by Brian Yansky
And I think back to the man at the circus who might or might not have been a man, and his saying I’d make a choice to begin or end all choices, and I know this must be the choice. It must be here.
And if you’re wrong? Sam’s question stabs at me.
Just then the elevator door opens and one of Colonel Hamilton’s soldiers motions us to the elevator. We can hear aliens running in their totally uncoordinated way toward the hangar. Captain Wilkes and a couple of his men prepare to hold them off for as long as they can, which I’m afraid won’t be very long.
“They run like girls,” Michael says.
“This girl could outrun you,” Sam says. “And if I can’t, I know I can outfight you, so just cut the sexist crap.”
“Sorry,” he says.
Sam turns to me. “This vision you had, the one where the earth isn’t destroyed? You didn’t happen to see what we did to get us there, did you?”
“It’s not really a vision. It’s more like walking ahead in time. Except I don’t actually walk. And it’s not actually ahead.”
“Gods,” she mutters. “The Warrior must have been really hard up when he chose you. Can you tell us what we’re supposed to do next or not?”
The elevator drops. It goes down fast and far.
“I’ll have to show you.”
This is a big lie, of course. But I’m desperate, and this at least buys me time.
The elevator door opens again. This time it opens to a large room filled with computer stations. Off to one side is a screen that takes up most of one wall. Auditorium seats are in front of it.
It’s the room I saw in one of my travels to the future, which is now the present — the one in which I put Colonel Hamilton in a choke hold, the one where he says I’ve destroyed us all. What if he’s right and I destroy everything? What if I make the wrong choice and end all choices?
Colonel Hamilton is at a computer station. He’s typing in codes. The large screen on the wall flashes, and we see a room of missiles. They’re white with gray metal tops. They look tall.
We hear gunfire above us: Captain Wilkes and his men guarding the doors. Colonel Hamilton barely registers the noise. He just orders a few soldiers to guard the elevator door.
“I have to reset the destination codes,” the colonel says. “I need you two to cloak what I’m doing. The aliens are trying to override my commands from upstairs.” His brow is dotted with sweat, the only sign of his struggles. The sound of the elevator going up the shaft startles us all. I realize that the gunfire stopped a while ago.
“Looks like we’ll have company soon,” Sam says.
The soldiers by the door get into position. I use the distraction to mindspeak to Catlin, to tell her that she needs to read the colonel. We need those codes.
She can’t know what I have in mind — I’m not even sure yet myself — but she doesn’t hesitate. I feel her pushing into him. The colonel’s hands move up and down the keyboard almost like he’s playing it. He’s very focused. He doesn’t notice the soldiers crouching and raising their guns. And he doesn’t notice Catlin reading him.
Catlin sends me a message telling me she thinks she has the codes to reset destinations.
Think?
It’s not a science.
“Keep those things back for three minutes,” Colonel Hamilton orders over his shoulder, “and we’ll teach those green devils a thing or two.”
A part of me is with him. A part of me thinks he’s right. Nuclear fall, nuclear winter, we have to get rid of the aliens. But it’s the wrong future. If I know anything, I know that. I choose.
Catlin mindspeaks, I have faith in you, Jesse.
I show everyone the world I saw, the future that the bombs will create. Nuclear winter. A dead planet and a dying human race. A slow and painful and sad ending to life on Earth.
“We can’t do this,” I say.
“Shoot him!” the colonel orders.
The soldiers look from the colonel to me and back again. But no one shoots.
“There’s another way,” I say. “We attack who we should be attacking. We attack the aliens.”
“This is not up for debate!” The colonel shouts. He turns back to his keyboard. “Shoot the girl,” he says.
The guns swing toward Catlin, and that’s when I do it: I launch myself at Colonel Hamilton, pull him out of his chair, and put him in a choke hold. It’s a good one. It’s like what I saw when I traveled to this future that is quickly becoming the past.
Some of the guns swing back toward me. The colonel can’t speak, but he can mindspeak.
Shoot her! he orders. I put his mind in a choke hold.
All the guns swing toward Catlin again, but still no one shoots. No one wants to be the first to do it.
Sam and Michael take advantage of their hesitation to swing their rifles toward the colonel, whose face is beet red.
“Anyone shoots, a lot of people are going to die,” Sam says. “Starting with the colonel.”
The soldiers are confused. Some of the rifles swing toward Sam and Michael, but no one fires.
“I have the Spirit of the Warrior in me,” I say. “I’m doing what has to be done. That’s all I’m doing. I’m doing what has to be done.”
Total crap? Truth? Don’t know. Don’t care at that point. I just need them to remain confused enough to hesitate.
The elevator starts back down.
“Guns toward the door, soldiers,” Sam orders.
“Guns toward the door,” I echo.
And the soldiers spin around. They point their guns toward the elevator.
I join with Catlin. She can see my plan more easily that way than if I tried to mindspeak it. Quickly she changes the destinations of the missiles. She looks at me and holds my gaze for one long second before she pushes the button to launch the missiles.
The ground shudders, and we can feel them launch. The screen on the wall shows them flying out of the ground and toward the vastness of space. Thirty-six of them. Our last hope.
The colonel goes limp in my arms. I lower him to the ground and take his gun from his holster.
The elevator door opens at the same moment, and guns fire. The aliens stop the bullets. Rifles fly out of some soldiers’ hands. I send wave after wave of energy at them to block their attacks and give our men and women a chance to recover, to fight back.
Behind us on the big screen, the missiles make their way toward the ships out in space. Thirty-six missiles on their way. Thirty-six little flashes of light. They’re there, and then they aren’t. In a second, every missile disappears. Thirty-six dots of light, like candles on a birthday cake, blown out in one frickin’ breath.
“You’ve destroyed us,” the colonel chokes out from the floor, his eyes glued to the screen. “You’ve signed our death warrant.”
I turn to Catlin, but she doesn’t even see me. She just keeps looking at the screen like she’s trying to will the missiles back on. But she can’t. We’ve made our choices. This is where they’ve led us.
Then something none of us expects happens. The aliens stop fighting. The Sanginians put a shield up around themselves for protection, but they don’t attack. Sam orders the soldiers to cease fire. Most of them don’t have guns to fire anymore anyway. I think these aliens were more prepared for the guns. I think the aliens have been sharing notes on our attacks, which surprises me. These aren’t hunters. They’re soldiers.
Stand by for a message, we hear from the alien who seems to be in charge.
The last time I heard this was when the aliens invaded and we were made slaves.
PLEASE DO NOT FIRE ANY MORE MISSILES AT US OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO DESTROY YOU. WE MUST PROCESS NEW INFORMATION. YOUR STATUS IS BEING REVIEWED. WE WILL HAVE AN ANSWER FOR YOU SHORTLY.
The aliens back into the elevator and leave.
Catlin, Michael, Sam, and I are put under arrest. We’re taken back to camp. Later that same morning there’s a second message.
WE ARE LEAVING NOW. WE HAVE CONCLUD
ED THAT THE COMPANY MADE MISCALCULATIONS AND MISREPRESENTATIONS ABOUT YOUR PLANET, WHICH LED TO AN ILLEGAL SETTLEMENT. A FULL INQUIRY IS IN PROGRESS. HOWEVER, IT IS CLEAR THAT THE SETTLEMENT OF YOUR PLANET WAS A VIOLATION OF SANGINIAN POLICY. THEREFORE, A FULL REFUND WILL BE GIVEN TO EVERY SANGINIAN SETTLER.
WE HEREBY RETURN YOUR PLANET TO YOU, EARTHLINGS. WE DO SO WITH PROFOUND APOLOGIES. WE ARE VERY SORRY FOR YOUR LOSSES.
ALL SURVIVORS, MOSTLY THE YOUNG ONES OF YOUR SPECIES, TAKEN BY US WILL BE RETURNED TO YOUR PLANET, THOUGH THIS MAY REQUIRE A FEW OF YOUR MONTHS TO ACCOMPLISH AS THEY HAVE BEEN SENT TO TRAINING STATIONS. WE WISH YOU A FORTUNATE FUTURE.
SINCERELY,
SANGINIAN SECRETARY OF SETTLEMENT, LORD HADRIAN
They leave. It takes them a little longer to leave than it took them to invade. But they’re gone in twenty days. By my calendar, the last alien leaves August 1. In the future, August 1 will be celebrated as the day the earth became ours again. And it is ours, but who we are has changed. The survivors all have talents. That’s one big change. But something that hasn’t changed is humankind’s desire for power. There are gangs and even, already, small armies led by men and women who make all kinds of claims for a future in which they lead. The government of old America is fragmented and slow to reform. It gives these armies a chance to get recruits and territory. One of them is said to be led by a powerful and charismatic young man who claims he is destined to unite the talented.
Catlin and I have been asked to leave Colonel Hamilton’s camp. He wants us out of his sight. He’s still saying that if he had his way, we’d be before a firing squad, but he won’t have his way. We’re heroes to many.
Most of the members of New America, as well as a few people from Colonel Hamilton’s unit, want to leave with us when I say we plan to make the dangerous trip to Austin, Texas, where the new government of Texas is rumored to be forming. They want me to lead them there. There are many rebel gangs between us and Austin, but, as far as we know, there are none of the more dangerous armies that range to the north and particularly to the east of us.
Some of the members of New America choose to stay at the military camp, though. Sam and Michael are among them.
It’s Sam who wants to stay. She says New America will need soldiers and Colonel Hamilton, whatever weakness of character he might have, will be loyal to the government. She will be needed. She wants to fight. Michael is in love, and he says he wants to fight for New America, too.
“I owe you everything,” he tells me. “But I want to fight, too. And I’m whipped, bro. Let’s face it.”
Sam rolls her eyes, but I can feel that she feels something strong for him, too.
I tell him I’ll see him soon.
We both know that isn’t likely.
I lead trips into surrounding towns to get vehicles and supplies. We make several trips into Albuquerque to get things we need. Finally, one dawn, we’re ready to go and we say our good-byes and we’re off. We hope at the end of this trip to find a new beginning. I guess this is another way we haven’t changed. Some of our ancestors, long ago, came to America driven by the same hope, looking for the same new beginning. They called it the New World then. It’s our new world now.
THE THE END
www.candlewick.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Brian Yansky
Cover photograph copyright © 2013 by watchtheworld/Veer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2013
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2013931461
ISBN 978-0-7636-5962-2 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7636-6711-5 (electronic)
Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
visit us at www.candlewick.com
