56
Adam walked into the high school gymnasium with a mind full of questions. Saul had been ordered to an isolated holding area instead of here, where at least a few hundred people huddled in fearful groups. His request to pull guard on the prize captive was denied, however, and he ended up here in what the gang had dubbed general population. We are one institutionalized bunch of felons, he thought as he observed the room.
Most of the captives were middle-aged or older, and the women slightly outnumbered the men. Scattered children were held firmly by their parents, kept both quiet and as far as possible from the armed guards at each of the four corners. Eye contact was avoided as the prisoners looked to be suffering from shock still, over twenty-four hours after the takeover.
One woman Adam didn't recognize, though he was sure he would have if she had been there on his last guard shift. Her light hair and eyes marked her as not from the town; the other residents had almost exclusively dark features. Also, this one was thin, suggesting a diet more sushi than southern. Besides appearance, her attitude did not fit. The rest were properly cowed and docile; she had eyes that flashed with fiery rage until tragic tears put out the flames. No sooner would those tears leave her delicate cheeks than her eyes would rekindle.
He watched her with fascinated infatuation until she met his eyes steadily. Embarrassed, he quickly scanned the rest of the crowd in an effort to hide his interest. When his gaze returned to her, she was still watching him with an iron gaze. Wait a second, I'm in charge here, I can stare if I want! With renewed vigor the young man fought her steady look with one of his own, determined not to let her make him look like a fool.
Then, without warning, she dropped her eyes and turned away slightly, showing him a profile that made him think of Helen of Troy. Before he could gloat over his victory of willpower, she spoke.
"Was it you?" she asked in a voice like a beautiful dirge.
His momentary pride was battered by the near-physical force of her pain. "Was what me?"
"Did you kill my husband?" She looked at him now, bringing the full weight of her presence to bear on her already shaken captor.
"I--I've never killed anyone. It wasn't me that..." Adam trailed off. He thought he had grown inured to the violence of the last week, but this was the first time he had been confronted by a survivor.
She stared at him for a moment longer, then released him to his guilt. Adam went back to patrolling the quiet gym, being especially careful not to make eye contact with anyone.
57
Dusk was approaching by the time two men came to pull David from his cell. Neither man was known to him, although he vaguely recognized them as inmates from the Prophet's original crew.
"Chow time already?" Saul desperately clung to his sarcasm for fear that he would show weakness without it. "Alright, I'll try it, but if it's like the last place I was at, I'll just get something from commissary."
With his escorts refusing to crack even the slightest smile, he sighed and moved to the door while both men kept their pistols trained on him. It was safe to assume that he was being taken to their leader, but the question was why? He couldn't help but consider how vital that question was. If he was about to be executed in a particularly gruesome manner, now would probably be a good time to attempt an escape. If he was only scheduled to be interrogated for now, however, biding his time seemed a better option. The problem was, there were no indications what he was being taken for. All he could rule out with any degree of confidence was a Prophet-sponsored dinner party.
David was directed out of the back office into a lobby that may have been comfortable before the ceiling collapsed on the couch. Quake damage sixty miles away? Apparently the disaster was every bit as far-reaching as he had feared, possibly even more. Through the lobby and out to the street, the Soldier was temporarily blinded by the impossibly close sunset as he was turned toward what must be the Town Hall. Moving slowly down a typical small town Main Street, his reconnaissance habits kicked in, simultaneously mapping key landmarks and discarding irrelevant places in his mind.
Bike shop across the street, two other shops connected running west. Firehouse next door to the jail. Automotive garage at the end of the block. Town Hall, middle of the block, south side.
David was barely down the steps before he had mentally mapped the entire area. Before he crossed the street, a plan began to form in his racing mind.
Lionel met him at the top of the steps of a classic brick building that must hold the Prophet's headquarters. With an arrogant nod he dismissed the other guards and took custody of the prisoner, leaving them to return to their posts. Looking at his new guardian, David couldn't help but notice how much he resembled a candle. Tall and lanky, he seemed even skinnier for the way his arms hung hunched forward, almost as if they were made of wax dripping down from the front of his shoulders. Appearing embarrassed by his height, he ducked his head down while trying to keep his chin up proudly, a combination that could've put his chiropractor's kids through college. If not for the armed killers on each side of the porch, David would have taken him out at that moment.
Instead, he followed his instincts and decided to let the situation play out.
"You have the gun Lionel, why do you look like you're waiting for me to tell you what to do?"
Abandoning his attempt at an intimidating look, the candle-shaped man turned and led his captive through the massive oak doors into the lion's den. Aside from a broken vase and some crooked paintings, the grand old building looked to have avoided damage. At the top of the central staircase another set of intricately carved oak doors opened to the Prophet's inner sanctum.
David entered the room, and immediately froze. Are you kidding me? he thought as he surveyed the room. It really is a dinner party!
58
The sun had fallen dramatically in the sky before Lisa gathered enough of her wits to start planning her next move. Eve slept on a makeshift bed of camping gear and clothing next to her; the emotional exhaustion of the day had finally overcome the child's fear and anxiety. Watching her lying there, the older girl felt a strong sense of kinship.
We both probably lost our families today.
Despite the pain that welled up at the thought, Lisa held the tears back and turned her thoughts to taking care of her new charge. That meant finding and freeing David, there was no way she could do this alone. With no better ideas, she decided to begin her search at the school that held the other captives. Very little thought was given to the fact that her only source of information was a cryptic conversation overheard by a ten year old in shock.
She returned to her observation window and searched for indicators of a school in the rapidly fading daylight. To the southeast the trailer park allowed some visibility all the way to Main Street, but offered no clues to the location of the building she sought. Anything west of due south, however, was obscured by a newer looking shed--very possibly the replacement for the unserviceable one she sat in. Quickly weighing her options, Lisa found herself in the unenviable position of having to leave the relative safety of the shack for a better view of the area.
With a quick glance at the angel curled up in her sleeping bag, she deftly slipped out the door an into approaching night. Mentally--and almost physically--patting herself on the back for her ninja-like departure from the rickety old building, Lisa began making her way around the west end of the building and toward the corrugated metal shed to the south.
Although it was only fifty feet away, for a rookie hero it seemed to be miles away. Crouched against the familiar splintered wood of her hiding spot, Lisa fought the glare of the setting sun to spy out dangers between the sheds. Her heart raced with the now familiar surge of adrenaline that accompanied sneaking through enemy territory. Her ears filtered out a distant coyote and strained to detect closer movement.
Finally, with all the confidence of a claustrophobic in a broken elevator, she darted out from hiding as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind distant m
ountains. Staying low like she had read about, her legs pumped like steel hydraulics, but felt like a rubber skyscraper in an earthquake.
Halfway across the emptiness her rationally grounded mind pointed out everything wrong with her actions.
What would happen to Eve if this insane idea ended with Lisa a prisoner? What if David was already dead? Would her parents know how sorry she was? Would they just assume she hated them so much that even the end of the world wouldn't make her relent?
The little girl in the shack would be all alone; she probably wouldn't survive the week.
Dead or not, the Soldier was currently in no position to help her, and this suicide mission probably wouldn't change that.
Her mother and father may never know how much she loved them. If they even lived.
Stumbling under the burden of past, present, and future; a strange thing happened. Lisa--known far and wide as a scared, weak, and small woman--pushed those thoughts aside and ran harder.
59
David was ushered into the room as the Prophet watched him across a conference table full of food. Smells of barbecued beef, potato salad, and corn soared through the intimate meeting space. A stately portrait of what must have been the town's founder dominated the back wall, but five days of almost nothing but trail food drew his focus to the central table.
"David," his host said, "I'm glad you accepted my dinner invitation." The big man's smile reminded the guest of an encyclopedia salesman going door to door.
"Didn't have any other plans for the night," David replied.
"Well why don't you sit down and fix yourself a plate? I've got some things to discuss with you, and I hate to talk business on an empty stomach."
Saul moved warily to the table as his host dismissed Lionel. Be nice, be nice, be nice! he ordered himself.
"Hey white-collar, if you're good I'll bring you a doggy bag on my way out." David couldn't bring himself to feel guilty over his old nature's tiny victory.
Jacobs froze, eyes skipping between the level looks of both men at the table, then left without a word.
The Prophet sighed as the doors closed behind their waiter. His black eyes held a hint of amusement as he asked, "Why do you insist on harassing that poor man?"
"Well, he hit me with the butt of his rifle, which I have to admit didn't endear him to me. But beyond that, I think he just annoys me." The Soldier quickly decided he would need to keep conversation going and buy himself some time.
"Yes, yes. Lionel can be a bit much sometimes, but he is such a fiercely loyal thing. He serves my purposes well, so I can overlook his little quirks."
"And what exactly are your purposes?"
Across the table, the Prophet spread his hands in a sorry attempt to look innocent. "It's a dangerous world. I just appreciate having people to watch out for me while my attention is elsewhere."
"By 'elsewhere' you mean your attention is on slaughtering innocent people? An entire town of them?" David struggled to control his voice as images of Santa Maria flashed through his mind.
Carefully setting down his corncob to avoid dripping on his pressed white shirt, the Prophet took his time preparing an answer. "What answer are you looking for? Should I go with the cliche 'They weren't innocent?' I can't do that, David, because we both know that they were. Sure, some of the folks in that town had abused us while we were vulnerable, but they weren't bad people. They didn't know any better. Society told them to treat us that way because we weren't people anymore, from the moment we walked through those doors into that cage. This country wanted us punished, so they made those people punish us well.
"Confinement wasn't enough. We had to pay our price in degradation, belittlement, and pain. I don't care if the judge said ten years or life-no-parole; we were all sentenced to death. They knew when--if--we got out that our lives were over. Family ashamed, unemployable, can't vote.... Need I go on? Every person they put in the system they are taking the life from; the lucky ones are the guys who get the humane injection for a quick ending."
David sat, transfixed, as the hulking man preached passionately to him. His onyx eyes seemed to radiate darkness, fighting the dim candles for control of the room.
"All I've done, all I've ever done, is level the playing field. If the guards want to play by societies rules, so will I. So I became what society wanted me to be--what they wanted all of us to be: a conscienceless, hateful, unredeemable thing. A monster. They want to think of me as subhuman? Fine. I will be subhuman. And I'll do it proudly."
Prophet took a deep breath and sat back a bit in his chair, relaxing almost imperceptibly. "You know, when men started following my lead, I was more surprised that just about anyone else. I chased the first couple off; I just wanted to be left alone and do my time. Guess I never pictured monsters running in packs.
"It wasn't until your dear friend Lionel that I saw my true calling in life. If my ideas could free the inner beast in someone as soft as that two-bit con man, there was power to them. So I let them follow me. As long as an inmate was becoming what the outside world expected him to be, I allowed him to hang around.
"When the earth itself shook to free us, I knew it was time to fulfill my destiny. I led my people out, and I returned them to the society that made them."
David was stunned by the implications. "That's it then? It was altruistic mass murder? This society may have wanted to punish us, but you can't really believe they wanted to make us worse! They knew we'd get out eventually, why would they want monsters returning in our place?"
Prophet leaned forward as a slow smile crept over his face, and Saul knew this was exactly the question he was supposed to ask. He had the distinct impression that he was playing into the charismatic leader's ideal recruitment session.
"Why, David? Because they're human. A race that has been bent on it's own destruction since it's inception. The earliest human bones were found murdered. Even religions based on salvation and peace prosecute wars and terrorism. Is it that far-fetched to believe people are finally turning their destructive tendencies inward?
"Suicide rates are through the roof! People don't want to live in the world they've created. They don't want to live with themselves for creating it! People actively campaign for their 'Right to Die.' Euthanasia is a birthright, right up there with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
"The best part is, it's a species-wide epidemic. It's not just a few people who want to end it, they're trying to kill off all of mankind. Human nature is supposed to ensure the propagation of the race, right? It's quite clear that those hormones are in good working order when kids start screwing each other in middle school. Then it gets worse through high school and college. I challenge you to name another species that arranges itself around the member that can mate the most while reproducing the least.
"Now look at the news. How long do you have to wait between 'parent kills child' stories? Or even more interesting, how many people vote for their right to eliminate their offspring before they're even born? Our government even offered to pay for it! Face it, no one wants humanity to survive anymore.
"That, my friend, is why they created us. We are something beyond humanity. All of the knowledge, skills, and evolution; none of those pesky little inhibitions. The human race has evolved into exactly what it wanted to be: one massive suicide bomber."
The chuckle that came from deep inside the Prophet lent credence to his non-human theory; it was far more bestial.
"Face it," he continued, "the end of the world isn't coming in a flood, or a comet, or through global warming. The end is coming through us, and we're already here."
60
Lisa had no way of telling how long she had been searching for the school, but even after her eyes adjusted to the dark, there were no obvious indications of her target. She would have to wait until Eve woke up and get directions from the little girl. It would probably cause a substantial delay--she really didn't want to try sneaking in during daylight--but that was unavoidable now.
Pausing to listen for movement in the darkness, she reflected on the confidence she felt tonight. It was as though she had reached a level of despair so deep that she snapped. In that moment, something way down inside her decided not to fail. Nothing more. Call it the human spirit, survival instinct, or divine intervention; Lisa just knew she felt true confidence and determination for the first time in her life.
Hearing nothing more than the distant shouts of obviously drunk felons, she dashed back to the old shed where her only map waited in the form of a ten-year-old girl. She stayed low in the silvery moonlight, with only her head and shoulders above the tall grass.
Lisa reached the shack without incident and took solace in the feeling of peeling paint against her back. After a few deep breaths, she turned to enter her lair--and froze.
Firelight beyond the barn in front of her revealed a bright yellow 'H' shape, surrounded by carousing convicts. A goalpost. In this part of the country, nothing screamed 'high school' like a football field. She almost laughed at the realization that her recent metamorphosis from timid to tenacious would not have occurred had she just looked to her right when she exited the shed at sundown.
Quietly slipping inside, the nurse smiled to herself as she weighed her options. Two steps later her smile faded; she was alone in the building.
"Eve?" Lisa called, unable to hide the fear in her voice. "Are you in here sweetie?"
All of the gear seemed to be present, but the bag the kid had bundled up in was an empty husk in the dim light of the moon through a grimy window. Panic fought the fledgling confidence and landed several hard knocks, spinning Lisa around as her wide eyes searched the shadowed interior.
"Eve!" Not quite shouting, she willed the force of her voice to locate her missing little friend.
With no response, panic scored a knockdown and she hit her knees, tearing through the junk scattered in dusty corners. A part of her knew that no child would bury themselves in a place like this, but the alternative was too terrifying to consider. If Eve had wandered off, she would be alone in the dark. Alone, except for several dozen sociopathic criminals who had apparently worked themselves into an alcohol fueled frenzy.
Early Release Page 10
