Exodus (The Fall of Haven)

by Justin Kemppainen

  The pair sat locked in a holding cell, captured and nearly killed after crossing into Citizen territory. Demands and pleas using anger, appeals to reason, and even a small amount of begging had been ignored by the Citizen sentries, who had debated whether or not to shoot the intruders.

  Malcolm had not wished to go quietly, but Michaels, keen on not being riddled with collateral fire, begged him to allow the capture. "Our arguments will not be strengthened by the presence of unconscious or dead Citizens. We're here to warn them."

  However, no insisting, logic, threats, or anything budged their captors. Michaels demanded to see the man in charge, Herman Gottfried, or any former member of the Natural Philosophy staff, and he rattled off a dozen other random names from the Citizen hierarchy in hopes of getting proper respect.

  Through all of it, the captors had displayed a growing irritation and discomfort at his words, especially when he expressed the truth of the infection and a brutal invasion force. However, they remained steadfast, dumping the prisoners in a holding room. Malcolm could probably have smashed through any wall, door, or guard to freedom, but Michaels urged him to stay calm.

  "I'm sorry," he said, not for the first time. "How was I to know they'd refuse reason?"

  "Escape."

  "No, for the last time, we can't give them reason to doubt us."

  Malcolm grumbled under his breath, sounding close to human with the complaints.

  "Someone important will come here. My name can't have been forgotten so easily in such a short time. As a member of the Advisory Council before the uprising, I didn't hold formal authority, but there was..."

  He trailed off at Malcolm's deepening glare, which served to remind Michaels of to whom he spoke. It was actually a bit funny, but he stifled a smile and laugh so as to not upset Malcolm further. Yes, I know you used to be a member as well, used to hold my seat at that, but then why do you insist so often to deny your memory as Marcus?

  Malcolm displayed enough irritation without needing further antagonizing. Though Michaels had never been opposed to measures of verbal abuse, poking an angry bear while locked in a small room with it seemed unwise.

  More time went by, growing apprehension staving off the desperate boredom. What is taking so long? Could it be that they decided not to tell Gottfried or their leader? Am I so unimportant now in the Citizen camp? The possibility of his declining significance bothered him more than he cared to admit.

  Worst of all, even in the face of such serious problems, he couldn't avoid thinking about Claudia. Aside from the idealized fondness, he wondered at the possibility of the micro-organisms assisting in the reversal of the horrid conditioning. My horrid conditioning...

  However, before he could strangle himself with foolish hope for too long, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

  By God, he hasn't changed at all, Michaels thought.

  Inquisitor - High Inquisitor, Michaels reminded himself - Herman Gottfried stood in the doorway. The upright posture, the neutral yet piercing expression...

  The same clothing, watchful eyes, and the same air of confidence, Gottfried gazed back and forth between the two captives. From the corner, Malcolm radiated animosity, but Gottfried indicated no notice.

  "Citizen Michaels. It has been quite some time. You are well?" The question was almost a statement; only the barest shades of inquiry lay in his tone.

  "As well as can be expected." He gestured to the room with both hands.

  "Ah, yes, our apologies for detaining and keeping you waiting." There was no actual regret in Gottfried's voice. "The Citizenship has become anxious and untrusting, and rightly so considering the current circumstances."

  This mindless chatter won't do, Michaels thought. "Enough. You are well, I am well. Marc-" he coughed, hiding the mistake. "Malcolm is rather annoyed at my insistence on us being captured, but he is perfectly fine otherwise. With no need for further pointless pleasantries, perhaps I can tell you why I risked my life in coming here."

  Gottfried's face betrayed the tiniest hint of amusement. He gestured for Michaels to speak.

  "From your lack of alarm, I'm going to assume those idiot sentries decided to refrain from telling you anything. Very well, I'm sure they'd have gotten it wrong."

  Michaels launched into the description of his day, the battery of tests, and the conclusion behind them. As he spoke, he noticed the High Inquisitor's expression changing from passive to frowning to outright troubled. This is probably the most emotion I've ever seen from the man, he thought.

  After highlighting the OHU reaction to the news, Michaels finished off his explanation. "...then your bumbling sentries captured us, debated executing us on the spot, and generally ignored what is obviously a very serious situation."

  Gottfried folded his arms. "You're absolutely certain of your results?"

  "Some is extrapolation." Michaels gave a shrug. "Our captive subject may have been an aberration; Nigel's people may not hold the highest infection concentration."

  "Yet their behavior and resilience would suggest a possible inhuman element, including rituals which could bolster the organism-count," replied the High Inquisitor. His jaw clenched.

  "You understand then why this is important."

  Gottfried drew in and released a deep breath. "Of course. The problem lies in convincing Davidson of this."

  Michaels frowned. "Will there be a problem?"

  "Undoubtedly. He dispenses trust to no one, loyal Inquisitors and former Citizens being no exception."

  "Perfect," the frown deepened into a scowl, "have I wasted my time, then?"

  "It's possible, but I'll see the two of you over there immediately. Hopefully, this news will make him reconsider his current course of action." He gestured toward the open door.

  "And what course would this be?" Michaels asked, following Gottfried out of the holding room.

  The High Inquisitor replied without looking back, "All-out assault."

  Michaels let his head loll backward. "Heaven save us... I swear they all think of nothing but blood."

  Gottfried didn't reply.

  "Regardless, time is short. Against my better judgment and at horrendous risk, I can't possibly in good conscience allow our allies in Old Haven to remain unaware of the danger surrounding them. Whether or not this Davidson will heed my warnings is immaterial, as the two of us," Michaels gestured to the silent but still annoyed-looking Malcolm, "will need to continue onward."

  At the mention of Old Haven, Michaels noticed Gottfried's jaw clench and concern quickly sweep across his features. Goodness, it seems I was wrong. He truly has changed if he betrays facial expression twice in one conversation.

  Michaels wondered what concerned the High Inquisitor. He thought about asking but didn't receive the opportunity. Arriving at their destination, it appeared as nondescript a building as any other, inside and out.

  After waiting in a hallway for a few more minutes, they were led into an office. Michaels instantly disliked the man they faced. He was pale, tall, thin, and radiated a smug superiority. The man, Davidson, spared a glance at each individual before seating himself at the desk. He didn't react to Malcolm.

  "What is this about, Gottfried?" he asked, not looking up.

  "These individuals have discovered vital information." Gottfried stepped forward, quickly highlighting the findings of the two guests/captives. During the explanation, Davidson ceased examining papers on his desk and folded his hands, listening.

  "Quite a... tale," he said when the High Inquisitor finished, his halting manner of speech grating on Michaels' nerves. "Is there any reason to doubt their findings?"

  Gottfried shook his head. "They came here at no small risk. The situation down below appears much more worrisome."

  "Yes. A situation you assured me was already handled." Davidson raised an eyebrow.

  "This new information was hardly available last night." Gottfried didn't miss a beat. "A days worth of such research is far beyond what any here could accomplish, even
if we had the proper equipment."

  Davidson quirked a smile. "Indeed."

  "Yes, this is all very fascinating," Michaels cut in, scowling, "but what do you intend to do about it?"

  The Citizen leader favored Michaels with an expression which suggested he thought very little of the former Advisory Council member. "Nothing... perhaps? I admit a strong skepticism toward your findings. If this proven to be true," he gestured at the ever-silent Malcolm, "would we not see more of his kind about?"

  Michaels rolled his eyes. "Not necessarily; we don't know the first thing about this technology or how it might adapt from host to host. It could be any number of-"

  "Yes, yes, fascinating." Davidson waved him off. "I'll consider what you've said. Take them to a holding area for the time being."

  "You can't do that," Michaels said sharply. "This is far too important to bury, and there are many more individuals who need to be made aware of it!"

  Davidson's attention turned toward a map of the city, ignoring the former Citizen's outburst. The High Inquisitor set a hand on Michaels' shoulder, gently pulling him toward the exit.

  "Listen here, you pompous idiot." Michaels shrugged off the hand and stepped forward. He leaned over the desk. "I don't know what arbitrary stupidity allowed you such authority, but you place in jeopardy not only your own people but the lives of everyone in this city by ignoring me."

  "And you're an antiquated relic of a system whose leadership failed," Davidson replied, raising his head to peer at the angry Michaels. "Your word on anything is all-but worthless to me even if your news cannot be ignored. I will discover for myself if you speak any truth, and then, perhaps then, we shall speak further."

  Gottfried gripped Michaels' shoulder again, pulling with greater insistence this time. The former Citizen experienced the wild urge to twist free, leap over the desk, and throttle the man, but he released the desire as Gottfried half-dragged him toward the exit.

  "High Inquisitor," Davidson spoke. "How fares the other matter?"

  Gottfried paused, and the same clenched jaw and expression of mild concern crossed his features. "I don't know. They haven't returned."

  "Pity," Davidson said with a frown. "Please inform me once you know anything."

  "Of course." He gave a slight bow and shoved Michaels out the door, and still without speaking, Malcolm followed.

  Outside and on the street, the High Inquisitor turned toward the former Citizen. "Fool. Does antagonizing Davidson serve your purpose?"

  Michaels held on to his anger. "Was any harm done? Would the man have listened either way? Haven't I already wasted considerable time on this useless endeavor? Davidson's an idiot, drunk on power and clueless to reality, but he'll learn. Oh yes, he'll have plenty of time to lament his stupidity when Nigel's fanatics are chewing on his entrails for all eternity."

  "I don't disagree," Gottfried sighed, "but mind your temper. If you seek to make alliances and friends, you can hardly expect much when providing such strong hostility."

  Michaels waved a hand. "I don't need friends; I need people willing to look beyond their petty desires long enough to notice the demons creeping beneath us. If he wishes to ignore my warnings and endanger all of his people, then just deserts will be his."

  "He may yet be convinced," Gottfried replied. "He's not as unwise as he seems; he understands-"

  "Whatever," Michaels cut him off. "It's no longer my concern. Malcolm and I need to get moving. Do you intend to prevent us from doing so?"

  Malcolm finally provided a reaction, drawing up to his full height and tensing his body. He stared at Gottfried and leaned forward slightly, as if challenging the man to attempt it.

  The High Inquisitor frowned. "How could I? Though of course you jeopardize my tenuous position with Davidson by leaving on such terms."

  "I'm sure you'll find some means of saving face." The former Citizen gave a humorless smile. "I wish a good day to you and hope the idiot will see reason before it's too late."

  Gottfried didn't reply, and without hesitation, Michaels and Malcolm continued on their way.

  Worse and worse it seems to get, Michaels thought. I wonder if there is any point to continuing.

  ******

  In what to Rick's mind was an act of supreme mercy on behalf of the universe, convincing Desmond and Olivia to abandon their homes had not been at all difficult. It took two minutes of hasty explanation before the married couple sprang into action, ready and willing to facilitate the process.

  The challenging part was getting the rest of the civilian population moving, and thus Rick felt the universe once again cackling wildly at his meek efforts.

  Olivia and Desmond trusted Rick and heard a detailed description of what Nigel's fanatics were capable of. They knew the stakes, the looming threat, and worked immediately at goals of protecting their people.

  Various other individuals were not so willing. Non-combatants especially balked and complained, moved far too slowly, and didn't respond favorably to being shouted at to move their asses.

  Geez, half of these entitled shits must've been Citizens or something, he thought. I can't believe they managed to live this long.

  Cass found him again, apparently recovered from the shock and horror of their journey in the red light district. She tagged along everywhere he went, plaguing him with teasing and questions about his newfound relationship with Kaylee while chastising him for leaving her and Michaels behind.

  On the plus side, she expressed no reluctance to add extra yelling and even minor punching, cursing, and scratching to the, "Get your asses moving," effort. Since Kaylee was embroiled in other areas, likely doing the same, Rick had been left without a blunt and tactless presence until Cass had come across him.

  Thankfully, there hadn't arrived any sign of attack nor any indication of imminent danger, aside from the bloody and bodiless scene with the Inquisitors. Still, Rick's muscles knotted at the thought of being ambushed. We might be able to fight them off, provided there aren't too many, but a lot of people would get hurt.

  Escaping to upper-Haven and begging the Citizenship or the OHU for sanctuary seemed a folly course of action. Anything beats the kind of demise we'd risk by staying. This has to happen.

  Gradually, through many threats and the occasional kick, the flurry of movement buzzed in the school. Most of the time was spent gathering and dividing as many provisions as could be carried, locking the rest away for thoughts of eventual return. Some individuals dawdled in their preparations, and some had to be shouted at for packing beyond necessities.

  All in all, the ordeal took less time than Rick expected. Out in front of the school, Desmond and Olivia had divided the hundreds into easily manageable groups. A solemn promise held that no time would be spared for those who wandered away or were unwilling to follow rules. Headcounts were quick, efficient, and Rick thanked the stars that a proper level of fear settled into the group.

  Of course it won't help if someone panics and runs off alone, he thought, but a little fright might keep 'em in line.

  Kaylee came jogging out of the school, reporting no sign of stragglers, and a few others followed shortly after with similar news.

  A crowd of annoyed and/or terrified civilians stared at Rick, waiting for him to dole out further instructions.

  No speeches. Let's just get going, he thought. Making a sharp gesture, he called, "Move out!"

  The crowd started walking, their footsteps and whispers echoing.

  "I really wish there was some way we could keep these people quiet," he murmured to Kaylee, falling in step beside her.

  "I just wish we could go faster," she replied.

  The pace was slow, barely above strolling. It made sense enough; they couldn't deal with people collapsing, and there were those with injuries, like Quinton, to consider. Not to mention they walked with a fair amount of children, but still...

  "Yeah," Rick agreed. "Faster would be nice."

  Kaylee slipped him a coy smile. "Okay, so on a scale of
one to ten, how badly do you want to ditch these people?" She kept her voice quiet, and no one overheard the callous statement.

  "I don't think they've invented a number high enough," Rick said with a grim smirk, "but by God I'll see them to where they need to go before I prance off to parts elsewhere. My thrice-cursed conscience has to be all uppity about it."

  Kaylee reached over and punched him on the arm. "Don't be such a wuss. It'll be fine."

  Some of his tension broke, and he gave a genuine laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right, but the sooner I don't have to worry about this flock, the better."

  ******

  Isaac knelt over Sergei's body, staring at his deceased comrade. "What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered.

  No answer was forthcoming, but still he watched, hoped, and prayed for any sign of life to return. Believing Michaels to be correct meant Sergei would heal in time, which created a wonderful prospect. It also meant many more terrible things, especially if Nigel's people were to recover quickly and press advantage.

  Sergei appeared slightly less dead to Isaac's eyes, but it was probably wishful thinking. There may have been more color in his skin, and maybe there was a twinge of a pulse trying to start itself up. It was drawing close to a day since his death, and Sergei didn't feature bodily stiffness or a particular stench.

  Even if Michaels was correct, it didn't seem like there would be any way to tell when Sergei would wake up. He wondered if some kind of medicine or bandaging would help, but upon reflection the miracle of the organisms or whatever bringing the dead back to life was probably good enough on its own.

  Doesn't solve the problems we have right now, though, he thought. He might not even get the opportunity to come back if everything goes to hell.

  Isaac heard movement behind him, and he spun around, surprised. The tension washed out of him upon viewing the individual. "Ah, Tanya. You startled me. I didn't think anyone else'd come down here."