by S. S. Segran
A scream reached their ears, followed by the shriek of a child. “Mommy!”
Mariah pulled away from Jag and caught sight of the woman with the four children. She lay on the ground not far from the guards and was being trodden on. Her wailing kids tried to reach her, all of them with tears streaking down their faces. A couple of them were forcefully pushed aside as people continued rushing into the store.
Mariah started to run toward the commotion but Jag held onto her tightly. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “It’s a free-for-all over there!”
“That woman is being trampled!” she shouted. “And I think one of the guards got knocked out!”
Jag let go of her and looked toward the turmoil. As the screams from the children grew louder, a fire lit in his eyes. “Okay, okay—I’ll clear a path to them. You get the lady and her kids, I’ll get the guards. Ready?”
Mariah grasped her pendant and nodded. Jag hunched forward, as if preparing to ram the crowd with his head, and charged. Mariah followed close behind as he pushed and heaved both men and women out of the way. There were yells of protest but Jag didn’t stop. He ran through them, forging a path like a bull until he and Mariah reached the fallen mother and the security guards.
Mariah pulled the semi-conscious woman to her feet, struggling against the crowd that had resumed its course into the store. Holding the woman tightly, she managed to force her way through to safety. The four children, seeing Mariah guiding their mother away from the mob, tottered after her, arms out as they sobbed.
Mariah sat the woman down against a wall and checked to see how badly she was injured. One hand was hanging limply and there was a gash along her forehead. She had several unsightly welts on her face and arms, and she could barely open her eyes. Mariah did her best to stem the blood coming from the biggest wound before realizing that she was trembling herself. She saw the four little ones trying to get close to their mother and made way for them.
The youngest whimpered as he shook his mother. “Mommy? Are you okay? Mommy?”
The woman let out a weak acknowledgement. The boy looked at Mariah, scared, wide eyes pleading. Mariah wasn’t even able to fake a smile but she gave the boy a protective half-hug. “It’s okay. Your mommy will be fine.”
Jag appeared beside her, one guard slung across his shoulders, awkwardly half-carrying and half-dragging the other. He got them both into sitting positions next to the injured woman and fell onto his back end beside Mariah, sweating. “It’s a mess in there,” he said, panting for breath. “I took a look inside and it’s . . . it’s terrible. This turned nasty really fast.”
Sirens could be heard in the distance. Mariah went to see if she could spot the police cruisers. As she did, a family of four rushed out of the store at the other end of the building, carrying full shopping bags.
A man shouted nearby, “There! They have it! They’ve got bread!”
The mob started toward the family like a pack of wolves closing on their prey, hurrying until they broke into a run. Mariah searched around wildly for anything that could be used to shield the family from the horde. Her eyes fell on a line of shopping carts along the edge of the parking lot nearest to the store.
Perfect. She narrowed her focus on the last cart in the line. Within the next second, the entire train rocketed toward the mob. The man leading the pack stopped only just in time as the carts rumbled past him and smashed into a retaining wall with a deafening crash, sending broken pieces of the wall and metal parts flying.
There was a collective gasp as the mob came to a halt. Mariah looked toward the family on the other side of the pile of mangled shopping carts. Seizing the reprieve, they were fleeing to their vehicle. Relief threatened to weaken Mariah’s knees as they sped out of the parking lot.
When she made her way back to Jag, she found him eyeing her, stunned. “You smashed the wall,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That was great.”
The wails of sirens grew louder. Bright, flashing lights lit up the store grounds as police vehicles swerved into the parking lot. Armed cops rushed into position to reinstate order. A policewoman spotted Mariah and Jag and hurried over to them. She took a quick look at the injured mother and guards before pulling out her radio to call for medical assistance.
Ambulances arrived not long after along with more police vehicles. The EMTs assessed the situation and began treating the injured. Mariah and Jag watched for a few minutes before he took her by the arm and they melted away from the scene. Once back in the pickup truck, Jag drove out without a word, leaving the scene of the riot behind.
Mariah leaned against the door and blankly watched the town go by her window. She had stopped shaking but her body felt frail as the adrenaline subsided.
The entire scene involuntarily replayed in her mind. How did that happen? Aren’t we more civilized than that? This shouldn’t . . . none of this should’ve . . . oh my God, they just trampled that woman. They stepped on her while her kids were watching. No one tried to stop them. I don’t . . . I . . .
Jag broke her line of thought. “Hey, ’Riah?”
“Huh? Yeah?”
“You look pretty shaken up.”
Her fright turned to vehemence. “Obviously I’m shaken up! Didn’t you see what just happened? What was that, Jag? Everyone suddenly flipped out and turned into animals!”
He slowed to a halt at a red light and rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. “Aari’s predictions were right, I guess. He said that this would happen.”
“But we’re supposed to be civil and looking out for one another!”
“That was devastating. I still can’t believe it even happened. But we need to stay strong, okay? You’re tough, Mariah. You were abducted by brutes and you handled that.”
“It’s one thing to be captives in the hands of thugs. You expect them to be ruthless. You know who the bad guys are. But what we saw . . . everyday folk turning into something else, something so inhuman . . . that’s what bothers me.” Mariah could feel her wits leaving her. “Why can’t we go to the police? We have enough evidence about what’s going on. We can go right now and talk to them. I know they’ll listen if we present proof.”
“I get that you’re upset. Believe me, I am too. That was beyond deplorable. But Marshall said—”
“I know what Marshall said,” she snapped.
Jag looked as if he would retort but the car behind them honked; the light had turned green. He accelerated away, clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. Mariah kept looking at him insistently.
His lips tightened. “Tell you what. I’ll see if I can connect with Elder Nageau. I’ll talk to him and find out what the best course of action is.”
“You told us that he said to trust Marshall. That means the authorities are definitely out of the question as far as Dema-Ki is concerned.”
“Let me speak with him anyway. Let’s see what he has to say this time. Now come on, we’ll buy eggs for breakfast like we should’ve, then we’ll make a quick stop by the hospital and give Gramps his dinner.”
There was nothing more that could be said. Mariah rested against her door again and closed her eyes, trying to get the violent images out of her mind, but she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping well that night.
44
It seemed that all the attendees in the boardroom were tense. Adrian Black fidgeted with his tie as he sat at the head of the large mahogany table, facing the screen on the curved wall at the opposite end. With him were Jerry Li and Luigi Dattalo, along with Dr. Albert Bertram. Although Phoenix Corporation’s chief science officer was a rather rotund fellow whose bearded face could easily qualify him as shopping mall Santa, he was not to be trifled with. Black knew all too well how ruthless the man could be when incensed.
Hanging from ceiling mounts on either side of the room were two big display screens that hid the windows behind them. The screen on Black’s right was split to accommoda
te images of three women and two men; they were five of the six people who headed the Sanctuary projects in various locations around the world. The left-hand screen showed Tony Cross, Dr. Nate and Vladimir Ajajdif. The three of them were seated in the partially-finished boardroom of the Sanctuary beneath the Quest Mining site in New Mexico. The two screens were muted for the time being.
Black tapped his fingers together and counted twelve present, including him. The first Inner Circle meeting in months . . . boy, has the group ever grown.
“What’s with the surprise meeting?” Dattalo murmured to Black, fixing the collar of his impeccably pressed white shirt.
“No idea,” Black said. “The Boss called for it.”
“Any agenda given?”
“None.”
“Must be something urgent.”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
Li pushed back his chair to look past the screen on the right and out the big windows. “What I’m more curious about at the moment is, what’s up with the weather?”
Black was wondering the same thing. San Francisco had been getting a lot of bad weather as of late. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked blindingly over the cityscape, casting an eerie blanket of gloom over the usually lively metropolis.
Dr. Bertram didn’t seem bothered and nodded almost imperceptibly at the left screen. “I see Mr. Cross and Dr. Nate are joining us . . . I was under the impression that it would be just Vlad. Those two are seldom in our meetings. Why are they here now?”
“I guess they were invited by the Boss,” Black said impassively, though his gaze lingered on the young man and the doctor for a while longer. He knew what Dr. Nate did and greatly admired him for it. Dr. Nate was the chief advocate for their cause and was unofficially dubbed the organization’s “preacher and enforcer.” Black knew that the diminutive man was ironfisted with his methods, which was how their cause had gotten so far; he could make believers of skeptics.
Tony was someone Black knew very little about. The young man did the Boss’s bidding and the scope of his work was outside the operations of the company. He was the one who would get his hands dirty with the Boss’s personal errands. Although he was well aware of the company’s business, he exhibited very little interest in it. In fact, he didn’t seem at all keen to take part in the meeting.
A woman’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Black, it’s ready. Projecting through in ten.”
“Thanks, Linda.” Black unmuted the conference call. “Standby, the boss has dialed in. Connecting in five seconds.”
Every man and woman present, even Tony, sat upright as though simultaneously experiencing a sudden chill. A buzzing reached their ears. Black watched as an image at the other end of the table flickered into existence. The image steadied after a few short seconds, revealing a tall figure that appeared to be seated in the room with them.
Black let a small breath escape from his lips. Seeing the Boss’s hologram appear was something he could never get used to even though the figure always looked the same, garbed in a long, dark coat with the hood pulled up so that the shadows blocked out every facial feature.
He noticed that the Boss was holding a violet sphere the size of a golf ball. Without fail, there it is, he thought. He’d never seen the Boss without the sphere at any Inner Circle meeting, and though he was curious, he never ventured to ask about it.
In a deep voice modulated by a digital voice changer, the Boss spoke in an almost inhuman, metallic tone. “Good day, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for being here on such short notice. I know you’re all busy with your projects as there is much to be done, so I will keep this meeting brief.”
The figure paused, as though studying their individual responses.
“I have called you here, first, to express my appreciation for your hard work and dedication to the cause, and second, to impress upon you that we cannot afford any slipups, especially as we move into this critical phase of our mission. It is imperative that we be extra vigilant now. The greatest risk we face when things are going well is that we lose our focus. Again, let me make this clear: No mistakes. No excuses.”
Black dared a quick look at the left-hand screen. None of the three men there blinked, but Tony’s face turned a light shade of red.
“I am disturbed by the events at the New Mexico site,” the Boss continued, the metallic voice turning frosty. “I will not tolerate any more of such incompetence. I do not need to remind you about the importance of what we’re doing here.”
Black watched silently, taking note of how the holographic image seemed to look directly at each member of the inner circle. It was as if the Boss had a hand on the pulse of the organization and could extrapolate whatever needed to be known just by observing the body language.
Shaking his pen between his fingers, Black thought, Maybe that’s the real purpose of this meeting; to sense the group . . . here’s hoping no one present gets caught in something they can’t fix.
“The crucial role we are all playing in the future of humankind, the future of the planet . . . the vital purpose of our cause . . . ” The Boss lifted the small sphere and gazed at it. “You are here because you are believers, so I don’t intend to preach to the choir.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the boardroom, followed closely by the crack of thunder. The office lights blinked several times and the hologram flickered. Black and the others watched, transfixed, as the distorted image took on the semblance of something otherworldly. The Boss was speaking again but what came out of the speakers was a long, high-pitched crackle and screech that made those present flinch.
Then the lights stopped blinking and the hologram came back into perfect focus. Black realized he’d been gripping his pen tightly and dropped it.
The Boss regarded them from under the golden hood. “As promised, I’ve kept the meeting short. I will now open to the floor. Questions?”
That’s it? Black cleared his throat quietly. “Thank you for impressing upon us the importance of vigilance as we move forward with our plans, Boss. For the benefit of everyone here, could we perhaps ask you to share some insights on the big-picture status of our projects?”
“I was planning on updating all of you at a later time, but since you asked . . . ” The sphere rolled between the Boss’s fingers. “The Sanctuaries are coming along well, save for that ignominy I mentioned earlier.”
Black didn’t have to look at Ajajdif or Tony to know that each of the men had probably shrunk in his chair.
If the Boss took notice, it didn’t show. “Except for some minor tweaking and requests for additional resources, I think Mr. Dattalo’s team has done a great job with the REAPR project. The incursion is going according to plan. The global distribution of the REAPR units is coming along as scheduled and is showing great results. We expect to pass the midway point of our projected worldwide target in about two weeks. If things continue at this pace, the mobilization of forces we’ve seen in China and now, according to the news, India, will move to the next phase as chaos within their borders gets worse.
“We need to ensure that the remaining Russian crops are unscathed. Also, even as this project moves along, we mustn’t lose sight of the other endeavors we have in the pipeline. They will need to be rolled out in the proper sequence.
“That said, I am pleased to inform you that two major undertakings in that area are coming along well. As you know, Dr. Bertram is heading one of them. I trust the specimens of your two projects are replicating as anticipated, Albert?”
“Yes,” Dr. Bertram said, daring a quick smile. “They’re actually progressing better than expected.”
One of the women on the five-way split screen coughed politely. A blonde who looked to be in her early forties and whom Black found to be very attractive, noted that those present were waiting for her to speak and said, “This is all good and fine, but we know this is just one half of the equation. The other is our strategy on a key resource for the cause—the future guardians of the planet.
How are we doing on that front?”
Black was certain the Boss was smiling under the hood. The metallic voice reached out from the speakers once again. “Why don’t I let Dr. Nate bring us up to speed? This is, after all, his area of expertise.”
The small man took off his glasses and gave them a good wipe before placing them back on his nose. He made sure his greasy black hair was still sticking flat to his scalp, then addressed the group. “Thank you, Boss. I will try to be brief. The program for selecting the Stewards is coming along remarkably well. Across the globe, I might add.” He seemed to puff out in pride at this. “The reprogramming methods of these young minds ’ave proven rather effective. ’owever, for reasons unknown, several candidates rejected assimilation, thus making them unviable for our purpose. I ’ave made some improvements to our methods and they will be implemented soon. The new approach will drastically improve the yield we are seeing from the procedure. We expect to attain close to an ’undred percent success rate from this point on.”
“Thank you, Dr. Nate,” the Boss said. “Good job with the work you’ve done so far. Any more questions? No? Very well, then. We shall adjourn.”
As Black reached to terminate the conference call, the boss raised a hand. “Dr. Nate, please remain seated. And Tony . . . ”
Black glanced at the left screen. Tony, who was halfway out of his chair, paused uncertainly.
Despite the electronic distortion, disdain was clearly evident in the boss’s voice. “I will speak with you tomorrow.”
* * *
Dr. Nate sat alone in the New Mexico boardroom, facing the hologram that was also projected there. Tony had left quickly after Ajajdif, and Dr. Nate couldn’t blame him. At the same time, he was also thankful that he wasn’t the one on the Boss’s bad side.
“Good progress on the reprogramming method, please keep me informed as the results come in,” the Boss said, then stood. “Moving on to something that’s been a thorn on my side. Dema-Ki. I need to find out what the Elders are plotting. The only way to obtain that information is to extract it from the two girls—whom you lost.”
