COLLECTIVE PRIME
A loud clang woke Kyle. Groggy, he slowly opened his eyes and looked around but saw nothing. Shuffling feet stirred his curiosity. He sat up and to his surprise saw it was Portia being escorted down the walkway. He got to his feet and briskly walked to the end of his cell. “Are you okay?” he asked, his arm dangling between the bars hoping to touch her.
She took his hand in hers and said, “I’m fine. I’m so happy to see you. I was told you were dead.”
“Move along,” a guard barked and shoved her.
“You hurt her, I’ll…”
“You won’t do anything Driver Eight, just shut up and sit down,” the guard mocked taking Portia by the arm and placing her in the cell next to Kyle.
When the guard disappeared, Kyle called out, “Portia, are you there?”
“Yes.”
Six inches of reinforced concrete separated them. Though they couldn’t see the other, they could hear.
“Kyle, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out,” he answered.
“I’m so sorry, I got you wrapped up in this. It’s all my fault,” she moaned.
“Stop it, this has nothing to do with you. These was a scheme by Barry to take control of The Collective.”
“Is it true Number One is dead?”
“Yes.”
“And is it true you killed him?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I wish I could see your face and hold your hand,” she complained.
“The fault is mine, if I hadn’t been on the road all the time, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said.
“No, it’s my fault,” she countered.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. We’re in this situation, but I’ll figure something out,” Kyle said hoping he could find a way to reassure. While he gave her hope and an optimistic appraisal, deep down he knew their situation was almost untenable.
“He told me you had been killed. Why would he do that?” she asked.
“Because that’s what his plan had been. He wanted me dead so he could have you, that’s how simple this is. One man’s desire for another man’s wife has set off a chain of events that finds us behind bars and…” he said then stopped from finishing his thought.
“Are we going to die?” she asked.
“No, I will find a way,” he replied.
She wanted to believe him but just couldn’t put all her feelings into that prospect.
They sat and talked for what felt like hours. Though he reassured her, he talked in ways to let her know how he felt just in case there was no way out of their situation.
“Do you remember when I slipped on our wedding day?” she asked.
“Do I? I felt so bad for you. I’ll say this, you were the most beautiful bride that I’ve ever seen, falling or not,” he replied.
She paused, her thoughts went to the one question she’d never gotten him to answer. If there was a time to answer fully, it was now. “Who was Tiffany?”
He sighed. Thinking of how to answer he attempted to blow it off. “Now isn’t the time to talk about that.”
“Actually, there’s never been a better time,” Portia fired back.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I do.”
“Why?”
“I know you love me, but sometimes I feel I wasn’t or maybe even was never your true love. On the night we were married, just after you fell asleep you had a terrible dream. You were thrashing and calling out her name.”
“I told you before, I knew her before the war.”
“Did something happen to her?”
Thoughts of that day came rushing back. He could see her smiling face punctuated with those deep dimples on both cheeks. Her green eyes with the yellow specs and that auburn silky hair she often had pulled into a long pony tail.
“Kyle, are you there?” Portia asked.
Her question jolted him from his daydream. “Yeah.”
“Did something happen to her?” she asked again but this time more delicately.
Sensing Portia was not going to take no for an answer, he said, “Yes.”
“What?”
“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I need to know. I feel like she’s been a part of our marriage.”
Giving in fully he said, “Five weeks after the war I discovered a radio broadcast coming from a military base, Cheyenne Mountain. It was a recording that repeated over and over. It said to come to a specific set of coordinates for aid. We were low on food and fearful that bandits operating close by would come to the camp. With no weapons at all to defend against such an attack and with the prospect of me finding more food, it seemed like the best, let me rephrase that, only option we had. So, we loaded all the kids on bus. I was in a pickup truck with another counselor. After several hours on the road I started to get drowsy. It was suggested we switch drivers so we did. Not minutes after we got back on the road were we attacked. The woman with me was killed, shot through the windshield. The truck turned hard and started to roll, I was thrown from the truck. Next thing I know I wake up. I’m not sure how long I’d been out, but I was badly hurt. I look and see the bus and Tiffany on the ground, she look terrified but still she showed a strength and resilience I haven’t seen before. She signaled for me to stay down. Seconds later the bus moves and I never see her again.”
“I’m sorry,” Portia said.
“I passed out again and when I woke up next I was being put into a van. The rest is written in the annals of The Collective.”
“Is she why you became a driver?”
“Can we please stop talking about this?”
“No. I need to know.”
“I’ve held a tremendous amount of regret since that day. I was helpless to stop what happened and to be honest it does haunt me. I have nightmares about what happened to her, to all of them, especially the children.”
“So you became a driver with hopes that you’d find her.”
“It’s not like that,” he countered.
“I know you love me, Kyle; but I sometimes think you’re not in love with me. That you have that special kind of love reserved for Tiffany. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s shame, I don’t know but it forces you onto the road, driving mile after mile in hopes you will find her.”
“I never got closure. One minute she’s there, the next gone forever. I just wasn’t ready to let her go,” he confessed.
She put her arm out of through the cell bars and said, “Take my hand.”
“What?”
“Take my hand, put your arm through and try to take my hand,” she said.
He did as she said. When their hands met, she slipped her slender fingers into his rough and callused hand. “I love you and I’m in love with you, Portia Grant. You’re so precious. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Sorry it took so long.”
“You’re a good man. A true romantic. Promise me if we get out of this and I somehow disappear that you’ll never stop looking for me.”
He squeezed her hand and said, “I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he replied.
CHAPTER 5
COLLECTIVE PRIME
The entrance to the prison cells opened with a loud clang and jolted Kyle awake. He looked out between the metal bars and saw he and Portia were still holding hands. “Portia,” he whispered.
Silence.
The sound of hard soles shoes clapping on the tile floor echoed down the walkway.
“Portia, wake up, someone is coming,” he said tugging at her hand.
“Huh?” she asked, her voice groggy.
“Someone is coming.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. With no outside windows I can’t figure if we’ve been asleep for an hour or ten,” he answered.
The
footfalls grew closer.
“Is there anything you can use as a weapon over there?”
“I looked already, there’s nothing,” she replied.
“Wake up little love birds,” a familiar voice called out.
“It’s Barry,” Kyle said.
Barry approached Kyle’s cell and looked in. “Good morning Driver Eight, did you sleep well?”
“I thought we had a deal,” Kyle said.
“We did, but when I saw you standing there, I decided to renegotiate.”
“This is for how I treated you, isn’t it?” Kyle asked.
“To be honest, yes. I won’t lie, I need tough and obedient men like you on the road driving for me, especially after the changes I’m going to be making. The Collective is now under new leadership and with that comes a new vision.”
“What did you say the other night? I’m replaceable?”
“I did say that. I also said, I was going to dance on your grave and fuck your wife.”
Kyle clenched his jaw and growled, “When I escape, I will cut you to pieces.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You my friend have a gathering to go to then promptly after that, there’s a big beautiful tree waiting for you.”
“I’m going to kill you slowly,” Kyle threatened.
Barry began to laugh, he gave Portia a look and asked, “Say goodbye to your husband.”
“Go to hell,” she snapped.
“Guards!” Barry hollered.
A minute later four guards appeared. The lead guard stepped forward and said, “At your service, Number One.”
“Has the truck departed yet?” Barry asked the lead guard.”
“No.”
“Good. Take her to the processing center. I want her on that truck. She’ll fetch a decent amount at the auction.”
“Yes sir, the lead guard said walking up to her cell and unlocking it.
“Don’t take her, no, don’t do this,” Kyle pleaded.
“Too late, I already have a buyer in mind for her,” Barry said.
“You don’t want to kill me. You can still use me, let me be your instrument that keeps this place in line. If you save her life and mine, I will forever be indebted. I will owe you my life and gladly give it in service for the rest of my days.”
The offer was intriguing to Barry. He paced for a few minutes, his thoughts bouncing all around in his head. He stepped to just outside of Kyle’s reach and said, “It’s tempting, but I have to decline.”
The guards moved into her cell and apprehended her without much of a fight.
“Resist!” Kyle exclaimed.
As she passed in front of him, she looked into his eyes and said, “I love you.”
Not allowing her to leave without speaking his feelings, he replied, “I love you too, and I’ll search for you until my dying breath.”
Portia and the guards disappeared around the corner.
Barry snapped his fingers. Four guards, all armed with taser batons stepped forward. “Take him to the forum, it’s time for justice to be served.”
***
Kyle lay on his side in the back of a van. His body ached and throbbed from the beating he just received in the jail cell. There was no amount of physical pain that could take away the emotional anguish he was feeling. Portia was being sold into slavery and once she was gone, finding her would be almost impossible.
The van came to a stop. The rear doors opened washing him in the sun’s bright rays.
"The sun is out, that's a good luck sign for our new leader," a guard said. He reached for him but was met with the sole of Kyle’s boot. The guard reeled backwards. Three other guards swept in with taser batons and began to strike him all over. The electrical charges were too much for Kyle to take, the core of his body went rigid while his extremities twitched. With him unable to fight back, the guards dragged him out by his legs, letting his head hit the bumper and allowing his body to fall to the hard surface. They laughed when he grunted in pain.
The guard who Kyle had kicked walked up and kicked him in the ribs. “Take that asshole.”
Kyle groaned.
A man by the name of Cisco appeared on the loading dock. He was Barry’s new right hand person and would serve as his personal aide. He hollered, “Stop playing with him and get him inside, take him stage left. Hold him there until we call for him to be brought out.”
The guards all took one more swipe at Kyle before picking him up and dragging him inside.
***
The forum filled up fast with many sad faces. The news of Number One’s death was announced earlier via calls and loud speaker. However, how he died had not been released, Barry wanted to shock the residents of The Collective and when he brought out Drive Eight it would most certainly do that.
Barry stood on the side of the stage reading a prepared statement he’d drafted. Today would be his first time addressing The Collective. He was nervous but also very excited to showcase his style of leadership.
Cisco stepped up beside him. “Three minutes to go. You ready?”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll go on and introduce you,” Cisco said before stepping away.
“No, don’t. My father did that. It’s so corny, tired and well, stupid.”
“Then what, Cisco asked.
“I’ll just walk out, no music, no pomp.”
“If you say so,” Cisco said stepping back.
Barry read over his speech one more time, gave Cisco a wink and headed out. As he walked to the podium many in the audience could be heard talking while otehrs cried. He reached the podium and tapped on the microphone. “Good morning residents!” He laid his speech out before him and looked at it briefly.
The crowd drew still and silent.
Suddenly and rashly he decided to not use it, “I come before you as the new Number One. My father was a great man, a leader. He carved out this great society from the rubble of the past world. He gave us laws to live by and a renewed purpose that the needs of the many outweigh the news of the individual. This couldn’t be truer than now. Like me, many of you feel a deep sense of loss. We lost the father of our society. He was taken too early but as his successor, I will continue his great work.”
Many began to clap.
Barry looked out and what nervousness he had felt was now gone. “I pledge to you that what he and you created we will continue and make greater. While we will miss him, let us not forget the words he gave us,” Barry said just as the screen behind him began to project quotes from Xavier.
Sounds of people openly crying and whimpering came from the crowd.
“I promise, I pledge to you that our greatest days are ahead of us, not behind us. We shall go forward proud to have known him and do our best to make him proud of us.”
The crowd cheered the uplifting words.
Barry never imagined himself as a speaker but he now felt he had a knack for it.
When the crowd settled down, Barry continued, “Now we must turn to what happened. This will be hard for many of you to process but our great leader was murdered.”
Boos and jeers rang out in the great forum.
“Yes, murdered, and this horrendous act was committed by a son of The Collective, someone we trusted but more importantly, someone my father trusted, someone whose life he saved. This act wasn’t done by one of those deplorable types who resist the good work we do, no but by someone we all hold dear.”
“Name the traitor!” a man boomed from the crowd.
“Bring the murderer out!” another cried out.
“Yeah, bring them out!” voiced another.
Barry waited for the crowd to simmer down before proceeding. “The individual. Yes, I used that word because they are that and so much more, the individual is Driver Eight,” Barry said and looked in the direction of stage left.
The crowd went wild. Hissing and boos echoed across the great walls of the forum.
A light beamed down on Driver Eight being dragged out
across the stage.
Upon seeing him, the crowd grew louder.
Kyle was dropped to the floor. He looked up and saw the angry masses. If Barry wanted to truly be cruel to him, he’d only need to throw him into the middle of the crowd and watch as they pulled his limbs from his torso.
“Let me share a story,” Barry said and repeated the tale of how he and his father had found Kyle on the road. When he finished he looked at Kyle and said, “And this is how he thanked us.” The screen turned on behind them showing footage from Number One’s office. Taken from a side angle, it showed, Xavier on the right and Barry on the opposite side of the desk. There was no sound to accompany the video but by the gestures of the two, it looked as if the two were discussing something. Without notice in comes Kyle from the left holding a pistol. Seeing this the crowd in the forum gasped and a few booed. All eyes watched as the pistol went off and Xavier’s head exploded.
“That’s enough, turn it off, turn it off!” Barry hollered.
The screen went dark.
A mix of emotions rang out from the crowd.
“This man, this individual decided to snuff out the life of our leader and for what? To save the life of his wife who had committed a crime. Yes, let it be known that the very next day after my father chooses Teacher Seven for recognition, she attempts to kidnap a contaminated child in processing. She put the entire Collective at risk. My father was about to impose sentence when this madman barges into the executive residence and murders him in cold blood.”
Hissing and jeers sound from the crowd.
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