Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (234 page)

***

Papers were scattered sporadically over Sydney’s desk. His hair stuck up wildly from running his hands through it. His body hunched over data that his eyes strained to interpret. The tiny red veins cut across the whites of his eyes like roads on a map, winding and twisting their way through the earth. He picked up the paper and viciously ripped it in half then tossed the small pieces into the air, and they rained down like confetti. He slammed his arms on the desk and buried his face into the small hole they made.

Sniffles echoed from underneath his shaggy mop of hair. He finally picked his head up and wiped the snot and tears from his face. He childishly kicked the ground, frustrated at his own inability to recreate what another scientist had already discovered. 

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he was nothing. His accomplishments would remain stuck in the realm of the theoretical. And if that was the case, then what was his purpose? What was his contribution? If he could produce no value, then what value did he possess?

A violent pounding at the door snapped him out of his self-loathing, and the fear of the moment gripped him. The door handle wobbled, and Sydney heard the scrape of a key entering the lock. He quickly snatched up the papers around him that contained his manipulation of the community’s blood tests. He barely had half of them gathered when Gordon burst through the door and grabbed Sydney by the collar, pinning him down against his own desk.

“What did you do, Sydney? Did you do something for your daddy? Is that it? Did he tell you to falsify the data?” Gordon asked, his voice low.

“W-what are you talking about? M-my d-dad didn’t tell me to d-do anything.”

Gordon lifted Sydney’s small frame off the desk and onto the wall by the front door. The contact between Sydney’s skull and the concrete resounded with a loud crack. Sydney’s vision went black. He found himself falling in and out of consciousness.

“What did you do, you little shit?” Gordon asked.

Just before Sydney blacked out, a group of sentries rushed into the lab.

“Mr. Reath, someone’s attacked a farm camp,” the sentry said.

“Camps? How many were hit?”

“So far just one, but we’re trying to contain the situation.”

“Well, stop them!” Gordon bellowed, and Sydney finally passed out.

The Humvee’s diesel engine rumbled along the highway outside of Topeka. Alex gripped the steering wheel tightly, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. He tugged at the collar of the uniform and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Each time his eyes found the rearview mirror and he caught a glimpse of himself, he shuddered.

Alex had only been to Topeka three times. The first was during the Soil Coalition’s first attempt at setting up the communities. The second was after those communities had failed. And the third time was his recent trip with his seeds to speak with Gordon.

Meeko’s farm camp was just ahead, and according to the Soil Coalition’s database, the sentries were about to start a shift change. The traffic thickened on his approach. Trucks on either side of him were loaded down with freight and goods to be dispensed at local communities. Others were on their way to the airport to load their contents there. With almost all of the country’s food production coming out of the farm camps around the Midwest, the soil crisis had made Topeka the unofficial capital of the United States.

Alex filed into a line of trucks heading into the farm camp where Meeko was being held. Dozens of sentries armed with automatic rifles, accompanied by the other armored trucks, made for a slow crawl. He kept his eyes open for any gaps in security, any lulls in concentration. Although this farm camp had more firepower, the same haphazard approach to their efforts was consistent with the sentries he took down earlier, which told him that they hadn’t been alerted to what happened at the other camp.

If they didn’t know now, they’d find out any minute. He needed to get in and get out fast. The line of trucks finally ended at the farm camp’s vehicle hangar, and Alex pulled into a vacant spot. He quickly climbed out.

“Hey!” a voice called out.

Alex kept his eyes forward, ignoring the shout behind him. His skin burst with sweat.

“Hey, stop!” the voice called again, this time followed by the pounding of boots breaking into a run.

Alex quickened his pace. Then, just before he reached the door, he felt the slap of a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Hey,” the sentry said. “You can’t park there. Those spots are designated for vehicles assigned to this camp. You’re from camp 0241, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Alex answered.

“You here for a transfer or shift coverage or something?”

“Transfer, which I’m already late for. You think you could park it for me?” Alex said, extending the keys to him.

“Sure. Just make sure you get here earlier next time so this doesn’t happen again.”

The sentry snatched the keys and trotted off. Alex wiped the sweat off his forehead and continued inside. The farm camp here was easily three times as large as the one he raided earlier. Hundreds of workers, nothing more than skin and bones, swarmed the aisles of the hydroponic dens, tending to picking food, adding nutrients, or cleaning equipment. Most of the workers didn’t even realize he was there. Their overworked and undernourished bodies were lost in their brainless motion of slave labor. Each aisle that Alex walked down only revealed more of the same.

Finally, Alex saw him. Meeko was at the very end of the row two aisles over. He could see the tuft of black curls poking over the top of the tanks. Alex kept his eyes locked on that hair, pushing his way through the zombies around him. He turned the corner and knocked over a worker carrying a crate of peas.

The sentries above hovered over the workers like hawks. One of them spotted Alex’s movements. “Hey! What’s going on down there?”

Alex stepped over the man and continued down the aisle. His actions had caused a few of the workers to break out of their stupor but brought more attention to himself from the other sentries.

“Stop!” another sentry ordered.

Meeko made eye contact with Alex. A smile curved onto his face. Alex tried to reach him before the other sentries noticed it. He was only going to get one chance at this. He brought his hand up, the other sentries barreling down upon him, and then smacked Meeko across his already-bruised face, which knocked him to the ground.

“You little shit!” Alex said. He lunged at Meeko, and the boy recoiled. “You think you can just run away from me like that?” Alex grabbed Meeko by the throat, and he could see the pain and fear etched across the boy’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?” the sentry asked.

“This little pissant is the reason I’m not home right now drinking a beer,” Alex answered.

“You’re here for a transfer?”

“Yeah. Lucky me, right?”

Three more armed sentries surrounded Alex. The Kevlar covering his chest concealed his heart, which was attempting to burst out of him. The sentries looked around them at all of the workers looking over at the scene unfolding.

“Back to work!” the sentry said, spit flying from his mouth, while his partners aimed their rifles at the mindless bodies. Their activities resumed, and the sentry focused his attention back on Alex. “Where’s he being transferred to?”

“Camp 0241. Look, I’m just doing this as a favor to my boss, all right? You can go ahead and radio him while I load the kid. The sooner I get him up to the camp, the sooner I get to go home and finish my beer,” Alex answered.

Meeko remained on the ground. Alex wasn’t sure if the boy understood everything that was happening, but as long as the kid stayed quiet, they might have a shot. If not, Alex had counted forty-five bullets in the magazines he had on him, and he was going to use as many as he could.

“All right,” the sentry said. “Take him around back, and I’ll confirm with your camp. But I’m sending the paperwork to you. Don’t think you’re pawning that shit off on me, smart-ass.”

Alex yanked Meeko up by the arm and dragged him through the aisles. The boy resisted the entire way. Once the two of them were in the hangar, he beelined it to the first truck he saw. He tossed Meeko inside and started the engine. “You all right, kid?”

Meeko punched Alex in the arm repeatedly, tears running down his face, the salty liquid stinging the open wounds on his cheeks. Alex grabbed Meeko’s fists in his hands, stopping the assault. “Hey. Hey! I’m sorry, okay? Listen. I’m sorry. It’s the only way I could have convinced them.”

Alex wrapped Meeko up in a hug, and he felt the boy weep into his shoulder. He kissed the top of his head. He pressed his fingertips gently to Meeko’s cheek. “Put your seatbelt on, kid.”

The click of Meeko’s belt was followed by the immediate wail of sirens. The jig was up. He slammed the shifter into reverse and floored the accelerator. Sentries dived out of his way as he navigated the truck in reverse to the hangar’s exit.

Bullets ricocheted off the armored truck, and Alex yanked the wheel hard to the left, spinning the truck 180 degrees. He shifted back into drive, the transmission whining from the stress, and again floored the accelerator. The tires bounced off the main road and onto the surrounding open fields, cutting huge divots through the earth. He adjusted the rearview mirror, counting the number of trucks hot on their tail.

“Where are we going?” Meeko asked, shouting above the engine’s throaty rumbling.

“We’ll lose them in what’s left of the forest.”

The sentries’ pursuit now eliminated whatever chance Alex had to break Harper out, but if they managed to pull this off, he still had the seeds he buried as a bargaining chip. He could even try and make it to Washington. Gordon was powerful, but he didn’t control everything. Not yet.

***

The farm camp was in chaos when Gordon arrived. He bulldozed his way to the front office to meet Dean Grout, who had already arrived to investigate the matter.

“They’re all dead?” Gordon asked.

“Every last sentry. I’m not surprised. The camps on the outskirts have gotten lazy,” Dean answered.

“And we still haven’t found Alex?”

“Not yet, but the camp that was attacked was due north of where we lost him in the woods. I’m betting he was behind it, along with taking the kid.”

“What kid?”

“An orphan assigned to Alex’s housing unit. During the blood sampling a few days ago, he was pulled out for having high nutrition levels.”

Gordon stopped. “He came back for the kid?”

“Yeah. The OIC said he came in here dressed like a sentry, faking a transfer to the camp he decimated.”

“I want a unit of men stationed at his community and another unit watching the woods. That’s where he’s headed. And that’s where we’ll hit him.”

“If we find him, do you want him alive?”

“Yes. And bring me Sydney.”

Gordon’s phone buzzed. It was Jake. “Where the hell are you?”

“He’s not talking,” Jake said. “You want me to bring him in?”

“No. I want the diamond mine, not the diamond.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Give them some breathing room. Make them feel comfortable. I think I have another way to get it. And I need you here, now. We have a situation.”

***

The shackles around Sydney’s wrists provided a foreign pain. The unforgiving metal provided no comfort against his bones and tore his flesh. For the first time in his life, he wanted his father. The door that sealed him in his cage creaked upon Gordon opening it, accompanied by Jake.

“So you’re the one who tampered with the samples,” Jake said.

“Look, I can give you the original results. I still have them. I can show you what they’re doing, what they’ve done.”

“We already know what they’re doing,” Gordon said. “We just need to find it.”

“Well, now you have the authority to do it. Everyone in that community had high nutrition levels. One man in particular. I can give him to you.”

“You might be able to give him to me,” Gordon said, “but you can’t give me the work he’s done.”

Sydney wept. Snot and tears dribbled down his face. “P-please. I c-can try. Or you can just force him to give it to you. You can make him.”

“This guy isn’t going to let anyone force him into anything,” Jake said.

“If you get enough of the research that he’s done to create the soil, can you replicate it?”

“Y-yes. If I h-had his original work, I could do it. Right now there’s just too many holes, too many variables. But if I had enough of it, then I could finish it. I could solve it,” Sydney answered.

“For your sake, Sydney, I hope you can,” Gordon said.

***

Every time Warren took any type of deep breath, he could feel a sharp pain emanating through his entire body from a single point on his side. A gurgling sounded deep within his chest and was followed by a violent hacking of spit and blood over his hand and chin as he attempted to cover his mouth.

The hot liquid burned the back of his throat and mouth. He could taste his own death, the warm, metallic flavor of blood. He tried pushing himself to his side, but his collarbone was broken, and any attempt to move at all was stopped short by the pain that now controlled him.

Aside from his own feet and the dead bodies around him, the only other sight in his field of vision was the road leading up to the cul-de-sac. Since Gordon left, there hadn’t been a single person who’d come or gone. The sentries around him circled like buzzards, seeking the carrion buffet at their feet. From what comments Warren could hear, it sounded like Alex was still giving them trouble.

“Hey, how much longer are we going to have to sit here?” a Class One sentry asked.

“For as long as we’re ordered to. Now shut up,” a Class Two sentry replied.

“I’m just saying we could waste the rest of these meat sacks and then go home. Whoever this guy is they’re chasing isn’t coming back here.”

“That’s not what the boss thinks.”

“Why the hell would he come back? For these people? Psh,” Class One said, waving his hand. “I’d let ’em rot.”

The two sentries continued their mumbling but walked too far away for Warren to continue his eavesdropping. Is Alex still counting on using the seeds in exchange for what he’s done? Gordon wasn’t going to let Alex off without his life and perhaps the life of everyone else in the community.

Another violent gurgle and spit of blood erupted from Warren’s mouth. His body jerked and twisted on the ground. It wouldn’t be much longer. The only question that remained unanswered was if he was going to die from his injuries or a bullet to the head.