Revolution (8 page)

    “Stop! Or we’ll shoot!” one of them shouted.

    Rayne didn’t stop. He continued to run, turned the corner, and sprinted into an abandoned parking lot. He heard the pavement behind him being ripped apart by automatic gunfire as he turned another corner and darted toward a nearby back street.

Rayne spotted a manhole cover on the side of the road and knew it was his only chance. He bent down and tried to pry off the cover, but it wouldn’t budge. Bullets ricocheted all around him as he pushed until his fingers bled. Finally, the manhole cover slid aside and he plunged into the opening. He began a freefall into the city’s sewer system as metallic thunder echoed above him.

Chapter 8

    Campion strained with exertion as she worked out in her private gym, muscles rippling as she lifted free weights above her chest. She finished her last set of bench-pressing, wiped her forehead with a towel, and picked up a television remote control. She switched on the 3D television hovering on anti-grav plates above the treadmills and switched on the ten o’clock news. The empty suit on the screen was blurting out the media’s typical positive spin on the economy.

    “The Federal Reserve stated yesterday that there are signs the U.S. recession is easing, so they will be raising interest rates by one tenth of one percent,” the newscaster said.

   
The recession is easing? How is that possible with the unemployment rate still over 25%?

    Campion switched off the TV and tried to focus on the problem at hand. According to her agents in the capitol city, the first part of the mission had gone off without a hitch. The operatives had checked into a hotel and the Senator’s clone had met with the President’s Chief of Staff at the White House early that evening.

That was the last anyone heard from them. Not to mention the White House was still standing. The planted explosives should have reduced it to a large black crater filled with charred rubble.

    What could have gone wrong? Was our intelligence about the security at the White House wrong in some way?

    According to the White House blueprints they stole, the only security station monitoring the Chief of Staff was located directly adjacent to the office behind a secret door. The agent should have been able to take out the two guards and plant the explosives in the station. She should have been able to leave the meeting undetected and escape the island with her bodyguard before the explosives detonated.

    
Something has gone wrong. The only explanation, aside from error on the part of the operative, is the White House has defenses we are not aware of.

    Campion stood from the bench and walked over to the bicep-curling machine. She gripped the bar tightly and pulled the weights toward her, exhaling deeply.

   
This is a serious setback. If the capitol city continues to remain impervious to attack, the government can continue with its intimidating reputation of being invulnerable. If my organization destroys an important government monument like the White House, the population will see that the government is vulnerable, despite all its high-tech defenses and weaponry.   

    Campion lowered the weights and released the bar when she heard a knock at the gym door.

    “It’s open,” she said.

    The door opened and the Assistant Director of Operations, Rick Connelly, entered.

    “I have some news, Jane. But you’re not going to like it,” he stated.

    “Give it to me.”

    “Our primary source in the capitol city overheard rumors through his spy network of a failed attack on the White House. Apparently, the island has a security system in place that we were unaware of,” Rick explained, as he remained standing by the doorway. “Of course, the government suppressed the information about the attack so it wouldn’t leak to the media. They stated that the Chief of Staff died of a heart attack in his office. However, that didn’t stop the bored White House security guards from talking about the attack during their off-duty hours. That’s when our source found out what happened.” Connelly paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “Apparently, our operative assassinated the Chief of Staff, eliminated the security guards in the room next door, and planted the explosives. The problem is that every high-ranking government official on the island is hooked up to a computer-monitored bio-scan device.”

    “Bio-scan? What’s that?” Campion asked, raising her left eyebrow as she grabbed a towel and wiped sweat from her forehead.

    “All high-level government officials and security personnel in the capitol city have small electronic monitoring devices implanted in their bodies that measure their vital functions; heartbeat, respiration, etc. If their vital functions are cut-off entirely, the bio-scan device sends an emergency signal to a special security station located in the command bunker beneath the city. The computer in the bunker pinpoints the location of the individual, who the bio-scan belongs to, from its unique signal. They know exactly who has been killed and where they are located. A quick radio call and the next thing you know, there’s a tactical security team en route to the place where the bio-scan alarm sounded.”

    “Efficient system,” Campion commented, impressed. “If we assassinate one of them, they know when and where it happened. It’s ingenious. I expect nothing less from our opponents. However, I think I know a way around it.”

********

    The sharp crack of exploding bullets faded to a hollow echo as Peter Rayne free-falled into the depths of the city sewer system. He splashed violently at the base of the sewers like a plummeting rock. If it wasn’t for the three-foot deep wastewater, he figured he would have been banged up pretty bad.

Rayne stood up, coughed out the slimy liquid that had entered through his nostrils, and pushed back his slime-soaked hair. Total blackness enveloped him. Not the least bit of natural light was visible. He tilted his head back, hoping to view a last glimpse of the world above. He strained his eyes upwards, trying to penetrate the dark pit he had fallen into. The manhole cover must have been slid back in place because the area was completely dark.

    Do they want to capture me? Or do they plan on leaving me down here?

    Rayne exerted every effort to breathe through his mouth and not to inhale through his nose. The surrounding stench was intolerable; a sulfur-rotten egg odor. He was wary about striking his lighter because of what he might see. The cold, waist-high liquid that he waded through could barely be described as water. It was a thick, oily substance that had a gritty feel to it. But what should he have expected? The toilet remnants of the city were flushed into that place!

    Rayne reached into his right jacket pocket to make sure the hand-held computer he took from Prince was still there.  His hand closed on the wallet-sized metal object. Peter assumed it was waterproof if it had been manufactured in the last ten years. You never knew when you were going to get caught in a rainstorm. Or a sewer.

Whatever was contained in Prince’s computer must be important if it was the last thing he held onto when he was killed.

    Rayne shoved the pocket computer into his inner pocket so he wouldn’t lose it and continued his journey through the dark tunnel. He waded slowly through the darkness, keeping his right hand against the slimy wall to guide his way. The walls appeared to be approximately five and a half feet apart and met eight feet above in a smooth, circular concrete arch.

   
The system must go on for miles, branching off in many places. A person would have
to possess a keen sense of direction to navigate their way out of this stench-infested river
.

    Luckily, Rayne possessed an unusually heightened, almost sixth-sense ability, for directions. It had helped him find his way out of many tight spots.

    Peter sloshed through the putrid cavern for what must have been an hour before he felt a cold chill creeping up his spine, as if an unknown hand was slowly scraping an icicle up and down his vertebrae. His slime-soaked body had collided with an unseen pulpy object floating atop the muck. Backing swiftly against the wall, he hoped the thing would pass, but he didn’t hear or sense any sign of movement. Reluctantly, he reached into his jacket pocket for his laser lighter.  

    A quick push of a button created an unsteady orange gleam, which illuminated the thing floating in the muck. Rayne had to assume it had once been human because of its advanced state of decomposition. It lay face-up, partially submerged in a stagnant river of brown oily muck. Rayne could hardly bring himself to look at the pale, rat-eaten face, which resembled ground hamburger spread indiscriminately over a bloody skull. The corpse’s gray, slime-soaked overalls caught his attention. It was unmistakably the attire worn by prisoners of the government after the prison system was overhauled in 2045 under the motto, DON’T CODDLE THEM. WORK THEM.

   
Is this torn, ravaged, decomposed corpse here because of a failed prison escape?
Or is this his sentence
?

    Rayne’s mind reeled with uncertainty and horror. Before extinguishing his precious light source, he stared at the soft, putrid remains of the body’s right forearm. Still visible atop the decomposing layers of flesh were the tattooed numbers
885952
.

    As Peter continued to wade through the muck, he grew immune to the squeaks of rats and the feeling of large pulpy objects colliding with him at each step.   

   
Are these the corpses of prisoners sentenced to the state’s overcrowded work prisons?

    Rayne only had the stomach to flick the lighter on once more. The orange gleam cast wavering shadows on the rotting forms of several former prisoners floating in the wastewater. Despite his collision with numerous decomposing bodies, his panic caused him to accelerate his pace until he was actually swimming through the thick, oozing, putrid muck.

    Suddenly, Peter noticed something strange going on in the underground tunnel. The size of the space he was in seemed to be shrinking. It felt as if his body was being lifted slightly toward the archway above. The sounds from his splashing motions left a shallower echo than before. He couldn’t see after he extinguished his lighter, but the water felt less gritty. The thick slime encompassing him seemed to be thinning out. The periodic sounds of water droplets striking the swampy surface from the developing cracks in the concrete ceiling increased in frequency.

    Rayne was suddenly horrified when his hands began to strike the ceiling of the arched tunnel with each swim stroke. He stopped and planted his feet firmly on the concrete floor. The water level had lifted to his chest and seemed to be getting higher with each passing second.

   
What’s going on?

    Panic gripped his mind in a vise-grip as rats scurried from their cozy nests in the wall crevices. Their frantic scratching movements echoed throughout the underground labyrinth as they scurried along the walls searching for footholds. Many of them screeched insanely as they fell into the water.

Rayne had to swat them away with his flailing hands as some of the rodents attempted to take refuge on his shoulders and head. For an instant, he was completely paralyzed with fear as the waters steadily rose. Then, his rational mind took over and he told himself he still had a chance.

    Rayne swam hard in the utter blackness. He remembered the manhole where he entered had been shut; presumably by the Federal Police Officers who pursued him on the surface. He had wondered before why the officers failed to pursue him into the depths, but at that moment he was sure why. The sewage chamber was being flooded by people above. There was no other explanation. Rather than chasing him down into the dark labyrinth, the police officers must have decided to flood the entire area in order to drown any and all occupants.

    Rayne felt along the walls as the water approached his neck. He slid his hands along the slippery cement, hoping to find a way to escape. Straining every muscle in his body, he continued to push his way forward through the stagnant water, which now reached chin level. It was possible the water level would lift over his head at any moment and drown him like a trapped rat.

    Strangely, the thought entered his head that if he had been sitting at home in his apartment discussing the idea of drowning, he would have been sure he would panic and lose all rationality. However, in reality, he felt an unnatural calm take over his mind as his hands continued to systematically feel along the wall for any sign of a change in the structure.

    As the putrid waters reached his nostrils and his head scraped against the ceiling, the fingers of his right hand grasped onto a slimy metal bar. Reaching above the bar, he found another bar. It was a metal rung ladder leading up to a manhole like the one he fell into!

Rayne leaned against the bars, grabbed hold of them, and lifted himself up into the vertical tunnel as water completely flooded the area he stood in seconds before. Climbing the slimy metal rungs as fast as he could without slipping, he bumped his head on a hard piece of metal, which he assumed was a manhole cover. It felt strange to be completely out of the disgusting water for the first time since entering the sewers.  

    Rayne reached up with his right hand and pushed hard on the manhole cover, while he continued to hold tightly onto a slimy rung with his left hand. The cover didn’t budge.

Panic tried to take over his mind again when his feet became submerged in water. The floodwaters had completely filled the sewer tunnels and were now rising into the vertical manhole tunnel. The heel of his hand pounded against the metal cover without any result. His feet slipped on the rungs, causing him to bump his shoulder into the concrete wall as the water lifted to his knees.

    Rayne continued to smash against the manhole cover as he screamed with frustration. When he realized he wasn’t making any progress, he took out his lighter and flicked the switch. The lighter illuminated gray concrete walls topped with a black metal ceiling. The area was steadily filling with murky water.