I smiled. “Maybe it got lost in the mail.”
“And maybe you ain’t got no invitation,” the second thug said.
“Look, this is still Teledyne, right?” I asked, growing tired of dealing with the flunkies.
“Not no more,” the second thug said. “This is now the Caretaker’s digs.”
“And I told you, I’m on my way to see him. Perhaps you’d like to take me to him?”
“No appointment means you don’t see the Caretaker,” the second thug said.
“Do either of you know what a Specialist is?”
The second thug’s eyes glazed over as he contemplated it, but the first one asked, “You mean, like a podiatrist?”
“What’s that?” the second thug asked.
“A foot doctor. I used to have foot problems.”
I smiled. “Let me guess. You guys were hired after the war. That’s fine, but here’s the deal. I worked for Teledyne, and I have special skills and training. I could kill both of you if I wanted.” I looked at the first thug. “You seem like a smart guy. I don’t want to kill you, and I don’t want to have to throw your partner through the glass door. There’s really no reason for anyone to get hurt. How about you send a message up to the Caretaker letting him know the Specialist is here.”
“So, you’re a tough guy, eh?” the second thug answered before the first could speak. “You wanna dance?”
“No, I’d like to talk to the Caretaker.”
“And I said, ‘No.’”
“Then I guess we dance.”
The second thug didn’t say anything else, he just swung at me. I leaned back, and the punch went past, then I slapped his fist, spinning him around. I grabbed him by the collar and the belt, picked him up, and threw him through the plate glass door.
I spun and found his partner pulling a pistol from his belt. I grabbed his wrist and turned it so the pistol was pointing back at him and pulled the trigger. I took the pistol with my other hand as he fell backward.
Turning, I strode through the hole in the door as the thug got to his hands and knees. A bullet to the back of his head put him back down.
I jogged over to the stairwell and raced up the stairs, with visions of Puerto Colombia in my head. I missed elevators. I reached the top—the 10th floor—without having to boost; I wanted to save that until it was necessary. I pulled open the door, then dodged to the side as a number of people—I think four—arrayed in front of the door began firing with automatic rifles.
At least two ricochets hit me, one of which almost hit me in the groin. Tired of playing around, I boosted. I ripped the door—what was left of it—off its hinges and threw it at the men. There were actually five. They tried to dive to the side, but the door still hit the middle three.
I raced forward, drawing both of my pistols, and shot the one on the right. I also shot the next one, then one of the men I’d hit with the door threw it back at me. He may not have had boost, but he was obviously as strong as I was, which meant he’d spent some time in the labs, too.
I ducked the door and shot him twice, and he fell backward, then I took a hit in the left arm. I threw myself to the right and fired back at the other man I’d missed with the door. He dove behind a couch as the last man charged me. He lunged at me with his arms outstretched, reaching for my throat, but I was able to get my legs underneath him. I pushed up and flung him head over heels into the wall. He slid down and landed on his head.
The man behind the couch popped up, and I shot at him a couple of times. He ducked back behind the furniture, and I raced forward and slammed into it. The sofa flipped over backward onto him, and I rolled off. He threw the couch off, but lost his rifle in the process. I shot him in the head while he looked for it.
I stood and spun and found the guy who’d crashed into the wall picking himself up. The guy with two rounds in his chest was also making an effort to rise; another round to the head finished him. I took aim at the last guy—
“That won’t be necessary,” a man’s voice said.
Recognizing the voice, I turned toward the hallway that jutted off from the main lobby.
“Hi, Rinardi,” the man said, holding his hands up so I wouldn’t shoot him. “I wondered if there were any more of us around.”
I aimed both of my pistols at the man anyway.
“Tut, tut,” he said, waggling a finger at me. “Don’t waste the bullet; you know I’ll only dodge it.” He smiled and walked toward me, and I let my hands fall to my sides.
I sighed and came down from the boost as Chamberlain gave me a big man-hug. “Stop,” I said, pushing him back. “I’m hit, and you’re squeezing the blood from me.”
He slapped me on the shoulder. “Always the funny guy, eh Rinardi? Come on into my office, and let’s catch up.” He turned and walked down the hallway to the ornate door at the end.
“Sure,” I muttered as I holstered my pistols and followed him.
It’s important to know your enemies in this Fallen World.
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chamberlain walked into the director’s office and sat down behind the big mahogany desk. He smiled at me when I stopped in the doorway, then he indicated the chairs in front of it. “Have a seat, and let’s chat.”
“I’m shot,” I said, pointing at the blood dripping from my arm.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “You always were one for drama and hyperbole.” He tossed me the kit. “Wrap it up. We both know you’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
I looked at the kit where it had fallen on the floor and sighed, still not ready to deal with Chamberlain.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said. He pulled a couple of energy bars out of his desk and tossed them at my feet next to the first aid kit. “Sit down before you fall down, would you?”
I sighed again, scooped up all the stuff, and sat in the indicated chair.
“Was that so hard?” he asked.
“A little,” I muttered as I began treating my wounds. Only the one in my arm was significant; the ricochet wounds and other abrasions I’d picked up in the fight were already healing. The energy bars would help, of course, as he’d known they would. He waited for me to finish with the gunshot wound, though he sighed once when he saw I was stalling.
I finally sighed, as well, and looked up at him. “So. Caretaker, huh?”
He smiled. “Sure, why not? Who else is going to preside over this empire? As near as I can tell, this three-block square represents the only civilization within several hundred miles.”
“True,” I said with a nod. “At least as far as I’ve seen.” I didn’t tell him about Bayou La Batre, which was only 100 miles away. The less he knew, the longer that town would survive. “So who are you caretaker for? Doesn’t that name imply there’s someone coming you’ll yield to?”
“I’m the caretaker for my son, of course, who will rule after me. Let’s face it; is there anyone better able to rule now besides you and me? Corporate management already proved they couldn’t do it. I’ll take you to the edge of New Orleans sometime, and you can see how well they did with the planet. This new world needs men—strong men—to put it back together again. You and I are the only people strong enough to do it. Look at you—you just bested five augmented people and only got shot once. In a few hours, no one will even be able to tell you were shot. Before too long, people will look at you as having some sort of ‘magical abilities.’ You’ll be seen as a god.”
“So, you’re willing to let civilization slide back to the Stone Age, so you can rule it with an iron fist?”
“If that’s what it takes.” He looked like he wanted to be proud of it—and would have lorded it over his minions—but he knew I went by higher standards.
“Okay, you’re the Caretaker. In the last few months—or however long it’s been since you took over—what have you done as the Caretaker of Civilization?”
“I’ve restored the
rule of law.”
I could feel one of my eyebrows rise. “Really? Whose law? Yours?”
“Well, yeah, to start with. We had to get control of the city before we could re-implement all the laws that used to exist.”
“Hmmm…sounds like what all tyrants say. How many of those laws have you actually re-implemented? How are you going to feed the people through the winter—have you had anyone go out and restart the farms? What about fishing or shrimping? Can boats get down the river?”
He looked out the window and mumbled something.
“What was that?” I asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“You heard me just fine.” I had, but I wouldn’t admit it. “I said, all the trawlers fled.”
“You probably took all their catch as Caretaker, and they realized the only way their families would eat was if they left and went somewhere else, right?”
“Maybe…” he muttered. He turned back toward me. “See, that’s why I need you. You’re good with these things. You would make a good resource director. You could be my advisor and help me rule.” His voice sounded plaintive, but I knew he didn’t really mean it. He cared about other people’s feelings about as much as he cared about whether China still existed. A little bit, because he might want to exploit it at some point down the road, but other than that, not at all.
He was, in fact, the only sociopath I knew, and the person I thought least capable of ruling well in these times. While he certainly was strong enough—he was the only person I would admit was physically stronger than I—he lacked a conscience. He would do whatever he wanted, regardless of the cost in human misery. Somehow he’d kept this secret from the top corporate leaders until it was too late for them to do anything about him.
Alternately, maybe they’d known about his proclivities all along, and they’d liked what that meant he could—or would—do for them. In a word, anything. Blow up an elementary school? No problem. Eviscerate a group of nuns and make it look like the work of Obsidian? Sure thing. Flood the Yangtze and drown millions of people? Absolutely. And he’d slept soundly that night.
Yeah, I’d pretty much have done most of those things, too, if corporate had demanded it, but I’d at least have felt badly about it. Some.
Chamberlain? Never. He liked to keep count of the people he killed as if it were some kind of contest. After blowing the Yangtze River dam, he had a morte count that no one could top, and he liked to hold that over the rest of us Specialists as to why he was “best.” And it was true—he’d killed more people than anyone else living, except, of course, whatever moron had started the nuclear exchange. I almost wished I could claim that and hold it over him. But I couldn’t.
“So, what do you say?” he asked when I didn’t reply.
“About what?”
He gave me his best smile, which I knew was full of shit. “Stay here and rule with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. That’s why you came, isn’t it? Tell me honestly—who did you think was sitting in this office?”
I looked down at the floor, sighed, then back up at him. He had me. “I knew it would be you,” I admitted, causing his smile to swell even larger. “There’s no one else it could have been. The arrogance, the brutality…those are your hallmarks.” The smile fled his face as he remembered why he didn’t like working with me; I was the only one strong enough to tell him the truth. He liked being sucked up to and having his ego stroked; I refused to do it.
“So why are you here then?” he asked. “You didn’t think you could come and talk me out of—” he stopped and stood up as he had a thought. “You didn’t think you could come and stop me did you? Did you come here to take me on?”
“No, no,” I said, waving him back to his seat. “I’m not here to stop you. I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to.”
That brought the smile back to his face. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m here because I was at the corporate headquarters when the bombs started falling. The Chairman, himself, tasked me with a last mission, which I am currently working to fulfill.”
“And what is that? Kill me and get rid of the evidence?”
“No, don’t be an ass,” I said. “He wanted me to take out a group of Obsidian leaders that we didn’t have a missile for in Philadelphia. My final mission is to kill them, and then I am free. I can do what I want and never have to report back.”
He chuckled. “Who exactly would you report to? Me? There aren’t any more Teledyne directors around.”
I shrugged. “It’s not so much a matter of reporting, but of completing the mission I was tasked with.” We both knew of the conditioning program that made it hard—really hard—for us to not fulfill a mission we were tasked with. It would eat away at us until we finally went and completed the mission. We might have avoided it for a while, but it eventually became a mental imperative that affected everything we did. Or drove us crazy in the end.
“Sucks to be you, Rinardi,” he replied. “I got off free. I don’t have a corporate geas that I’m under. For the first time in a long time, I can do what I want, and be who I want to be.”
Now that was a scary thought.
“So, why are you here, then? Why aren’t you off handling your mission?” At least that got him off his co-rule kick. He knew I’d have to finish the mission. I couldn’t help it.
“Well, I’m about out of supplies, and I was hoping the Teledyne office here—whatever was left of it, anyway—would help re-supply me. When I figured out that you were in charge, I thought maybe you’d come with me to complete the mission.”
“Ooh,” Chamberlain cooed like a mother would to a baby, “does little Joe Rinardi need help with his mission? Is he not able to do it all by himself?”
I rolled my shoulders, trying not to get pissed off at him. I’d known he wouldn’t come along without giving me at least a little shit. “I don’t know; I thought you might come along for old-time’s sake. You know? Maybe one last mission together?”
“Hah! Screw you, Rinardi. Why would I want to do that, when I have a perfect life here? I’m king, and it’s fucking awesome to be king. Philadelphia is a long-ass way from here, through God-only-knows what kind of lawlessness. Why would I want to go with you?”
I played my final card. “Because if you do, I will come back here and rule with you.” It wasn’t what I wanted to do—I didn’t want to be anywhere near Chamberlains’s psychoses—but if that’s the price I had to pay to get my freedom, I would pay it. I would pay anything to be free. And maybe if I ruled with him, I could guide him away from some of his worst choices and make life for the people under him better. Between us, we could rule effectively, and maybe bring back some of the civilization we had lost.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but laughter wasn’t it. Chamberlain laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed until there were tears streaming down his face. Then he laughed some more while holding his side. I tried to hold onto my temper, but it became extremely difficult.
“What is so damn funny?” I finally asked when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You are,” he said. “It’s pathetic to see you do the one thing you swore you’d never do—ask for my help—to get free of Teledyne. All those times you made fun of me. All those times you looked down on me and tried to make it look like you were better than me. All those times you turned your nose up. Still—you’re no better than me! And the best part is, you’re going to do what someone told you to—and be faithful to him—and he has been dead for months! You can’t stop yourself, and it’s hilarious to watch. You’re no better than me, and it’s finally hit you. Am I going to help you? Fuck no, I’m not going to help you. And when you fail and come back and ask for my help again, I’m going to tell you to get fucked again, and I’m going to laugh at you some more. You want to know what I’m laughing at? I’m laughing at you!”
A red glaze came over my vision, and I would have killed him right then, but the geas wouldn’t le
t me; it forced me to sit there and absorb the abuse, because I didn’t know that I really could kill him. Odds were, he would kill me, and the mission would go unfinished, because there was no one else who would do it. Chamberlain could do it, but he wouldn’t. And looking in his eyes, I knew he wouldn’t help me, because he had no feelings for me, just like he had no conscience or feelings for anyone else in the world. I stood up, dropping the first aid kit and the empty wrappers, turned, and walked out of the office. His laughter echoed along the hallway, loud to my sensitive hearing, but there was nothing I could do about it. Every fiber of my being wanted to kill the fucker…but the geas wouldn’t let me.
I walked down the steps, seething with every step I took. Although hard at first, it got easier and easier with each step as I got closer to proceeding with my mission. The red glaze over my eyes, though, didn’t go away as I walked down the nine flights of steps to the lobby.
The prohibition on killing, however, didn’t extend to Chamberlain’s minions, even if they had been modified, and I wiped out every one of them who had gathered in the lobby, as well as the ones who tried to stop me as I walked back to my semi. I have no idea how many there were, but I had an armload of rifles when I reached it. My pockets were full of pistols, magazines, and knives, and my body was a mass of cuts, bruises, and holes.
I had just enough energy to drive out of town and find a suitable exit before the blackness came to claim me in this Fallen World.
* * * * *
Chapter Forty
Tap, tap, tap!
“Hey, Mister! Are you okay?”
Tap, tap, tap!
“Hey, Mister! Are you okay?”
“Billy, what are you doing?”
“I found someone. There’s an awful lot of blood, though. I think he’s dead.”
“What?! Get away from there! Let me see.” A long pause. “Mon Dieu!”
“Is he dead, Mama?”
“He must be.” A sigh, and then the door opened. “Let’s see what he had of value.”
The Price of Freedom Page 15
