by Alan Spencer
"Sir, hear me out. America loved that. That was the highest rated Super Bowl ever. How many people wanted to serve a knuckle sandwich to a real terrorist? And you take Ram, and he used a football to do the job! I mean, Goddamn. You don't get more American than that."
"I'm still not sure where you're going with this, Ernie. You haven't convinced me that we shouldn't perform a lethal injection on this slab of meat and call it a day."
"Let me pitch you this idea," Ernie, the guy Ram remembered in the business suit from earlier, insisted. "Those on board The Redeemer have seen Earth implode on itself. They've witnessed their loved ones burned to death. It's not a pleasant sight. The smell of cooked human flesh is seared into my nostrils. It'll take weeks to remove the stink. What I'm saying, sir, is the people here have been served one heck of a shock. They're on a super ship headed to a new planet. It's far-fetched, it's crazy, and you mix that with witnessing mass death, and you got a ship of people who need a familiar face to reassure them all is okay.
"We lost Ben Affleck and Ozzy Osbourne in the fires of Los Angeles. Ram Rogan is the best you got, and your passengers are begging for him. If Ram doesn't reappear, they'll start asking questions. They'll start to distrust us. We can't have that. So we messed up by attacking him. We regroup and recover. What do you say?"
"As long as he doesn't knock up any of the passengers, you can do what you want with the quarterback."
Ernie's voice darkened. "Make no mistake, sir, Ram Rogan didn't make the list. He's not supposed to be here. I haven't forgotten that. Once we touch down on Second Earth, Ram won't leave the ship. An accident will prevent him from joining our society. I'll make it believable."
"Good deal, Ernie. I knew I put you in charge for good reason."
Awake
Ram waited for the men to leave before he opened his eyes. When he tried to lift himself out of bed, someone eased him back down. They had just entered the room.
"Easy, Mr. Rogan. Take it slow."
The room wasn't very big. Just large enough for a bed, a sink, and a cabinet full of medical supplies. Ram noticed a nearby trashcan full of torn up gauze, dirty cotton balls, and rags used to clean burn wounds.
Ram paused to behold the nurse in light blue scrubs and jeans. She had curly blonde hair, a muscled body that had seen many days at the gym, and a pair of eyes that extended sympathy and understanding. Ram couldn't avoid her stare, because it was so intoxicating, those soft sea-blue eyes. It was the best thing he'd seen in he didn't know how long. For a moment, he forgot how he was a marked man by Globo Corps.
Ram kept his calm. The two men were gone. Then again, if this woman produced a needle and tried to poke him, Ram would be at the ready to stop her.
"Are you a one woman show?"
"I'm afraid so, Mr. Rogan. I was supposed to have two others as assistants, but they didn't make it here alive. We lost a lot of people that way. Everything happened so fast. Globo Corps predicted a lot of things, but they couldn't predict everything."
"Like me getting on this ship?"
"Yeah. If you're not on the list, they freak out about it."
"I could use a drink. You have anything besides rubbing alcohol in this place?" Ram noticed her nametag read: Buffy King. "Well, Buffy, how about a drink? To Second Earth?"
Buffy realized how he knew her name, and she let out a soft laugh. "How clever, Mr. Rogan. You read my nametag."
"Call me Ram."
"Okay, Ram. Don't tell anybody about my stash."
She removed a bottle of bourbon from the bottom compartment of the cabinet. Buffy used a paper cup from the water cooler and poured a healthy dose for each of them.
"To Second Earth," Buffy proposed.
"To Second Earth." If I make it there alive.
Ram drank his, and Buffy finished hers with equal zest.
"A cigarette would go great with this," Buffy sighed. "My husband said I couldn't smoke anymore."
Ram felt around in his pockets. Of all the things that had happened to him since the moment his apartment burned down, there had been a pack in his pants pocket, and the cigarettes inside remained intact. He hadn't opened the package before now.
"Here, keep the pack. I breathed in enough smoke today. I think I want to quit."
"There won't be any cigarettes on Second Earth," Buffy said. She fished out a cigarette by hitting the pack with her palm once. She searched several drawers and located a box of matches. "Smoke if you got 'em. Now I got 'em. David can kiss my ass."
"Who's David?"
"My husband. He died today."
"I'm so sorry."
Buffy enjoyed a tug on her cigarette. Her craving was deep.
"Don't be. He was a major asshole. It's a long, terrible story."
Before Ram could react to her statement, the familiar fat bald man in a suit entered the room. Ernie Pine.
Ernie had an apologetic look about him.
The expression was as genuine as faux leather.
"Ram! You're awake. I am so, so sorry about what transpired earlier. Security heard your name wasn't on the list, and they acted without thinking. Please accept my apologies. I see our nurse here has patched you up in good order."
Ram finally noticed the bandage on the back of his head.
"Yes. She did a wonderful job."
"She's the best and only nurse we got," Ernie said. "Anyway, if we can rise above this unfortunate situation, I have a favor to ask you. I know, me asking you a favor."
Ram had to play dumb, and play along, so he spoke with careful deliberation.
"You mean you're not mad I'm on board?"
Ernie smiled. He believed the dumb jock would go along with his plan. "Of course not. You're a hero. You saved Gaby's life. Whether you know it or not, Gaby is the daughter of a high-ranking military official. He had a lot to do with the building of The Redeemer. We have no reason not to embrace your presence here.
"But back to that favor, Ram. We've got a lot of people who need a morale boost. They've seen hell, frankly. Would you do us the honor of attending a sort of meet and greet? Just talk with people. Try to uplift them. You're a national hero, Ram."
Yeah, I was a hero. They call it your fifteen minutes. I burned those up in ten. Then I landed on my ass in a pile of shit.
Whatever, fuck face. I'm watching you.
"I'm a nobody," Ram said, "but if you think they want to see me, I'm happy to do whatever to help out. Despite the mix-up, I'm very fortunate to be on this ship. I don't deserve the honor."
"Sure you do," Buffy said with alarming conviction. "A lot of people who deserved to be here didn't make it. You got here by saving someone's life. You knew nothing about The Redeemer, or where it was going. What you did was heroic, and honest."
"Yeah, absolutely, yes, heroic," Ernie butted in. "You're a true American. A saint. A good man. Are you well enough I can give you the quick tour? Then you can meet those on board?"
"I think I'm okay. My head's still ringing a little. I'll get over it. I'm an ex-football player. I'm used to being banged up."
"Check back in with me later," Buffy said. Her blue eyes wouldn't leave him. Was that a come on, or just genuine concern? "I want to look you over one more time."
"That can be arranged," Ernie said, trying to brush her off. "Okay, Ram. Let's get you up and about."
You got it, dick breath. Pull any fast ones, and I'll break you in two.
Ram left the medical infirmary with Ernie and would soon see the rest of The Redeemer.
The Guts of the Ship
Mooch couldn't stop playing with the video feeds inside the vast network of plastic tubing. Watching the pink substance flow in the tubes was a show in itself. He kept seeing things swimming in the flow, and it was starting to trouble him.
One detail in particular.
There weren't just sharks mixed up in the mess. There were many types of sharks. Bull sharks. Thresher sharks. Blacktip sharks. Great white sharks. Tiger sharks. Lemon sharks. Fine tooth sharks. Hammer
head sharks. Mud sharks. The population of sea life didn't stop there. There was also fish, like salmon, rainbow trout, bass, carp, blue gill, and barracuda. Every once in awhile, a squid, or a sea otter, would also appear.
Joslin started to enjoy the game of spotting living things in the pink tubes. That was until they noticed one disturbing detail about the aquatic life.
Mooch and Joslin reeled at the sights.
They panned in closer on the camera to get a real close view. The digital camera displayed the images on their control panel screens with alarming clarity.
There were many sets of gnarly teeth.
Everything had crazy choppers.
"I've never seen anything like it before," Mooch said. "Sharks have crazy teeth to begin with, but this is insane!"
Joslin agreed. "It's like they have more teeth too, and they're so jagged. That bull shark's got at least two hundred teeth. I mean, how? Good God, they'd rip right through you. Our flesh would be like butter to those things."
Mooch pictured a seesaw with super jacked up steel teeth. They would slice into meat just like a saw, matched with the jaw power of a great white.
"Even the fish have more teeth. A blue gill shouldn't look like a damn barracuda, and a barracuda shouldn't look like a blender from hell. What's happening to them?"
Joslin kept studying the feeds. "It's not just their teeth. They look...stronger."
"Stronger?"
"Their bodies are thicker. I mean, they're ripped. Their skin looks so thick. These sharks are on steroids."
"Wait, wait, wait." Mooch kept disbelieving his eyes. "I've looked in on our fishy friends like three hours ago, and they didn't have crazy ass teeth then. It's like the transformation just occurred. It's impossible, but there it is. And you're right, they do look like they've been taking steroids. Jesus, did you see that crab?"
Joslin started to type out commands on the control panel. "We can't have these creatures getting bigger and bigger. The plastic tubing is thick, so it'd be unlikely they'd escape that way. But if they get too big, the filters won't be able to, well, you know, chop them up."
"That's another thing I don't understand," Mooch said, trying to get a grip on his nerves. "We've chopped up ten tons of trash, debris, and even dogs, cats, and a few dead homeless people. It's like the fish are stronger than the filter's suction, and they're consciously fighting against it."
"I'm turning up the filter's power." Joslin ramped up the suction speed to full blast. "Let's watch what happens. This should take care of them."
At each end of the tubes, engines began to suction the pink water towards the thick steel blades spinning like that of a mega-garbage disposal. Joslin and Mooch watched, hunched over their screens, and hoped their plan worked.
The pink water began to froth and fizz as the tide was pulled in a new direction. Many of the smaller fish and sharks were forced through the filters and out the other side. They were rendered into pureed matter instantly.
But that only accounted for the smallest creatures. The rest were swimming against the tide, and battling to stay in place. The sharks, their bodies rippling with strength and power, remained unaffected. The suction was nothing up against their strength. After ten minutes straight, Joslin decided not to wear the filter engines down. If those broke down, then they'd be in serious trouble.
"Maybe if we monitor them," Mooch said, thinking out loud, "and make sure they don't leave the tubes, everything will be okay? The sharks stay put, we get to Second Earth, and nothing has to come of it, right? The sharks will eventually starve in there."
Joslin agreed. "Yeah. Nothing else we can do. If it's not a problem, then why make it a problem?"
Mooch could hold back the tremor in his voice. "Do you know what that pink shit really is?"
"That's the funny thing. I have no idea. Nobody will say. The only thing I know is that it's Dr. Fleming's creation. It's like a super fluid. A cross between engine coolant, motor oil, gasoline, and God knows what."
"I'm beginning to think whatever Globo Corps' reports say about Hydrolyne is a bunch of bullshit. What's with the perpetual motion crap? If I remember correctly, the reports say as long as the pink stuff is in motion, it'll act as fuel for any engine, no matter how big or small. Don't you think that's a bit...strange? If you think about the laws of physics, combustion, and common sense, don't you think there's more to this pink stuff than science? It's doing something strange to those sharks."
"We've gone beyond the realm of beakers and test tubes. This is mad science territory."
Mooch shivered. A cold finger went down his back. "Pray we can keep them contained."
"Yeah. No kidding."
Joslin and Mooch couldn't shake that unsettled feeling. That sensation creeping under their skins and riding up their spines transformed into real terror the moment the automatic doors behind them came open, and the group of armed individuals stormed into the control room.
We're Coming...Agents of Death
Listen to my words, loyal followers. We are God's elite. The holiest of men and women. We are all disciples of his will. We flinch not in the face of a challenge. Judgment and atonement awaits us all on the other side. His will. His way. We need not pray, for his word has been inside of us since we were birthed from the wombs of our mothers. God speaks to us, and us only, because He knows we are prepared to spread his gospels through brotherhood, tithing, kindness, determination, joy, sorrow, life...and bloodletting.
You work in mysterious ways, o' Lord, our Savior. How appropriate that we deliver this fate to those aboard The Redeemer. He has called for the end of Earth. For it is his will.
Those who subvert our maker's will shall pay an even greater penance than those previously burned on Earth. We're coming for you. One by one, you will perish.
Oh Holy one, we are your agents of death. Everybody's blood will be spilled, until there is not a single human heart left beating. Blood, o' Lord, we give to you, this generous tithing.
All shall perish.
We are the agents of death.
We are coming for you.
Heaven is our final destination.
Give The Tour, Ernie Pine!
Douche bag. Cocksucker. Bullshit artist. Go jump up your own ass and see how it smells in there. I'm sure it stinks as much as your breath, Mr. Pine. Keep on talking. I got the jump on you.
Ernie Pine stood above Ram on an escalator. They were working their way up from the ground floor of The Redeemer ship. Ernie narrated the tour as they went up each floor with cheesy gusto. Ram couldn't help but know that behind every one of Ernie's words lurked murder.
"The Redeemer is forty stories of cutting edge science. The patrons on this ride only have access to half the ship. The rest is complicated machinery, and a lot of other nonsense that'll mix up even the smartest guy around."
Ram took it all in. The area was simply amazing. He imagined a cross between a super mall and an indoor resort. Each level formed a large circle with a barrier to look down to the very first floor. This was a mega mall in space.
"You go this way, we've got a food court with elaborate seating. You want steak and eggs, you want the finest Italian cuisine, maybe enjoy some seafood, or if you just want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, our topnotch chefs will whip it up for you in a blink.
"On the next level, you'll enjoy a bunch of fun. We've got the largest indoor swimming pool with a built-in wave pool. If you didn't think about it, you'd think you were on a real beach. We've got sand, Tiki bars, and the whole nine yards.
"There's also a shopping area. Everybody on board received a voucher. You can buy clothes, apparel, and the finest jewelry. We've got real estate salesman showing the kinds of housing on Second Earth. They're all amazing feats of architecture. Just you wait and see. We'll have something real special for you, Ram. The things you can do with glass and plastics. All thanks to Globo Corps."
Yeah, whatever, you fucking dick. Keep talking. I'll act like I care.
"On the n
ext level, you got your upscale suites. Our rooms will have everything you'll ever need. You'll see soon enough, Ram. You're getting the gold standard suite. Only the best, for the best."
Ram couldn't wait until Ernie was finished with this brag-a-thon crap. He enjoyed a healthy paycheck playing for the NFL for six seasons as a leading quarterback, but he didn't consider himself one to relish himself in lavish things. He didn't own a mansion with a Porsche for every member of the household and a gold watch for both hands. Helen was good like that. Ram's wife was a real person, and the sight of big money didn't change that.
Thinking about Helen almost brought him to tears.
Ram forced it down. He couldn't afford to miss a single moment standing near Ernie Pine. This was life or death. Thinking about regrets could come later, if he lived long enough to look back at the past and conquer it.
Ram did his best to react impressed. "It's very...overwhelming. In a good way, Mr. Pine. Very fine accommodations here. I'm impressed."
"Call me, Ernie. We're friends. And don't forget, I still owe you an apology for the way you were treated earlier. There's no excuse."
Ram pretended to shrug it off. "I'm here, and I'm alive, so what's there to be sorry about?"
Ernie wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he smiled that car salesman's grin and continued the orated tour.
"Above the guest's quarters, we have an extensive collection of bars, wine tasting rooms, and beyond that, places to walk freely and look at outer space. It's an amazing view. You want to see outer space?"
"Who doesn't?"
For the first time, Ram spoke honestly. He did want to see where The Redeemer had taken them.
They kept moving up the escalator until they reached the thirty-seventh floor. The escalator directed them onto a circular track made of the softest green Astroturf. The track was surrounded by thick Plexiglas walls showcasing outer space. People talked animatedly, pointing at the views in awe and wonderment. Many were holding wine flutes, beer mugs, and smoking fine cigars. They were dressed in high end clothing. Ram imagined them attending a ball at the White House. Ram felt like a standout eyesore in his Rams football jersey and faded blue jeans and sneakers. He was a schmuck among the wealthy one percent.
