Titus

by Caleb Byrnand

Gloria barely even looks but is already unconvinced. “I believe that you and your compass are broken.”

  “I’m not saying we’re heading in the wrong direction. Just that magnetic north has flipped.” Matias is fighting a losing battle.

  She turns to Elias and gives him a friendly elbow in the ribs, “Next they’ll be telling us we’ve been invaded by a bunch of super-men in brown cloaks.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he replies jokingly.

  ❖

  As best as he could tell the sun is directly overhead, and they have been off the main road for a few hours now, trudging through a dirt road in bushland so he assumes they are getting close. A large Ceibo tree up ahead marks a bend in the road and the final stretch to the estate. Gloria picks up her pace the closer they get. He thinks she will be at a full sprint by the time she arrives. “We’re nearly there guys.”

  As they approached the bend the familiar smell of death wafted through the air, slowing Elias’s pace. When Gloria made it around the corner she stops in her tracks and screams. The rest of the group rush to see and follow suit. Ten unarmed bodies spread out across the road all suffering gunshot wounds. One of the older men grabs Gloria by the shoulder and turns her around, “What the fuck is thi…” A sniper interrupts his abuse and the back of the older man’s head explodes. A split second later a gunshot can be heard in the distance.

  Elias screams, “Get down!” The group drops down and hustles back around the bend using the trees as cover.

  “Hold your fire! It’s Gloria!” The tree she is hiding behind is hit by a powerful bullet, followed by the sound of another gunshot. “I am Senior Vergara’s niece.”

  The gunshots cease for a moment and a faint voice replies, “He’s dead lady. Pacemaker failed.”

  Gloria takes a moment to process this. She does her best to hide her devastation. “Who are you?” He responds by firing another bullet in the same spot of the ever receding tree trunk with shards of the bark and wood exploding outward. She turns to the group for council, for Elias’s council, but he is gone. She mouth’s, “Where’s Elias?” to Matias but he just gives her the signal to keep the sniper talking. She notices that Sarah is holding baby Seth, so he must be coming back.

  “Roberto?” she calls out.

  “Wrong again.”

  Gloria is starting to get mad now, demanding, “What do you want?” A third bullet hits the same spot on the tree, this time dislodging a large chuck of the trunk. With her cover blown she dives out of the way and another bullet narrowly misses her. Two more smaller gunshots are heard, followed by complete silence.

  Elias’s voice echoes from the distance, “Clear!”

  Gloria and her troop stand up tentatively and carefully walk over the dead bodies towards the estate. Alejandro scavenges a few bodies and take their blood soaked backpacks. From Gloria’s expression she knew many of these people. Familia.

  Elias walks down the road to meet up with the group, passing a large sniper rifle to Matias. “Everyone okay?”

  Sarah responds with tears in her eyes as she hands him back his child. “He got Jorge. The rest of us are fine.”

  Gloria doesn’t look fine. “Where is that bastard!” Elias points to the tree line at the edge of the road and Gloria marches off to face her dead attacker. Everybody else is in awe of Elias, except Alejandro who is looking a little threatened.

  Matias just stares at him, slightly nodding. “That’s twice you’ve saved us man. Thank you.” Elias gracefully accepts his thanks and continues towards the estate.

  Gloria pulls the dead sniper’s body out onto the road and flips him over. When she sees his face and recognises him, she drops to her knees, hurt and sullen. Matias tries to comfort her but she bats his hand away, she needs this moment, alone. The group proceed towards the high gate while Elias stays behind with Gloria in silence.

  “He was a cousin. Lived and worked on the estate. I just don’t know how he could have…” She turns away from him, dosed with resentment with no outlet for resolve. “Let’s go.” She audibly exhales to compose herself, picks herself up and walks towards the estate.

  “How many cousins lived here?” Elias asks carefully.

  ❖

  The estate is large, the house is long and low set, white and terracotta, seemingly undisturbed by the earthquake. She will tell him it was built to withstand cannon fire from the civil war days. It seems this place has stood as a symbol of rebellion for two hundred years. And continues to do so.

  The house is well stocked with full rainwater tanks. And beds. Nobody has slept in days and immediately begin breaking off to into different rooms.

  The tunnels can wait a few hours. Elias finds himself a vacant room, lays Seth on the bed and washes him with a damp cloth. Does his best to feed him room temperature formula but the crying baby needs his mother. So does Elias.

  ❖

  Elias takes a shovel and wheelbarrow from the shed to begin with disposing the bodies on the road. He wraps a scarf around his face to mask the smell and disease and loads several bodies in the wheel barrow, ready to cart them to a pre-dug shallow grave. He lifts the heavy barrow off its legs and pushes. He gets barely two meters when a large Guardian walks around the corner of the Ceibo tree. They both freeze like deer in headlights. Guilty.

  I look like a serial killer.

  After an uncomfortable silence they speak over the top of one another in their native language. “I’m not / No soy…” They both stop to allow the other to speak. When no one does, Titus makes it obvious he is about to. “Sorry, you first.”

  “Que?”

  Titus hadn’t encountered Spanish before. He stops for a few seconds to read Elias’s mind, to absorb his language functions and learn to speak his tongue. “Español?”

  Elias nods, not sure what is going on. The gun tucked into his belt is burning a hole through his pants but he makes no sudden moves, just balances the load of unfortunates on the wheel.

  “What were you saying?” There’s something off with Titus. His social awkwardness goes beyond idiosyncratic.

  Elias, slightly puzzled, replies with, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Titus just stares at him for a few seconds, nodding his head. “I had no idea you were there. Caught me by complete surprise. Could’ve used your help a few days ago. You have a unique gift.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Elias is very suspicious and lowers the wheelbarrow very slowly, thinking about that gun tucked behind his back.

  Titus can sense it from miles away and pleads with him, “Don’t do it, please. I’m not here to hurt anyone. And if I was, we would not be having this conversation. You and those nine others inside would not know what would have hit them.”

  He is starting to sound threatening. It is the truth though. “What do you want?”

  Titus peels back his robe to show a long open wound running from his chest to his hip. “I require assistance.”

  How the hell is he even standing?

  “Jesus.” Even Elias, who has a high tolerance for the macabre, is repelled. “What’s your name?”

  “Titus Bakari.”

  “Okay Titus. My name is Elias. I’m going to put these bodies down now. Don’t do anything stupid.” Noah lowers the wheelbarrow back on its feet while Titus pulls his robe over his injury. “Your people are killing everyone. The Antarcticans are subjugating us with their technology. Where do you fit in?”

  “I was meant to lead them. I refused, fought back and lost.”

  If he doesn’t play nice then there’s a high chance that Titus won’t either. If he does play nice there’s only a small chance Titus won’t.

  “If I help you, then you leave and never return. Deal?” Titus nods and they shake on it. Elias runs back to the estate to grab his supplies while Titus leans against the Ceibo tree and slides down to the ground. He looks up to the wheelbarrow of dead bodies, still unsure of what it should ‘look’ like.

  Elias returns after a few min
utes with a bag he stole off the tattooed man, complete with mobile computer and scanner. “I’ve seen your kind use this to heal their wounds. You scan your hand over the sensor here and follow the prompts. I’ve also packed you some bread, a few apples and a bottle of water.”

  Titus is grateful and true to his word. He takes the gifts and walks down the road, stopping only for directions, “How far am I from the Golf San Matias?”

  Elias has to think for a few seconds, “That’s about a hundred of miles south-east.” Titus gives him a wave and shuffles back down the road like an injured Rōnin. Elias watches him leave before directing his attention to moving the wheelbarrow of death.

  Spying from the crow’s nest is Alejandro, his suspicions confirmed.

  CHAPTER IX

  Jason

  Back in the pilot’s seat. His co-pilot, going by the name of Justice, at his side. Both awaiting instructions. She seems a lot more approachable than his last assigned partner. “Hi…”

  “You the outsider that flew the terrorists in? Your friend; the one that killed three thousand of my kin? Whose actions have led to the death of one third of our people?”

  Damn. Maybe not so approachable. Back to an uncomfortable silence, again.

  The cabin door opens and Dumachus, accompanied by three Guardians, enters.

  “Moscow.” Justice begins her pre-launch checks while Jason plots a course. Within minutes they are airborne.

  ❖

  The snow and ash in the air hits the windshield as Jason pilots through the Russian storm. The trip has been long and quiet. “Highest concentration of rogue Guardians. Highest concentration of human resistance. And it’s winter. This should be fun.”

  Dumachus finally speaks, at long last. “We won’t be here long. I’ll only have to come into contact with a few, the rest will fall in line. Then we move on and they can deal with the local militia.”

  Justice finally speaks up, “Why do they hate us? We’re not taking away their language or culture. The survivors in the new world will want for naught, free from sickness and disease.”

  Dumachus waits for a few seconds before answering. “We’re taking their property, industry, economics, laws, police, their political system and free choice. We’re not here to save them, we’re here to enslave them, and the people know it.”

  Justice continues, “Why do the Guardians hate us then?”

  “Because they have seen Hell. Tends to change a person.”

  The storm only gets worse and Jason is losing visibility of the two planes ahead of him. The landing zone is just ahead, and not too soon. Jason turns to Justice, “Inform the squad we’ll be approaching the LZ in five minutes. Satellite imagery coming in now. Looks clear.” Jason speaks too soon as the panel in front of him begins to flash. “Or not. Someone is locking on.”

  Justice is an inexperienced pilot and her nerves get the better of her. “These ships weren’t designed for combat,” she remarks obliviously.

  Dumachus just closes his eyes and senses for the incoming missile. He surrounds their hover plane with a force field and a few seconds later it deflects the missile, saving their skin. “If that’s all they got, then this will be over quicker than I…” Something grabs his attention and he stops in mid-sentence, like a dog catching a scent in the breeze. Through the windshield they can see one of the hover planes banking hard and crashing into its neighbouring plane. Both planes explode and dozens of burning Guardians are ejected from the tumbling wreckages.

  “Whoa, what was that?”

  “It’s the rogues.”

  Jason drops the plane in altitude and increases in speed. Too fast to land but the need to get out of danger wins. Their small plane is being knocked around violently from invisible energy forces. Eventually one of its primary system fails, with a tell-tale smoke trail behind them. The hover plane dives hard, and crashes even harder.

  What’s left of the hover plane now lies on its side in the middle of a city street, its trail of destruction melding in with the ever present destruction from the quake.

  Ouch. Jason has never crashed before. Emergency landed a few times but never totalled a plane while still inside it. It takes him a few seconds to realise he is positioned vertically. He unbuckles from his seat and drops the few inches to the ground.

  Eyes closed and dusting the glass out of his hair he yells out, “Justice, you need a hand?” No response. He moves his head back to get a better look at her when he sees a large chunk of metal is sticking out of her chest. He flinches, and looks away, climbing out of the plane through the busted windshield.

  Dumachus and his three Guardians have lined up in the middle of the street, facing an unseen enemy in the shadows. “Approach,” he says quietly into the night, and moments later ten rogue Guardians step out of the shadows. As if in some kind of trance, they ambulant slowly towards them, defenceless. Making no sudden movements, Dumachus and his three move in to intercept.

  Only meters before they meet, the hold Dumachus has over one of them fails, and the rogue stops dead in his tracks, his expression changing to rage in an instant. The three Guardians spot him and collectively pull the rogue in for reorientation. Kicking and screaming they scan his hand and instantly he becomes docile and compliant. They repeat the procedure on the remaining eight rogues, leaving one for Dumachus.

  Dumachus snaps the rogue out of his trance to speak with him, and his expression changed in an instant too. “Can you hear their voices?”

  The rogue spits at him and gnashes his teeth, “Puppet. Lap dog. Collaborator…” Dumachus punches him in his grinning face knocking out several teeth. “Can you hear their voices?” He doesn’t even wait for the rogue to respond before punching the rogue again, knocking his eye out of the socket. He then pounces on top of the rogue and begins to beat until its face is caved in. Before the rogue dies he drives his palm into his forehead and links with him, connecting to every other rogue on the same channel. “Approach.” He then pushes down and crushes the rogue’s skull.

  He stands up feeling somewhat better about himself, a sense of achievement. The release of pent-up pressure is a welcome sensation. While the rogues become re-acclimated with their station, Dumachus approaches Jason, who up until the last part been enjoying the show.

  “Justice is dead. The co-pilot that is. Justice.” Dumachus already knew. Jason just needed to break the silence. “You weren’t lying about it not taking long. Only problem now is that we’re stuck here.”

  Dumachus doesn’t seemed phased in the slightest. “Get your things. There’s another plane one mile this way. The rogues have been using it for bait these past few days.”

  This doesn’t sit especially well with Jason, but who is he to question Dumachus. He reaches into the cabin and grabs a bag from behind his chair, slings it on his back and runs to catch up.

  ❖

  “So I’m the bait?” Jason’s night is getting worse and worse. He has already dodged death once already, is cold and hungry, and now this.

  “Just walk right up, get in and take off. I’ll fly and up and meet you. Easy.”

  The plane is sitting in the middle of the street, out in the open, perfectly positioned for ambush. Dumachus has his eyes closed, using his mind to sense for nearby lifeforms but finds nothing. Jason is walking as if in a mine field; slowly and carefully.

  “Keep going, you’re still in the clear.” The sound of a bullet whizzing past grabs his curiosity. Another one goes past and he is intrigued enough to step out of his cover to investigate. He looks down the long straight road, through the shadows and the rubble.

  Jason stops because of Dumachus’s behaviour. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know…” A bullet from a sniper rifle goes straight through his abdomen and drops him to his knees. “Run!” Jason begins to run back the way they came. “Towards the plane!” Jason skids to a stop and about faces, sprinting back towards the plane. Several bullets bounce off Dumachus’s force field as he hunts for the sniper. Over two th
ousand yards away he finds him, held up in a standing building. Dumachus clenches his fists and the building implodes, crushing in on itself. Annoyed that he dropped his guard and paid for it, Dumachus turns to join Jason but the plane is gone. Jason wasted no time with his escape. s

  Jason is flying at full throttle. His heart is racing, his breath is quick, not daring to blink. Something in his periphery gets his attention, when he looks to the left he gets the scare of his life; a clone trying to get in. Before Jason realises what’s happening he jerks the plane to the left and shakes it off, only to realise a second later who it was. He slows the plane down and opens the cabin door, a second later an annoyed and bleeding Dumachus enters.

  Jason again feels the need to break the silence. “Well, that was intense.” Dumachus just looks at him dead pan for a moment before scanning his hand to heal his new wound. Jason keeps himself busy. “Come in Argus Tower. This is Red Two. Do you copy?” A second later a response comes through. “Copy Red Two, this is Argus Tower.”

  “The squadron is down. We took heavy casualties but operations in zone eleven are underway. I have the package with me en route.”

  “Copy that. Stand by for instructions.” Jason has a sense of déjà vu. His years of service in servitude coming back to haunt him. “Red Two. You are to deliver the package to zone three and re-establish our presence. We’ve lost contact with every squadron on the ground there.” There is something in her voice that hit a tone he isn’t used to. A lack of disinterest in the communication relay that struck him as unprofessional and personal.

  “Roger.” As Jason disconnects Dumachus opens the cabin door and his three Guardians fly inside and take their seats.

  “Next stop, Buenos Aries, Argentina.”

  CHAPTER IX

  Guardian Mason

  It was confusing sometimes; existing within linear parameters, having a body that occupies a finite space, senses that activate and process information through synaptic activity. Being in my native plain of existence should be like coming home after an eternity, but it feels foreign. Humans look alien. I don’t remember anything about this place.