Dream Sky

by Brett Battles

  “Hold on. Let me—”

  The sound of running steps stopped him. Not on the field, but farther away in the stands, and…receding.

  He cautiously rose back to his feet and inched out until he could see the guard he’d noticed before, but no one was there. He inched out a little farther, checking to see if the guy had repositioned. He found that not only was the guard missing, but the next guard down was gone, too.

  Emboldened, he continued pushing the boundaries until he was standing free of the holding area’s cover.

  All the guards in the stands were gone.

  For a full two seconds, he didn’t move.

  Then he turned toward the center-field wall and ran.

  __________

  MARTINA WAS NOT happy.

  Gabriel had decided she would be on lookout, meaning she had to stay on the hill and report what was going on instead of being with everyone else headed to the stadium.

  “You promised you would do what we told you,” he reminded her when she protested the assignment.

  She hated him in that moment for reminding her, but she had taken the binoculars and remained behind.

  From her vantage point, she was able to watch while Pax and Nyla were stopped in the parking lot and put in the car. Moments later, there was a bright flash from the interior, followed by the soft echo of the bullets.

  Then Pax’s voice came over the radio. “Go!”

  Martina moved the lenses from the car to the trees where group one was gathered. Seconds after Pax’s command, the group moved into the parking lot in a loose line. Though she couldn’t see them from here, she knew the other two groups were also making their way toward the stadium.

  She switched her view to the interior of the stadium, focusing on the detention area she was sure her friends were in. Her brow furrowed.

  What the…?

  Someone was outside the gate, kneeling next to…a hole in the ground? Not only that, apparently someone was in the hole.

  Oh, my God, she thought. They’re breaking out.

  The person who’d been kneeling suddenly shot up and looked inward at the stadium. She raised her glasses, trying to see what had drawn his attention. For a moment she couldn’t figure out what it was, then she realized the guards were gone.

  She trained the glasses back on the guy on the field. He had moved away from the hole and was stepping slowly from the shadows into the lit open area to the right of the fence.

  It wasn’t very long before he seemed to realized what she’d already discovered, because he turned and started running toward the back of the field.

  Martina gasped.

  As the man turned, his face had come into view.

  Ben.

  He was alive!

  Without another thought, she jumped up and began running down the hill.

  __________

  BLEEP-BLEEP.

  Bleep-bleep.

  Dr. Lawrence looked up from her desk, unsure where the noise was coming from.

  Bleep-bleep.

  Bleep-bleep.

  Dr. Rivera grabbed the radio off the central table. He twisted a dial on top and the sound decreased.

  The general alarm, Lawrence realized. It had been tested once when they first arrived but hadn’t been used since.

  Suddenly the bleeping was replaced by the voice of Brooks, station director. “All security personnel report to entrances one, two, and four. Multiple individuals approaching.”

  “Multiple?” Lawrence said.

  “I repeat,” Brooks said. “All security personnel report to entrances one, two, and four. Multiple individuals approaching. Intake officers report to your stations.”

  “That’s us,” Lawrence said, standing.

  Rivera looked annoyed. “The others can handle this.”

  “I’ll let you explain that to the director when she comes asking where you were.”

  “Fine.” He pushed up.

  On the way to the door, Lawrence swung by the observation room. The subject was stretched out on the cot, staring at the ceiling. Lawrence activated the intercom. “Ruby, how’s your headache?”

  “Gone.”

  “Excellent news.”

  “I take it you are still feeling no other symptoms?”

  “You take it right,” the girl said, not hiding her displeasure.

  “Don’t worry. In the morning this will all be over,” Lawrence said with a smile before heading for the door where Rivera was waiting.

  “Still no sign of infection?” he asked.

  “None.”

  __________

  WHILE THE TEAMS drew the attention of the security personnel, Pax and Nyla drove over to the back of the stadium and hopped out of the car.

  “Martina,” Pax said into his radio. “Have they pulled the guards from inside the stadium?”

  No answer.

  “Martina? Do you read me?”

  He turned and looked toward the hill where she was supposed to be stationed.

  “Martina?”

  He saw someone enter the parking area from the base of the hill, running.

  “Who the hell is that?” he said.

  Nyla followed his gaze. “I’m not sure.”

  “Is it Martina?”

  “Could be.”

  Two armed men ran out from the east side of the stadium, on an intercept course for the person Pax had spotted.

  “Son of a bitch,” Pax said.

  If it was Martina, there was no one around to help her.

  “Come on,” he told Nyla as he headed back out into the parking lot.

  __________

  “STEADY,” GABRIEL SAID just loudly enough for the others in his group to hear.

  They were walking at a normal pace, hopefully projecting a sense they were not a threat. Their weapons, though, were all close at hand.

  Ahead, five Project Eden soldiers were approaching. They, of course, were not even attempting to conceal their firepower. Each carried a rifle, the barrels angled at the sky.

  When there were only about fifty feet between the guards and Gabriel’s group, one of the guards shouted, “Please hold right there.”

  “Are we in the wrong place?” Gabriel said. “Isn’t this the survival station?”

  “Yes, sir, it is, but we need you and the others to stop so we can talk with you.”

  “Oh, sure. Everyone, it’s okay.”

  The group came to a staggered halt, while the guards continued forward until they were only a few yards away.

  The guard who’d spoken said something softly into a mic attached to his jacket. When he looked back at Gabriel, he said, “You’re a pretty big group.”

  “Picked up people here and there on the way,” Gabriel said.

  “What about the others?”

  “What others?” Gabriel asked, feigning confusion.

  “Got a couple other groups about the same size as yours coming in on the other side of the stadium.”

  Gabriel made a big show of sighing in relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. I thought we’d lost them.”

  “They’re with you?”

  “Yes. We got separated once we reached the city. I’m glad to hear they’re okay.” Gabriel stuck his hand out and stepped forward. “I’m Gabriel.”

  The move took the man off guard. He hesitated, then removed his hand from the stock of his rifle and shook Gabriel’s.

  Gabriel had the man’s rifle before the guy had a chance to react. The main guard grabbed for his radio, but Gabriel smashed the butt of the gun into his hand, batting it away and breaking bones in the process. He looked over and saw the rest of his team, led by Resistance security members, had disarmed the other guards.

  “Ramon,” he said. “Please take possession of this man’s radio.”

  As Ramon removed the device, the guard said, “What the fuck? This is not the way to get our help.”

  “That’s funny,” Gabriel told him. “I hadn’t realized Project Eden was in the business of helping.�
��

  The guard stiffened. “Who are you?”

  As tempted as Gabriel was to answer with another thrust of the rifle butt, he motioned to the others that it was time to move. Keeping the guards between them, they hurried the rest of the way to the stadium.

  Gabriel took a quick look around, and then pointed at a metal pipe railing meant to protect the public from a sunken drainage intake. “That should do nicely,” he said.

  They secured the guards to the railing with zip ties.

  “Whatever you’re planning,” the main guard said, “do you really think you’re going to get away with it?”

  Gabriel plucked his own radio off his belt and clicked the SEND button. “Team B?”

  The delay was barely a second. “Team B secure.”

  “Team C?”

  Again, a brief pause. “Team C secure.”

  “Anyone have any problems?”

  “Negative.”

  “None here.”

  “Stand by,” Gabriel said. He looked at the guard. “Actually, I think we’ve already gotten away with it.”

  Hypodermics were produced, and before the guards realized what was going on, they were each injected with enough sedative to knock them out for at least twelve hours.

  Gabriel raised the radio again. “Phase two.”

  33

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  11:07 PM CST

  THE REASSIGNMENT ROOM was back in order—the chairs in straight rows, the body fluids cleaned up, and the smell of sweat and fear filtered from the air.

  Terrell had felt like a robot as he helped Diaz and the others get things ready for the next group. When he and Diaz had hauled the bodies out of town, Terrell had considered slipping away and disappearing forever. But that would have been the cowardly choice, a selfish act no better than if he were pushing the button to activate the gas.

  So he had returned and done what he had done so many times before.

  “Better be the last group today,” Diaz whispered to him as they waited outside the room for the guard detail to return with the next batch of survivors. “By the time we get back from the dump, it’ll be almost three a.m., and if I don’t get some sleep I might start bashing in heads myself.”

  Terrell knew he should respond with some witty comeback—that kind of banter made up most of their communication—but all he could manage was a small nod and barely audible “yeah.”

  Diaz frowned. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

  “Sorry. Just…tired,” Terrell said, seizing on to Diaz’s own admission.

  “Lightweight,” Diaz said.

  Terrell forced a smile. “Better a lightweight than a dumb shit like you.”

  If Diaz noticed Terrell’s less than smooth delivery, he made no mention of it. Instead, he seemed to take Terrell’s jab as a sign that everything was okay. He grunted a laugh and said nothing more.

  FROM THE JOURNAL OF BELINDA RAMSEY

  I HAVE BEEN trying to sleep for the last two hours, but the buzzing in my head refuses to go away. So I’ve decided to write a bit and hope that getting some of my thoughts down will clear my mind.

  The doctors and their soldiers came a total of three times today, taking more of us with them each time. Our holding area is no longer crowded. No one needs to share a bed anymore. In fact, there are several empties around.

  No one who had been taken away has come back. Not a single person. But the things they arrived here with, the things they’d been allowed to bring with them into the holding area, are all still here. Someone, I’m not sure who, has moved all the missing people’s possessions to the back of the room. Why? I don’t know. I just know that I don’t like it. When the others do come back, they are going to wonder why someone touched their things.

  All right, all right, I know. Maybe the others aren’t coming back. It still doesn’t mean we have the right to displace their things so quickly.

  I think I’m going crazy. I think I’m focusing on things that aren’t important, but what else can I do? Where have the others gone? Why won’t the doctors tell us what’s happening? Why are they—

  I hear the gate opening.

  They’re calling for us to come out again.

  More later.

  __________

  TERRELL HEARD THE footsteps long before the procession came into view. As usual, Drs. Harvell, Wilhelm, and Yang were in front, followed by the survivors—twenty-one this go-around—and then the guards.

  The first few groups that had been escorted in had been full of hope and excitement, while those that followed were progressively less so. The new group looked as if nearly everyone’s hope was gone.

  Terrell tried not to glance at any of their faces for more than a second, but then a girl near the middle of the pack locked eyes with him and he could not look away. She was maybe twenty, with an intelligence in her gaze that reminded him of a girl back in high school. Lindsey, two years ahead of him. She had always been kind, even helped him study on occasion.

  The girl being led to her death continued to stare at him all the way into the room, and for a moment he thought, She knows. She knows what we’re about to do to them. But that was impossible. She was just tired like the others, he told himself, done in by the ordeal of survival and the wait for the promised vaccine.

  “Please, everyone, move all the way to the end of the rows and take a seat,” Dr. Wilhelm said as the survivors entered.

  Terrell and Diaz followed the last of the guards in, stopping next to the door as they’d done at the start of each previous session.

  After everyone was seated, Wilhelm said, “Let me be the first to say congratulations. You have all cleared the quarantine period, and in a few minutes you will be administered the Sage Flu vaccine.”

  There were murmurs of relief and even a few smiles, the dark mood lifting a little.

  “First, though, we will be showing you a video that explains the safe zone you’ll be taken to after you get inoculated. So please relax and we’ll get it started.”

  Several hands shot up.

  Dr. Harvell took a step forward. “We understand that you have a lot of questions. Some of those will be answered by the video. If you still have questions after, we’ll be happy to answer them then.”

  Though Terrell had heard the words before, their true wickedness hit him hard this time. They were for the doctors’ benefit only, so that they wouldn’t have to face any longer than necessary those who were about to die.

  The survivors lowered their hands. As Terrell was about to look away, he saw the girl again. Unlike the others who were watching the doctors, she was looking at him. It was almost as if she were trying to see into him to find the truth.

  He blinked and tore his gaze away as the lights began to dim.

  The doctors and guards made their way out of the room, then Terrell and Diaz grabbed the double doors and began to close them. As he swung his half around, Terrell tried to resist the urge to look back at the girl but failed. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her eyes were on the screen, and he could see the faintest bit of hope on her face. His breath caught in his throat.

  Click. The doors sealed shut.

  Click. A switch flicked on inside him.

  Per routine, the doctors headed back to their offices. They would stay there until twenty minutes later, when they would be needed to verify everyone was dead. All but two of the guards also left. The two who remained took up positions in front of the airtight doors while Terrell and Diaz made their way to the control room.

  “Evening, guys,” Harris said as they entered. He was the board operator and had been the one who’d dimmed the lights.

  A wide-screen monitor on the front wall displayed a feed from inside the room. A few of the survivors were fidgeting in their chairs.

  “Showtime,” Harris said as he hit a button that dimmed the lights the rest of the way.

  A second button started the video projector, and on the screen in front of the sur
vivors, the image of Gustavo Di Sarsina appeared. As the man started speaking, Diaz stepped over to the controls that operated the gas. A turn of the key and a tap of the switch would set things in motion.

  Terrell watched as his partner removed the safety guard and reached for the key.

  “Wait,” Terrell said. “Can I?”

  Diaz raised an eyebrow. He’d always been the one who had to perform this task.

  “About fucking time,” Diaz said.

  He stepped away and made a grand motion of ceding control.

  As Terrell stepped into place, Diaz said, “You know what to do?”

  “I know what to do.”

  Terrell placed his hand on the key, feeling the curved top and the hole where a ring would go through. Just turn and push the button and they would all die.

  “Anytime now,” Diaz said, a laugh in his voice.

  Enough.

  The key slipped out of the slot surprisingly easily.

  Diaz was still grinning as Terrell whirled around and jabbed the jagged piece of metal into his neck. Though unintentional, the aim had been perfect. Blood pumped from Diaz’s carotid artery, gushing down on the counter and covering the touch screen.

  “What the fuck?” Harris said, turning at Diaz’s gargling sound.

  Terrell launched himself forward and slammed into Harris, ramming him back against the other counter. There was a loud smack as Harris’s torso connected with the sharp edge. He screamed as his face twisted in pain. Terrell jammed the bloody key into the man’s neck. Unfortunately, he was a little off this time, and had to dig around for a second before ripping open the artery with the uneven edge of the key.

  Harris dropped to his knees, clutching at his wound.

  Terrell leaned against the wall, hyperventilating as the reality of what he’d done hit him. Both men were on the floor, unmoving. Unconscious or dead, he didn’t bother to check.

  Keep moving! he told himself. He was all in now.