by Lars Teeney
“Your collective purpose now is for removal and renewal. Let me tell you a story about the government of New Megiddo. Once upon a time it was a democratic government that presided over the United States of America. If you have ever done ‘Database’ like Ravine here you’d have seen newscasts from the Old World. Through fear of terrorist attacks, endless war, and tearing down the barrier of church and state, the old democracy was subverted. The Schrubb administration retained power through various maneuvers. Schrubb became the de facto dictator. Hell, that old bag of bones is still alive, at the expense of the masses,” ‘Sam’ recounted, then paused. The room digested what he had to say.
“The Regime uses religion for control, but the ruling class is perverse—corrupt and immoral. I should know, I was raised within it, and I continue to be a part of it. This is why I am working to bring it down,” ‘Sam’ concluded.
“You seem like a capable motherfucker with connections. Why don’t you do it yourself instead of subjugating all of us?” Gale-Whirlwind inquired with some rage.
“They know me well. I wouldn’t get very far. All of you are needed because you are an unknown quantity,” ‘Sam’ answered, paused for time, and then added, “At any rate, as bad as the Regime is, their Ministry of State Security secret police are the real threat. L.O.V.E. continues to terrorize the populace to keep order. Inquisitor Rodrigo is a mystery. I have nothing on the man—but make no mistake, he is probably the worst in the Regime. We can’t let them slaughter you all there. Expect to hear from me soon to end their presence in this region.” ‘Sam’ paused to take a breath.
“I think you all are aware that this year is a special one for the Regime. The B.A.G. is this year. But, there’s something wrong. The Reverend Wilhelm is talking like the Second Coming is upon us. Also, the Schrubbs are planning something big. We will be making preparations in the next few weeks to make our move. I will fill you all in when the time is right...One last matter. I am intentionally being vague about my plans. It seems that we have been infiltrated by the regime, so be careful. With this, I must disconnect. Hades-Perdition has further details about immediate plans. Good day all.” ‘Sam’ terminated the communication. All was silent in the infirmary.
Almost instantly the rest of the Apostates knew what was next. There would be a reckoning, so they all filed out of the infirmary until only one solitary figure was left standing: Ravine. He stood silent for a few empty minutes. He looked intently at Gale who was turned away from him. After a moment of awkward silence, Ravine tried to speak.
“You don’t need to say anything. You can’t say anything to make this okay,” she preemptively jabbed, “I may have been forcedly resurrected, and made to exist in the same space as you, but as far as I’m concerned nothing has changed. We’re both dead, and you’re dead to me.”
“Greta, just listen to me. What did you expect me to do? After what happened back then, I had no other choice,” he tried to explain.
“That is not my name. I’m dead, remember? Please leave,” she dismissed him.
“Fine. Play it this way. Sooner or later we’ll have to speak of what happened.” Ravine reluctantly opened the large metal hatch and sealed it behind him and slowly walked through the cold, metal corridor.
Gale sat upright staring blankly at the wall. She thought how she could easily break the glass of a medicine cabinet, take a shard and finish the job she started. She thought about how she could consume a bottle of pills or utilize a scalpel. But, then she considered how suicide didn’t work the first time around. Gale hypothesized that she was cursed to life—that nothing would break it.
She had thought about what Marco, now Ravine, did before he took his own life. There would be no forgiveness. Part of her hated him and wanted him dead, but she couldn’t deny that nagging feeling that she still loved him, after all he had done.
Gale wondered what kind of freak show she was forced to join. She contemplated what kind of people they were. It was obvious that they all once were criminals, but she pondered what they were actually capable of. She shared the infirmary with another patient who had been a rapist, according to ‘Sam’. Surely, she thought, that he still had those urges from time to time. Aside from his wound, what would stop him from coming into her room and having his way with her? Gale remembered that ‘Sam’ had mentioned something about enhancing her body’s capabilities through hacking her neural implant. She wondered what she was capable of and what she could do to Lore-Fiction if he tried to assault her.
“I’d probably rip his balls off with my bionic arms.” She amused herself with the thought. Gale considered that maybe with all these new abilities that it not might be so bad to contribute to the effort to overthrow the Regime. After all, she did take her own life because she did not want to live in the reality that the Regime had created. Only now she just might be in a position to actively oppose the Regime. That was a tempting thought.
Gale also contemplated what would happen to her if they failed. At best she would die a quick death. At the worst she would be captured alive by L.O.V.E. and tortured in some new and creative way. This was not an attractive prospect. Would she be in a position where she’d have to choose between death and capture? Was she cursed to commit suicide again?
The permutations were numerous. All this neurotic thought had exhausted her. She thought about going to sleep. She willed herself to stop thinking about all the negativity. Her mind shut down and she drifted back to the darkness that she had awoken from.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Ravine-Gulch sat at the cantina bar with a glass of recently distilled bourbon and a stein of beer. He had a round of drinks previously. He stared at the carbonation bubbles breaking off from the bottom of the stein, that pushed their way up through the golden liquid to settle in the head of the beer. He took a swig of bourbon and chased it with beer.
Ravine reflected upon his life. He thought about the patterns that formed throughout his time on Earth. He realized that numerous times he had been handed opportunities and through no fault of his own they evaporated in front of him, with no option except to start over from scratch. As a young man in his late teens, he apprenticed to be a tattoo artist, but not long after the Reverend Wilhelm decreed that tattoos were false idols and were banned by the Church. Ravine’s dream was effectively shattered. He had secured a job at a Regime trade hub warehouse in Santa Rosa. Ravine had to keep his body covered because of his tattoos.
Ravine thought about how he got involved with ‘Database’ dealing game. He became a very successful mid-level dealer. He had been making too much money for any citizen of his status and he had to find inventive ways to hide his New Megiddo Tithes. It was around this time that he met Greta Sanchez. It was ironic that she was a Regime community peace officer—a low-level official. Greta helped him devise ways to skirt the law and conceal his earnings. It was a profitable partnership. But like all things in his life it was not built to last. Eventually, the success went to his head, and he started to get high on his own supply. He became an addict and their dealing business suffered. Ravine incurred debt from his supplier and he had to hide out. Greta covered his tracks as best she could with her meager power, but the burden and stress overtook her.
It all resulted in ‘that incident’: the reason why he broke down—the reason why he took his own life. He recognized the burden that he had become. Ravine felt useless and so he had made the decision to overdose on ‘Base’. Ravine had justified it that he would no longer be a burden to Greta. Ravine thought he had done her a favor. Obviously after today Greta, now Gale, did not feel the same way.
Ravine thought about how he could drink himself to death, or how he could leave the Mothball Fleet, head to the city and overdose on ‘Base’—do it right this time. He also thought about how ‘Sam’ probably already predicted what he was thinking and would take measures against him leaving. There were no good options it seemed. He felt useless once more. Although he could not understand why ‘Sam’ had given him that sp
ecial case of ‘Base’—to test his resolve? Ravine thought that ‘Sam’ was a genius: recruit broken individuals, with past lives they could not return to, keep toese people trapped with no other options but to train, then harness and funnel their rage toward one outlet. Ravine figured that if this was his only outlet he might as well throw himself into it and enjoy the work. He resolved he’d start tomorrow. Today was a day to drink himself numb.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
The armory was well kept. All the firearms contained within were organized by type and caliber. Hades-Perdition remembered a time in his life when it did not revolve around firearms. In a different time he belonged to a medieval fencing club. The activities the New Megiddo Regime did tolerate when it came to keeping Old World traditions alive were those that related to combat and martial arts. The Regime deduced that a highly trained population with little outlet would be forced to join up with the armed forces or L.O.V.E.
Hades-Perdition became a medieval fencing master as a teenager in the local fencing school he attended. His mentor at the school had been a descendant of Scottish immigrants. It was said that his family had been Highlanders and that later they had served in the Blackwatch under the British Empire. The family Claymore had been passed down through the generations to him. One day his mentor had disappeared and left a note bequeithing the family Claymore to Hades. He had been carrying the sword ever since that day.
As time passed and Hades-Perdition had become destitute—he had looked for ways that he could utilize his talent. In the economy of New Megiddo, there was not much use for a medieval European fencing master’s services. He traveled around the Great Lake region looking for opportunity, but none was to be had. The note his mentor had left him suggested he join the L.O.V.E. Rangers to put his martial prowess to good use and finally he broke down and enlisted. As a year turned to a couple and he had served with distinction. He had become a L.O.V.E.R. This was the most prestigious and elite outfit in the organization. Hades-Perdition was trained in marksmanship, and his interaction was firearms had begun.
All this history had flooded back to him, in that moment, standing in the armory, staring at the weapons. Hades-Perdition selected an M82, fifty-caliber anti-material rifle from the rack. He checked the chamber and set it on the counter. He opened up his pack, threw in multiple loaded magazines, then pulled the drawstring tight. Hades-Perdition was preparing for the operation against L.O.V.E. that ‘Sam’ had mentioned during his call. Hades-Perdition was to conduct reconnaissance scouting to locate L.O.V.E’s position and to estimate the size of their force. He pondered whether to carry out this mission alone or to bring Gale-Whirlwind and determine how capable she was. He decided he would check on her in the infirmary.
Hades-Perdition picked up all the supplies he needed and secured the armory door with a hydraulic lock mechanism. He made his way to the infirmary. Inside he found Gale laying in the same bed. Gale looked over her shoulder as she heard the sound of the door close. She saw that it was Hades.
“Oh, hello. I thought you might have been Ravine or whatever the hell you call him these days,” Gale said, as she groaned slightly at the strain of speaking while pulling herself upright.
“How are you feeling?” Hades-Perdition asked.
“I feel better. I feel almost normal. Except for being a prisoner here and having my identity stolen. How long will you keep me locked up in here?” She inquired.
“Do you think you’d be steady on your feet?” Hades-Perdition asked.
“I think so. Why? Are you going to let me out in the yard to run some laps?” She jabbed sarcastically while stretching.
“I’ll level with you. You aren’t exactly free, but I could use you in the field. If you’re going to be part of this outfit, you might as well find out what we do,” Hades-Perdition suggested as he place a duffel bag in front of her at the foot of the bed. He loosened the drawstring an pulled out a scoped, automatic rifle—matte black in color.
“I assume you know how to use guns,” Hades-Perdition probed.
“I used a side arm as a community peace officer,” Gale-Whirlwind answered.
“Good enough. That coupled with the fact that your neural implant has uploaded weapon knowledge to your brain will make you sufficient enough for this operation,” Hades concluded.
“I’m in. I could definitely use the change of scenery,” she said.
“Alright. I’ll leave you to get ready. Don’t forget this weapon and ammunition.” He gestured to the rifle. Hades-Perdition snatched up his pack and left the room.
Gale stared at the weapon. She studied its contours and texture. Gale felt the pent up anger and confusion coursing through her. She considered the last forty-eight hours and how it had changed her life, and the options she had in front of her. Gale decided that this mission would be cathartic because she suddenly felt the urge to shoot something.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Ravine was slumped over the bar, half passed out. It was just before noon and he was drunk like it was late at night. His head shot up from the bar and he rubbed his face, pushed his hand back through his hair, then checked the empty glass for residual liquid. None was to be had. He turned his stool to look around the cantina. Ravine got off his stool and swayed while he walked and exited the bulkhead into the adjoining metal corridor. He nearly collided into Hades-Perdition. Hades-Perdition sidestepped and Ravine fell to one knee. He looked up at Hades-Perdition and noticed he was accompanied by Gale-Whirlwind. He supported himself against the riveted metal wall and pulled himself to his feet.
“Sor—Sorry ‘bout that...Are you going on a mission?” He asked, breath wreaking of bourbon and beer.
“Yes. We’ll catch you later,” Hades-Perdition said dismissively.
Ravine stood in the middle of the corridor, blocking their route forward. “I could help, guys. Just lemme get my gear. I’ll kill a motherfucker,” Ravine blurted clumsily, making a gun gesture with his pointer finger.
“You’re drunk Ravine. Get some rest. You should sit this one out,” Hades-Perdition suggested, putting a hand on Ravine’s shoulder.
“Nah, man. I can handle it. Come on Gale—let’s do this. We can be partners again!” Ravine, shouted excitedly, stumbling toward her.
“No! I told you to stay the fuck away from me,” Gale yelled defiantly.
Hades-Perdition grabbed Ravine from behind and put him in a chokehold, “I said, take a load off. You ain’t coming with us this time. And let the lady be. Do we understand each other?”
“Get—get your fucking hands off me! Faggot!” Ravine yelled, with a face flushed red. Hades-Perdition released his arm from around Ravine’s neck without warning and let him fall to the floor.
“You ain’t coming. Sober up, and if you call me that again—” He didn’t need to finish his threat, Ravine knew what Hades-Perdition was capable of.
Ravine picked himself up off the floor and sat up against the wall, gasping for air. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. The two stepped over his legs and proceeded down the rustic corridor. Ravine buried his head in his arms supported by his knees. He passed out where he sat, later to be scooped up by personnel and brought back to his quarters to sober up.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Hades-Perdition and Gale-Whirlwind had been walking for several hours. They had passed an abandoned town as they moved north away from the Mothball fleet. The air was warm and dry. It was spring in California, and the brown grasses hugged the rolling hills. Several high clouds hung in the atmosphere but other than that the sky was an unscathed shade of deep blue. They followed an old, dusty interstate route, staying within visual range of the road but moving from cover to cover and keeping a low profile.
They were on the lookout for any L.O.V.E.R. presence, but it was tough to stay focused while hiking in this country. It would have been a perfect day for a picnic. At one point along the way they heard wrestling in some scrub they were passing. A doe darted from the brush, and almost received a generous dose of lea
d, but they held steady and the doe dodged the proverbial bullet.
They rarely talked during their hike—both seemed to enjoy and understand the need for silence. Besides, they were letting the landscape speak. Gale thought it was nice to spend time with a like-minded individual—someone who appreciated the serenity—especially right before a potentially fatal mission.
They came upon a railroad junction and decided to follow the tracks to the northwest. Their feet compacted the loose gravel around the tracks with each step. The clouds overhead began to condense to form a grayish-white canopy, coating the sky. Gale could feel the air moisten ever so slightly. As they walked farther along the tracks they spotted a rail depot on the horizon. The duo moved off the tracks and hunched down in some tall grass. Hades-Perdition aimed his rifle and used his scope to reconnoiter the structures. He traced the outline of the structures and hugged the profile of the rooftops with the cross hairs. Something stirred in the scope. Hades-Perdition recognized the color of the uniform of the figure he had caught in his sights. It was definitely a L.O.V.E.R, and a sniper at that. But, Hades and Gale were still alive, so he deduced that they had not been spotted. Hades-Perdition made another sweep with his scope and counted an additional four personnel.
Hades-Perdition lowered his scope and surveyed the surrounding landscape. He noticed a ridge to the west of them that could yield a perfect firing position.
“Gale, this will be your initiation. Are you up for it?” he inquired.
“What are you getting me into?” she asked worriedly.
“Trial by fire. L.O.V.E.R.s are present at the depot. I counted about four of them. Now, what I’m going to do is park up on this ridge and keep you covered, with my M82. Don’t you worry—I’m a crack shot. But, I need you infiltrate the rail depot. What we need is numbers on personnel and any intelligence that you might come across inside. If you feel like you are stepping into any traps or you get into a sticky situation, ping me—but stay in my visual field, please,” Hades-Perdition instructed.
