by Tex Leiko
Crimson, still determined to make it to the safe house, ran back out in to the street. She ran down an alleyway. She was close, only two miles before she made it to the safe house. She rounded a corner only to meet with a squad of military personnel coming out of the building that they had sought refuge in.
“It’s her,” she heard yelled.
In an instant she summoned most of the electricity that she had stored and formed it into a ball. She hurled it down the alleyway toward the soldiers, it exploded too soon and only managed to burn many of them but not cause any fatalities. A shot sounded out, singular, resolute.
She reached to draw her pistols but was unable to draw it as the shot struck her left bicep. The combat suit kept the bullet from penetrating, but the shockwave of the projectile fired from a high-powered military rifle shattered her humerus. She fell to the ground gasping in pain as two of the men surrounded her.
“Careful, boys, she is only wounded, not dead!” the apparent squad leader yelled, his face was burned badly from her attack.
Crimson jumped to her feet and with her one good arm, opened fire. She managed to gun down the two of them before they could retaliate. There were six left in the squad and they all began firing at her.
There was still some ambient electricity around her and she could feel it. She absorbed it into herself and began charging her body. She concentrated it into a small aura around herself. It was faint but still visible.
The squad fired at her and she lifted her hand. Lightning arched forth, striking the projectiles and melting them before they could strike her. The bolt continued toward the military squad. They all dodged as quickly as they could, but the bolt swallowed the life of one who hadn’t managed to move quickly enough. With her last desperate blow, she could feel that she was depleted and it would take a while for her to charge again.
She managed to avoid several shots, when finally, a bullet struck her right calf. It knocked her to her knee and another round hit her in the right forearm, disarming her. She knelt on the ground, both of her arms limp by her side. She was helpless, but she refused to cry for any reason.
“Looks like we got ourselves a live one here, boys,” the leader said as he approached her.
He stood in front of her, her on knees, and placed his hands upon her helmet. He lifted it off and tossed it aside.
“Such a pretty face to match that body of yours,” he said, running a hand through her long, still wet hair. “And this hair of yours, darling.” He entered a number into his communicator and began speaking. “We have her, alive as ordered. Yes, she’s damaged; she put up quite a resistance with me and my boys,” he said to a superior no doubt.
They went back and forth for a little bit as Crimson stayed on her knees trying to figure out what she could possibly do to find a way out. She felt helpless; she felt nothing. She wanted to scream and fight, but she couldn’t. It was the scariest thing she could imagine.
“Okay, will do,” said the man as he ended the communication. “Looks like you’re coming with us,” he said with a smile. He gave a signal to one of his soldiers and the man stepped next to her. The last thing she remembered was the sting of a needle going into her neck, then, blackness.
* * * *
“So it would seem that they caught the little rebel rioter herself,” Reginald said out of the blue.
“How do you know?” Thomas asked.
“I just got word of it.”
“Funny, I didn’t see you answer your communicator.”
“Ah, funny indeed.” Reginald went back to resting against the cold, metallic wall of the tank.
“That’s it? That is all you say? How did you hear? I was watching you. You didn’t receive a call.”
Reginald opened his eyes and glanced over to Thomas. “Mr. Cudrow, we would like for you to work with us very much indeed. We would like for you to rule with us, however… You need to stop being so nosy. Also, we are making a slight detour before we go back to base.”
“Let’s face it, with the damage that’s been caused, you need me. So start answering some questions.”
“We only need you as much as we needed Asimov. I am sure that we could piece together your research if need be,” he responded, then closed his eyes again.
The tank rocked back and forth and whirred as Thomas sat across from Reginald, who looked as if he might already be sleeping. He felt like a child and questioned if that was the military’s motive in sending Reginald.
* * * *
Crimson awoke tied to a chair in a dark room. There was a single chair sitting adjacent to her with an ominous-looking military man in it. He wore the traditional camouflage military combat uniform and white gloves.
He had a look in his eyes that bordered on madness and he sat in a statuesque manner staring into her eyes. There was nothing else in the room other than a florescent light overhead that had seen better days. The light flickered and made it seem as if their shadows were unstable and ready to vanish from the wall at any time.
She focused on this, the shadows casting themselves on the wall like great actors in the theatre, then vanishing in the blink of an eye. Every moment, a new story waiting to be told by the shadows, only to disappear with no warning. Only to reappear with just as little warning as the light dimmed then flickered back to brightness again.
“You caused quite a bit of damage, little girl,” the man said.
Crimson eyed him and smiled. “Have I then?”
“You have, unless of course you aren’t Crimson.”
“What if I said you got the wrong gal?”
“I would know you are lying. I assure you, lying is useless to me. In fact, I have about all of the information that I need from you. Indulge me anyhow. My name is Reginald and I was sent to ask you a few questions.”
“Charmed, Reginald, but I doubt I can give you any answers.”
“Let us see. Max, where is he?”
“I have no idea and wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“That is where you are wrong, however, you are telling the truth with your words on this. Do you have an army we need to worry about?”
“Not unless you call those aimless rioters an army… No,” she said with the tone of defeat in her voice.
“Oh? What of Zarfa and Legion Nine then? Weren’t they supposed to come and fight with you against us?”
“How do you—”
“Know that? I know all, sweetheart. I told you, lying is wasted on me. Now tell me, how would I contact him? You see, we don’t have his communicator identification number.”
“I wouldn’t know. When your men roughed me up, they did a number to my memory,” she lied.
“Too late, thank you for your help,” he said, writing something down on a pad.
“Well now, sweetheart, I think I am done with you. I believe I have all I need. My nice friends in the other room will see you to your holding cell until your televised punishment. We need to make an example out of you, darling. Hope you understand.”
At this, Reginald stood and exited through the door. Four men came in to escort Crimson to where she would be held. Even now, in the face of everything, she couldn’t cry. Her communicator rang inside of her head and she couldn’t answer it. She wondered who it was. Max? Zarfa?
* * * *
Zarfa had managed to make it underground with more than half of his original army. The Ilyeion military resistance picked off a few in the beginning that were unaware of what was going on, but they didn’t bother pursuing them as they fled.
Once underground, they found that there was plenty of room for everyone to take refuge for a while until Zarfa could get some answers. He was pacing back and forth in a small chamber carved out by a wasp with only Sarah and Zajifa with him.
He tried calling Max. The communicator didn’t even ring, which meant it read no life signs. He called Crimson and it rang continually without her answering. He paced back and forth angrily. He wasn’t sure if he had been betrayed, or if things had go
ne bad. He needed answers.
“Sarah, how big are these tunnels? Where do they go to?”
“They are vast. They go for miles underground and out in every direction. In the three years I was here, I had never ventured far, though. I wasn’t allowed to go past the second level of tunnels. I know they grew food down here. We just need to find it. I mean, they housed an entire army, not to mention the wasps.” Sarah had hope in her voice and it inspired Zarfa.
“Okay, right. Until we figure out what is going on, let’s form expedition parties. One led by you, one by Zajifa, and the other by me. Let’s scout out the tunnels and find where the food is grown. These people are going to get unruly if we don’t see to it that they are fed.”
“Brother, should maybe the three of us stay together? Perhaps assign the other two groups under other generals?” asked Zajifa.
“You are the two closest to me. The only two that I feel I can trust implicitly. Plus, you’ve both proved yourselves to me. We can let the other generals explore as well, but I feel like this is a task best suited for us. Until we hear something from Crimson or Max, let’s just focus on finding the things we need to survive.”
“I understand. You are wise, Zarfa,” Zajifa said.
“Also, brother, I do not know what else may be down here. Like I said, they never let me travel beyond the second level. We need to remain vigilant and armed. Who knows if Max succeeded in killing Father and what he may be planning if he…failed.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Of course, everyone realized that it was a possibility, but nobody wanted to recognize it. Zarfa stared off for a moment.
“I am sure he is fine. Now, let’s not worry about these unpleasant things until we need to. Let’s only focus on setting up here. We may be here for a long while.”
* * * *
It was noon and the sun burned hot and bright in the sky. Every Pilvikone ever created had been bombed and completely destroyed. Mankind’s tampering with the weather patterns had wreaked havoc on the planet’s ability to stabilize itself.
Countries that had been dry and desolate wastelands were now getting more rain in a single day than they had in the last ten years. Areas that were typically cool were now scorching hot. A massive shift was in the works and everywhere that was still inhabited was feeling the effects. Nature was once again trying to stabilize itself, but nobody knew if it would be able to.
The sun beat down on Alexarien hotter than it had since the creation of the Pilvikones. The pavement was hot enough to burn bare skin. It was here that crowds and television crews gathered around to film Crimson on center stage of a platform set up in the wake of her destruction.
The backdrop was her high-rise, home to some of the wealthiest people in the world. Science lab and manufacturing plant of the army she had dreamed of. Home and safety to her.
All around it were buildings still smoldering from fires caused by the riots. Buildings missing all of their windows, cracked and ready to crumble at any moment from the hailstorm she called down upon the city. Piles of corpses on city streets from the rebellion she’d sparked filled in the backdrop where usually there would be trees and greenery.
Before the stage was a crowd too great to number, all angry at the injustice. Some were even branded with the “C,” all seeking a scapegoat and revenge. The angry mob murmured and screamed at the top of their lungs. Every breath they inhaled stung their lungs as the heat evaporated the remaining moisture into steam.
Sweat evaporated from the bodies of the angry crowd and the smell mixed with the flames and ashes that the breeze carried. The scent wafted into Crimson’s nose as she was being held on stage by her two broken arms. Her legs dangled down with her knees barely touching the platform.
Reginald stepped onto the stage and looked dead on at the camera.
“This is your leader? You hapless cowards and beggarly peasants?” he questioned with absolute confidence in the force field barrier that had been placed around the stage.
With no fear of the angry swarm before him, he freely spoke. With no fear of an assassin ready to pick him off on a rooftop, he was ready to make callous accusations. With no fear of Crimson stripped of her power, he was ready to make an example.
“Some of you were resisting the powers that be only yesterday. Yet, here you are today, demanding justice to be exacted on the very one you blindly put your faith!
“Only yesterday, you felt that the rise of humanity would be the fall of technology. Well, where are your ideals today, you cowards? You villains, you ignorant children?” His words echoed through the city on the loudspeakers that amplified his voice. “Did any of you think that this is the way it would turn out? Did any of you ever dream that this vision was nothing more than a nightmare? This ideal of a better future actually the fall of humanity? Or did any of you ever think at all?”
The cameras were getting every moment of the speech. Every detail, panning between Crimson and Reginald and the angry crowd below.
“You all saw what happened to those who came out of their homes yesterday. Did not one of you learn a lesson? You knew that justice would be exacted and broadcast through the video feeds right into your own home, yet thousands of you decided you needed to be here in person? Why, I ask?
“Is it because you are nothing more than bloodthirsty savages? Perhaps you were hoping that once the barrier was taken down, you could leave with a little souvenir of the event? Or is it that you are all just stupid, vile monsters?” Reginald asked rhetorically so as to hurl insults at the crowd.
The crowd screamed and threw things at the stage. The barrier evaporated anything that touched it. Not even bullets could pass the barrier.
“Oh, I will give you monsters what you want,” Reginald said, pulling an old world blade made of carbon fiber with a diamond edge from its sheath. It was twenty inches long with a handle six inches in length. The edge was sharpened down to one micron in diameter and made of solid diamond. The blade was light, yet sharp enough to cut through even titanium.
“Let this be a lesson to those who extend their right arm in fury to the authorities, dreaming that you have a better way to run things,” he said, taking Crimson’s right arm from the man that was holding her up by it.
Reginald ran the blade under her armpit and up circumferentially. The slice was clean and disarticulated her humerus from the scapular-clavicular junction. Blood gushed from the wound and bare bone was exposed. Reginald threw her arm into the barrier and it vanished in a cloud of vapor.
Crimson screamed in pain, cursing Reginald. The crowd roared in excitement. The ratings at home grew by leaps and bounds as word of the carnage being broadcast spread.
Reginald sprayed a can of medifoam into the hole where her arm once was located. It stopped the bleeding and began healing the tissues. His goal was not to kill her, but to make her suffer.
“I ask why is it that you are all so excited to see this? Is it because she caused your pain and misery?” he asked, pausing. He walked to Crimson’s left side and held her arm back behind her, forcing her to her knees. The guard that had been holding her stepped back and Reginald continued his speech. “It isn’t that for you, is it? No, each of you should know very well that despite her spreading her ideas and her will to overthrow the ones she saw as oppressive, it was you who chose to act on it. Now, let me see by a show of your left hand in the air, how many of you are here because you were victimized by the mob yesterday?”
Many in the crowd raised their hand in protest and triumph. They felt on top of the world and the feeling of justification swelled within the masses. People at home were turning on their video feeds, salivating at what they called justice being exacted on Crimson.
Like so many martyrs before herself, she was hailed a hero of the common people, only to have her death supported by those very people. Nobody could say for sure, but in another thousand years, she would probably move from the ranks of villain back to hero once again.
“Well, here is to you! Th
e victims,” Reginald said sarcastically as he brought his blade down upon Crimson’s shoulder.
Her arm came off clean and easy. The blade felt like a hot knife slicing through butter. He tossed her other arm into the barrier and it vanished. He tended to her wounds once again and knelt in front of her. He lifted her head to meet his and looked her in the face. Her eyes were piercing, full of pain, desire, regret, fear, rage, and remorse.
“What have you to say of your crimes against humanity, oh Crimson savior?”
“I did not intend this! I wanted the best for everyone. I feel that it was my failing to give better direction that this ended the way it did. I dreamed that everyone inspired by me would be valiant, fearless, and noble. I envisioned them fighting the powers of corruption, not raiding and ransacking anything in sight.
“I am sorry to those of you who are innocent in the crowd, yet I am not a fool. Many of you who raised your left hand were the very ones victimizing people in the streets yesterday. My biggest regret is that my dream appealed more to cowards prone to mob violence than to true revolutionaries. Again, I apologize to those who are truly innocent, yet I fear most of the truly innocent are dead. You are the ones I desired to be amongst my ranks, not the dogs and cowards that displayed themselves yesterday.”
Her words stung and cut deep into people’s hearts. Their reaction was more anger. Yes, people wanted her dead now more than ever, not because she was the one who caused the destruction of a city and of thousands of lives, but because she unveiled truth in her words.
The crowd screamed for a sensational death, one of pain and gore that would make them feel vindicated. People at home who were watching cheered on as they imagined different violent tortures that could be inflicted upon her. The masses were mindless and ready to see senseless violence dished out in the name of justice.
Reginald put his left hand upon Crimson’s throat and brought her to her feet. He stood a few inches taller than her with a face of stone. He stared into her eyes almost lustfully.
