The Felix Chronicles: Tides of Winter

by R. T. Lowe

Chapter 28

  NAMING RIGHTS

  Graham was in his new office—a benefit of his promotion—staring at the strange images on his computer. Thousands of photos and hours of video had inundated the newsroom in the three hours since the attack at the Earth Summit Fair. The flying dragon-like creatures were bizarre, but the shock and disgust expressed by his colleagues was tempered by the existence of the Numbered Ones, a fact the world had rapidly, and perhaps surprisingly, come to terms with. Monsters were real, despite what children were once told, so the revelation of the existence of another variety of monster didn’t seem to have the same paradigm shifting impact as the discovery of the Numbered Ones. Perhaps monsters were becoming mundane in the new reality of the modern age.

  “Hey!”

  Graham glanced up at Connie standing in his doorway, looking dour.

  “Hi Connie,” he said tiredly. “I have the interns going through what we have, but we’re getting more by the minute.”

  “Have we gotten access yet?”

  “No, and it looks like the military is planning to take those dragon things to a big freezer for examination so I don’t know what we’d get except for a few shots with some barns in the background.”

  “Deathheads,” Connie said. “Not dragon things.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Deathheads.” Connie gave him a wry smile. “They’re Deathheads.”

  “Deathheads,” Graham repeated. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Mr. Pitlock just got off the phone with Dirk Rathman who informed him the Number Project was only a subset of a much larger Old Government program. They were calling it ALSI—the Air, Land and Sea Initiative—and the Deathheads represent the ‘air’ and the Numbered Ones the ‘land.’”

  “And the ‘sea?’” Graham asked. “What did Dirk have to say about that?”

  “They’re still looking into it. We’ll be getting computer files and boxes of information on the Deathheads, but they want us to keep the rest of it, the ‘sea’ part of it—”

  “Secret?” Graham finished.

  Connie nodded. “Dirk wants us to make it abundantly clear on tonight’s broadcast that the Deathheads were created by the Old Government to terrorize and oppress the population. The Old Government, clearly, was experimenting in more than just human-animal hybrids. I don’t know where they might have obtained dragon and giant spider DNA but apparently that’s beside the point.”

  “Okay,” Graham said hesitantly. “So what’s the point?”

  “That the New Government saved the day.” Connie shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the words she’d just uttered.

  “How’d they do that?” Graham would have been thrilled if the New Government had saved the day, but he hadn’t found anything to support that theory. In his professional capacity, Graham had to maintain the appearance of objectivity, even though he believed fervently in the New Government’s agenda. You’ve killed for that agenda, he reminded himself. The memory of killing for his principles didn’t cause much anguish. It had, at first, then he’d met someone who said they were close to Lofton Ashfield. He couldn’t recall who it was—the man? or was it a woman?—but he thought it was the same person who had taken the Journal from him (or was it someone else?). Graham hadn’t read it, because he was told not to, and Lofton’s confidante had talked to him for a long while about things he couldn’t clearly recall, but the conversation had left him feeling very good about himself and the justness of his actions. Yes, he had killed a man, but it was unavoidable and the right thing to do, like defending your home from an intruder. That’s what he’d concluded. Or was that what he’d been told? He couldn’t recall and it didn’t matter—it’s what he believed.

  Connie came around to look at Graham’s monitor. “You’ll love this.” She smiled acidly. “Military aircraft were scrambled and they shot the Deathheads out of the sky before they could reach the farm. Two of the three anyway. The one on the ground was killed with an air to surface missile.”

  Graham scratched his head. “I haven’t, um, seen any planes in the footage. Maybe the interns will see something.”

  Connie shook her head. “They won’t see anything either. Air Force command is claiming the aircraft were flying at an altitude not visible from the ground given the overcast conditions.”

  Graham’s eyes went to his screen and the photo of a flaming Deathhead hurtling through the clear morning sky. “Least gloomy day of the winter, I’d say, but if it wasn’t the military, what do you think did that?” He poked a finger at his screen.

  “There’s a lot we don’t know and a lot we’re not being told. But what I do know is no one saw or heard a plane in the vicinity.”

  “Okay,” Graham said doubtfully. “But they didn’t just set themselves on fire, right? And suicide seems pretty unlikely. I don’t know what else could have shot them down. If not the military then who?”

  “No idea.” She stepped out into the hall, checking to see if anyone was within earshot. “But that’s not what bothers me. Dirk Rathman, the chief propagandist for the New Government, just informed the president of our network of the content we’ll be feeding the public this evening. This obviously isn’t the first time so think about that for a minute. We’ve become, I regret to say, nothing more than a mouthpiece of the ERA. I used to think it so abhorrent that the media in countries like North Korea and Iran was state controlled. I’d watch the newscasts and wonder if they believed what they were reporting, but somehow, I always imagined men standing off camera aiming rifles at them. One slip up and you get a bullet to the head.” She put her fingers to her temples and ran them in small hard circles. “That’s us, Graham. That’s us.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes and appeared pained, but under the façade, he was trembling with excitement. Taking direction from the New Government and promoting its agenda was like delivering a sermon with Christ whispering in his ear. Graham felt like he was in heaven.

  Chapter 29

  BONDS

  Felix jumped the last several stairs to the landing and was about to head down a flight when he thought he heard someone calling his name. He caught himself and looked back toward the fourth floor hallway.

  “Felix!” Harper appeared at the top of the staircase, fighting through the mob. “Hey Felix!” She waved at him, then took the stairs too fast and stumbled, only avoiding a face plant by grabbing the handrail.

  Felix reached out and steadied her, holding her by the waist.

  “Nice catch.” She smiled shyly and tossed her empty cup in the corner, slipping her fingers into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Easy now,” Felix said, surprised to be sharing his pockets with Harper, realizing she must be drunk.

  “You’re going the wrong way. Scotland’s up there.” Her smile widened and she tilted her head to indicate the fourth floor.

  “I’ve already been to Scotland—twice.” The dorms and frats had pooled their resources to hold an ‘around the world pub crawl’. Downey represented Scotland, and Harper, donning a tantalizingly short plaid skirt, was showing off her school spirit.

  “But you haven’t been to Scotland with me.” She wormed her fingers in deeper. “I bet I can make your next trip unforgettable.”

  Felix felt his face grow warm. “I need to check on Allison real quick. I’ll meet you guys at Satler.” He’d last seen Allison at dinner and she hadn’t said anything about missing the party. He’d been texting her burner all night and she hadn’t replied.

  “What if I get lost and you can’t find me?” Harper pouted her lips. “What would we do if you look for me in Switzerland and I’m lost in Sri Lanka?” She moved closer, brushing against him. “Wouldn’t you miss me? Wouldn’t you regret missing out on, you know, such an… opportunity?”

  Felix swallowed hard. Despite her occasional mood swings, her irritability and her tendency to leave him confused about her intentions and what she wanted from him, Harper was drop dead stunning, and when she was up close like this it was physic
ally impossible to not wonder what it would be like to be with her.

  “Don’t you ever want to just forget about everything for a night?” Harper bit down softly on her lip. “I know it’s got to be hard for you. Everyone’s losing their minds because of those Deathhead things, but you… you were actually there.” Her gaze fixed on his. “You saw them kill those people, didn’t you? Aren’t you just tired of it all? I mean, every day it’s something different and awful. Today it’s Deathheads, tomorrow it’s…” She lowered her eyes, running the tip of her tongue over her lips. “Wouldn’t you like to escape it all, even if only for a little while?”

  “Didn’t we just escape Scotland?” Felix joked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. Perhaps it was his lonely and lucid sobriety in a sea of rampant drunkenness that explained his clearheaded perceptiveness, but whatever the reason, Harper’s sudden and desperate need for him seemed awkward. Despite being generally considered the hottest girl on campus, something about the way she was talking and acting felt stilted and forced, almost like she was putting on a performance, and he supposed she’d never had to pursue guys before and the unfamiliar role of aggressor wasn’t a natural fit.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, silly.” Harper’s fingers moved in his pockets. “Maybe we could escape somewhere else… tonight?” She looked up at him, her eyes smoldering with desire.

  Felix, as gently as he could manage, stepped back, taking her elbows in his hands and lifting up, reclaiming his pockets. “Totally agree with you,” he said with a big grin, trying to avoid hurting her feelings if he could. “I’ll see you guys in Sri Lanka. Just give me a minute.”

  Harper’s smile faded and she looked slightly mortified. “I’m sorry, Felix. I don’t mean to come onto you like… you know. It’s just… just that, things have been so hard since the quarry. That morning was so… I mean, people died. That… that woman lost her… her head, and that guy he… they just… they ate him.” Tears fell from her brilliant blue eyes, leaving wet streaks on her cheeks. “I try to forget, to not think about it, but some things are just…” She tried to smile but her feelings betrayed her and she cried, shrugging helplessly.

  Felix felt terrible for her, realizing for the first time, that like Caitlin, Harper had been changed by the horrific events she had witnessed at the quarry. Harper had simply done a better job of hiding her true feelings, maintaining a braver posture than Caitlin, who sometimes seemed fragile enough to shatter at a careless word.

  “Hey.” Felix gave her an encouraging smile. “I won’t be long. Let me just see if Allison’s okay. I’ll be back in a minute. Let Lucas and Caitlin know and text me if you head out before me, okay?”

  Harper wiped her eyes. “Sorry. You know I’m not like, well, this.” She reached out and he hugged her, and before she started back for Scotland he promised he would meet up with them shortly.

  The third floor was almost deserted and though it was two in the morning everyone was upstairs at the party so he didn’t have to concern himself with whether anyone would wake up when he knocked on Allison’s door. He waited and rapped on it again, and not hearing anything inside the room, tried the knob. The door was unlocked so he gave it a push. As the light from the hallway spilled into the room, he saw Allison reclined on her bed with her back against the wall, holding a bottle of Prosecco by the neck. She wore a little black dress that hugged her body, riding up on her thighs. On the floor beside the bed, a pair of slingback stilettos rested on their sides. She drank from the bottle, acknowledging him with a nod of her head.

  “I’ve been texting. Where were you?” He closed the door and crossed the room, sitting beside her. The blinds were drawn, the window glowing faintly yellow from the path lights below.

  Allison shrugged, resting the bottle on her leg. Her face was strangely emotionless. She drank and stared straight ahead, her eyes on the opposite wall.

  “Allison?” He watched her. “Where have you been?”

  “A bar.” She didn’t slur the words, but her voice sounded flat, hollow.

  “A bar?” Felix said, surprised.

  She nodded once, stiffly.

  “Doing what?” Felix puzzled over her appearance. She wore makeup around her eyes and her lips held a hint of red. Felix had seen Allison in makeup maybe three times in all the years he’d known her.

  Allison sniffed and drank again, dropping her eyes to her bare toes. “For the longest time, I couldn’t remember what my parents looked like. I don’t have any pictures of them. When I was a kid in those awful foster homes, the older kids would sometimes do nasty shit—beat me up or take my food or whatever. I’d find a place to be alone. I’d cry—even though I tried not to—and think about my parents. I could remember what it felt like to be loved, but I couldn’t remember their eyes or their smiles.”

  Felix gestured for the bottle and she handed it to him.

  “When Zara told us the Protectors killed them, it did something to my head. I remember their faces now.” She smiled sadly. “They were so young. Maybe you always think of your parents as these old people, but mine weren’t, in their twenties probably. They loved me so much they were willing to give up everything.” She turned her face to him. “You know how you keep talking about staying neutral forever and just waiting out this madness in Bora Bora or your grandma’s beach house?”

  Felix nodded.

  “That’s exactly what my parents did. They just said ‘fuck it’ and left everything behind. They gave up their lives, their friends, the Order—everything—just to be with each other and… and with me. To be a family.” Allison took a long pull from the bottle and her face changed, hardening, her fingers curling tightly around the neck. “Then the Protectors killed them. They stole my parents. They stole my life.” Her eyes shone with hate. “I’m so angry, Felix. I have so much hate, I literally shake. I want them dead. All of them. They need to pay for what they did.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t… I’m so sorry.” Felix had been so absorbed in his own grief at losing his parents it had blinded him. Allison was hurting and he hadn’t even noticed. She had brought him back from a place so hopeless and dark he’d thought only death could numb his pain. She had helped him in every way imaginable. She had saved his life. In return, he had given her nothing.

  “I’ve been using myself as bait,” Allison admitted. “I’m going to find them. Then I’m going to kill them. Every goddamn one of them.”

  “Allie…?” The bar, the clothes and makeup—Felix suddenly understood. How could she have shouldered so much pain and anger on her own? Why didn’t she confide in him?

  Allison sniffed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I wonder what my parents would think of me now. I’m out there hoping to kill people. Is that what they’d want for their little girl?” A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily. “It can’t be! Isn’t that why they ran from the Order? So I wouldn’t grow up hating so much? Killing so much? They gave up everything for me. I want to be a good daughter. I want to make them proud. So do I avenge them? Do I kill every Protector in this whole crazy world? Isn’t that what they’d want? But… sometimes I think I… I don’t know.” Her eyes misted over and she let the hot tears roll down her face. “I don’t even know if I have it in me. I’ve been having dreams about Inverness. I see the faces of the people I killed. They talk to me in my sleep. They’ve been haunting my dreams and its… its hurting me in a place that… my soul or…” She wiped her eyes, smudging her mascara. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I wake up screaming and it makes me so angry. Why am I letting them get to me? I should be stronger. I keep telling you to toughen up and I can’t get through the night without crying like a baby.” She shook her head miserably. “Caitlin’s been taking care of me, if you can believe it. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She brings me water and sits by my bed. We talk until I can’t see their faces anymore.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Felix demanded, disappointed
at himself, and angry that she’d kept all this from him.

  “Because you need me to be strong!” She straightened her back, giving him a look of defiance. “You’ve been through so much—more than me, more than anyone. You couldn’t get through it by yourself—no one could. I couldn’t be… weak. It wasn’t an option.” She folded her hands on her lap, the bottle between her thighs. “But I… I can’t be strong all the time. Sometimes I just… I just want to be… me.” She pressed her palms against her face. “But I don’t even know who I am anymore.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Who am I, Felix?”

  Felix put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Hold me,” she whispered, and they settled onto the bed together, Allison curling up beside him, making herself small and vulnerable.

  Felix held her tight, stroking her hair, wishing he could make her pain go away.

  “We can’t take away her daddy,” Allison whispered. “We can’t.”

  Felix stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Professor Hamlen and the scales of justice. There was no right decision, he realized. He thought he understood the consequences of killing Hamlen, but how could he be certain of anything when Lofton controlled all the pieces on the board.

  “We should protect him,” Allison said. “Otherwise, who are we? What do we stand for if we murder that little girl’s father? How could we live with ourselves?”

  “Okay,” Felix said softly. If that’s what it took to lessen Allison’s pain then that’s what he would do. “We’ll protect him.”

  “Really?” Allison’s body relaxed, as if the tension was spilling out of her.

  Felix nodded, sensing a smile on her face.

  “Felix,” Allison began, “I wanted to tell you what I was doing, but I didn’t want you to think, well, less of me. You don’t, do you?”

  “For what? Hating the Protectors? Wanting to kill them? Of course not.” He held her, feeling her in his arms. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I look up to you, Allie. I couldn’t do this without you.”