Another Force

by D. J. Rockland

  Peters just held up his hand and shook his head.

  "But there would be feathers," Beetle said in a whisper, and a broad grin crossed his face.

  Peters could not help but grin and give another head shake.

  The Angriff settled and Morgan took the first watch, while Beetle and Peters searched for clues. Dunston walked over, “You boys better get some shuteye. We gotta move and move quick before first light.”

  They both nodded, but neither wanted to give up just then. The mystery was too big, given all the clues, and it just made no sense.

  After all the searching and talking, Beetle walked over to Peters. “Let's get some sleep, Pete.”

  “Beetle, what impossible could’ve happened?”

  “I don’t know. They could’ve disappeared and walked out. They could’ve caused their molecular structure to become less dense than the concrete and walked through the walls or floor, or…”

  At the mention of walking through the concrete walls, Peters’ expression changed. “That’s it!”

  “They changed their molecular structure?”

  “No, idiot,” Peters said. “They went through the wall or floor through a doorway.”

  “Yeah,” Beetle said, “we already thought of that, and we looked for a door.”

  “We looked for a door,” Peters said. “We didn’t look for a way for them to go through the wall.”

  “What?”

  Peters moved back to the corner, with Beetle close in tow.

  “Look,” said Peters, “if the concrete were not opened, but changed state, then an opening could be created, they could escape, and the concrete resealed. If something like that occurred, then the Guardsmen would not be able to follow. At least it would take them some time to follow.”

  “But they would know there was a tunnel or something below the floor and they could blast it,” Beetle objected.

  “Possibly,” Peters said. “But they didn’t blow the floor and they didn’t blow the wall, so they knew something or they knew not to blow them.”

  They examined the wall again. Nothing was obvious.

  Beetle watched his buddy running his hands over every part of the wall. “Peters, there’s nothing here."

  “Yes, there is!” Peters said. “Put your hand right here.”

  Beetle did so. “Well, I’ll be a…”

  “Yeah,” Peters said, his face shouting the excitement his mouth could not express right now. “The wall’s a hologram and that’s how they went through.”

  “But who would go to the trouble of putting a hologram here?”

  “I don’t know,” Peters said, “but we gotta wake the Boss and let him know. They went through this wall into the alleyway behind.”

  The two walked with measured steps to the group of sleeping men and rustled their commander. He had gotten only six hours sleep in the last forty-eight, so he was not anxious to leave his slumber.

  “A hologram?” Dunston questioned once he achieved consciousness.

  “Right Boss,” said Peters. “A hologram makes up part of the wall, and that’s how they escaped.”

  “To where?” Dunston asked.

  “Gotta go outside for that one,” Beetle said. “There’s only an alleyway on the other side of the wall, but I guess that’s where we start.”

  “Have you gone out there?” Dunston asked.

  “No,” said Peters, “we need lights and we didn’t want to risk it without coming to you.”

  "Ok,” said Dunston, looking at the men asleep in the area, “let’s get ’em up and get moving. We got our first clue.”

  ***

  I’m falling down.

  Why can’t I get up?

  Where is my voice?

  Is that Emily? Yes! Yes!

  “Emily! Emily!” Joniver awoke screaming Emily’s name again. The same irritating bright light shone above him, and he was unable to shield his eyes. He squinted trying to orient with his surroundings.

  “Where am I, and why am I restrained?”

  A warbled, distorted voice said, “You are a spy!”

  “A spy? What are you talking about? Where’s Jacob?”

  The voice again, “You do not ask questions. You answer questions. Why are you here?”

  The voice sounded like it was modulated through a fan or distorter of some kind, Joniver thought. He grew uneasy. The restraints bit into the flesh of his wrists. Trepidation rose inside as he tensed his muscles against the restraints. He longed to pull a hand free and cover his eyes against the glare of the spotlight.

  He paused.

  Breathe, Joniver said to himself. Get control. Don’t create problems that are not here.

  “I don’t know where here is,” Joniver said out loud to the modulated voice.

  “Don’t be a smart ass. Who are you and why are you here!” The voice was more insistent and agitated.

  “Look,” Joniver said, “I’ll be happy to tell you what I can, but I would appreciate first getting my hands out of these restraints.”

  “You will tell us now!”

  “Us?” Joniver asked. “Who’s us?”

  "Your friends are looking for you. Do you want them to find you dead? Tell us what we want to know.”

  "Who's us?" Joniver repeated.

  There was a long pause.

  Ok, now what? Joniver asked himself. I can’t move, and I can’t answer questions I don’t understand. I for sure don't know what these guys are talking about, but…he paused, but they know that! They know I can’t answer the questions, so this is a test, but a test by whom and for what purpose? To find out if I’m a Guardsman? This isn’t Hunter. He’d already be here by now playing his little mind games.

  Could these be the same people who have Emily?

  Joniver said, “Do you have Emily?”

  A long pause.

  “Do you have Emily?” Joniver shouted.

  Finally after what felt like an empty eternity, the warbling voice said, “Yes.”

  Joniver was shocked. “I don’t believe you. Let me see her.”

  “Very well,” the voice said.

  The light went out and the hand restraints opened, although the ankle restraints did not.

  Joniver rubbed his eyes and his face with his hands. He sat up and tried to look around. Light bulbs appeared to be going off all around him while his eyes adjusted. He scanned the room, turning as best he could to see all around him.

  The room was plain and unremarkable. The walls were concrete with one door and no windows.

  The door behind him opened, and Joniver turned, craning his neck to peer over his shoulder. His eyes went wide and his mouth agape. Coming through the door was the last person Joniver expected to see. The proverbial feather could have been implemented to knock him over.

  "Emily?” he said, not believing what his eyes were telling him.

  She walked over to him, put her hand on his hand, and smiled the smile Joniver had come to love.

  He smelled lilacs, too.

  "Yes," she said. “Look at me." She kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're here and I'm glad you're safe."

  Joniver looked into those dark brown eyes and found the assurance he hoped for. "But are you part of this, this, whatever this is? How did you get here? Did Jones take you?"

  Emily shook her head, "No, I am not part of this. Jones did kidnap me but the people here…the people here rescued me. Jones is locked up so don’t worry about him. You need to see what's here and what's going on. Don't get worked up, just listen."

  "Where's Jacob?" Joniver asked.

  "He's here and he's fine," Emily said.

  Joniver felt good about seeing Emily and he relaxed, but when he looked back around the room and felt his feet in restraints, he tensed. "Where are we, Em? Why was I being restrained? Is Jacob restrained? When can I see him?”

  "Easy, easy," Emily said holding her hands out. "We'll get there."

  She walked to the foot of the table where Joniver sat and pushed a button undernea
th. The restraints on Joniver's legs opened, and he sprang off the table. He grabbed Emily in a tight embrace. They kissed.

  "I love you so much," Joniver said. "I've got a ton to tell you, but mostly how sorry I am for being such a jerk. You deserve-"

  Emily cut him off, "I know, and I've got to tell you how sorry I am, but it has to wait. You'll see why."

  Joniver opened his mouth to speak.

  "Joniver," Emily cut him off and took him by the arm, "I love you but right now, you're going to have to trust me. Things will be fine, but you've got to trust me."

  He nodded, but he was not sure it was agreement. He wanted nothing more than to grab Emily and run. He had abandoned her, and he would not do it again. Seeing her was so unexpected, his emotions ran wild with him. He could hardly contain himself and stay focused. He wanted to get out of this room and figure out where Jacob was, and get out of here. They still needed to get Olinar, but getting Emily somewhere safe was his primary objective at the moment.

  Emily led him to the door. Before she opened it, she looked up at him, “Joniver, be very quiet and trust me, ok? Do you love me?"

  Joniver nodded, "Of course, you know I do, I-"

  "Ok," she said, "then listen to me. Stay very quiet and hold my hand."

  He nodded, now wondering what could be so mysterious on the other side of the door. Emily led him by the hand into the dimly lit hallway.

  If he only knew, she thought.

  Chapter 31

  The hair still appeared to float when he walked, and the striped scarf was still a permanent fixture about his neck. Although he looked much the same as he did the day Hunter and Bruder came to see him two years ago, he had changed - or, been changed - and in many ways, he had changed dramatically.

  He had been Dante, the arrogant know-it-all, who was the smartest guy in the room, and who always worked alone. He had been Dante, the guy who knew everything about everything, and he could do anything. This was the story he always told himself. He had been Dante who cared little about people and had little need for people.

  But that was before he understood the ways he hurt people. He also learned, that in the process, he had damaged himself.

  Now he is Mganga. He is the one who held the key to the lives of so many, and to whom so many felt a great debt. He hurt so many, but now he rescued so many who were otherwise doomed to roam the streets as mindless, empty flesh shells. Shells that had, at one time housed a person. People, who just like him, had hopes and dreams. People, who unlike him, wanted to love and laugh and pray for a better future.

  Without him they would be drifting. Although they had physical damage, now they still could have the things that made them human - and worthy of love.

  He had not grown to simply love people, he had grown to love the world’s worst people.

  He had grown to love the Crazies, who it turned out were not crazy after all; they were just infected. The story about them being crazy was one filtered out by the company as a way to isolate them. Mganga believed the story had been told so many times it was accepted as true.

  The Crazies were infected with a virus and Mganga had the cure. He had the cure inside himself. His blood and his knowledge were the cure. He used both every day to mix serum, which was used by as many people as he could get it to.

  They had an enemy however, and the enemy was time. People who had been harvested and injected must have the antidote injection within three to five days of being given the virus. As a result there were still plenty of Crazies running around with no hope of recovery. Yet, Mganga hoped even for them, and he continued to work tirelessly with equipment he managed to build or steal.

  He was their healer, but he was no leader, and they needed a leader. Mganga knew a leader, and he knew how Hunter worked. And one great advantage remained in his favor; Mganga was still the smartest guy in the room - even this outdoor room. He learned what would happen to Huá Lōng, formerly Regent Red, and he planned her rescue. Once she was among them and he convinced her, they had leadership.

  Something happened to Dante the day Hunter and his minions infected him with the virus. Dante knew at the time the virus would not hurt him, but he did know how much it would change him. Something flipped in him, like a switch flipping to turn on a light. He saw for the first time it wasn’t enough to be the biggest brain in the room. He must do something with his brain. He had been for so long in the business of helping Hunter, he was ready to do something right.

  While he was with the company, Dante told himself he was doing good. In hindsight, however he realized there was something in him that knew things were not right. There was a voice without form and a feeling without context, and the voice screamed for him to carefully consider what he was doing. The voice warned him to look further than his workbench and beyond his test results and consider the implications of what he was doing. Was it right? Was it helping? The voice asked but went unheeded.

  He realized now that he did not listen to the voice because he was afraid. He was afraid of what listening would mean. In the same way he walked past the homeless and ignored the conditions outside company compounds, he ignored the voice calling him to take a stand. He now fought because he listened to that same voice the fateful day he took his shortcut.

  At the time of his confrontation with Hunter he felt real fear, but now he felt free. Now his living conditions were far worse, the food he ate was less nutritious and there was less of it, and his work was never ending. But he had never felt better in his life. This was where he was meant to be.

  His serum caused the suffering of these people, and Dante committed himself to ending their suffering. They had dubbed him Mganga, which is “healer” in Swahili, and he became proud to wear his new moniker, but he needed more antidote than using his blood could produce. So he worked on making a synthetic version. His work was anything but easy, with the crude tools he had available, but he made progress. He was after all the smartest guy in the room, any room, he reminded himself.

  Mganga wanted to be the healer, but it would take more than brain power. These people needed organization and direction as much as they needed his antidote.

  The problem he faced was partially one of numbers. He could not help everyone who was harvested, and the company was harvesting more, and more often, than ever before. He knew the harvesting had to be stopped, but how?

  The problem humbled him. He now knew what he didn’t know, and he didn’t know how to stop Hunter. He did, however know someone who did, and so he looked for an opportunity to leverage the manpower he had to get the person he needed. Huá Lōng was the person. He knew of her from his time with the company. Everyone knew of her, but he additionally heard she was a revolutionary, believing the company had gone too far. He had presented his developments to her many times and this, combined with his faith in the rumors, moved him to action with his group of Crazies.

  She was the Flower Dragon, and she was who they needed.

  His superior intellect and arrogance did not allow him to consider the kidnapping of a Regent to be too audacious a goal, and she proved to be everything he hoped.

  ***

  Joniver walked hand in hand with Emily, not making a sound. He gazed at her, thinking he might burst before he was able to tell her what was going on inside him. Seeing her alive and holding her hand caused all the feelings and words he had to share with her burn inside him.

  He would never leave her or let anything get between them again. He had wanted her close, but he had not loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Joniver vowed to never repeat that mistake. If Emily will let him, he will protect her, care for her, and provide for her the rest of his life. Nothing will ever take her place.

  But the time for declarations of commitment was not now and Joniver knew it. He had to figure out what was going on, get Jacob and get back to the unit. They still had a job to do.

  But I will not leave Emily, Joniver told himself, not now and not ever.

  They moved slowly among t
he Crazies, and Joniver saw they weren’t all crazy. A few walked around aimlessly but most moved with purpose and intelligence. They did not eat each other or anyone else. He saw them sit in groups and eat just like he and Nana and Emily used to.

  Some of them still looked gross, and some of them looked very gross, but they were not the mindless savage animals he grew up believing they were.

  So far, of everyone at his place, Joniver knew that he and Emily were not affected by the virus.

  Emily led him to a dimly lit room with a glass wall. Inside, Joniver could see three people. One man talked to another man and a woman in front of a giant video screen. The talking man sat with his back to them and Joniver did not recognize the other two. When Emily and Joniver entered, Jacob turned in his chair, and when he saw Joniver and Emily, he leapt to his feet and crossed the room in a flash to embrace them both.

  “Dude,” he said, looking at Joniver. “We may have what we need.”

  Joniver embraced his brother and glanced at the beautiful woman and the short man. Both stepped forward, the woman extended her hand first. “I’m Huá Lōng and I am pleased to finally meet you. I have heard much of you.”

  “As have I,” the man said. “Mganga.” He extended his hand.

  Joniver shook them both in turn. His eyes searched the faces for clues about why he was here and what they had to do with it. Did they take us from the fire fight in the building?

  “I am sure you have many, many questions,” Huá Lōng said. Her eyes were haunting and Joniver was mesmerized by her penetrating stare. She looked as though she knew all about him, but he had no clue who she was.

  “We will-“

  “Answer nothing now,” Mganga interrupted her. “We have no time. Answers will come later, action must come first. You must trust us.”

  “I’ve got no reason to trust you!” Joniver leaned toward the shorter man who stood unflinching.

  “Easy, Dude,” Jacob said. He put his hand on his brother’s chest to push him back.

  Emily grabbed his hand and forearm. “Joniver, trust me, then.”

  “They saved us from the building, Joniver.”

  “Saved us for what? Just because they saved us is not reason to trust them!” Anger flashed in his eyes and he shot a look at his brother. He clinched Emily’s hand tighter.