Certain Reprisal

by Kevin Macklin

  I'd been following Mahoney for the past few days. Sam Martin was his new name. Sam worked at a local insurance agency. Across the street from my position on the roof. From what I'd seen, he left work through the front door a couple minutes after five. That time was fast approaching.

  I'd already mapped out primary and alternate escape routes in case things got hairy. I wasn't too concerned because I'd planned carefully. But, redundancy might save my life one day.

  My watch beeped, alerting me to the fact that it was five o'clock. Settling into my position, I took deep breaths, expanding my stomach, using my diaphragm to pull the air into my lungs. Then, I released, relaxing my body and lowering my heart rate.

  I continued this exercise for the next two minutes, until Sam/Scott walked out of the door.

  Accounting for distance and angle, I'd already dialed in the scope, and now I was tracking Mahoney until I could get him in the center of my cross hairs.

  He turned toward me, walking toward the door of his car. Then, he paused. Looked up.

  I took the shot.

  ***

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  Chapter 1

  Clink...

  Steel banged against steel as the door to my cell was first unlocked, then opened. I'd been asleep, lying on my back. The sharp noise immediately pulled me from the depths of dreamland, and I raised up onto my elbows. Squinted into the light filtering through the open door.

  Two shadowy silhouettes stood in the doorway.

  This was highly unusual. It was the middle of the night, and I was in prison. Death row to be exact. Had been here for the past five years. In this same small, eight by twelve cell. Waiting to die.

  The last time I'd had a visitor was… Well, never. I had no one. I was a loner. My family had been killed during the Z Wars. Then, after, it was just hard to trust anyone.

  And, hard to let my guard down.

  The world was decimated. Everyone had nothing. People were scrabbling to feed what was left of their families, and themselves. Doing what was necessary to survive was commonplace. If you had bread, you had a friend. Or, someone trying to stab you in the back for it.

  So, I trusted no one. And, no one came to visit.

  "Jason Alexander," the man said. It was definitely a statement. No way to accidentally stumble upon me by random chance.

  He knew who I was, but I didn't know why he was here.

  "What do you want," I asked.

  "You," he replied.

  "I'm not sure what you mean..."

  "What if I told you that you could walk out of here a free man? Tonight. Alive. No more waiting around for your number to be called. No more sitting around, looking at these same, drab four walls. What would you say to that?"

  "I'd say to quit playing with me and get out of my cell so I can go back to sleep."

  The man stepped farther into my cell and turned towards my bunk. The light from outside played across the side of his face and I could finally make out his features. Sharp cheekbones, with a straight, narrow nose. Thin lips. His suit was dark and well fitted to his frame. My position on the bunk made it hard to judge his true height, but at the moment, he towered over me.

  "I'm not messing with you." His voice was deep and warm, like he sang tenor in an acapella group and drank hot tea with honey every morning. "This could be a second chance."

  "Why me? I don't understand." I sat up in my bunk, put my feet on the cold floor. "Is everyone going free? Did some law change? What are you talking about?"

  "This offer is only for you."

  "Are you a lawyer?" I asked.

  "No," he responded.

  "Who are you?"

  "Forgive my lack of courtesy. I'm Agent Mays of External Security. Pleased to meet you."

  External Security was everything defense for the nation of Elan. It was the Army, Navy, Air Force, CIA, and Homeland Security all wrapped up into one entity. They kept Elan safe from all outside threats. Defended Elan's borders and fought Elan's wars.

  What they didn't do was police the interior. I was on death row for an internal incident that had absolutely nothing to do with External Security. There was absolutely no reason for an agent with External Security to be standing in my cell, in the middle of the night, making an offer to free a man condemned to be executed for an internal matter.

  "What's this offer you speak of?" I asked.

  "We want you to do a job. The Nation of Elan needs you to do this job. It's a matter of national security."

  "What, exactly, is this job?" I asked.

  "As a matter of national security, I can't tell you what it is until you make a commitment. But, who cares what the job is? You'll be rewarded with your life. You'll get to breath fresh air, instead of this moldy crap you've been sucking in for the past five years. You'll get to make decisions, move freely. Touch a woman, eh?" He winked as he said the last part. "What would that be worth to you? What would you not do for your own life?"

  Agent Mays waved his arm around the small cell. "Obviously, you're willing to take a life. I know you don't have to think about it that hard."

  His last jab got under my skin. Sure, I was here for killing someone. And, some would agree that it was in defense of myself. Maybe, not everyone. But, some.

  I had gotten into a fight in a bar. More a brawl than a fight. But, there was this one particular guy who turned out to be a skilled fighter. Look, no one fights to lose. So, I rose to the challenge and grabbed a barstool. Swung it, connecting with the side of his head. I figured, at most, I'd knock him out for a couple hours. But, nope. That's not what happened.

  The stool was encircled by a metal band which crushed his skull at the point of impact. His death was ruled a homicide by blunt force trauma.

  I was sentenced to death.

  Now, here I was. My life was being offered up to me on a silver platter. All I had to do was reach out and take it. Plus, whatever External Security was asking of me.

  I can't lie. My stomach was full of butterflies, each flap of their silky wings causing tendrils of fear to spread throughout my core. Like my body knew that life only paid for life with life. What was my life worth? To me, it was priceless.

  But, what was my life worth to the Nation of Elan and its External Service?

  Nothing.

  Or, at least I couldn't see where my value lay for the powers that be. At twenty-five years of age, I'd spent most of my adult life in this cell, so I wasn't particularly educated. I wasn't born into money and didn't have friends in high places. I didn't have any specialized skills, or some fundamental expertise.

  I was just a man living his life, until I became a man awaiting his death.

  But the truth was: I wanted to live.

  A variety of emotions rushed through me. Hope was mostly what I felt. I hadn't felt hope in what seemed an eternity. And, now that I was experiencing it… Man, was it powerful. I could have what I'd thought lost forever. I could let go of this mental clock hanging over my head, ticking, ticking, ever so slowly toward my execution. I could make plans. Planning for a future was an activity of which I'd had no need. Actually, it was downright depressing. I knew with absolute certainty that any plans would never have a chance to come to fruition.

  How could I
refuse?

  "Ok," I said. "I'll do it."

  "Great!" He clapped his hands together. "Follow me."

  After sliding my feet into my sandals, I pulled a t-shirt over my head and followed Mays out of my cell. No handcuffs, no ankle chains. None of the security measures normally forced upon the condemned. We walked down the cell block hallway, past doors behind which stood other condemned men who had been rousted from their sleep by the sounds of my door opening when no doors should be open, asking, "Where you going?"

  Silently ignoring them all, we continued through the door into the hallway that connected this unit to the rest of the prison. After navigating our way to a garage used for picking up and dropping off prisoners, I was loaded into a black van.

  The ride was short, maybe five minutes from one location to the other. Then I was hauled out, into another garage, through another door, into another building. But, there was no comparison between the building I had just left, and this place.

  The carpet was so plush I could feel fibers tickling my toes, teasing me. I wanted to stop right there, slide my feet from my sandals, and dig my digits into the cloud-like caress of the carpet. The walls were free of grime and painted a bright white. Indistinguishable office doors flashed past as we hurried down the hallway. There were no numbers or labels on the doors.

  No cells.

  After a zig and a zag, I was ushered into one of the offices and left to myself, the door clicking as it closed behind me. I looked around, although there wasn't much to look at. In the middle of the slightly-larger-than-my-cell sized room was a modernist style table and chair. On the table was a glass of water and a platter with meats, cheese, and crackers. Embedded in the wall across from the chair was a screen that came to life as I sat and picked up a piece of cheese, startling me.

  Gerent Jefferson Malbent appeared on screen, with the national seal behind him. Gerent is the term we use for our leader. Such as the American's President, before America as a nation ceased to exist.

  He said, "As Gerent of Elan, I'd like to personally thank you for accepting this mission. It is extremely important to our nation and our citizens. As you're probably aware, Elan has little to no oil reserves and absolutely no oil production. In order for our nation to grow and unite this land as it once was, we need oil. Our neighbors to the south refuse to sell us any. Time and time again I've tried to bring Gutenberg to the negotiating table. The people of Elan need this resource, yet they deny us, as if we have nothing to offer in return."

  He straightened his tie and cleared his throat before continuing. "That is about to change. This is why you're here."

  His hands came into view from opposite sides of the screen, each holding a small vial. A blue cap topped the vial in his right hand, a yellow cap topped the left.

  Thrusting the blue capped vial forward, he said, "This is a new virus based on the Z-20 strain. I'm sure you remember the wars and how bad it was until a treatment and vaccine were developed. Your job is to disperse this virus above the capital city of Atlantis."

  The blue top disappeared from the screen, leaving the yellow topped vial, which he pushed toward the camera. "This is the antidote. Completely neutralizes the virus, and its effects are immediate. This gives us a bargaining chip, a reason for them to sit down at the table and negotiate a deal with us. This gives us a chance. You'll receive your orders and detailed mission plan shortly. Good travels, and may The Almighty bless us with his favor."

  Chapter 2

  The screen turned black and the door immediately opened. They'd either been standing right outside the door, listening, or had received some signal letting them know the Gerent's speech was over. Agent Mays entered, followed by a dark-haired woman with oversized blue eyes.

  Mays said, "Did you enjoy the platter? Hopefully, it lived up to your expectations?" His head dipped towards the barely touched food.

  Our charismatic leader had consumed my attention to the extent that I'd forgotten about the full plate before me.

  "Well," Mays said. "Time to go. Shall we?"

  At the risk of seeming uncouth, I grabbed a handful of meat, cheese, and crackers before trailing Agent Mays and the lady back into the hallway. We approached an elevator, its doors wide open. Entered. There were no buttons, no panel next to the door. Only a small, barely discernible camera in the back corner above our heads.

  The doors closed as soon as we entered, and I felt the car begin to lower. Once it stopped, we stepped out into a laboratory. Unfamiliar smells assaulted my senses. Some reminiscent of burning rubber, layered on top of something astringent. Others were simply indescribable.

  This was no biological lab. Not even close. A menagerie of gadgets and gizmos were strewn all over the place. Most were inanimate, but some were scurrying, or rolling, and even flying about the place. This was a robotics and engineering lab.

  This was R&D.

  There were even weapons. A variety of stun guns and tasers rested on tables, and some were even being tested, their prongs crackling with energy.

  Mays said, "We'll be outfiting you with a delivery done and you'll be able to choose a few weapons. You'll be traveling alone and once you're outside of the city things can be dangerous. Make your selections and let's be off."

  The first thing I grabbed was a long knife and its sheath. This wouldn't be just a weapon. A good knife could be used for all kinds of stuff, from cutting branches off a tree to cutting up food. With a long journey ahead, I was sure the knife would see its fair share of use.

  As I was browsing the tasers, I noticed one looked more like a gun, only it was a little clunkier. It had a magazine that released from the bottom of the grip. Small, flat cartridges with short prongs at one end filled the magazine. No wires connected cartridge to weapon.

  "Like that?" a voice from behind said. "We call it the Scythe."

  I turned around and came face to face with a man in a white lab coat and large, round glasses.

  "The cartridges have a battery. Fire and forget. A selector on the side let's you switch from non-lethal to lethal. I've seen one of these bad boys take down a bull!"

  Picking up the Scythe, I fingered the selector, flicking the switch up and down. Aimed it. Then I set it aside, along with the knife. The guy in the lab coat brought five extra magazines and put them next to the Scythe.

  Firearms were a rare sighting in Elan. Almost all of the ammunition supply for the entire world had been used during the Z Wars. It had even reached a point where most people were defending themselves with either bladed or club style weapons. And, after, people were focused on rebuilding communities and society. I was sure some nation somewhere was producing ammo, but not here.

  We did have an abundance of electricity, though.

  Elan lay in a valley, between two mountain ranges, creating a natural wind corridor. Before the Z Wars, this valley was a hotspot for wind energy and battery technology. Our society was centered around electricity. As such, electricity powered our weapons.

  Along with everything else.

  A small handheld taser and an e-spear rounded out my selections. The lab tech took my items and disappeared toward the back.

  Mays said, "He'll meet us on the way out with all of your things."

  The next room we entered was full of various items of clothing. Rack after rack lined the room, creating neat, narrow aisles. An attendant approached me, his arms extending this way, and that way, taking measurements and sizing me up. I wasn't a big guy. Average in size, average in height. It didn't take him long. Then, he led me to a rack where I tried on a few things.

  He'd done a good job when he estimated my fit, so I went down the rack, picking out everything I thought I'd need, finishing with a dark, heavy cloak. After putting on the outfit I wanted to wear, the attendant took everything else to the back.

  After leaving the closet - as I've come to think of it - we made a return trip to the elevator, back through the maze of corridors, and into the garage. The van loomed before me, its side door gaping
open in invitation.

  "Your bags are already inside. Agent Reece will take it from here," Mays said, nodding to the dark haired woman. Then, he turned and went back into the building.

  Reece nodded her head towards the open door, my signal to climb in. So, I did and took my former seat. Gazing down, I noticed what looked to be two large backpacks connected to each other with a thick strap. A third bag, resembling a small, flat duffel rested next to the backpacks.

  The van silently took off, and we rode. Agent Reece still hadn't spoken. Not a single word. The quiet whine of the van's electric motor was the only thing to keep me company, but we pulled to a stop a short time later. Reece for out and opened my door, enabling my first view of the outdoors in five years.

  The sun was rising, and I could see its glow casting a halo above the canopy of the surrounding trees. I walked around the van, bringing the rest of the area into my vision. Agent Reece took off walking, past a large, white house with crimson shutters, toward a stable that was to the right and slightly behind the house.

  In the gap between house and stable I paused and looked out over acres of rolling meadow, the wooden outlines of corrals and horse pens breaking up the monotonous green.

  A sharp whistle interrupted my thoughts, and when I looked around Agent Reece was waving me into the stables.

  As I crossed inside, Reece spoke for the first time, her voice soft and melodic, "You ride?"

  "Been a while," I responded.

  "Pick one."

  Horses lined both sides, so I chose the right side and walked from horse to horse, spending a few moments with each. Once I reached the last horse, I crossed to the other side and did the same ritual until I'd made my way back to Reece. Then I went back down the right side, stopping at one particular mare that nuzzled her nose into the palm of my hand.