Divided We Fall

by Adam Bender

  “Welcome to the DAY Center!” burst the elevator. “Please say–”

  “How sweet,” remarked Talia. “Guess it’s forgiven us for that unpleasantness earlier.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t get that,” said the elevator. “Let’s try again. Please say a floor number between one and one-fifteen.”

  “One hundred and fifteen,” Seven replied.

  “One-fifteen,” the elevator confirmed. “Is that right?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Let’s try again. Do you want to go to floor one-fifteen?”

  Seven winced. “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” it said. “Are any other floors requested?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you. Off we go!”

  Seven wondered if it had been Danny’s idea to have a talking elevator in the building. It was definitely his style to choose futuristic over practical. In fact, the whole architecture of the DAY Center was styled in that weirdly cold, city-of-the-future fashion. The Center was also one of the tallest skyscrapers in town. Danny, of course, chose the top two floors for his official presidential campaign center. An army of political whiz kids were on the 114th grinding out political messaging and other details. The 115th was reserved for Young and a small team of “senior advisers.”

  Through the glass side of the elevator, Seven and Talia watched the cityscape descend. Other than the demolished Capitol Tower and churches, the city was mostly intact. The sky was silver but visibility was good, and over the theater district Seven could see the dark blue ocean. There were no boats today. There hadn’t been for quite some time. While some people were trickling back into the city, the vast majority of evacuees had not. The protesters had swarmed the Capital only a week ago, but only a handful stayed. Seven figured there were at least two reasons for that: the first, more obvious reason was that it had only been a few weeks since the Enemy retreated, and it was difficult to say if it was really over. The other reason stemmed from former President Drake’s evacuation policy. By preventing the evacuation of the Watched, he had effectively turned the Capital into a quarantine zone. He might as well have told the country that a horrible and highly contagious virus was sweeping through the city. In the end, people were left thinking it was dangerous to live in the Capital.

  Seven couldn’t help but notice Talia was standing almost three feet away from him. He felt the need to ask her if she was feeling okay.

  “Fine,” stated Talia. “You?”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Nightmare?”

  He shrugged. “Something like that.”

  The elevator dinged. “Welcome to floor one-fifteen! Have a good day!”

  They found Danny, Ana, and Shaan in the lobby, huddled around a sixty-inch flat-panel TV on the wall by the couches.

  “What’s with the sad faces?” asked Talia. “Someone die?”

  “Where the hell have you been?” demanded Ana with a glance at her watch. “Haven’t you seen the news?”

  Seven and Talia glanced helplessly at each other.

  “That bitch Susan Levi,” continued Ana, “just won an endorsement for president from the Headmaster!”

  “What?” gasped Seven.

  Levi was on the TV screen with a big smile and two thumbs up. “I’m just so proud to accept this pledge from his holiness, the Headmaster,” Levi said. “While disappointing that Interim President Randall chose to support my opponent, I must say it’s a big boost knowing I’ve got the angels on my side. As president, I will return the favor, honoring our loving God by restoring normalcy and good morals to His wonderful nation.”

  “Angels?!” protested Talia. “Normalcy?! What is this girl smoking?”

  “I believe Levi means square one,” groaned Shaan. “If she becomes president, it’s likely we’re back where we started.”

  Seven exhaled. “And here I thought we had won.”

  “We never declared victory,” said Young. “Getting rid of President Drake was a good first step, but we knew the man was just a puppet for the Headmaster. They might not say it out loud, but the Church has always had the real power in this country. The Headmaster probably supports Levi because he thinks he can control her. Judging by what I’ve seen of her, he probably can.”

  The doom and gloom soon devolved into jokes and unflattering anecdotes about Susan Levi. Young took Seven aside. “I need to talk to you privately,” he said.

  Seven followed the leader of the Underground down a wide hallway past a series of offices. Since their team hadn’t expanded since the mission at Facility B, most of the rooms were dark and unused. At the very end of the hallway was a thick mahogany door leading to Danny’s executive suite.

  The heir to the DAY empire plunged into a high-backed red leather chair behind a heavy maple desk. Seven sat in a flimsy metal folding chair on the other side. For many seconds he marveled at the view through the floor-to-ceiling glass window behind Danny’s back.

  “Hey, over here,” called Danny. He was holding up a small blue poster that read:

  A N E W

  D.A.Y.

  V O T E

  Daniel Alexander Young

  “The boys downstairs just mocked this up for the campaign. What do you think?”

  “Clever,” Seven replied.

  “You get the pun then?”

  “I do.”

  He looked concerned. “Is it too obvious?”

  Seven smiled as politely as he could. “No, it’s great. Really.”

  Danny breathed a sigh of relief and let the sign fall on his desk. “So, how’s the new apartment?” he asked, unclasping his fingers. “All moved in?”

  “There wasn’t exactly much to move in,” said Seven. “It’s great, except that I don’t feel worthy of it. Sure you wouldn’t rather make some money renting it out to a rich bastard who can actually pay?”

  Young had put Seven up in a beach-side living complex called the Ravenwood Estates, one of several apartment buildings around the city owned by the Young family. Danny had generously offered rent-free pads to all the members of the team. Only Ana declined, because she already had a flat in the city. Seven expected a nice flat, but nothing could prepare him for the hardwood floors, fireplace, and whirlpool bath. He had a regular swinger’s pad.

  “Brilliant ocean view, right?”

  Seven grinned. “You might say I’ve got a front-row seat if the Enemy ever attacks again.”

  “Maybe that’s why I put you there,” joked Young. “You’re our lookout.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll be the one yelling, ‘Look out!’”

  Danny let loose one of his now trademark howling laughs. “In all seriousness, though,” he said, “you should check out the Luna Coast when you get a moment. About a mile down the beach from you, there’s some stairs up the cliff. Or at least, there were. Not sure what kind of damage there was during the battle.” He considered the matter further. “On second thought, I probably wouldn’t recommend Luna for a few months, give or take.”

  “That’s okay, I’m not in any rush to see it,” confessed Seven. The name Luna Coast had sent a shiver down his spine. He remembered it was the place where Jonathan Wyle had first struck up the nerve to ask Eve on a date. No need to stir up those memories again.

  “And the car?” Danny asked. “Do you like it?”

  It was a two-door midnight blue roadster. It was the kind of car that had features the driver couldn’t legally take advantage of, such as a top speed of 190 miles per hour. Seven reflected that this was the kind of vehicle he had been looking for back when he was trying to escape the city. A minivan it most cert-ainly was not.

  “It will do,” said Seven with a smile. “But you did want to talk business, right?”

  Danny’s eyes widened as if a light bulb just lit up over his head. “Right! I wanted to ask about your mission last night. Get anything juicy I can use in the debate?”

  Seven bit his lip. “Right. I’ve been meaning to tal
k to you about that…”

  “What is it? Something bad?”

  “I aborted the mission.”

  Danny’s eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t think it’s right for us to spy on Susan Levi. I think it’s hypocritical for us to condemn the Guard and then use their tactics to take down our opponent. We’re supposed to be better than them. You have to beat her in the election by showing what you’ll bring to the country that she won’t.”

  “A positive campaign,” mused Young, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  “If you don’t agree,” said Seven, “I’m going to have to resign. I’m sorry, but I just can’t…I just can’t do that kind of thing anymore. I’ll do anything for the Underground–spy, fight, and even kill, but only if we maintain some code of ethics.”

  Young nodded. “I understand, and I’m not upset. I hired you to keep us honest, and that’s exactly what you’re doing. The smear campaign is off.” He picked up his new political poster again. “Anyway, all I really need is this fantastic pun on my initials, right?”

  “Exactly.” Seven smiled. This had gone better than expected. He realized he liked Young. He didn’t always have the best ideas, but he was willing to listen to anyone who made a good argument.

  “By the way,” Seven said, “I have to say I was a little…intrigued by how close my new apartment is to Levi’s beach house.”

  Young responded with a cat-like grin. “That may have had something to do with why I suggested that particular apartment.”

  Seven laughed. “You know, you’re actually pretty crafty. You’ll make a good president.”

  Young laughed, but his expression soon turned serious. He got up from his chair and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. “I don’t know. My dad certainly would have made a good president. I…I’m only doing this because it’s the only way to make things right. If I don’t do it we’ll get Susan Levi or someone like her, and all my dad’s work will be for nothing. But I’m really not that great. I’m already failing on ethics, it would appear.”

  “No, you’re selling yourself short,” replied Seven, standing up to leave. “You know how to organize people and get things done. If it weren’t for you, Drake would still be president and stuffing tracking chips down our throats.”

  “He never had much confidence in me,” Danny said to the glass.

  “Who?”

  Something thunked loudly into the window, hitting so hard that it left two long spider cracks in the glass behind Young’s head. At first, Seven thought a bird had crashed into the building, but as his vision focused on the object he realized a black disk had latched onto the glass. A red light on board blinked at an ever-increasing rate.

  Seven jumped to his feet. “Danny, get away from the window! Now!”

  Young froze. Seven lunged forward, grabbed the leader of the Underground by the arm and yanked him forcefully toward the exit. The force of the exploding bomb shattered the glass wall instantly and sent everything in the vicinity flying. Seven shut the door to the office just as the billionaire’s chair shot at them like a red cannonball. It crashed loudly on the other side.

  The two of them sat coughing and heaving on the hallway carpet outside the office. Ana came running down the hallway. “What happened?!” she shouted.

  Seven paused for a few seconds to ensure things had settled, and then peeked into the room. There was a gaping hole in the wall and Danny’s desk was on fire. Soon water was falling from the sprinklers.

  “Give me a gun,” he told Ana. “Get me a sight, too.”

  Seven felt a rush of wind from the now open windows as he slid behind the burnt remains of Danny Young’s desk. It was toppled on its side, providing him with cover in case someone was still out there. Wiping water from his face, he laid the jet black sniper rifle atop the table and peered through the telescope sight.

  The bomb must have hit the window nearly straight on, he reasoned, or it wouldn’t have stuck. That most likely put the assassin in the skyscraper directly across the street. Seven scanned the building window by window but found nothing unusual.

  Who was trying to kill Young? The assassin seemed like a professional, but he or she couldn’t be an Elite Guard–those guys were supposed to be on the Underground’s side now. Seven considered the possibility that an Elite had disagreed with the changes and was acting alone. If that was true, he hoped to God it wasn’t Eve.

  “Seven, get down!” screamed Ana from the hallway.

  Dropping behind the desk, he heard something smash into the wall behind him, and the sound of crumbling drywall. He turned back and saw the red dot of a laser. The sniper had his location–but now Seven had the sniper’s location as well. The crimson beam refracted through the sprinkler water, and Seven could trace it back to an open window in the other building. Now he knew where to shoot, but raising his head above the desk wasn’t an option with the assassin’s weapon still likely trained over the table. He needed a distraction.

  “Ana,” Seven called. “Fire your gun.”

  “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter, as long as the sniper sees it.”

  The tall brunette lined up a shot and fired at one of the sprinklers. The spigot burst and water exploded everywhere.

  As the assassin’s red target cut to the source of the disturbance, Seven popped up and quickly targeted the killer between the cross-hairs. It was a man dressed in a slimly cut black robe, leaning over what looked like a dining room table. Seven squeezed the trigger and watched the sniper’s bearded jaw fall open in surprise. The man knocked his rifle askew and staggered away from the table. Seven took a final shot and the target crumpled to the floor.

  “It’s over,” he announced, standing up and turning back for the hall. “Where’s Danny? Is he okay?”

  Ana nodded. “Think he’s in a bit of shock, but Shaan’s taking care of him. How are you?”

  Seven shrugged and walked past her. He found Danny crumpled over one of the sofas in the lobby. He was alive but looked completely spent. Talia stood off to the side, arms crossed and with a look of worry on her face. Shaan, leaning over Young with a first-aid kit, waved Seven away.

  “He’ll be fine,” he said. “Just needs some rest.”

  “What a day,” moaned Young.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Ana said. “I knew this building was a bad idea–we’re too exposed, dammit. If Seven wasn’t–”

  A ghastly scream seemed to come from all directions at once. A classic guitar riff and a 1-2-3-4 drum beat followed.

  “Sorry, that’s my cellphone,” explained Danny, tweezing the device from his pocket. He stared confusedly at the screen.

  “Who is it?” asked Seven.

  “Unknown number.”

  Seven snatched the phone from Young’s hands. He hit receive and put the device on speaker.

  There was only hissing static on the other end.

  “Hello?” said Seven.

  “Drop out of the race,” said a garbled mechanical voice. “Next time we won’t miss.”

  “Who is this?”

  The static cut out. Seven looked at the phone and read the words, Call Ended.

  The media caught wind of the attack quickly. Within fifteen minutes a small mob of reporters had surrounded the front entrance of the DAY Tower. They demanded to know what was happening. They said it was the people’s right to hear directly from Young about where the attack had come from and what it would mean for his campaign.

  Seven’s immediate instinct was to tell them all to go away. He reasoned that Young was in no condition to talk publicly so soon after his brush with death. They needed time to consider what had happened and how to respond to the threat. No one wanted to bow out of the race, but the threat had to be taken seriously. Young’s response had to be considered carefully.

  Danny Young insisted that they let the reporters in. All of them. They could have twenty minutes to take pictures of the damage and then there
would be a press conference with questions and answers.

  “Are you sure about this?” Seven asked.

  “I’m not going to hide,” said Young.

  And so in came the cameras. They didn’t allow anyone inside Young’s exploded office, but allowed pictures through the broken doorway. Seven hustled the reporters downstairs into a large conference room. The media chattered excitedly while they waited.

  “I wonder if he was hurt?” he overheard one reporter say.

  “Who cares?” said another. “All I want to know is if he’s going to drop out.”

  “Probably will,” said a third man with a deep set scowl. “Danny has always had more passion for women than politics. Can’t have sex when you’re dead.”

  Disgusted, Seven stepped out of the room to look for Danny in the hallway. He was standing out there already in a fresh blue suit. Talia was by his side, wiping a smudge of soot off his forehead with a handkerchief. Seven noticed something different about him. Rather than the slicked-back look he was accustomed to, Danny had parted his blond hair on the side. He actually looked kind of presidential.

  “You ready?” Seven asked.

  Danny forced a smile. “Always.”

  The candidate walked inside to meet the press. Talia looked hungrily at Seven before following Danny inside.

  Seven stayed in the hallway. His phone was ringing.

  “Ana,” he greeted. “What have you got?”

  She was in the building across the street investigating the scene of the crime.

  “He’s fucking gone!” she shouted with exasperation.