by Adam Bender
Drake took a deep breath and began. “As you know, the Enemy has arrived on our soil. In the initial attack, we lost the Capitol Tower and some of our largest churches. But we have not lost the Capital, and we have not lost our great nation!”
The Elites cheered.
“We have taken a hit, but we will not sit idly by. No, we will face them and remove them from our land!”
Another roar of approval from the assembled Guard. Drake bared his teeth until it settled down.
“At this very moment,” he continued, “the Enemy is plan-ning a raid on Luna Coast. Already we have troops ready to meet them at the shore, and reinforcements will be sent from this base shortly. The Enemy will be stopped, and then killed.”
“Nuke them to Hell!” shouted someone in the crowd.
Eve rolled her eyes and half turned in her seat to see who said it.
Drake forced a smile. “Now, now,” he said shakily. “In terms of using atomic weaponry…we are at this time…considering our options. Although the Enemy has attacked us on our own shore, we do not want to be hasty in our response. We must focus now solely and completely on fighting them back and removing heresy from the Capital.”
“Some kind of blockade,” observed Talia.
“Uh huh,” Seven replied listlessly. He was caught up in a scene about thirty feet down the road where a Guard wearing thin black shades was pulling a lanky kid out of his black sports car seemingly by the scruff of his neck. The soldier shoved the boy face-first into the asphalt, kicked him until he stopped moving, and shackled his wrists.
Talia shifted into park just as a different Guard rapped at her window.
“Good evening,” the soldier stated through lowering glass. He had to bend slightly to make eye contact with Talia. “My apologies for the inconvenience. Just need to see both of your licenses.”
Talia turned hers over as if on autopilot. Seven froze. An ID was one thing he never got around to faking.
The Guard swiped Talia’s card through a black handheld. It blipped and the soldier’s eyes widened. “Huh,” he said.
“What?” asked Talia.
The soldier ignored her and looked to Seven. “Sir, I need your card, too.”
“Uh, I left it at home,” he lied. “There was a panic, and we had to get out quick, and so–”
The Guard turned and waved at the soldier with the sunglasses who seemed to be finished with the youthful of-fender in the other car. “Hagarton, come over here and help me with these two.”
Hagarton marched over to the passenger side of the vehicle.
The Guard on Talia’s side cleared his throat to regain her attention. “Could you please tell me where exactly you thought you were going?”
“Loganville,” she said.
“Why?”
“My brother lives there,” she said. “Wait, what do you mean, thought we were going?”
The Guard ignored the question. “Both of you are going to need to get out of the car and come with us.”
“What?” Talia exploded. “What’s going on?”
Now the soldier’s expression turned severe. “By the order of the president, Watched are not permitted to leave the Capital.”
Hagarton attempted to open Seven’s door but it was locked. “Come out of the vehicle, please.” As he growled, an aroma like coffee in an ashtray wafted through the minivan.
Seven’s mind raced. This wasn’t right, he thought. Even if Talia was Watched, that just made her a suspected Heretic. The Guard had always maintained a careful eye on Watched, but as far as he knew they couldn’t legally arrest someone until proven Heretic.
He was about to air his grievances aloud when Talia floored the gas pedal.
“I would like to–” the president started, then stopped. “I would like to assure you that this attack does not mean that our defenses are inherently weak, or that the Guard is ill prepared to deal with surprise attacks from hostiles. The problem is, as it has always been, the frightening growth and purveyance of heresy amongst our citizens.”
Perhaps realizing the crowd’s eyes had fallen upon him, the Headmaster nodded gravely.
President Drake continued. “Mere hours before the at-tack, we made significant progress on this front. We arrested and killed the traitor Daniel Alexander Young. Young used his riches–riches that could only have been gained in this fine nation–to fund a militant rebel group called the Underground. For this, he paid the ultimate price. With his death we’ve cut the roots from the Underground, and soon its existence will be but a mere memory. But still, perhaps Young’s execution was too little, too late. His treason divided the nation and left it vulnerable to the horrible attack we witnessed yesterday.”
The president dropped his speech on the podium and continued. “You know, the other week I was visiting National University, speaking to students about what it means to be a Patriot. National, as you know, is my alma mater, and I give this speech every year around graduation time. Well, they put us in an auditorium much like this one, and they had microphones in the aisles for students to ask questions. At first, I got the usual questions–how’s the First Dog, how do you manage the stress of running a country, and so on and so forth. But there was this one girl–I forget her name but I’ll never forget what she said to me–she asked me, ‘What gives you the authority…’”
The audience hooted.
“I’m not kidding!” Drake returned merrily. “She asked, ‘What gives you the authority to decide who’s a Patriot and who’s a Heretic?’ So I’m up there thinking, ‘God almighty, where do I even begin?’ I’m about to answer, when–thank God–a school official pulls her away from the mic and escorts her out the building!”
Drake waited for the cheers to subside. “But I don’t want to go off on too long a tangent here. If you want to know more, ask Agent William Graves–he’s assigned to watch her now.” The president held a hand up to his forehead and squinted into the crowd. “You here, Willy?”
If Willy was around, he didn’t respond. Eve figured he was probably drunk somewhere. She knew the asshole and didn’t think much of him. On several occasions the agent made arrests based on what Eve considered rather flimsy evidence. It usually held up in court, but that wasn’t the point.
“Look,” said Drake, “the lesson here is that we must not merely exterminate the Enemy, but indeed all enemies to this country’s welfare. We simply must ramp up our efforts to eliminate heresy. That is why today I have ordered the arrest of every Heretic on the Watched List.”
Eve straightened in her seat. What did he just say?
“All of you should be commended for your brilliant work following these dangerous men and women, and sniffing out their deviance. But yesterday’s attack proved that our policies have given the Watched too much slack. My friends, I tell you now that too many Heretics have slipped through our fingers. But we have learned. And now they will pay the price.”
“But not all Watched are Heretics,” mumbled Eve, shut-ting up as she became aware of her hook-nosed neighbor’s suspicious gaze.
Drake shuffled through his papers. “Now,” he said, scanning the page. “We have already begun arresting the Watched from the Capital. We set up a blockade at the Tunnel, and have so far captured hundreds of would-be escapees. But now we must extend our net to the rest of the nation. Those of you here from out of town will be given new orders upon your return home. You will arrest your current targets, and interrogate them. We will compile what information we learn and use it to wipe heresy from our fair land. Meanwhile, agents who were based in the Capital will stay here at the Desert Base until further notice.”
The president took a step back from the podium and the Headmaster glided forward. The black-cloaked priest breathed slowly through his nostrils and then spoke. “Let us pray.” The minister’s head lifted skyward and he began to hum a low drone. The congregation soon followed. Eve closed her eyes and felt her shoulders relax.
Seven watched their interrogator fall flat on
his back and shrink in the rear window. The other Guard, still standing, pulled a gun from his holster.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he yelled at Talia.
A bullet dinged off the trunk.
“What the hell?!” he cried again.
Talia’s hands tightened around the wheel. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
The Tunnel’s darkness fell upon them. The dash glowed 65, 66 and then 67 miles per hour. Seven spun around and saw a Guard vehicle in hot pursuit. “I think their car is a little faster than ours,” he griped.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said, but a waver in her voice betrayed the show of confidence.
Another bullet smacked off of the minivan’s bumper.
“That’s it,” Seven declared. He unbuckled and bent over Talia’s lap.
“Um,” she said. “What are you doing?”
He came up with Talia’s gun in his hand.
“Hey!” she protested.
Ignoring her, Seven leaned out the window, took aim at the police car and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. He slid back into the car and gritted his teeth. “Has this been empty the whole time?”
Talia’s eyes flitted in his direction. “Um…maybe?”
Ridiculous, he thought, glancing into the side mirror. One of the Guard was hanging out the passenger-side window, lining up another shot.
Seven had an idea. He buckled his seat belt and ordered Talia to slam the brakes.
“What?” she squawked.
“Remember what you did to the gas pedal just a minute ago? Do it to the brakes.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Now!”
The minivan screeched to a skidding stop. Talia and Seven shot forward, but the belts caught them.
The wheels of the police car squealed behind them. The soldier leaning out the window plunged forward, smashing his shoulder against the frame. His pistol skipped and rattled across the pavement. Talia braced for collision, but at the last minute the Guard car swerved and slammed into the right side of the Tunnel.
Talia opened her mouth to speak, but failed miserably.
Seven didn’t give the accident a moment’s notice. “Now, drive!”
Eve heard a squeaky voice call out as she left the auditorium. She turned and saw a short, pudgy man in a crimson robe hustling in her direction. “Excuse me,” he wheezed, clearly out of breath. “Are you Agent Eve Parker?”
She squinted at him. “Yes?”
“He wants to see you–immediately.”
“Who?”
“He,” the churchman repeated with more emphasis.
A chill ran down her spine. She bit her lip and followed the small man through three hallways and two security checkpoints. Eventually, they came upon a thick metal door and a fresh-faced soldier. The priest signaled to the Guard and he tugged the hatch open, revealing a black, empty room.
“I’m not to come any further, my child,” the clergyman told Eve. “The Headmaster seeks you alone.”
Before Eve could protest, the priest had scuttled back down the fluorescent tunnel from which they had come.
Eve gathered what courage she had and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the Elite in bleak darkness. Suddenly a spotlight snapped on, revealing a single gray folding chair in the middle of the room. Eve stepped cautiously toward it, holding her hands out in front of her for protection. It felt like hours before she reached her destination and lowered herself into the seat.
“We have you on tape saying something we find quite dis-turbing,” bellowed a deep voice that seemed to come from all directions.
Eve blinked. “I’m sorry, what–?”
There was a click and a whir, and then a buzzing playback of Jon’s voice filled the room. “Why should I believe you?” he was demanding.
“Because I would never betray you,” cried Eve with a touch of static. “Not even for the Guard!”
Something clicked and the sound cut out. “This was recorded in the Capitol Tower shortly after the bombing, before the building came down. The voices, as I’m sure you remember, belong to you and Agent Jonathan Wyle. We have reason to believe that Agent Wyle escaped the building’s collapse, and that you assisted him in that escape.”
Eve rubbed her arms for warmth. She knew what the Head-master was getting at, and admittedly it looked bad. But she also knew she wasn’t a traitor. She could explain all of this.
“Agent,” the Headmaster growled. “Is there anything you would like to add?”
Eve’s mouth opened before she found the words. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” she tried. “He had a gun to my head and–”
“But did you mean what you said? Does Agent Wyle come before God and country? Do not lie to us.”
“I…” gasped Eve, shutting her eyes tightly. “All I meant was that I love my fiancé. I meant that I love him more than anything in this world, and yes, that includes my allegiance to the Guard. But Father, that’s only because the Guard are but mere men. I promise you…I would never go against the will of God Himself.”
The Headmaster sounded mollified by this answer. “But this man–your fiancé–he is not your Jon any longer. He refers to himself by another name, correct?”
“Yes…he calls himself Seven. We weren’t able to restore his memory before the Enemy attacked. I tried to tell him who he was, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“How could he?” the Headmaster asked rhetorically. “Mod- ern science has fashioned him into a blank slate, and the Heretics scrawled their demonic views all over him. Mr. Wyle has lost his way, and we suspect there is no return.”
No, she wouldn’t believe that. She would find a way. She had to.
“It is more than your words that concerns us,” said the cleric, breathing deeply through his nostrils. “You gave him something. What was it?”
“A memory stick,” she said.
“What information does it contain?”
“The stick itself doesn’t contain much data at all. But we need it to access the surveillance chip in Jon’s head.”
Eve felt unnerved by the Headmaster’s silence. Finally, he spoke. “So what you are saying is that you gave this Seven character access to everything that was recorded during Agent Wyle’s mission, including your confession to him about the nature of his mission. And then, without restoring his identity, you let him get away. Is that correct?”
Eve’s face plummeted. It all sounded much worse coming from the high priest. “Y-yes, Father.”
“Do you see how that might create a problem for us?”
“We were being attacked–the building was going to collapse–he was going to shoot me!” She was whimpering. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”
“Do not apologize to me. Apologize to God. Beg Him for Forgiveness.”
Eve clasped her hands together and groveled.
“On your knees!”
She did as she was told. “I’m so sorry…”
“It is of national importance,” said the Headmaster, pausing for emphasis, “that information about the technology in Mr. Wyle’s head is not revealed to the public. You will find this Seven and bring him to us.”
Eve opened her eyes. “What will you do to him?”
“Jonathan Wyle,” he hissed, “will be Saved.”
She bit her lip. “But Father, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know where to look. He could be anywhere in the Capital right now…”
The Headmaster grunted with disgust. “He’s not there. We have information from the blockade that he’s crossed city lines and headed north. There’s a woman with him named Talia. She told the Guard their destination is Loganville. You will prepare tonight and leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
So Jon had made it out. More importantly, thought Eve, they knew where he was. It was a second chance and it felt like destiny. She would track him down, explain everything again, and maybe this time he’d listen to reason and let her help.
“Agent Parker, a reminder,” the Headmaster hissed. “If you fail us again, we may no longer shield you from God’s vengeance.”
Eve zipped open her suitcase and sighed heavily. She bit one of her fingernails, and began to pace.
The Elite’s room at the Desert Base wasn’t large. Whoever designed the soldiers’ quarter was obviously more interested in efficiency than comfort. The cabinets, chests and even TV were sunk into one wall, and everything but the blankets seemed to be made of polished steel. She had to read a clock to tell if it was light outside.
Not that there was a place for a window. The Desert Base was hidden deep underground, completely invisible to even the best spy satellites. Getting there required a driver with a good sense of direction, and–perhaps more importantly–great patience. The exit off the highway was visible only to the trained eye, and the dirt road stretched on for miles. During her journey here the only assurance Eve got that her driver was going the right way had been a series of Guard checkpoints. After three of those isolated shacks, the road sank dramatically into a sandy cave that was the entrance to the compound.
She wasn’t looking forward to sleeping here tonight.
Eve reached into her pocket for her cell phone, but it slipped out of her fingers and slid beneath the bed. She fell onto all fours to get it. Just as she got a hand on the device, a thunderous knocking at the door jolted her head up against the bottom of the bed frame. Many expletives followed.
“Everything all right in there?” called a male voice behind the door.
Eve gritted her teeth, and seethed, “Yes, fine.” She stared at the door, transfixed.
“Good to hear,” the voice answered with some hesitation. “Um, could you open the door?”
“I told you I’m fine,” she snapped. “I don’t need a doctor, if that’s what you are.”
“What? I’m no doctor. Agent Rik Rodriguez reporting for duty, sir. I was sent down to meet you, to prepare for our mission.”
