Ballad of Demise

by Joshua Landeros

  “I think the real question is why you brought your bodyguard.”

  “Unit 21 is still running free. Unit 121-57 will be around me at all times from now on,” Montalbán declared.

  Lawson shuddered at the logic of that. He, like Montalbán, did not take a seat on the bench. “So, spill it Redford. Why did you tell us to meet here?”

  Redford’s bigger body and smile had always given him a jovial light. This afternoon, he was flat-out glum. “I have a source that has relayed some startling news: Venloran’s had a heart attack.”

  “Dear Lord,” Lawson muttered. Montalbán couldn’t muster a word to say. His eyes spelled shock. Unit 121-57 twitched before his eyes opened. He did not turn his head in the direction of their conversation, but he listened much more intently now.

  “I assume he’s stable, but why would he not tell us? Why has an official meeting not been called?” Lawson asked.

  “It’s getting harder and harder to figure him out,” was all Redford could come up with.

  “Then maybe it’s time we consider invoking Article Five,” Montalbán suggested.

  “That’s a bit uncalled for, isn’t it?” Lawson argued.

  “Is it? The article demands a Chancellor with deteriorating physical or mental health step down. Tell me how this situation doesn’t fall under this law.”

  Redford bit his lip. “The market would fall considerably. The international trade deals would also be threatened. I’m sure Howarth would tell us it would be P.R. disaster.”

  “All of that would still happen if our Chancellor is revealed to be weak in public. Not to mention it could be worse than we know since he is trying to keep us out of the loop.”

  “I’m with Lawson on this, Montalbán. It is not time to invoke Article Five. What we can and should do is have a plan set up in case of Venloran passing relatively soon.”

  “We’ll need to do whatever it takes to avoid looking weak. Force will be the only thing the world understands. In the event of the Chancellor’s passing,” Montalbán proposed, “the entire military must be put on alert. Any sign of insurrection, whether it be here or any of our territory overseas, must be met with deadly force. Only once our position is secure can we have any policy of leniency.”

  “And any military drill or action carried out close to our borders must be seen as a viable threat. All branches would be deployed to squash the threat as possible. This includes deployment of the reserve SSF. All cyborgs, whether on leave, reserve or currently embedded in foreign territory, would be on stand by for Operation Saint-Lo.” Lawson added, “Are we in agreement?”

  Operation Saint-Lo was the UNR Cabinet’s most insidious contingency plan. In the event of the UNR being under extreme pressure, such as the losing end of total war, Saint-Lo commanded all the SSF to relentlessly tear apart every facet of a selected target nation. It was an extension of the strategic bombing of the Second World War. While ordnance was dropped on railways, factories and ports, the SSF would be tasked with exterminating all humans with fighting capability: men, women, children, anyone who could point a weapon at a UNR soldier. None would be allowed to survive. The grotesque order had never been given.

  “I am in agreement,” Montalbán confirmed.

  “I as well,” seconded Redford.

  ***

  Will followed the old woman down the dark tunnel. The floor was dirt, but the walls and ceiling were made of concrete. As they trekked onward, motion-activated lights lit when they passed. The cool flow of air told Will there was some kind of ventilation system, sparking his fascination.

  “How long have you had this place hidden away?” the cyborg inquired.

  “My husband’s granddad was a conspiracy nut. He thought the Russians were gonna unleash their nuclear fury on us and built this bunker. It went unused until things got hectic in the 2040s. We both thought the country was gearing up for a coup or a civil war. All we cared about was survival.”

  “Then Venloran was elected to power, instead.”

  “Yeah. Guess it turned out even worse than we imagined.”

  Dead ahead was a steel door with no window or knob, only a keypad on the wall next to it. Vivi put in a code and the door, several inches thick, slowly opened. She surprised Will and allowed him to enter first. Once inside, he was met with bright fluorescent lights and a chamber the size of a living room.

  “Big as the typical one-story track home, though not quite as roomy I reckon,” Vivi said with pride.

  There was a section of the wall covered in telescreens. Their feeds automatically switched on and told Will there were cameras all around the truck stop. There were also images from a home he didn’t recognize. Of course, this is all under her place of business, not her personal residence.

  In place of traditional plaster walls, the space had walls of dense metal. The room itself got narrower and narrower as one neared the next door. Will realized any enemy who made it this far and tried to advance would be walking into a bottleneck.

  “Am I right to assume in the next room there are number of sealable peepholes that see into this one?”

  “Yup. It’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “I see. You have quite the Maginot Line.”

  Vivi looked at him quizzically. “Thank you, I think. The toys are past this point.”

  This door had a keyhole and she retrieved the appropriate one from her pocket. More lights came on with their arrival, giving Will pause.

  Her munitions room was circular in shape, including three more doors. It was the size of a typical garage. The cyborg’s focus on was the collection of well over a hundred firearms. They were on tables and shelves, newer models and outdated ones alike. Will was stunned to see a 1959 M14 rifle, the gun that had replaced the M1 Garand after the Allies won.

  “This room here on the left,” Vivi pointed, “is for storage and the generator. I got DVDs, board games, and enough MREs to last a decade. Other one on the right is the bathroom facilities. I know you don’t shit but you could use a shower, son.”

  Will had completely forgotten about cleaning himself and felt embarrassed of all things. In a rush to move on, he pointed at the door in the middle of the room, farthest from them. “And that one?”

  “See, in here is a few generations of legally bought firearms, spare one or two. In there is the stuff from an old friend of mine. Not the type of stuff you can just buy from anyone. And be careful if you decide to go in there. Last thing I need is my place going up in a blaze thanks to you.”

  “Got it.” Will thought he’d be entranced more with the firearms, but he stared back to the sky-blue door to his left. The one Vivi had called the ‘storage room’ and the only door with color besides silver. He was trying to articulate what DVDs and board games were when he noticed the old woman was staring at the door as well. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

  “I haven’t been down here in a while.”

  “Did your husband serve with Halsey back then?”

  “No. By summer of ’44, the National Medical Board decided Russel was no longer worth the money.”

  “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Don’t go feelin’ sorry for me. Got enough of that from every friend and family member back then. All of them worried about ‘the old lady.’ No amount of pity from them lifted me from the dark and I don’t expect it to be any different with you. All I can say is don’t let that hurt rot you from the inside out.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Your wife said you were the bookish type. Never stop asking yourself questions. The minute you stop critiquing yourself, you’ll become blind to the reality of things.”

  Will watched as she turned to leave and he returned to his work. Enough questions. Thinking on how the Crimson Angels and all the rest had failed before him, he saw clearly what they had not. Perhaps what they refused to see. True victory will come only one way: the application of force.

  ***

  Willow Bay Ca
mpground, Pennsylvania

  As the sunlight died down, all three tents and all belongings in them found their way into three packs. Patrick was astounded it all fit, far beyond the amateurish level of campers he and Tyler had considered themselves to be. You just carry the sleeping bags and food. I’ll lug the heavy shit Tyler would always offer. Tonight, Patrick would not allow that. In his pack, he had pans and loads of food, originally to be Jonah’s pack. Now the teenager only had to carry the sleeping bags and blankets, and little Robbie was left with nothing. Both thanked Patrick, but all fell silent as Duncan came back from taking a whizz behind a tree. He joined them at the dying fire, everyone else on their haunches.

  “Okay, gang,” he said before dropping down to their level, “let’s get down to it. Jonah, if you could, please.”

  Jonah nodded and pulled out his phone, holding it flat on his hand. “Megumi, Willow Bay Campground to Carrollton, New York.”

  “Excellent choice. Here goes your route.”

  From the screen came a beam of light, which then expanded into a flat hologram image of a map. The image wasn’t just a plain old map either, but a satellite image that displayed an aerial view of millions of trees as well as cities and highways. Patrick’s eyes went to the Rock City State Forest up the Allegheny River.

  “Distance: twenty-eight miles. ETA: two hours. Magnification change?”

  “No, Megumi, this is fine. Thank you,” Jonah insisted.

  “Douitashimashite,” the phone replied in return.

  At the origin point, a red dot appeared and from it came a bright red arrow that raced across the map all the way to the other end. When it got there, there was a loud chime. Patrick took note of highways and several towns on the way to Carrolton. It would’ve taken me days on foot, he admitted.

  “Okay, we live here,” said Duncan, pointing at Bradford. It was a city at roughly the midpoint of the route, but still a good way from Carrollton. “And how is the traffic?”

  “Only mild traffic up to the 346, but gridlock at the 219 with no signs of letting up,” Megumi reported.

  “What for?” asked Robbie.

  “The International Summit. It doesn’t officially begin for almost four hours, but I imagine everyone in the country is dying to get pictures of the event and the UN building itself,” Patrick rationalized.

  “I’ve never seen it open before,” added Jonah.

  “Focus, guys,” commanded Duncan. “We need a different strategy. I told your mother we’d be home a little late because we’re eating right now, but going to and from Carrollton is bound to get her to start asking questions. It takes too much time.”

  Patrick felt terribly inadequate. He knew his home state of Iowa pretty well. He could name the best parks and malls, but outside of that territory might as well have been a foreign country. Halsey was right. I really should’ve traveled more.

  “The train station in Bradford can take you there!” Jonah blurted out.

  “Oh, shit,” remarked Duncan, piecing it together himself, “I think that can work.”

  “Only one way to be sure. Megumi, show me the Bradford Train Station departure times, please.”

  “Of course, searching.”

  A 3-D image of an hour glass appeared over the map. Robbie was fixated on the clarity of the image, looking very much like real grains of sand. Duncan, however, had other things on his mind.

  “For the life of me, I will never understand why he ask a machine ‘please,’” he commented.

  “Just be thankful he likes being outdoors,” Patrick answered.

  The image of the hourglass shattered, the sand vanishing as it spread away from the its former container.

  “Here are tonight’s departure times, complete with prices. Lowest prices could not be obtained due to last minute purchase time.”

  “Awesome, Megumi!”

  “Every half hour until midnight,” said Patrick as a long column of numbers appeared, beside them prices, “but I don’t remember the tickets being so damn expensive, last minute or not. At least in Iowa.”

  “Probably because no one wants to go to Iowa,” Robbie said with dead seriousness. Everyone laughed, a nice break in the midst of their planning. It subsided shortly, and Jonah turned off the hologram. The only light now was from the nearly extinguished fire. Instead of the bright white light so abundant only a second ago, there was only a soft yellow one reflected on all their faces.

  “So, we have our plan. Everybody, please, excuse me for a moment,” Duncan said before he stood. He whipped out his phone and went to the speed dial. He held his finger over the number one on the screen, hesitating. Patrick noticed the man lost the determined look he’d had on his face the past few hours. He was frightened now, there was so mistaking it. With a final nervous exhale, he clicked the phone and put it up to his ear.

  “Hey, honey, just checkin’ in,” he said in a sweet manner. “Oh, the food was great. Shelly’s hasn’t changed a bit. I’ll bring you home some of that cheesecake you like if you want. Oh, worried about them damn calories again, huh? Okay, I’ll pass you on over.”

  Duncan handed the phone to Jonah first. He gave him no threatening glare. His face was easy enough to read: please, please.

  “Hey, Mom. No, I did not pick on Robbie the whole trip. It was nice, we found some deer tracks but no actual deer. I know how much you wanted a picture of one, but I got some studying done. Thanks, Mom, love you, too.”

  Jonah passed the phone over to Robbie. His older brother did as his father had done, saying nothing and only giving him a piercing stare. Watching it all, Patrick felt a strange tension. He couldn’t place it either, but it wasn’t going away.

  “Hi, Mommy. Yeah, I had lots of fun. Yeah, I’m really tired. I miss my bed. I know, I know, I have a lot of reading to get done tomorrow. Okay, Mommy, can’t wait to see you, too. I love you.”

  He handed the phone back to his father, and Duncan put it to his ear again.

  “Okay, we’ll be back soon. I can’t wait to show you the pictures. All right, love you too, babe. Bye.”

  Duncan put the phone back in his pocket. He wore the expression of a man who’d just murdered someone and hid the body.

  “Let’s start heading back to the truck,” he said.

  “Right,” Patrick replied. Using a shovel, he piled on dirt to the remains of the fire. With their bags ready to go, they set out. They walked along a trail in the forest, no lamps or signs to guide them. Duncan led the way with Patrick in the rear. The father had promised it was a short hike, but that wasn’t what bothered Patrick. Shortly after departing the campsite, he’d figured out what was eating away at him: thoughts of his own family. Mom and Dad.

  He’d never told them he’d quit the UNR Airforce and never sent so much as a letter, text or email regarding what he’d decided to do with his life. If you tell them, there’s a good chance they’ll notify the authorities out of concern for you, Dr. Neeson had warned, and having the PSID hot on your trail from the start would be bad for all of us. Patrick assumed the first they’d heard of it was after April’s events. Their reactions are what drove him mad.

  He could see it now: Mom balling her eyes out, Dad holding her and not knowing what to say. He knew exactly what his mother would say too, We’ve lost both our baby boys, Peter! How could we let this happen?! He could hear the frantic sobbing as if it were a memory and not his own imagination torturing him. Patrick had had to endure months of her going on about how she’d lost ‘one of their babies’ after Tyler’s death. He now felt the one thing he’d never felt since joining up with the Neesons to fight with them in their crusade: shame.

  ***

  Union City, New Jersey- The Howard Johnson North Bergen Hotel

  Mari stepped out of the shower. Because she’d went with a cold shower, there was no steam on the mirror. She’d needed it to center herself for this night. Oddly enough, she’d rarely taken the time to look at her body without the armor and coat on. Normally a shower was a simple exercis
e: taker her uniform off, get in and get clean, and then dry and put on her uniform again, usually all in under a minute. Little things changed like mild alterations in her clothing and her ever growing hair, but the coat and armor had always been there as constants. She’d had them since 2045, a whole twenty years of service.

  Staring at her nude form in the mirror, Mari saw the scars from her latest task taken on for the UNR. The burns on her arm needed to be bandaged again, and there was a long scar left behind by Alex’s incision during the repair surgery. For her victories and endless labor, she’d been rewarded with betrayal and pain. It had been her enemies who had spared her. Her enemies who’d given her a chance. They even treated my wounds. She peered down at her grazed knuckles, the latest of her injuries. With all the damage to my body, would a man like Alexander still find any beauty to behold? Mari quickly abandoned the line of thought, but she had neatly folded her old clothes and left them on the countertop.

  They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Time to try something different.

  Mari put on her new undergarments from the shopping bag on the floor, all courtesy of her helper. Over her shirt, she put on her neoartium-Kevlar armor, the material readjusting to her slim form. It was the only thing she kept. Instead of her overcoat, she now wore a Hunter College hoodie and in place of her stitched together pants she now wore jeans. Her socks were still red, but her boots were replaced by Black converse shoes. Just like the ones I had years ago.

  The last thing was Carson’s bandana, and she once again used it to cover her useless eye.

  Mari finally exited the bathroom, her old clothing now in the trash. She felt unsure of her footing in the new shoes, and she sat on the edge of the hotel bed. On the telescreen was the only thing being covered by UNR stations: The International Summit. There was no channel that wasn’t covering the event. And whada you know? There was currently a reporter interviewing the AEF Secretary General. She recognized the reporter as Steve Oswald.