"He hacked The Feed? Genius. And now he writes books… somewhat competently."
"No, he… he hacked it. The Syndicate, they're the only ones he's given the code to in town, or they bought the permission to have it or something, so they can see it too. They make recordings. They edit out the boring stuff - him going to the bathroom or whatever. Then they sell them. If you can't afford one of those, or if you didn't know to put your tablet or computer in lead, so you don't have one, you buy one of these. It's not the same. A couple nights a week they do screenings, so I've seen the best parts. I just don't own it."
Jacob tried very hard to keep his hands from shaking with excitement.
"I need you to take me to meet this Syndicate."
"They'll kill you. They'll kill me for bringing you to them."
"Why?"
"You're one of the mutants. The Syndicate makes a lot of its money protecting survivors from mutants."
"So there are many like me…"
"Everyone who got The Shot."
"The city is dividing then? Between those who got The Shot, the mutants like you say, and those who didn't?"
"Between predator and prey, yeah."
"This seems quick. What is it? Three weeks since the missiles came and the town has come out and divided?"
"No, we were the first, you see. October brought the inoculation here first. He likes this town. He has a penthouse a little way from here. We were injected first. People had started changing before the missiles, but no one was listening. How could anyone believe us anyway? When the missiles came it was a relief, because the mutants disappeared. Then they came back and it was the Syndicate who saved us from them."
"So none of the Syndicate got The Shot?"
"I guess not. I'm sorry, but they won't help a mutant."
"My, my, things move fast," Jacob mused. He got up and looked over the apartment.
"Okay, what's your name?"
"Coughlin."
"Coughlin, why didn't you get The Shot?"
"I was out of town on work. I wanted to when I got back, I was signed up to, but they stopped giving them before my time came. Then before the missiles dropped an Indian from Jacob Rothschild's Shadow Army came and… I'm rambling… are you going to eat me?"
"Huh. Coughlin, I need you to look at me, not my teeth or the sallow color of my skin. Ignore the hands, look at my face, my hair and think really hard about where you've seen me before."
The man stared and slowly understanding crossed his face.
"You're Jacob Rothschild?!"
"Yes."
"You're Jacob! If it wasn't for your men I'd be…"
"Yes, now, I need you to get me to the Syndicate or, you know, I'll suck the marrow out of your neck for dinner."
Chapter 38
***
Nestor stood among burnt out car skeletons in the mall parking lot for a long time.
"Missiles hit everything else, but missed the damn mall. You got to be kidding me."
He looked west towards the horizon and felt the exhaustion in his legs. He looked back at the two story building in front of him and moved towards the door. The door, long ago broken open, was nothing but a frame surrounded by shattered glass.
Nestor moved over the glass silently and walked through the Women's Clothing department. There had been looting, but not total. Still on the racks were the high-waisted jeans of middle-aged suburbia. Practical sweaters and no-frills underwear. He took his time and ran his fingers over the clothes. The muted sunlight's glow came through the door and cast his shadow on the far wall.
He moved past the perfume and jewelry counters, nothing left. He moved out of the department store and walked into the body of the mall. The sunroof lit the courtyard. The fountain in front of him was still relatively clean, the chlorine a distant memory, but the white stone beneath still pristine, except for the copper stains of the endless pennies.
Posters of movies he'd never seen while he had been doing work overseas, or had been in hiding from assassins, lined the walls. Women he didn't know, but that he could appreciate nonetheless, advertised things he'd never heard of. There was nothing damaged or vandalized. A sort of confusing respect had been used while looting this mall.
Walking up the stairs towards the food court, pausing in a soap store, just to smell, he reached an old pizza parlor. There was a sign, but the name didn't matter. It was the same cheap pizza parlor that was in every mall's food court.
It was here behind the counter of the parlor, smelling the memory of burnt cheese and cheap dough, grease that had outlasted the customers, that he looked out on the stores below him and understood the reverence that had been used during the looting. This was where the masses came and were free to be human for generations. To spend and eat. To enjoy the fruits of their labor.
As he looked over the tables of the food court, still lined up, chairs tucked in, he lit up a cigarette and drank from his canteen. Nestor walked to the handrail and leaned over and looked down at the little spaceship ride that shook little kids around.
As the day passed into night and the mall grew dark, Nestor ate a can of black beans heated over a propane stove he found set up in a camping store. Then he made his way to the bed section of one of the department stores and got into one of the floor models and went to sleep.
In the morning Nestor walked out of the mall and five huge mutants were waiting for him.
Chapter 39
***
"What are you watching?"
Caleb spun and looked at the little girl who had entered his room.
"What are you doing in here?"
"I was bored, the door was unlocked."
"Well get out, I want to be alone," Caleb snapped.
"Then why isn't the door locked? Everyone else locks theirs."
"I don't know, I guess, I was sort of hoping someone might show up."
"I'm someone."
Caleb smiled and tapped the table. The girl stared back at him with huge brown eyes.
"Me too. I happen to be someone too," he smiled.
"What are you watching?"
"I'm watching the feed of Nestor Bravo."
"Who?" the girl moved closer, eyes wide and curious.
"Nestor Bravo. You've never heard of him? Did you live in a cave?"
"After my Mom died giving birth to me, my dad kept us in a homemade bunker," she shrugged.
"Oh. Your dad is a crazy person then, I'm sorry."
"Actually, he was right. Though, the bunker was poorly built so I had to come here."
"Fair enough, that's a solid argument. Where’s he now?"
"He wouldn't leave his own bunker. The Indian forcefully took me. He probably died out there."
Caleb tilted his head, inspecting the young girl with her monotone, adult voice.
"I'm sorry for your loss. I, um… yeah. Well, Nestor Bravo is a famous soldier. He has a camera in his head. When he looks in a mirror, you see him. When he fights a mutant, you see it. That's him in the reflection of that car's side view mirror."
"He's cool looking. Why's he famous?"
"A long story. You're all alone here?"
"I am."
Caleb nodded. The girl was weird. Her dark hair was a mess of tangles, and her eyes were unnaturally big. Her skin was pale, but had a slight tone of olive that made you think that if she hadn't been forced to live underground she would probably have been dark. Maybe Latina or Italian. Her clothes were ragged and old, but she stood with strength and held eye contact like nothing in the world scared her.
Caleb liked her immediately.
"My name is Caleb."
"My Dad's name was Caleb."
"Yeah? It's one of the most common names in the world… or it was, I guess. I don't know anymore."
"Why?"
"Cuz everyone is dead."
"No, I mean, why was it such a common name?"
"Oh," Caleb laughed, "because before the Great War, there was a period of peace that the world had never known. It came becau
se of a guy named Caleb they say."
She moved forward and climbed up onto his lap and pointed at the screen.
"Can anyone watch this?"
"No. Just the government and me. I hacked into it."
"Can you share it with people? Or sell it to them?"
Caleb looked at the back of the girl's head. He smiled.
"That's… well, that's an interesting idea. What's your name?"
"My name is Marianne."
"Okay. That's a big name and you're small," Caleb smiled. "So, I'm gonna call you Mary, okay?"
Chapter 40
***
October looked at the men who sat around the large mahogany table. The men all struggled under the weight of famous names, infamous family trees, and purchased titles. Ambani's, Rockefeller's, Talal's, Qinghou's and Kennedy's. Not one of these men had made their own fortune. Most shared little to no blood with the men who made those names famous, but their power was real, even if nothing else about them was. He smiled.
"Gentlemen, welcome to the garden of Eden."
The applause was loud and long. October made no effort to bring it to an end. In the corner he saw the impassive Flores staring at him, the slight glimmer in his eye coming from the glow of Miho's tablet.
"Thank you, thank you. Now if you will, a moment for those of us who did not make it. Those of us lost on runways to the cruel hand of Jacob Rothschild."
The silence was thick and emotional, until, finally it was broken by Eldridge Rockefeller.
"Now, October, there are issues to be discussed. Tragic as the loss of those lives may be, those were men with jobs of great import here on The Island, jobs that must be filled by qualified replacements. Have you a list of potential candidates?"
"Um… well… yes. Of course. My assistant, Ms. Walker, will make sure those lists get to you this evening. Correct, Ms. Walker?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Very good. Now, I'd like to discuss the issue of the satellite feed hack, then the cannibals and then finally…" October froze as the hand of Rockefeller rose in a signal of silence.
"Yes, yes, October, my boy," Rockefeller smiled. "That's all very important I'm sure, but… the mainland is far away. We have an army, they don't. We won. What's important is what we do with our spoils."
This statement was met with a round of applause.
"Um… all due respect, Mr. Rockefeller, the mainland is very much an issue," October felt his heart pounding with anger, but fought to keep his voice calm and respectful. "To assume otherwise would be folly. What could possibly be more important?"
"The issue of breeding procedure," Rockefeller countered.
"I beg your pardon? Procedure?"
"Yes. This must be handled in a professional and efficient matter, correct? Are we to rely on charm and good suits to woo the young women of The Island? Our family names and humankind must continue on, it's of the highest import."
"Well yes, of course, but…" October looked around for something to chew, but found nothing. His anxiety and hunger radiated out to his hands, which began to shake. "Well, we can't just force the women to breed with… we're not a breeding factory!"
The laughter that slowly rumbled out hit October's ears with the bite of an electric current. He felt his face redden with embarrassment and anger.
"Oh dear, October, that is exactly what this is. Didn't your uncle tell you?"
"My uncle, he…" October looked over at his uncle who merely stared back at him. "What do you mean?"
"When we planned this, I just assumed that your uncle would pass along word. I apologize. You should have been kept in the loop. But, well, there's nothing to be done about that now. I have here a list of ideas that we think might be effective."
"We?" October shrieked, his hand crashing down on the table with a crack like thunder. "WE?!"
"Why yes, the council. What is the problem, October?"
"MR. PRESIDENT! YOU WILL CALL ME MR. PRESIDENT!" October screamed so loud that it hurt. Miho and Flores both stiffened their posture, but did not move.
"October, I've known you since you were a boy. I'm not about to start…"
"STOP TALKING!"
October shrieked the words, and had lifted Rockefeller out of his chair and slammed him against the wall before Miho had lowered her tablet. By the time Flores had reached the President, Rockefeller hung limply in October's big hands, his neck having broken on impact with the wall. Blood began to pour out of Rockefeller's ears and mouth. October stared into the dead man's eyes, his hands still clenched hard around the shoulders of the man. Rockefeller's feet dangled a few inches above the ground. October pulled the man from the wall and then slammed him viciously back into it, blood splattering all over.
No one spoke. When Flores placed his hand calmly on the October's shoulder, he felt no flinch or resistance. October simply watched the body fall to the ground in the awkward position that belies the loss of the human spirit and then turned around and faced the room. His hands no longer shook, but were covered in blood, just like his face that was now calm under the splattered dark red.
October's regained self-control was palpable and unwavering.
"Gentlemen, perhaps you had some idea that you were to be the power behind the throne. Perhaps you believed that I would simply be a puppet, a weak and ineffectual mouthpiece for your desires. A tool to be utilized towards your goals of power absolute. Allow me to inform you that this is not the case. I am the President. Not you. Not my uncle. I am the man in charge and it is under my protection that you sleep, that you breathe and that you will pay tribute."
October took a moment to pass his gaze over the shocked and blank faces of this collection of powerful men.
"It's a brave new world, gentlemen. Make no mistake whose world it is. You are dismissed."
The men got up and left. They weren't weak men and despite their seeming submission, October was well aware that already their minds were spinning with plans to unseat him. He was aware of exactly what beast he had awoken and he was not so foolish as to think that the next threat would fall so easily. He looked up at Miho who had sat down, her face still lit from the glow of her tablet, the slightest of smiles upon her face.
"Do you find this funny, Ms. Walker?"
"Yes, sir," Miho smiled, her head tilted slightly with curiosity. "Don't you?"
October looked from the smiling Miho to the lifeless body on the floor. He felt blood rush to his head with the realization of what he'd done, just before his legs buckled and he passed out.
Chapter 41
***
"Freeze right there, mutant!"
Jacob and Coughlin both stopped, lifting their arms up without being told to.
"Well, Coughlin, here's where you pay me back. Go get me in."
Coughlin, hands still up, moved slowly in front of Jacob who tried very hard to smile at the gunman and not look hungry.
"Don't shoot him!" Coughlin yelled, the sweat on his lower back turning his shirt a shade darker. "He's not a threat! He's Jacob Rothschild! It's Jacob!"
The man lowered his shotgun. He nodded and two men appeared on the edges of nearby buildings and took aim. Once he was sure that Jacob and Coughlin had seen the snipers in place, the man moved slowly forward. At about ten feet away he stopped. He motioned for Coughlin to move aside which Coughlin did with reluctance. Jacob kept smiling.
"Okay, so you look like him. Your hair is… Maybe you are him. He got The Shot, which means he's a mutant now, like you. Problem is, I don't see how what you used to be much changes what you are."
"I have a history of saving people."
"That's why I haven't shot you. Beyond that what are you hoping for?"
"A word with the boss and then I'll go."
The man turned and walked off leaving Coughlin and Jacob standing in the middle of the street, guns trained on them from above. Coughlin slowly turned his head to Jacob.
"I guess you don't really need me anymore, so I'm just going to take of
f."
"Sure. Thanks, Coughlin. Of course…"
Coughlin dropped his hands and had taken two steps when he fell dead with two bullets in him.
"…you might want to ask first. Damn it, Coughlin."
Jacob looked down at Coughlin's dead body. He really wished he hadn't promised not to eat him. He looked up at the snipers and nodded.
"Nice shot, guys."
Chapter 42
***
"Hello, Nestor, we’ve been waiting. We wait for our prey. We are patient. Patient in how we wait, patient in how we kill," the mutant's voice came out warped and guttural.
“Okay,” Nestor shrugged his rifle into his hands and glanced around to see if they were alone.
“We know all that you do, Nestor. You can’t escape in this world. We waited all night. We don't tarnish the grounds of this place. It was human. We respect our past. You are that past. Weak and small. Feeble and dying."
"I respect that," Nestor smiled and set down his guns. He drew out his knife and flipped it quickly into a reverse grip.
"Please, Nestor! There are five of us and you are small and a human. Bullets can't even pierce our skin, what good is your knife?"
"Yeah, I know. I dissected one of you. Bullets can't pierce your bone and you're muscles are big and make you fast and strong. But, they also make you awkward and you got soft spots still."
Nestor walked forward at the five huge mutants. When he reached ten feet and saw them rock forward in preparation, but with the hesitation of disbelief, he forced all of his strength down his thigh, bent his right knee and launched himself hard forward. His left foot hit the ground lightly and was used only to turn him in mid-flight and re-launch him a foot higher. At the apex of his heightened lunge he was a head taller than the biggest of the mutants and had spun to the side of his huge closing arms. Nestor kicked his feet out to the right and caught another of the mutants in the face and neck with his feet. He used the face and neck to push off, and get extra strength as he swept his arm sideways and buried his knife into the side of the first mutant's throat. The mutant tried to scream, but only managed to gargle his own blood.
Monsters of the Apocalypse Page 10
