Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch

by Toasha Jiordano

  “I believed I was doing the right thing, however hard the choice was. I allowed the patch to be scheduled. I had the final say and I take full responsibility for that. My wife,” Sturn’s sobs turned to wails. His mind was cracking right in front of us. My own mind reeled at the sight of our President, the one who was supposed to have all the answers, losing it on national broadcast.

  “My wife begged me not to allow the patch to go through. I didn’t... she had kept her chip. She covered it, hid it from me. Silenced –” He caught himself there, some secret he still couldn’t reveal. Howie heard it, too. He squeezed my hand.

  “There were other things, nefarious agendas coded into the patch. Sterilization. I... I don’t think even they, the people who ordered the code change. I don’t think they knew it would kill, everyone. There was no way to know.”

  I didn’t believe that. Sturn might not have wanted to think it was possible but I for one, did. And by the sound that came out of Howie’s mouth, so did he.

  “There’s a ship. I... We, have a planet, not far off, a year’s travel. Terraforming is nearly complete, and it’s ready for you. Some of you. I... I’m not going. I will stay behind with my darling Lilith. Without me, or my guards, there will be more room for you. The Citizens. The ones who deserve it. Please heed my warning.”

  Sturn stared blankly at the camera drone, spent. He stayed that way for a long time, not ending the broadcast, just staring into nothing.

  Then, “Please let this end with me.”

  He pulled a gun from under the desk, a metal glint flashed before the camera lens, then an orange and red explosion.

  The camera didn’t pan away. Even with my eyes closed, I watched President Sturn’s brains slide down the embroidered golden eagle crest behind him.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  A couple weeks after Sturn’s... last transmission, we gathered in the Stepp’s living room for Theoda’s inauguration. Howie and I cuddled, modestly of course, on the couch. He stretched over one arm and I the other; only our toes met in the middle under a soft blue throw I found in the linen closet. And it was enough.

  Our hands stayed warm, and busy, holding bowls of chicken soup. Since it was my third time watering down the broth, and the chunks of chicken and vegetables disappeared the last time, I suppose it was faintly chicken flavored hot water. But it was enough.

  Brooks sat by the fireplace — a metal trash can with the last kitchen chair aflame inside — balancing my PodMate on his knee and gulping the clear liquid.

  I sat my bowl on the coffee table as my stomach growled in protest. He would be hungry again soon.

  “I think she’s gonna do more harm than good.” Howie’s bowl took up residence beside mine.

  “Maybe not.” My cold toes inched up his shin, making him jump and squeal like a girl.

  Brooks shot us an exasperated look across the room.

  “You saw what they did to those people, Syn,” Howie said, pushing his voice deeper. “Her grandfather —”

  I cut him off with my other cold toes.” Her grandfather’s presidency isn’t her fault.”

  President Theoda repeated the oath, three fingers over her heart, tears in her eyes. Proud tears that gave me hope.

  Howie leaned forward, poured his soup into my bowl, and handed it to me. When I shook my head, he cocked his toward the fire and a snoring Brooks. He pushed the bowl closer.

  I took it, reluctantly, but only for show. In truth, the knot in my stomach wanted me to snatch it from him and chug the whole thing. We compromised. I chugged half and handed the rest back to Howie.

  Theoda stood tall at the podium, her hair neatly braided in a shape that mirrored Sturn’s signature style. She raised a hand to smooth a flyaway and looked directly into the camera. The oath completed, tears dry, our new president addressed her subjects.

  “Citizens of these great Sister Nations, it is with profound sadness that I come to you today, not as your new President but as a fellow Samaritan.”

  The drone of watching the oath and speeches that followed had bored me into near sleep. The last word jerked me back to full alert. Howie took my hand. “It doesn’t mean—”

  But it did. Theoda’s next words drummed in our ears, like the fist she pounded on the podium, “Former President Sturn was weak! As we all were forced to witness just eleven days ago. This is not how I envisioned my rule to begin, behind a cowardly act. I wanted to run”—fist pound—“on my platform, and prove my worth to you.”

  Spit gathered at the corners of Theoda’s mouth. Her eyes bored laser focused holes into the camera, into me. She straightened herself, twisted that long neck of hers until three pops echoed through the microphone hooked to her blue lapel.

  “For the safety of our law-abiding Citizens, effective immediately, the Samaritan Law will be strictly enforced. It is your civil duty to turn over anyone violating the law.” Theoda’s laser focus tightened. Her slender fingers turned whited against the edges of the podium.

  “If you’re receiving this broadcast via chip, you have twenty-four hours to remove it. After midnight tomorrow, the 27th of November, 5AG, anyone resisting a Samaritan Arrest for use of a microchip or harboring a Rebel Sympathizer will have zero protection under the law.”

  President Theoda’s wild-eyed face faded to black. It was replaced by a countdown clock that seemed to float in mid-air, ticking loudly in my mind.

  23:59:47

  A shiver racked my entire body as I looked over at Brooks, sprawled out on the carpet without a care in the world. Silently, I thanked my mom for removing his chip when she did, and told her how sorry I was for not listening to her. Then, less silently, I cursed Theoda. And myself for having hope.

  The twenty-four-hour deadline was a farce and she knew it. Removal Units disbanded over a year ago. There was nobody left to remove our chips even if we wanted. Did she expect us to dig them out ourselves? The image of my dad doing just that made me wretch.

  No. She wanted to keep our blood off her hands. That was all.

  23:52:06

  Blood pounded in my ears. What if I got caught? What would Bit do without me?

  Howie ran his warm hands through my tangled hair. I recoiled at the touch, his touch that part of me desperately wanted. He jerked back; hurt flashed across his eyes and he placed the hand over my clenched fist.

  //I won’t let anything happen to you.// Howie assured me through our outlawed chips.

  //You can’t know that.// I chipped back. My clenched teeth wouldn’t release the words if I’d tried.

  //You have my word, Syn. You and Bit are my world. The only thing my life is worth.//

  A tear burned in my eye. Howie had never spoken like that before. Sheer awkwardness forced me to punch him in the arm, but he didn’t waiver.

  He stood and pulled me up by the hand he’d never released, no longer a fist of rage. He looked me dead in the eye and chipped, //Let’s go to bed.//

  I froze, fighting the urge to run. Run to my house, my own room, hide under the covers. Run out the door and never stop. Run upstairs to his room.

  I did none of those things. Instead, I glanced at Brooks, who hadn’t moved, then back at Howie. My hand trembled in his.

  Howie chuckled, nearly laughed right in my face. //Not the same bed, perv,// he chipped.

  I deflated in disappointed relief.

  //Unless...// Howie let his voice linger in my mind, the deep timbre of it tickling my brain.

  Slowly I pulled my hand from his and went to pick up the sleeping Brooks.

  “Don’t,” Howie said in a whisper. “Leave him. He’ll be warmer by the fire.”

  I sighed and went up the stairs to little Diodra’s room and closed the door, leaving Brooks in the living room and Howie across the hall.

  I would live to regret both those decisions.

  I COULDN’T SLEEP THAT night. I wanted to reach out to Howie, rage against President Theoda, life. As I contemplated which of those things to do first, I stared at the ticking D
eath Timer.

  21:46:33

  You’d probably think it would work like counting sheep or something, the monotony of it rocking you to sleep. But no, each tick felt like the tightening of a noose around my neck. I couldn’t breathe.

  I was about to jump out of bed, grab Brooks and run — to the woods, the middle of nowhere, the ship — when I heard it.

  Glass shattered below me. I flew out of bed toward the noise, thinking Brooks had hurt himself. Howie tumbled down the stairs after me.

  Brooks cowered behind the trash can. The fire had burned out, leaving the top of his head exposed.

  A tall thin shadow rifled through our empty cabinets.

  Brooks ran to me, burying his face into my stomach. Howie grabbed us both from the step above me and shoved us behind him. I should have gone back upstairs to the room, or across the boardwalk to our house; where we were supposed to be anyway.

  Howie yelled, “Get the hell out of here!” He brandished a large stick, pointing it at the intruder.

  The stick, a thick tree limb with nails taped to the tip, raised high in the air above Howie’s bare arm. His entire torso was bare.

  Tight ropy muscles bulged over every inch of his back. His long arms, especially the one holding the weapon, looked like the arms of a lumberjack.

  So mesmerized by the sight of him, I failed to register the shape of the man coming toward us. Even worse, as that shadowy figure moved into the light of the moon that spread out across the living room, I didn’t recognize him. At first.

  He stepped closer, arms outstretched. His arms, quite the contrast to Howie’s muscular frame, barely had an ounce of meat on them. It made him look like a Boogeyman reaching out to steal us in the night.

  He should’ve been dead.

  Months ago he was dead. I saw him. His last pleading breaths begged me for water, that I refused to give him.

  My hand went up to Howie’s arm and lowered the weapon. He turned to me and, in that same moonlight, an angry scar tore across his chest. My mouth opened but no words came out. Following my horrified gaze, Howie’s eyes fell to his chest and he attempted to cover himself.

  “What are you doing?” He spat the words as if I’d hit him with the stick instead of just stopping him from using it on that poor man. “It’s our food.”

  //I know him.// I transmitted the admission to Howie, not ready to broadcast my guilt to the entire world. From the glassy, faraway look in the man’s eyes, I held out hope that he didn’t recognize me back.

  As he moved closer into the light, recognition dawned on his face, quickly giving way to fury. “You,” he growled, charging me.

  Howie whacked him. The nail tips dug into the man’s ribs but he kept coming.

  Brooks screamed and I dragged us up two steps, hugging him for dear life.

  The man’s lips curled into a wolfish snarl. He ignored the wound in his side, not even flinching when Howie ripped the nails out with a sickening slurp. “You left me!” he hissed. “You left me for dead.” Sorrow crowded the anger in his voice.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I managed to say, meek and childlike.

  Brooks whimpered at my side and the man up, seeing him for the first time it seemed. His snarl softened and he took another step toward us, toward Brooks.

  Howie placed his body between us and the man, holding the weapon out as a barrier. “Whatever happened between you too is over now. You’re fine. Leave us.”

  Crimson heat flared in the man’s face and eyes. “Fine?” His voice rose to a shrill panic. “Fine!” That one was an accusation hurled at me. “No thanks to her.”

  I cowered behind Howie.

  “But still, you are. And this is not your house. Leave.” Howie took a step down. On level ground, toe to toe with the intruder, he looked like an adult reprimanding a child.

  The man stared at me, looking past Howie as if he didn’t exist. “I heard you.” He started softly, taking us both back to that night. “I heard you and I went to you. Even after you left me for dead, I went to help. I knew they...” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I tried—”

  “Here!” I shouted, way too loud. Anything to shut him up. “Here!” I pried Brooks from my waist and shoved past Howie. Still talking to fill the space so his words couldn’t. “You can take two things. Two things from this shelf.” The bottom shelf was where I kept the things none of us liked, stewed tomatoes and expired peas; things we had saved until desperation would force us to eat them. But he didn’t have to know that.

  “You take them,” I continued. “You leave us. We don’t want any trouble.”

  21:04:18

  //Stop!// Howie chipped at me, louder than my own shaky voice.

  My head jerked toward him, eyes begging him to let me handle it.

  The man caught the movement, stopped digging through the pantry, and looked me over. From bottom to top he examined me, his eyes finally resting on the mottled skin under my ear. I watched a sinister shadow creep into his grin.

  “No,” he said with growing confidence, and looked dead at Brooks. “I’m going to take whatever I want, including that club.” He pointed a bony finger at Howie. “Or I turn you all over to my Battalion for being chipped... Sympathizers. And how old’s that boy?” His eyes twinkled as he turned back to me. “I’m sure the guys’ll be happy to see you again.”

  Later, after he left with half our food and Howie’s club, I held Brooks close to me in the middle of our empty kitchen. At first, Howie didn’t speak to me or even look in my direction.

  Then, as he calmed down, he slowly came closer. He wiped the tears I’d stopped trying to quell and held me close. Scar to scar, we stood most of the cold quiet night. My cheek rested on his bare chest. The damage I wouldn’t discuss burning against the damage he wouldn’t.

  20:01:08

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “We have to leave.” I frantically stuffed random wads of clothes into my backpack as the sunlight replaced moonlight in my parents’ window.

  “Where, Syn?” Howie grabbed my arm and spun me around. He still hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. Goosebumps prickled his exposed chest.

  In the harsh light of day, it had no effect on me. I yanked myself free and returned to packing. The ships. We can go to...” The words failed me. I realized in that moment that I knew nothing about the new planet, not even its name.

  I continued rolling up Brooks’s small shirts and squeezing them into the empty spaces inside the overstuffed bag. We could figure all that out on the way. The important thing was to get out of here.

  “It’s too dangerous out there. We can’t leave.” Howie started pulling things out of the backpack. I smacked his hand away and pushed him hard. His bare chest felt like ice.

  “It’s too dangerous to stay! We have a price on our heads.” My hands flailed and I paced the room, searching for any small items to fit into the bag. We used to play ‘What Would You Take in a Fire’ as kids, but now when faced with those decisions, everything looked irreplaceable. “You don’t think he’ll be back? With his friends?” The word tasted like bile. I shuddered. “They’ll come for me. We’re sitting ducks here, Howie.”

  He came to me, took the “World’s Best Mom” glass rose out of my hand, and held me to him. He, too, shuddered against my body, but I think for a different reason. The hairs on his chest and arms stood at attention. “We’d be sitting ducks out there, too. Worse even. The people hunting us out there have the President’s blessing. At least here, it’s only a couple guys. I can handle them.”

  I tried to pull away from him but he held firm and continued speaking gently into the top of my head. “I will protect you. I’ll build a fence. I’ll make this place a fortress. They won’t get you.” His words were no more than a soothing whisper by that point.

  “We’ll starve in your fortress. We already are.” I forced him to let me loose.

  “I’ll find food. I promise. Please trust me.”

  I rummaged through my parents’ things agai
n, knowing exactly what was in the drawers. Anything to keep myself from turning to him, seeing the desperation on his face. “There is no food. Anywhere. Fox and Sturn both said to get on the ship.”

  “Fox and Sturn are dead!”

  “And we will be too if we don’t leave. Come on, Howie.” I stared at the large family portrait hanging above the dresser. Dad had forced us to sit forever to get the perfect picture of his happy family, just days after Brooks was born. On the side of my leg, my fingers played the opening lines of the lullaby Mom hummed to both of us as babies. I carefully considered how to best get it off the wall and into the backpack. Not turning around.

  “As soon as these timers go off, we’re fair game.” His shadow fell across my back, but he didn’t touch me.

  16:12:47

  16:08:32

  I turned and buried my face into his heaving chest. His heart pounded in my ear. Long comforting arms enveloped me in a safe cocoon. “Oh, Stone. What are we gonna do?” My tears flowed freely. “We can’t stay. But... we can’t leave, either.” It would be pitch black out there when the timers counted down. We wouldn’t see them coming. My sobs rose against the scar on Howie’s chest. I wondered if he’d ever tell me how he got it. And if he’d make me return the favor.

  15:57:01

  When I’d cried myself out, Howie released his hold on me and offered a crumpled shirt from the pile on the bed. I dried my face with it as he unpacked the bag, slowly. He put the last of our things back in the closet and sat on the bed, patting beside him for me to sit.

  When I didn’t move, he scooted far toward the wall and gestured to my seat, which now had plenty of personal space.

  I lowered myself onto the corner, fondling the snotty t-shirt and staring at it like it was the most interesting shirt in the world.

  Howie stretched out his long leg, touching my hip with the tip of his ice cold big toe. “I gave you my word.”

  Nothing passed between us for a long while except comfortable silence.