the Guardian stops and dumps Alejandro on the ground.
“Curious. I thought I could sense everybody that was present.” The Guardian takes several long and powerful strides towards the direction of the cry. In a dramatic motion he sweeps both of his hands to the left and a large pile
of debris is thrown aside, exposing Elias holding a crying baby Seth.
“You sir, have a rare gift and talent.” Elias has no response.
Alejandro is crawling away while Gloria and Matias stay behind to watch how this unfolds.
The Guardian is looking Elias up and down before inspecting the baby and being generally intrusive. “I’ve seen that face before. On the front line. You may be hard to read up there, but your body language definitely indicating a proclivity towards violence. You wondering if I’m fast enough to catch that knife?”
Elias brings his arm from behind his back, brandishing a knife. The Guardian takes a few step back. “I’ve always enjoyed a bit of healthy competition. I’ll even let you put down the baby.”
Matias cocks his rifle and holds the gun tight when out of nowhere the barrel starts to bend till it’s facing backwards. With his back turned to them the Guardian raises his hand and “tut-tuts” with his finger. Matias drops the gun and starts to retreat with the others, leaving Gloria alone.
Elias has put the crying baby down, faces the Guardian and raising his empty left hand he points to his knife, similar to the misdirection from a magician. He then throws the knife at the Guardian as fast as he can, all eyes on the knife. Though when Elias opened his grasp to release the knife something else seemed to be released as well, the stored energy of elastic pulled tight. Before the knife is even half way a small gun connected by elastic to Elias’s middle finger is pulled out from the jacket sleeve and into his grip, and bang! The Guardian catches the knife, but not with his hands, and is dead before the body hit the ground.
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