Monsters of the Apocalypse

by Rawlins, Jordan

  October now stood toe to toe with the man, in the unfamiliar position of looking up to another's eyes.

  "And now, here you are, Agent Flores, the right hand man of the right hand woman of the President. But, Jacob isn't dead, he's still here. You, the heroic Indian who risked the vengeance of crazy, dangerous Jacob Rothschild and his Shadow Army, for the love of your country. My country. And, here you find out with me, along with me, that the threat still lives, still walks. So why aren't you afraid, you heroic turncoat? Why don't you shake knowing that Jacob is alive and well and that you alone have betrayed him? Why don't you cower with fear? He's a killer and he doesn't forget."

  Flores smiled very slightly, opening his lips only enough to show the edge of his teeth and his eyes sparkled, but before he could speak, Miho came back in with the beaten and bloodied form of the computer specialist.

  Chapter 11

  ***

  “I felt my camera turn on,” Nestor said through a last mouthful of smoke before stubbing his cigarette out in the half-full ashtray that lay beside his knife.

  Jacob smiled. There was the sound of keystrokes to his left, but Jacob kept his head still.

  “Not possible, I implanted a virus that prevents that. Your camera is permanently locked down. Now, as I was saying - the antidote. The Shot. It’s not an antidote. The truth is there is no antidote. October and the Founders realized that the potent would end up a target for the violent jealousy of the impotent. Human nature and all that. So, they found an excuse to move all of the important men and young women to an island to restart the human race. Then they gave a shot to everyone else so that they’d stay here on the mainland. Hopeful and docile.”

  "So, what? In a year people will realize that they’ve been fooled and then they’ll declare war,” Nestor shrugged.

  “The military is going to The Island, most of it is already there. They get to be Islanders as long as they stay loyal soldiers. The Founder's have made launch plans and scheduled EMPC blasts from satellites that will blow up every vehicle, every battery, and every power plant. They’ll send us to the dark ages by turning power cells into bombs in our midst. They’ll shoot off some neutron missiles, killing people, saving things the way that lovely bitch does. They're going to kill everybody they can, destroy anything that would help us fight or survive - but with limited damage to the infrastructure so they can just move right on back.”

  “Still, the people left outnumber them by millions and millions.”

  “We won’t in a year, Nestor.”

  “Why not?”

  Jacob filled the room and Nestor's feed with his rich laughter, the shimmering of a tear in the corner of his eye.

  “The best part! The BIG joke! The antidote doesn't just make you sick - it kills you. We’ll all be dead in about a year. Once The Migration is done, all the rich who could buy a spot, all the important people and all the beautiful young women - they’ll sit and wait for those of us who don't die in the explosions to die out from The Shot and then, they’ll come back and live in the cities that will have been our coffins.”

  “No,” Nestor said flatly in disbelief.

  “It's the truth.”

  “Even October wouldn't do that - just kill everyone?"

  "You don't want to believe it," Jacob shrugged, lighting yet another cigarette with a wink, "but you do. Deep down, you know it's true, don't you?"

  "So then, to save everyone… you have an angle, a long term plan. You always have a trick up your sleeve, Jacob.”

  “I do have something up my sleeve,” Jacob pulled up his sleeve to show his injection scar, “but nothing long term this time. No escape plan.”

  Nestor stared at the scar. Jacob stared back. The silence rested heavy between them.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

  “Yeah.”

  "He's going to kill everyone?"

  "He already has."

  "I'm sorry about that," Nestor said, standing up, picking up his knife and turning towards the door. "But, that's just not my problem."

  "You're kidding," Jacob said, standing up himself.

  "No, I'm not, Jacob. I suppose for some men, everyone else dying would be a reason to go die themselves, but that's just not me."

  Nestor came to the frame of the door and stopped. Jacob sat back down with a casual ease and smiled at Nestor's back.

  "Oh please, Nestor, she's out there. You know that. She's somewhere. Either we stop it and she lives or we don't and she dies. And then there's the third option - which is she's already dead and we're already too late. But, we can't risk that. October is a dangerous man, we have to protect her."

  Nestor stood dead still in the doorframe, his back to Jacob, his hands rigid at his sides.

  "Where is she, Jacob? If you know just tell me, wherever she is, I can go get her."

  "I don’t know."

  Nestor turned back and looked at Jacob, his face didn't show any sign of change; he just stared into Jacob's eyes.

  "She's the only thing left of the woman we loved," Jacob smiled. "You have to protect her. You have to try. You promised."

  Chapter 12

  ***

  The room had grown very quiet. October unconsciously attempted to tuck the front of his shirt into his pants. The computer specialist tried to find enough moisture in his mouth to allow him to swallow. Miho lowered her ever-present tablet to her side and stared at the screen showing Nestor Bravo's feed with cold eyes. Flores stood tall and perfectly straight, his expression unreadable as always.

  The nervous and beaten computer specialist finally turned to look at October Carnegie.

  “Is what he’s saying true, sir?”

  “No, of course not! Are you sure he didn’t do anything to the cameras? He said he entered a virus that would kill their feeds. How are we able to see this?"

  "Sir, he seems to have tried, but… give me a second," the specialist began to read a line of code on his laptop screen.

  "Hurry up."

  "Yeah okay, he did enter a virus but, it didn't block anything. It seems to have just entered into the system, but to no effect."

  "So it was ineffective? A dud? Did it effect any of the feeds?"

  "I'm checking, Mr. President. I have them all on right now. They all seem fine. You see, there's me on the corner screen, that's your feed - your feed shows me with no interference."

  October tried not to smile. He wanted to believe that Jacob was wrong, but he was hesitant. He looked at Miho who had returned her gaze to her tablet with feverish intensity.

  "But, he said that… That's it then, is it?" October allowed his smile to come. "It's his ego. That is Jacob's downfall. He never could understand how someone could be better, it always blinded him. In his desperation he convinced himself that he…"

  “Sir?” the specialist interrupted with a croak.

  “What is it?”

  "What he said about The Shot… is it really… is it really going to kill everyone?"

  October looked down at the little specialist, throat noticeably swollen, his one hand holding his stomach where he'd been kicked, his other hand fingering the scar from his shot. October frowned with pity, the man was weak, but that did not entitle October to be cruel like he had been. October had been cruel to this man. In two strides October reached the computer specialist, who flinched in fear, as October again rustled his hair with smiling affection.

  "My friend, I am sorry. Understand, I'm sorry to have laid hands on you and treated you with disrespect. That was wrong of me. Your work today was exemplary. I apologize for my cruelty."

  "But, The Shot? Will it kill me?"

  October lowered himself, with some effort, to one knee, so that he would be face to face with the smaller man, who hunched over as another throb of pain rocked through his battered body.

  "Yes, it will. It will kill you," October frowned sympathetically. "I am sorry. I hope you realize, or that you grow to realize, how many will live because of you. Because of The Shot. I hope you gro
w to realize that just because your sacrifice was forced, doesn't make it less noble. I hope you and all of America, in their dying breath, understand that they die so that mankind may live…"

  "Shut up, October!"

  October turned to glare at Miho, his rage already blistering up to the surface as he rose to his full height, but he couldn't see her because the huge form of Flores now stood between them. October tried unsuccessfully to move past the giant Indian as he screamed, "What did you say to me, Miho?!"

  “I said shut up! It’s being broadcast!”

  “What?”

  “The speech Jacob just gave, was broadcast to every phone, tablet, TV, computer... what you just said, Mr. President, this conversation now, the whole country is watching!”

  October spun back to the computer specialist, grabbing the man's hair, the hair just moments before so sweetly tussled, and screamed, “Turn it off! Turn off the cameras now!”

  The computer specialist just stared at the President, the confused expression still plastered across his face. October looked over at the screens, he saw Jacob's smiling face in one and in the screen next to it, a screen turned into a mirror by the blackness of a dead soldiers dead feed, the reflection of his own face - wild eyed and crazed. October with one hand pulled the computer specialist up by his hair, only to knock the man back down to the ground. He picked up the now empty chair and with one swift motion brought it down on the computer specialist's head just as Miho managed to turn off the feeds.

  Chapter 13

  ***

  “It’s off,” Arian said in a dazed monotone.

  “It worked?” Jacob turned with excitement, which quickly faded as he saw how Arian sat stunned in front of his computer.

  “Everyone saw it, Jacob. Everyone saw everything."

  "What's wrong? Did October slip up? Did he say anything incriminating?"

  "You might say that."

  Arian turned on the wall TV and pointed. The news was already showing a clip edited from the recording of October's broadcasted feed: the image of October's crazed reflection in the screen, the fear in the face of the computer specialist. The clip ended abruptly as the chair split open the specialist's head.

  "Holy shit! October just killed that guy?! That was not expected," Jacob shook his head in disbelief. "This changes things. I think this… I wasn't prepared for this. Give me a moment."

  "What did you do, Jacob?" Nestor asked moving in from the doorway.

  "What will he do?" Jacob turned to Arian. "Do we have contact?"

  Arian looked at his computer and nodded.

  "Standing by, sir."

  "Jacob!" Nestor grabbed Jacob by the shoulders and shook the man. "What the hell just happened?"

  “I entered a virus into the Alpha computer feeds, Nestor. It allowed us to broadcast the feeds to the internet. I just wanted the people to know what he'd done. He's always been a violent man. I suppose I should have prepared for this. Well, it has started now. Whether or not this helps us I can't tell. October is still a capable man. Once he calms down he's going to accelerate things, The Migration, the missile launches, the EMPC blasts - we don't have much time. There’s a car out back with one of those Barrett sniper rifles you like so much in the trunk. Here are the keys. Take it, Nestor, you stick to the plan. October Carnegie is still a risk."

  Nestor grabbed the keys and walked towards the back door. He stopped and turned. Backlit by the brilliant moonlight Nestor was nothing but a silhouette.

  "What are our chances, Jacob?"

  Jacob was lighting a new cigarette from the end of the one in his mouth, watching intently as Arian searched the internet for more breaking news.

  "Our chances of what?"

  "Success," Nestor snapped.

  "Oh, I'd say… fifty, fifty."

  "And of survival?"

  Jacob looked up from the Arian's computer and smiled at his old friend's silhouette.

  "Smile, Nestor, this is supposed to be fun.”

  Chapter 14

  ***

  October was sitting cross-legged on the ground staring at the body. Flores had his fingers on the computer specialist's neck, checking for his pulse, but his eyes stayed on the President, his face void of emotion.

  "Is he dead?"

  Flores simply nodded once, yes. He got up and regained his position behind Miho.

  "I didn't mean to kill him."

  Miho kneeled down so that she filled the President's eye line. He tried, unsuccessfully, not to look down her shirt.

  "You need to focus, Mr. President. There is the safety of The Migration to think about. There’s concern about your safety. I believe it would be prudent to accelerate our plans."

  “It's over, Miho. Just stop.”

  "Sir?”

  “I just killed a man in front of the nation. I just admitted to the reality of The Shot in front of everyone. It's over. We might as well just cancel the whole thing. It's over. It's all over.”

  Miho stood up and pulled out her tablet and began typing on the touchscreen. October tried hard not to look up her dress. He managed to pull his eyes away long enough to see that Flores was looking down at him, his passive face somehow disapproving. He felt so weak and small. October forced himself up to standing. Once he had gained his legs he shifted, feeling the weight of his body, the size of his frame. He looked down on the crumpled form of the man that he'd killed with his own might. He noticed Miho, her fingers frozen as she looked up at him, the slightest arch of her eyebrow the only indication of confusion. But it was there. She was uncertain, waiting.

  Just like everyone else.

  "No," he heard the word before he had actually meant to say it, but it sounded strong and certain. "No, it wasn't a mistake. It was a good thing."

  "Sir?"

  "Now they know," October growled. "They know who they follow. They know to fear me!"

  Miho glanced quickly over as Flores shifted himself into what appeared a casual pose, but held a tension that belied the danger that could come from it.

  "What do you want to do, sir?"

  “We get as much of The Migration done as we can in the next 48 hours while finishing military preparations and then we push the button.”

  “I expect riots in hours,” Miho said, again lost in the screen.

  “I’ll give a speech, it’ll buy us time.”

  “What can you say? You just admitted to…”

  “Doctored. A plot. A conspiracy that utilized computer effects to manipulate reality! That wasn't me they saw, but an actor, a CGI avatar. The people will believe me. The people, they love me.”

  Miho's fingers were running across the touchscreen as the words finished leaving the President's mouth, but she paused momentarily to glance at October's face, to check for the familiar expression that he gained when believing his own lies, when creating his own reality - she was not disappointed.

  “Yes, sir. I'll make arrangements for the speech.”

  “Also, double my security. Nestor is coming for me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “There’s no reason to call Nestor unless you want someone dead. Take every precaution, he’s capable.”

  “Capable of what? Beyond Flores, you have a security detail of fifty elite soldiers. ”

  "And if he kills all of them, it won't even be one of his deadliest days! Nestor Bravo isn't a killer, he's Death and he's coming for me!" October said as he stormed out of the room leaving Miho and Flores alone in the control room with twenty black screens, an empty donut box, a broken chair and a corpse not yet cold.

  Chapter 15

  ***

  "Do you think he'll succeed?"

  "Yes, Nestor Bravo always succeeds," Jacob said to Arian after Nestor had sped off in the car. The words were spoken with an admiration that Arian had never witnessed in his time with Jacob. "Alright. Pack up then. We have a great distance to cover in a very short amount of time. Chaos is coming.”

  Arian packed up his gear quickly and then stood
up and stared questioningly at Jacob who lifted the gym bag which held the bomb.

  "He knew my name."

  "What?"

  "Nestor," Arian went on, "he knew my name. How would he know my name?"

  "Well, if I had to guess: at some point Nestor contemplated killing you in a really terrible way. He doesn't do that without learning a man's name. He's very old school in that."

  Arian reached out and stopped Jacob who had begun heading towards the door. Jacob quickly spun, hand straightening the shoulder of his expensive suit, his eyebrow arched in menacing question.

  "What?"

  "Why does Nestor want to kill me?"

  "Oh Arian, relax. It's a compliment. He doesn't want to kill you. He just contemplated it. You work for me and I have sent many people to kill him over the years. Understand, Nestor only sees people as threats, or he doesn't see them at all. As long as you don't threaten him, he won't kill you. I promise."

  "About that, why did you send people to kill him?"

  Jacob sighed and lit up a cigarette, glancing quickly at his watch.

  "Have you ever been in love?"

  "Not really."

  Jacob nodded his head, with what was perhaps sympathy. Then he moved forward and put a hand on Arian's shoulder and squeezed it once, firmly with kindness.

  "Then you wouldn't understand. Now, can we please go hijack that plane before it takes off? If Dr. Thomas gets away, Nestor will be the least of your problems."

  Chapter 16

  ***

  “In five, Mr. President,” the man behind the camera said, his face hidden by the glare of the studio lights.

  October resisted the urge to wipe his nose, fix his hair or adjust his tie. Any fidgeting would look guilty. He had to appear confident, honest.

  No, he thought, he had to be confident and honest. The camera showed the truth in your eyes. There were tricks to it, techniques to be learned and skills practiced, but, in the end the relationship a man had with the camera was just that: a relationship. It was a mix of circuits and lighting, chemistry and personality, all relating to convey an idea of President October Carnegie. There was a version of October, the one that the world knew, that came through the filter of a lens that no matter how much weight he gained or how many wrinkles showed on his face, was familiar and trustworthy.