B018YDIXDK EBOK

by Unknown

  He knew he was the President in the memory, but he also knew he’d signed hundreds, maybe thousands, of papers.

  Why these? What’s the point of —

  Another guard hit him in the stomach — hard — with his elbow. The first man held him fast, not allowing Myers to buckle over and collapse. Red-hair snickered while gently massaging his jaw.

  Josiah Crane looked annoyed. His eyes darted left and right, listening to the sounds of the battle taking place mere hundreds of feet away, the intensity of the firefight now almost deafening.

  “Do you know why they’re all fighting, Myers?” he asked. “Do you know that they’re fighting because of you?” Crane’s voice grew in intensity, and Myers felt the thud of the man’s cane jabbing him in the ribs. He tried to recoil, but the men held him upright.

  “I’ve been searching for you, Myers, so that I could prevent this war. But you’ve been chasing after me this entire time!” Another jab. “It’s a good thing we’re not going to need you when this is all done.”

  He raised the stick once more, intending to land a blow to Myers’ head, but Myers looked up and stared at him. He fought back the feeling of dizziness one last time, and spoke.

  “I know who you are,” he said.

  Crane faltered.

  “I know who you are,” he repeated. “I saw it, in my head. I recognize you. You can drop the act, Crane. You were in my office. When I was President.” He forced the breaths, even through the excruciating pain of cracked ribs.

  Josiah Crane’s nostrils flared, and Myers saw him tighten the grip on the cane, but he didn’t attack. Red-hair looked from one man to the other, but Crane shook his head.

  “I remember, Josiah. I remember what I asked of you,” Myers said, now whispering. “I met with all of you. I must have. I don’t remember it, but I remember you.”

  “H — how…”

  “The System allowed me to keep a memory. I don’t know why. Not all of it, but enough. But I remember you were there, when I signed the papers that started this all. You were standing in front of me.” Myers stopped whispering and summoned all the strength in his voice.

  “Do you remember, Josiah?”

  RAND

  RAND WAS SHAKEN. IF DIANE was telling the truth, and he had no reason to doubt her, she wanted to start a completely new chapter in their story. The System was intelligent, possibly even smarter than any human on the planet, due to its ability to parallel process and organize a mind-blowing amount of data every second, but it was still… a computer.

  Is it?

  He almost asked the question aloud, but thought better of it. If Diane was convinced that the best solution to their problem was to try to interface with the System, there was absolutely no stopping her.

  She was as stubborn as Myers was logical, which was part of the reason they’d made such a great team many years ago, when they were campaigning for the White House. Myers was the planner, capable of parsing data and laying it out in a streamlined, orderly fashion, and Diane was the fiery go-getter that could execute. They’d obliterated their competition on the campaign trail, and many suspected that Diane Asher was every bit as capable — if not more so — of running the free world as her husband.

  All of it led Jonathan Rand to the conclusion that his relationship with Diane was woefully imbalanced. What did he possibly have to offer? He was a great programmer, sure, but there were countless people who could code circles around him. His linear, organized thinking was mostly made irrelevant due to his rash, sometimes careless nature. Lansing’s death had only proved that to him.

  But Diane Asher had chosen him. A ladder-climbing career woman, she didn’t seem to need much after the “death” of her husband. The kids were old enough to be on their own, and she had more powerful positions and business interests in her sights. Whatever she thought she needed in a man, she must have believed Rand could offer it.

  He had never been a self-conscious person. He wasn’t going to win a modeling competition, but he wasn’t bad looking, either. Tall enough, thin enough, and broad-shouldered enough to strike a commanding pose, but not a brute. Better than average, but not someone who would cause anyone else to look twice as he passed by.

  Diane must have wanted that. Someone confident in their own abilities, satisfied with their strengths and weaknesses, and willing to ride along in her rise to the top. They’d had a great relationship so far, even over the time and distance that separated them.

  He watched her now, sliding down the roof of the last building at the edge of the city, ready to drop to the ground and continue the chase. They still hadn’t seen Josiah Crane or Myers, but Rand hadn’t seen the Tracer leave either, so both men had to be close. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she wondering what he was thinking? Or Myers? What would happen if — when — they were all reunited again.

  “Careful,” he said as she slid over the edge of the roof. He didn’t hear her land, but when he reached the edge of the building he looked down and saw her staring back up at him.

  “Need me to catch you?” she asked, mocking him.

  He ignored her and turned, crouching and shifting his weight as he prepared for the drop. It was only eight or so feet to the ground, but he wanted to make sure he didn’t twist an ankle or land improperly.

  When he reached the ground, Diane was already moving again. The edge of Relica was no more than an empty stretch of packed dirt, extending a few hundred yards before a line of low shrubs and trees. Beyond the trees, he could see the ground rise and turn into a few rolling hills, then ascend sharply into the mountain range that surrounded the valley to the north. Diane ran forward, toward the edge of the city, but turned right and headed up a path that led around the city toward the greenhouse.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. “I thought we weren’t leaving Relica without getting to Crane?”

  “We are getting to Crane, but I want to have a way out when we’re done. Plus, we’ll need —“

  A deafening crack stopped Diane in her tracks. Rand nearly hit her as she turned to face him.

  “Any idea what that was?” she asked.

  More cracks and faint popping noises reached their ears.

  Rand looked west, toward the sounds. “It’s gunfire. Diane, it’s the war. The one Crane was talking about. It’s started.”

  She nodded. “Have you seen anyone lately?”

  “Anyone like…”

  “Any people, Rand. Have you seen anyone?”

  He stood, silent for a moment. In their haste to get out of the city, and their focus on each other and their situation, he realized they hadn’t even noticed the steady decline in the number of people around the buildings and streets of Relica. “No, I guess I haven’t. You think —“

  “I think the people, the Relics, all moved out of the city to prepare for the attack. That’s where they were heading when we were on the rooftops. They’re probably right over that hill, just out of sight.” She pointed to the slight rise in the otherwise flat, cracked land, gently buckling once as it drifted toward the horizon.

  As Rand watched, they heard the gunshots grow more and more regular, the sounds of old, outdated weaponry clashing against each other in the air.

  “You’re right,” he suddenly realized. They hadn’t been chased through the city, and they hadn’t been followed after they escaped the platform in the town square because they had been told to leave the city.

  Controlled to leave the city.

  Rand shuddered, even in the heat of the day. Somehow, deep down, he knew Josiah Crane and his men were behind all of this.

  We need to find him, and we need to find Myers.

  As they stood at the edge of the deserted city, watching the smoke begin to rise as the fighting grew more intense, both Rand and Diane silently watching.

  About ten feet from them, on the other side of the path, a tiny storage structure stood wobbling on a patch of grass.

  The door opened, creaking slowly.

  The
small building looked like a makeshift shed. It wasn’t next to any other structure, and Rand assumed it must have been erected to store equipment or protect something inside from rain. Two of the three walls Rand could see were brick, barely mortared together strongly enough to keep it standing. Another wall, the “door” that was now opened, was just a sheet of plywood, broken and crumbling from weather and rot. It swung outward on rusted hinges, squeaking a high-pitched whine that drowned out even the sound of the gunfire.

  A woman stepped out of it, and started walking toward Rand and Diane.

  Rand felt Diane grab at his hand, but neither of them averted their eyes from the woman in front of them. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her hair, blond but dirty enough to fool someone, sat tousled and fell over her forehead, a tangle of it almost completely blocking one eye.

  She reached up and brushed this strand back over her ear, still marching toward them.

  Diane squeezed Rand’s hand as she spoke. “Shannon?” she asked.

  Rand whirled his head around, not believing. “You know her?” he whispered.

  “Shannon Merrick.”

  The woman nodded, the strand of hair fell back onto her face once more, and she stopped a few feet away from them.

  “M — my God, Shannon, are you —“ Diane couldn’t finish the statement. She rushed forward and embraced the woman standing in front of them, leaving Rand staring wide-eyed at the exchange.

  Shannon Merrick.

  “Jonathan, come here,” Diane said, finally pulling herself back from the woman. “This is… this is Shannon Merrick, Solomon’s wife.”

  Shannon dropped her head, now unable to control her weeping. She apologized, sniffed a few times, and continued looking at the dirt. “I — I’m sorry… I didn’t…”

  “Shannon, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

  “Sol — Solomon. He’s… he’s dead.”

  Rand felt his blood run cold. He stepped closer to the two women, but didn’t know what to say. They stood there in shocked silence until Diane spoke again.

  “How do you know?”

  Shannon shook her head, then looked up at them. “There’s time for that later.” She stared at Rand, then Diane. “I’ve been on the run for days, trying to find one of you.”

  “One of us?” Rand asked.

  “No, one of… never mind. Listen, Diane, we have to leave. Now. There’s no time to waste. Where’s Myers?”

  “I — he’s…” Diane looked over at Rand.

  “He’s still in the city, somewhere. We think.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “There was… something happened. Josiah Crane —“

  “Crane is here?” Shannon began breathing faster, her fists clenching and unclenching. She reached a hand to her forehead. “No, this can’t — that can’t be right. Crane? Josiah Crane is here?”

  Diane grabbed Shannon’s shoulder. “Shannon, come on. Let’s find a place we can talk. I have so many questions.”

  “No!” Shannon yelled, startling even herself. “We have to leave now. Diane, don’t you remember?”

  Diane turned her head slightly. Rand eyed each woman in turn, still having no idea what was going on.

  “Don’t you remember the discussion? What we all talked about.”

  Diane paused. “I remember being there, in the office, with him. With Myers. And you. And…” she paused again, not wanting to say the name. “He gave us clear instructions, then told us to leave.”

  “Yes, but he told you two to leave. Myers asked me to stay, remember?”

  Diane nodded.

  “And when you left, he gave me my instructions. He was very clear.”

  Rand sensed that Diane didn’t want to know what those ‘instructions’ were.

  Shannon placed her hand on Diane’s shoulder, pulling her closer to herself. “He told me that even if any of this failed, even if any of this was different than the way we all thought it would be, to make sure that he doesn’t go to Paris.”

  Diane frowned. “Wait, what?”

  “He told me, no matter what, that he can’t go to Paris.”

  RAND

  THE GUNFIRE FROM THE RELICS and Unders had become like background music to Rand’s ears. He still heard it, still knew it was there, but it had little effect on him. If anything, it was almost calming, the repeating rhythms and constant shuddering forming a safety net around his mind.

  He listened closer to it, wondering if it was getting louder, softer, or staying the same. He hadn’t heard of anything like this, at least not in the past five years or so. ARUs usually snuffed out any violence rapidly, not allowing news of the dispute to get out of the area.

  The ARUs should be here any minute, he realized. The System would no doubt be monitoring this locale, watching via satellite for any potential fighting. It would send as many ARUs as necessary to quell the outburst, and it would do it using far more advanced technology than anyone stupid enough to fight back had access to.

  There was more than a good chance that everyone involved — Relics and Unders both — would be dead soon. It might take a few hours to get the ARUs to their positions, but the System would show up.

  He was certain of it.

  And he was certain of something else, as well.

  As he stood, listening to the heartbeat of the largest open fighting he’d seen or heard about since the Grid went up and the world went down, he realized that the fighting wasn’t about one side focused on winning something from the other. There might be those who thought they could win more power, but surely there was no one out there who thought they could actually win a battle.

  The fighting wasn’t about power, or winning, or even fighting. It wasn’t about any of that.

  Rand realized it was about the System itself.

  It was shouting to the System, asking for its attention.

  It was a distraction.

  MYERS

  “DO YOU REMEMBER, JOSIAH?” HE asked again.

  Crane didn’t respond.

  Only then did Myers realize where they were.

  The Tracer, the sleek, aerodynamic snub-nosed flying vehicle they’d flown here in, was sitting a block away from them. They’d walked a full route through a section of the city, only to come right back to where they were. Even the platform, cold and empty now, sat near the center of the square. Crane and his men had been heading toward the Tracer all along, probably to use it to recon the city and find him after they lost him in the crowd.

  Crane said something to Red-hair, and the shorter man trotted away toward the Tracer.

  “I would say that it’s lucky you found us when you did,” Crane said. “But you and I both know I stopped believing in luck about ten years ago.”

  He reached a hand out to Myers. Myers looked at it a moment, still catching his breath, but took it. The large man struggled a bit to maintain his balance, but pulled Myers to his feet.

  “Well, I guess we can forget the pleasantries, can’t we?” he asked Myers.

  “I told you to do something for me, Crane,” Myers said. His eyes were beginning to blur, but he made sure to force his head to stay still. He stared at the man in front of him. “I told you to build a city, one that we could defend. One that would protect us.”

  “One that would protect you!” Crane yelled. “It was for you, and all of them!” He stuck his cane out in the direction of the edge of Relica, toward the direction the gunfire was coming from. “That’s all it was, Asher. You wanted me to build you a utopia, and you wanted me to stock it with your kind, so that you would all have a place to go when it all went to —“

  “I wanted you to offer them a place to belong again. A society, Crane!” Myers was grasping at a memory that he couldn’t control, and he was reaching the limit of what he could remember. He had no context — why he’d chosen Crane, why he’d thought he was even capable of the task, what his specific parameters were.

  But he knew it wasn’t thi
s.

  It wasn’t to form a half-baked open-air zoo to imprison the shells of former individuals.

  And it certainly wasn’t to provide Crane with a personal army.

  “You’re using these people, Crane.” He stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. “How’d you do it, anyway? How’d you get these people to follow you?”

  “They’re not people anymore, Myers. But you won’t be able to realize that, because in less than a week you’ll be one of them.” He motioned to the other two men, who had now taken up a position behind Myers. They rushed forward and grabbed Myers’ arms, pinning him between them. “And I didn’t have to do anything — the System did that for me. There’s a psychological change in you, Myers. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And it’s getting stronger. Pretty soon you’ll crave order, just like they did. You’ll crave leadership, someone to offer them a plan.

  “And then you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do.”

  Myers clenched his teeth, more out of sheer determination to focus on Crane’s face than anger. “This isn’t over, Crane. Kill me if you want, but this isn’t over. It doesn’t end here.”

  Crane laughed. “Myers, I’m not going to kill you. And it isn’t over, not yet. But it will be. You’re going to end this yourself.”

  “Giving me to the Unders will do nothing. They just want —”

  “Myers, I’m not giving you to anyone. That plan’s changed — listen. You can hear it, right?” Myers knew he was referring to the fighting in the distance, between the citizens of Relica and the Unders. “It’s too late for a trade, Myers, so we’re going to do what you all wanted all along. We’re going to Paris.”

  Josiah Crane stood to his full height, towering over Myers, and looked at each of his guards. “Take President Asher to the Tracer. It’ll be hot already, and we need to get in the air before the ARUs get here.”

  They nodded, and Myers felt himself swept away by the two men, his feet almost not even touching the ground as they walked up the entrance ramp to the hovering Tracer.

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