Goldstein

by Troy J. Grice

  “Are they in dragonflies?” asked Ramielle.

  The chopping beat of a dragonfly rapidly grew until they could feel the wind whipped up by its rotors.

  “Be still!” Roth shouted. “Breathe into your sleeping bags.”

  It was at first difficult to discern where it was from their vantage point on the think forest floor. Then its black, faceted silhouette came into view above, hovering between the spires of spruce tops sharply contrasted against the pale gray sky. It hovered over them for a few seconds, its bottom mounted sensors rotating and scanning their general vicinity. The green glowing lenses swept left, then right, then they stopped and locked directly on to them.

  Devin, expecting the Gatlin guns to open up a barrage of molten lead prepared to make a run for it into the woods.

  “Don’t move,” Roth commanded in a voice that was calm but loud enough to hear over the thumping chopper blades. “If you move you are a dead man!”

  They remained as still as possible, wrapped in their diode-silk sleeping bags, covered under ferns and undergrowth, peering carefully out from their camouflage at the titanium dragonfly above with its cameras and cannons affixed on them.

  “Your eyes! He sees your eyes!” Roth shouted.

  The three buried their faces in their bags as the thumping, thundering blades chopped the cool night air into a swirling vortex of projectile pine needles and bark chip flak.

  “When will they shoot?” Devin asked himself. “Will death be instantaneous? Will I be blown apart into a million fragments of exploded flesh?”

  “Be still!” Roth ordered. “We don’t know if they realize we’re human. Stay calm!”

  The helicopter hung there, blades cutting, chopping, mixing the air, sending wind torrents rippling through the tall ferns and bending and flexing and swishing the spindly birches. The bottom mounted scanning devices remained honed on them.

  “Is it a heat sensor?” asked Devin.

  “Probably multiple signatures,” Roth answered. “No guarantee it can make us out, though.”

  “I say we make a run for it,” replied Devin.

  “I said stay still or I’ll kill you myself. If they see us take off they’ll open fire for sure.”

  The helicopter’s blades angled forward and the dragonfly launched itself over their heads to the northeast. “Let’s go,” Roth ordered.

  They packed up their things and headed out in less than three minutes.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Ramielle asked Devin as they tried to negotiate through the thick undergrowth.

  “I think so.”

  “Why didn’t they do something?”

  “Not sure. I imagine we’ll have company soon.”

  They double-timed it for about half an hour until they came to the muddy banks of a river.

  “Change of plans,” Roth informed them. “We’re going down the river.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Ramielle asked. “It’s freezing.”

  “I am. Just be glad it’s July and not April. Here…” Roth dug through his backpack and handed them each a light wetsuit. Put these on. They’ll keep you dry at least.”

  “Do you have one for my cat?” Ramielle asked.

  “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to leave just about everything but the explosives behind.”

  “What about Mercurius?” asked Ramielle.

  “Why are we going on the river? Won’t it be easier for them to spot us?” asked Devin.

  “No. They rely too much on their devices and not enough on their brains. If we’re in the water, it’ll be impossible for them to pick us up with their sensors.”

  “What about Mercurius?” Ramielle demanded.

  “To hell with your god damn cat!” Roth replied. “I recommend euthanizing it.”

  “I’m not going with you, then,” Ramielle screamed.

  “Suit yourself,” answered Roth as he stripped down to his underclothes. “Stay on that trail there and keep heading west. When you get close, if you get close, a Goldstein patrol will pick you up. Good luck.”

  “I’m not going without her,” Devin replied.

  “What?” asked Roth.

  “I can’t leave her here. I owe her. She saved my life.”

  Roth growled. “She was paid to save your life, Devin. Don’t get sentimental on me now.”

  “Still,” Devin continued, “she saved my life. I can’t leave her out here to the nats.”

  “We can’t take the trail, Devin,” Roth explained. “They will spot us and pick us up for sure. Believe me when I say this, you do not want to be in custody when the Liberation Event goes down.”

  “Why do we want to go to Goldstein, anyway?” yelled Ramielle. “Why would I want to be there when ten thousand troops go marching in and blow that place to hell? I’ve seen what they do to compounds on the net. No one ever gets out alive. Ever!”

  “These aren’t your typical fanatical nuts that we’re talking about, Chinagirl,” sniped Roth. “They know what they’re doing.”

  “What’d you call me?!” Ramielle barked.

  Roth ignored her, zipping up his wetsuit instead.

  “I asked you a question,” Ramielle shouted. Roth was oblivious. “Listen to me you fat ass, Eskimo!”

  Roth lunged at her with surprising quickness, taking her by her collar with his left hand and yanking her down onto her knees. His right fist was cocked back, ready to knock her lights out. Devin stepped forward and grabbed Roth’s right arm but Roth slipped his grip and grabbed Devin by the throat with his right hand applying just enough pressure to inflict upon Devin a paralyzing fear of a crushed windpipe.

  “You people need to understand something,” Roth explained calmly in his half-zipped wet suit with Ramielle’s collar in the grip of one hand and Devin’s throat in the grip of the other. “My job is to bring him back to Goldstein, alive. You, China girl, I don’t give a damn about. You’re along for the ride. So you and your cat are free to go it alone. Devin doesn’t have that option.”

  “I’m free to do as I please,” Devin whispered.

  “Bullshit. This isn’t Goldstein out here. I’m in charge. If you don’t like it, I will knock you out, tie you up and drag you back.”

  “I won’t leave Mercurius to die,” Ramielle sobbed.

  “And I won’t leave her,” Devin explained.

  “God damn it!” Roth shouted. “God damn…damn it! God damn it!” Roth released his grips on both of them. “God damn son of a bitch!” Ramielle and Devin stood there motionless watching Roth’s meltdown in confusion. Roth sighed. “All right,” he continued calmly, “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Maybe this might actually work to our advantage. We’re gonna take your cat back that way about a half mile or so.”

  “What?’ Ramielle exclaimed.

  “Just listen. Calm down,” Roth assured her. “We’re going to take him back through the woods. We’re going to find a safe spot, kind of in the open, and we’re going to leave him there in his cage. It won’t be too obvious but it’ll be obvious enough for NaPol to find him.”

  “Will he be okay?” Ramielle asked.

  “They won’t hurt him because PETA would have their ass. The good thing is it might confuse them a little. What do you say?”

  Ramielle pondered in the darkness, wiping a tear away.

  “So I’ll never see him again?”

  “Probably not. But he’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m ninety five percent sure.”

  Ramielle held the carrier up and stared into Mercurius’ glassy, emotionless eyes and smiled.

  “Okay. I’ll do it, then. As long as he’ll be okay.”

  “Great. He’ll be fine. They’ll pick him up and take good care of him. We, however, need to get going. We don’t want to be in custody when The Delivery is made.”

  “What do you mean when The Delivery is made?” asked Devin. “I already made it.”

  “Oh Christ!” sighed Roth with renewed exasperation.
“What is it with you? Are you brain damaged or something? Did they scramble your brain back in that Fed Center?”

  “But I already made the Delivery,” Devin argued.

  “Can I be totally blunt with you, Devin?”

  “Please do.”

  “You didn’t make The Delivery. You delivered a bullshit manifesto, that’s all. You delivered a god-damned piece of paper. You were a decoy, designed to give the nats a false sense of security and to send them off on some pointless tangent.”

  “You mean Goldstein used me?”

  “Yes! Yes. For Christ’s sake, YES! Of course they did. You’re a criminal. You were exiled. You chose to go to Amerika. You let the nats find you. You let yourself be captured. And you chose to make The Delivery— at least what you thought was The Delivery. You did a great thing, Devin. It took great courage to do that; great courage or great incompetence. You bought Goldstein some precious time and they are grateful. And now everything’s fully in place. One keystroke and the liberation will begin.”

  “Why bring me back, then?”

  “You were promised that if you delivered and you held up your end of the bargain. The Council are people of honor, Devin. They always hold up their end, too. They would’ve brought you home at any cost if possible.”

  “But they exploited me?”

  “Yes, they exploited you. Yes! But in the end, it was good for you.”

  Devin was at first unsure of what to feel. Anger? Disappointment? Disillusionment? He had been through so much since his exile. He had been tortured. He had been nearly shot and burned alive. But Roth was right. Devin had chosen his path. Goldstein did not put him in Amerika, he put himself there. Now the men of Goldstein had, at great expense, brought him back to within a few kilometers of freedom. He saw it all clearly. The doubt and indecision evaporated.

  “Let’s get going, then,” Devin commanded. “I want to get home.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The trio clung to a slimy tree trunk as it worked its way down the meandering stream. The water was bitter cold but their suits kept them dry. Occasionally, their tree would get hung up on the pebbly shallows or the exposed roots dangling in the embankments. A good shove with their legs would set them free and put them back into the current.

  The cold of the water contrasted the heat of the bright sun which warmed and dried their faces and made the long, miserable, frigid swim survivable. On two instances they heard the thumping of dragonflies within a half-kilometer of them or so but they never came into view.

  They paddled on, catching glimpses of an assortment of wildlife that Ramielle had only seen on holovision. A moose and her calf were spotted foraging along the banks and later they saw a bald eagle perched high in the skeleton of a dead spruce. It watched them perfectly still until they got within fifty meters when it extended its gigantic brown wings and flapped away.

  “How much longer?” Ramielle asked. “It’s been four hours.”

  “Shhh! Do you hear that?” Roth whispered.

  “What is it? More dragonflies?” asked Ramielle, to exhausted and cold to feign concern.

  “SSHHH!”

  She and Devin listened intently but heard nothing but the splashing of the water on their floating trunk, the gentle breeze combing through the tree tops, and the rushing of water ahead that was growing louder.

  “Is that rapids?” asked Devin.

  “Kick! Paddle for shore!” Roth yelled. Give it everything you’ve got.”

  The three kicked frantically, steering the giant log towards the northern banks against the swirling eddies and swift current. The trunk started to spin and they lost control of it. The roar of the looming rapids grew and the more they tried to right the log and steer it from oblivion the more its entropy worked against them. Their efforts were useless.

  “Swim for it!” Roth ordered.

  Devin and Ramielle let go of the log, flailing their arms about against the current.

  Roth grabbed his backpack which was hooked to one of the branches and swam out to a stony sandbar. Devin and Ramielle reached the banks and crawled up onto the shore. They looked back at Roth and watched as he curiously fiddled around with something in his pack while their log spun downstream and dropped into the rapids a few meters ahead. Roth finally swam back to them holding his pack over his head.

  “Is everyone all right?” He asked, setting his backpack high on an adjacent boulder.

  “We’re fine,” Devin answered.

  “I’m freezing, can we start a fire?” Ramielle asked.

  “Not a good time for that,” Roth answered. “We’re about ten kilometers away from the Goldstein perimeter. We need to keep moving. I fear we blew our cover swimming for it.”

  “You’ve got that right!” Came a voice from the trees. Four nats emerged from the forest pointing automatic rifles. “Big Brother, Big Brother, this is Ranger Three, we have the Mohicans,” advised their sergeant. “Put your hands up, anti-pats!”

  “You don’t have nothin’,” replied Roth.

  “Shut your mouth, Eskimo, before I smash your teeth out,” Barked one of grunts. “Get down on your knees before I pulse you!”

  “Go to hell. Shoot me!” replied Devin.

  “Oh, don’t tempt us,” came another nat. “There’s nothing we’d like more than to fill you anti-pats full of lead. Now shut your god damn mouth and get on your knees like he said.”

  “Nice blip by the way,” came another nat. “Did you lose your jammer or something?”

  Devin felt a flush of vertigo as he realized that he had left his jammer with his backpack upstream.

  “It’s pretty difficult to hide from us with a beacon in your brain. Now get your damn hands up!”

  “Keep your hands down,” ordered Roth. “He isn’t going anywhere with you,” he explained casually.

  “One more peep out of you, Eskimo, and you’ll get yourself hauled out of here on a stretcher.”

  “None of us are going anywhere with you,” assured Roth, “and don’t try anything unless you fancy getting vaporized.”

  “What’s he talking about?” asked one of the nats.

  “Hey Stasi,” Roth continued, “why don’t you have a look in my backpack over there on that rock. Tell everyone what you see.”

  “Shut up, Native.”

  “Devin, go open it up for them so they know it’s not booby trapped.”

  “Freeze!” ordered their sergeant.

  “Listen to me,” Roth explained. “There’s enough explosive in that pack to turn all of us and everything else within a hundred meter radius into ash.”

  “He’s bluffing!” answered the sergeant. “Take him out.”

  “Careful. If I die, we all die. See this switch in my hand? If you shoot me then I release this button and you nazis get vaporized. Just try it if you don’t believe me.”

  “Check his backpack out!” ordered the sergeant.

  One nat stepped forward and nervously unzipped the pack. He immediately jumped back.

  “He’s not bluffing. It’s armed. Looks like a micro nuke.”

  The other grunts began backing away from Roth, Devin and Ramielle.

  “Stand your ground!” ordered the sergeant.

  Roth casually continued, “Now, being a ‘Type A’ personality, you are probably asking yourself what can you possibly do to regain control of this situation? Am I right?”

  The sergeant didn’t answer him. His eyes darted to each of his grunts, probing their wide, terrified eyes. Roth continued, “That is how you nats are trained, isn’t it? Always take control?”

  “Shut up, Native. I said stand your ground, troopers. We are not retreating!”

  “Well, please allow me to educate you. There is nothing you can do to regain control. I know that’s hard for a tax-feeding bully like you to grasp but I strongly suggest you come to grips with it. You’ve lost all control of this situation.”

  “Stand your ground!” He ordered to his troops who were slowly slithering back
into the woods.

  “Ever read Sun Tzu?”

  “What?”

  “The Art of War. You violated a fundamental rule of combat. You didn’t leave us with an option to save our own lives. You see, Devin here knows what you will do to him if you to take him alive. He’s already been there and he knows what awaits him in a Mexican torture cell. So he’s decided that he would rather die than surrender. And I know what you will do to me because after you find out that I was once one of you, you’ll torture me to death. So I’m obviously not going with you, either. We’d both prefer an instantaneous, fireball death, on our terms, to a slow, tortured death on yours.

  I’ve prepared for just this very situation. Rather than go with you, I’ll just blow us all to hell. The loser will be you because you’ll be just as dead as me. You, a wage slave, a low-ranking goon taking orders from assholes who are running your entire mission from computer monitors four thousand kilometers away. You’ll get nothing out of this other than a quaint state funeral with those fucking annoying bag pipes.”

  “Get down or I will shoot,” ordered the sergeant.

  “Shut your mouth or I might just blow us all up out of sheer annoyance!” Roth ordered. “Listen carefully to me. This is a situation that need not end too badly. You don’t have to die. None of us has to die. I’ll let you sulk back into the woods. You’ll live to tell your C-O that you’re sorry. You’ll get a reprimand and you’ll have to scrub a few toilets but at least you’ll get a chance to see your families again. It’s that simple for you. Just walk away.”