Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (250 page)

***

The lab was dark, distorting the outlines of the equipment inside into deformed shapes. Sydney, with all of his limbs curled into a ball with the exception of his left wrist, which was cuffed to the desk next to him, hadn’t closed his eyes since Gordon locked him up. His beady pupils roamed over the instruments of science forced under the shroud of darkness.

He wondered what Gordon would do to him if he wasn’t able to deliver the same soil solution Todd had created? What would happen to him if they couldn’t unlock the encrypted files Alex had stolen? Maybe Gordon would use him as a bargaining chip with his father, exchanging Sydney’s life for escape to another country, or immunity. But in the end, Gordon would most likely just kill him. That was the easiest and most popular way Gordon enjoyed tying up loose ends.

The door to the lab opened, and a flood of light blinded Sydney. He blinked repeatedly until he adjusted to the light, and he saw the grinning face of Jake towering above him.

“Rise and shine, asshole,” Jake said. “Time to go to work.”

Jake dropped a folded piece of paper in Sydney’s lap that had random letters and numbers scribbled on it. “What is this?”

“The password to Todd’s encrypted files,” Jake answered.

Sydney recoiled as Jake bent down and invaded the personal bubble Sydney had always preferred to keep between himself and other people. He could smell the coffee on Jake’s breath, and the leather of his jacket. Sydney’s body curled inward to avoid Jake’s presence until his spine wouldn’t allow it to collapse any further.

“Gordon wants you working on it now,” Jake said. “And I’ll be here watching you to make sure it’s done properly this time.”

Sydney felt the jiggle of his wrist as Jake unlocked the cuffs, and the tension in the small bones of his wrist was released. He rubbed the tender, bruised flesh and stumbled to his desk. The password on the paper was surrounded by faded, red blotches placed sporadically around the numbers and letters. He stopped typing and looked up to Jake, who was watching him like a hawk. The more Sydney stared at those blotches on the paper, the more he realized what his fate would be if he failed.

Ever since Sydney’s first discovery of Todd Penn, he’d known the man was a genius. He’d done what Sydney and no other scientist in the world was able to accomplish, and he did it in an underground lab in the middle of nowhere. It was a remarkable feat of science and ingenuity. If this invention had come about three years ago, or even right after the soil crisis started, Todd’s name would have been in every science publication around the world. He would have been a household name, a savior of the people. But he wasn’t. No one would ever know his name or see his face. The only thing that was going to be left of Todd Penn were the dried blotches of blood on a crinkled piece of paper. Sydney was holding all that was left of a great mind. “Did you kill him?”

“What’s the matter? Feeling sorry for the guy?” Jake asked.

A tear escaped from the corner of Sydney’s eye, and he quickly wiped it away before Jake noticed. But he couldn’t hide the trembling in his thin arms and legs underneath the lab coat. A slow, internal struggle of morality raged inside him. Everything he’d stood for as a scientist, the idea that the pursuit of knowledge was the highest form of morality and those who prohibited it were crusaders of death, was begging him to stop his work. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, and he didn’t want to be here.

“Hey!” Jake snapped. “Let’s get to work. Gordon wants all of this done yesterday, so let’s move it!”

“No.” The word came out in a mouse-like squeak, almost too quiet for even Sydney to hear himself. His fingers stopped entering the code, and he crumpled the bloodstained piece of paper in his tiny fist. Despite his rebellious act, Sydney kept his head down, afraid that looking Jake in the eyes would make the repercussions of his actions real.

Jake leaned his chest into Sydney’s shoulder, and Sydney could feel Jake’s hot breath on the side of his face. “Enter the code.”

“I won’t help Gordon anymore,” Sydney replied, the lump in his throat catching slightly as he spoke.

Jake grabbed Sydney by the collar and easily lifted all of Sydney’s 120 pounds into the air and slammed him up against the wall. Jake’s jaw was clenched tight, and his words escaped from the thin spaces in his teeth. “We don’t have the fucking time or patience to deal with your little moral crisis, so I’m going to make this simple. If you don’t get off your ass and compile the solution that’s on this file, I’m going to kill you.”

“No, you won’t,” Sydney answered, his shaky voice escaping through panicked breaths.

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m one of the only scientists you have left who could figure out the organic code sequences Todd put together in that data.”

Jake let go of Sydney’s collar, and Sydney collapsed to the floor. Jake towered over him, the side of his jacket swinging open, exposing the gun and holster underneath. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

A wave of relief washed over Sydney. He wiped the sweat on his forehead, his fingers trembling, and his body shook in spasms of dwindling adrenaline. But the quick moment of safety was swiftly dispelled when Jake pulled a pocketknife.

“But you don’t need your balls to do your job.”

Sydney scrambled on all fours in an attempted escape, but Jake pounced on him, squishing him into the floor. He squirmed to break free, but Jake was just too heavy. Jake pressed the flat end of the blade against Sydney’s right cheek. The cold steel caused Sydney to end his struggle.

“Now, you have two options right now. Option one, I cut your balls off then have a doctor sew you up, and then you can work on getting this solution done. Option two, you keep your balls and start the project now. What’s it gonna be?”

“Okay,” Sydney said, his voice muffled from his face being smooshed into the floor.

“Okay you wanna keep your balls? Or okay you don’t want to keep them?”

“I want to keep them.”

“Good boy.”

***

The crude map of drawn lines projected on the wall of Gordon’s conference room, which had turned into the Coalition’s war room, was the very best artistic effort of his Chief of Sentries, Dean Grout. And despite that best effort, Dean did little more than what a fifth grader could accomplish on a homework assignment of similar scope.

“They took us by surprise in Wyoming, but their advances have slowed now that they’re pushing into Oklahoma,” Dean said. “However, we’re going to be hard pressed on both sides. We’ve received confirmation that the Navy’s Atlantic fleet has finally made its way into the Gulf.”

“They won’t risk using their ordinance as long as our sentries are intermixed with civilians,” Gordon said. “We’ve got our human shields, let’s use them goddammit!” Gordon accentuated the point with his fist slamming into the table. The only other attendee allowed in the meeting besides Dean and Gordon was Jake. The lack of competence through the rest of the Coalition was too frustrating to deal with.

“That’s what I’ve ordered our men to do,” Dean said, folding his arms together, signaling the end of his less-than-stellar presentation.

“What do you want to do about sentry placement?” Jake asked.

“I want the majority of our men on the western front. That’s where they’ll send the bulk of their troops in from California. And we use the same strategy at the oil refineries as we do at the fishing villages. Make them come to us.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean packed up the rest of his things and left.

Gordon looked at the map of his Coalition. With the force of the entire military now plotting against him, he wasn’t sure how long those lines would stay in place.

“We might have a little bit of a problem,” Jake said.

Gordon let out an exhaustive sigh. “What is it?”

“Our lab rat is less than cooperative. I’ve given him some motivation to continue the work, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last.”

“Once the process is done, we’ll be able to replicate it without his help, but until I’m holding that fucking solution in my bare hands, I want you with him constantly. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Jake pointed to the door where Dean exited. “You know he didn’t tell you about the deserters, right?”

“I know.”

“That’s going to be a problem, Gordon. You knew that from the beginning. Once a jarhead, always a jarhead. Their motto isn’t Semper Fi for nothing.”

“One problem at a time.”

Jake nodded and left. Gordon knew he was right. The code of duty and honor was programmed and hardwired into their brains. He knew some of them would stay, but when the tide started to turn, they’d all run to their beloved army.

Gordon needed an alternative. He locked the door to his office and made sure his secretary understood that he wasn’t to be disturbed for the next hour. He drew the blinds to his window and pulled out his personal laptop. A few minutes later an Asian gentleman appeared on the screen. His jet-black hair was meticulously combed, and the tailored cut of his suit exuded extravagance.

“Mr. Reath, so good of you to call.”

“Yes, it was.”

The man’s face twisted in the faint hint of disgust, which he quickly dispelled with a weak smile. “Your war seems to be heating up. The rest of the international community is very intrigued on how everything will play out.”

“I’m sure they are. Have you given some thought to our last discussion?”

“I have.”

The man went silent. “And?” Gordon asked.

“And it is a very large risk for my country.”

“Sheng, what I’m offering you, the current president can’t. You’ve seen the balance sheet. The United States owes you trillions. This famine pushed the country’s debt over the edge. I know you’ve been putting pressure on the president over the past year, and what has he given you?”

“Any troops offered to your cause will be considered an act of war by the American government, and despite the debt, I’m not comfortable approving such a drastic move.”

“Sheng, it’s now or never. I am guaranteeing you not just the soil solution, but also a down payment on what the American government owes you once I’m in control, and those payments will continue. We can usher in a new alliance that would reshape the rest of the world. Imagine what we could do.”

“From what my intelligence officers have told me, you’ve taken a beating on the western front, already losing Wyoming. How do you expect to stop them, Gordon?”

Gordon thought the prospect of crushing the former world power that was the United States would be enough to sway Sheng’s decision. But the red, white, and blue’s military prowess was still enough to keep the debt collectors at bay.

“If you can take back the ground you’ve lost, I’ll provide you the military support you seek. And I’ll do so openly,” Sheng said.

“I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. President.”

The video call ended, and Gordon slammed the laptop shut. The odds of taking back Wyoming were slim. Gordon’s timeline was shrinking. He needed Sydney to finish the soil solution. There wouldn’t be a single country in the world that wouldn’t protect him for that type of data. It was revolutionary, Sheng knew that, but Sheng also knew that the easiest way to lower the price was to increase Gordon’s desperation.

China was Gordon’s only hope for any military assistance. Europe wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, and South America had a collective army that the state of Texas could take out single-handedly. Sheng was playing it smart, and because of that Gordon would have to change the way he was going to get out of this alive.

Alex shed his bloodied clothes and changed into something that was less Halloween and more Saturday afternoon. He eyeballed the shower but knew there wasn’t enough time. And his recent actions had led him to a subconscious, self-inflicting punishment of denial. I don’t deserve it.

Packing was simple, since his only possessions were the clothes he had on his back and the sack of materials the sentries had dropped off the day before from his stay in Wyoming. Among those belongings were a pair of clothes and the book Todd had meant to give him the day Gordon showed up. The collection of Ernest Hemingway’s short stories was a gift he never should have received. He stuffed it back into his sack and slung it over his shoulder.

Alex did one final scan of the house, making sure there wasn’t anything useful that was left behind, when he came across Meeko’s room. The door was cracked open slightly, and Alex could hear the faint sobs coming from inside. He gently pushed the door open, and Meeko was sitting on his bed with the laptop he used to communicate with Alex when he was in Wyoming.

The boy looked up at him with tear-streaked eyes and started sobbing even harder. Alex set his gear down and embraced the boy in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Meeko cried, burying his face into Alex’s shoulder.

Alex cradled the back of the boy’s head. “Sorry for what?”

“It was my fault you left. It was my fault you had to go away. I’m s-sorry, Alex. It’s m-my fault.”

All the self-pity bullshit Alex had wallowed in over the past twenty-four hours completely disappeared. Of all the things for Meeko to tell him, of all the reasons for the boy to be upset, he chose the fact that he thought he’d let Alex down. Alex peeled Meeko off his shoulder so he could look the boy in the eye when he spoke to him. “You listen to me. None of this, and I mean absolutely none, is your fault. So whatever you’re beating yourself up for ends right now.” Meeko nodded, and Alex wiped his thumb under Meeko’s left eye, removing a tear and leaving a brown smudge from the filth on his hands. He picked up the laptop from Meeko’s lap and flipped it over in his hands.

“I wanted to keep it,” Meeko said, sniffling and wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve. “I may not get the chance to ever have one again. I thought they were going to come and take it from me, but after last night…” Meeko trailed off. Alex handed it back to him, and the boy gave a slight smile.

“We’re leaving in a few minutes, so make sure you have everything you need,” Alex said then kissed the top of Meeko’s head.

“Alex!”

Alex jumped from the bed and ran to the front door, where Harper almost keeled over from the sprint up the hill. “What’s wrong?” Alex asked.

“The radio… Sentries are coming…”

“Meeko, head down to the trucks now!”

Meeko rushed past him and pumped his little legs as hard as they would go. Alex wasn’t far behind, helping Harper back down the hill where the rest of the community members waited for Alex’s instructions. A quiet look of panic had spread. The wide eyes, slack jaws, and twitching fingers expelled the nervous energy.

Alex jogged over to the front gate. It was wide enough for two sentry vehicles to pass through at the same time. He turned around, looking at the point of view from the entrance down Main Street. Once the sentries came through, they’d most likely spread out to the housing unit, vehicle hangar, and meal station.

The water station provided a clear line of sight to Main Street’s entrance, and the thick stone walls surrounding the well provided good protection for at least two men to provide blanket cover fire. The factory was adjacent to the front gate on the left-hand side and extended out past the front gate. A few dirty windows lined the back, where he and another three or four with rifles could post up in an advantageous area. If Alex could cut the convoy entering in half, then Main Street would act as a perfect ambush location.

Alex pulled Harper from the crowd and off to the side. He kept his voice low so the others couldn’t hear. “Did they give a count of how many were coming?”

The sweat from Harper’s face flung off his cheeks as he shook his head. “No.”

“What about their location? How far out are they?”

“Ten miles.”

Including Alex, there were thirty-eight members in the community. If it was just one unit, then there would be twelve sentries in four vehicles, which was manageable. If it was anything more than that, they’d become overrun. 

“All right, everyone! Listen up!” Alex said.

The crowd’s roar of whispers ended, and they gathered around Alex. Their frail bodies bumped into one another, bony shoulders poking their neighbors, trying not to let the fear and apprehension show in the slight spasms of nervous energy.

“Sentries are headed our way. We don’t know how many are going to show up, but the moment they find out what happened to their partners, we’re going to be in trouble. Who here knows how to handle a weapon?”

A total of eleven arms went up, two of which were the shy, timid hands of Donna and Mike. Donna was older, in her late fifties, with terrible cataracts. If she stayed, she wouldn’t be able to hit the dirt underneath her feet. Mike was around the same age but with terrible arthritis. Alex wasn’t even sure if he could squeeze the trigger.

Alex walked over and handed Donna the AR-15 rifle. “Do you know how to use this?” She shook her head. “All right, well, it’s easy enough. In fact”—Alex took a few steps back and waved his hands, motioning everyone to gather around—“I want everyone to see this!”

Alex ejected the magazine and pulled the charging handle back to eject the round still in the chamber. He double-checked to make sure it was empty then grabbed an empty magazine for the demonstration. “Listen up! Anyone who has never handled this type of weapon before, I want you to pay close attention, because we’re only going to have time to do this once, and if those of us who are staying behind can’t fend off the sentries who are coming, you’ll need to know how to use this.”

It wasn’t the most tactful speech he’d ever given, but time was of the essence. There wasn’t room for mollycoddling anymore. If you didn’t know how to protect yourself, you would die.

“Rule number one, you don’t aim at anything you don’t plan on killing. Rule number two, you keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to squeeze it. When you hold the rifle, keep the stock snug against your shoulder and do NOT put your eye against the scope.” He flipped the rifle to its side, exposing the safety lever and the magazine ejector button. “Make sure your safety is off, and once you’re out of ammo, this slide here will open up and expose the chamber like this,” Alex again pulled the charging handle back so they could see. “Push this button here, and it will eject the magazine, then when you put in a new one, shove it in until you hear it click. This will snap the charging handle back into place, and you’re ready to fire. If the gun jams, try pushing this button here, which will push any rounds that are stuck forward.”

Each face studied the rifle with anxious eyes. Alex handed the rifle to Donna, who held took it awkwardly at first but then carried it at her side, where she looked more comfortable.

Alex bent down to Meeko’s level and placed both hands around the boy’s shoulders. “I need you to help me out, okay, punk?” Meeko nodded quickly, trying to hide the nervousness his eyes betrayed. “It’s your job to take everyone who’s not staying as deep into the woods as you can. Do you remember that river I showed you when you first came here?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Meeko answered.

“Well, that’s where I want you to go.”

Meeko gave a firmer nod, and Alex ruffled the mess of curls on his head.

“All right,” Alex said. “Mike and Donna, you two take a duffel bag of rifles and ammo. If we can’t hold the sentries off, then the woods will be the first place they search, but you should have a nice head start.”

The lump in Donna’s throat caught when she gave a whispered, “Okay,” and Mike wouldn’t stop massaging his hands. After some quick rearranging, the truck was loaded down with enough food and water to last everyone in the group at least six days, which would at least get them into southern Wyoming. 

Before Donna left, Alex pulled her aside. “Meeko will know where to go. Just follow him, okay?” Alex could see the slight tremor that vibrated her entire body as she nodded. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder, and he felt the tremors ease. “If one of us doesn’t come and find you in the next hour, then you take everyone northwest. Wyoming should be clear of sentries, but you have to get there as quickly as possible.”

Donna nodded, adjusting the rifle in her arms, then started her trek up to the forest with the rest of the community members. Meeko was the last one to leave, and only after he wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and squeezed as hard as he could. Alex felt the boy’s wet face soak his shirt. He picked Meeko up and returned the hug.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alex said then set Meeko down and watched the boy catch up to the other community members heading toward the forest. Alex waited a moment before addressing those who stayed behind. If things turned south, then this was the last time he would see the boy.

The nine thin faces waiting on Alex were the only things separating the invading sentries and keeping the rest of the community alive. Harper, whom Alex was pretty sure lied about using a weapon, was stationed at the factory and given an AR-15 along with six fully loaded magazines of ammo, Kevlar, and grenades.

Joining Harper in the factory were Chris, Lilly, and Iris, who had the same gear. Alex instructed the four of them to remain quiet and unseen until the firing started. Jimmy, Frank, and Jean would be joining Alex at the front gate, dressed in sentry uniforms to greet their unwanted guests. Luckily, there were enough spare uniforms for them not to have to peel any off the dead sentries Alex had killed the night before.

Mick and Connor were the only other individuals in the group who had any expert background in handling a weapon. Connor did a stint in the Marines twenty years ago, and Mick had spent most of his youth hunting, so Alex stationed the two of them behind the well, wielding two sniper rifles and enough ammo for them to camp there all day.

Harper parked one of the sentry trucks in the pathway of the community’s gate, narrowing the funnel for the sentries to enter. From there, Alex could disable one of the vehicles, cutting the caravan in half and trapping them in a kill box, where they’d be surrounded. Alex popped the hood and dumped a smoke grenade into the engine to add to the ruse. The bigger the distraction, the easier it would be to get the first two cars to stop.

With the truck in position and everyone armed, Alex did one final run-through. “All right, everyone, let’s do a quick communication check to make sure we’re all on the same frequency. Check one.”

Everyone gave a thumbs-up with a verbal “copy” so Alex could make sure he could hear everyone else. “Good,” he said. “No matter how many trucks arrive, I’m only letting in two. Once those first two enter, I’ll disable the third with a grenade to block the rest of the front entrance. Harper, Lilly, Chris, Iris, that’s when you four open fire from the factory windows on anyone who is still outside. Got it?”

Alex received a volley of nervous nods and shaky okays. “Mick and Connor, once the grenade goes off, you open fire on any sentry trapped on Main Street. They’ll use their trucks as cover, so make sure you concentrate fire on the windows. That’ll be the weak point. Jimmy, Frank, Jean, and I will move to the sentry housing for cover, giving you two a clear line of sight. Our biggest advantage right now, no matter how many sentries show up, will be our element of surprise. If things turn south, then I want everyone to hightail it to the forest and meet up with the others. If we do our job right, then the remaining sentries won’t have the resources to try and follow.”

The air was thick with nerves. Alex knew that uncertainty was the most dangerous of parasites. It would drain you physically and mentally, until there wasn’t anything left. And with every second that passed, the parasite grew, turning the fears in your head into unbeatable, monstrous titans.

“I know everyone here understands what we’re up against,” Alex said. “But if we stick to the plan, we will make it out of here alive. The world is changing. The Coalition is on its heels. Now, let’s do what we have to and be done with it.”

The group dispersed, and Alex hustled up to the front gate with a pair of binoculars. He scanned the rolling hills until he came across a caravan kicking up dust and heading their way.

Alex popped another smoke grenade into the engine of the truck, which forced the gray plume higher into the blue Kansas sky. And almost on cue, the sentry’s radio at the front station blew static, which was immediately replaced by a panic-stricken Class 2 on the other end. “Community 0183, we’re seeing a lot of smoke coming from your location. What’s going on over there?”

Alex picked up the receiver, took a breath, and then pressed the side button to speak. “Copy that. We ran into some engine trouble on one of our perimeter checks this morning after roll call. We managed to make it back to the gate before it started smoking.”

“Roger that, 0183. We have a few mechanics with us who can take a look at it.”

“Much appreciated.”

Alex set the receiver down and flicked the safety lever off the AR-15. His fingers tapped the grooves of the replacement magazines and counted the four grenades around his belt. Alex rotated his right shoulder, shifting the Kevlar and rifle strap. Alex noticed Jimmy’s white-knuckled grip on the rifle in his hands. “Hey,” Alex said. Jimmy quickly diverted his gaze from the fields to Alex. “We’ll make it.”