The Apostates (5 page)

“No! I told you to stay the fuck away from
me,” Gale yelled defiantly.

Hades-Perdition grabbed Ravine from behind
and put him in a chokehold, “I said, take a load off. You ain’t coming with us
this time. And let the lady be. Do we understand each other?”

“Get—get your fucking hands off me! Faggot!” Ravine yelled, with a face flushed red. Hades-Perdition released his arm from
around Ravine’s neck without warning and let him fall to the floor.

“You ain’t
coming. Sober up, and if you call me that again—” He didn’t need to
finish his threat, Ravine knew what Hades-Perdition was capable of.

Ravine picked himself up off the floor and
sat up against the wall, gasping for air. He waved his hand in a
dismissive gesture. The two stepped over his legs and proceeded down the rustic
corridor. Ravine buried his head in his arms supported by his knees. He passed
out where he sat, later to be scooped up by personnel and brought back to his
quarters to sober up.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Hades-Perdition and Gale-Whirlwind had been walking for several hours. They had passed an abandoned town as they moved north away from the Mothball fleet. The air was warm and dry. It was spring in California, and the brown grasses hugged the rolling hills. Several high clouds hung in the atmosphere but other than that the sky was an unscathed shade of deep blue. They followed an old, dusty interstate route, staying within visual range of the road but moving from cover to cover and keeping a low profile.

They were on the lookout for any L.O.V.E.R. presence, but it was tough to stay focused while hiking in this country. It would have been a perfect day for a picnic. At one point along the way they heard wrestling in some scrub they were passing. A doe darted from the brush, and almost received a generous dose of lead, but they held steady and the doe dodged the proverbial bullet.

They rarely talked during their hike—both
seemed to enjoy and understand the need for silence. Besides, they were letting
the landscape speak. Gale thought it was nice to spend time with a
like-minded individual—someone who appreciated the serenity—especially right
before a potentially fatal mission.

They came upon a railroad junction and
decided to follow the tracks to the northwest. Their feet compacted the loose
gravel around the tracks with each step. The clouds overhead began to condense
to form a grayish-white canopy, coating the sky. Gale could feel the air
moisten ever so slightly. As they walked farther along the tracks they spotted a rail depot on the horizon. The duo moved off the
tracks and hunched down in some tall grass. Hades-Perdition aimed his rifle and
used his scope to reconnoiter the structures. He traced the outline of the
structures and hugged the profile of the rooftops with the cross hairs.
Something stirred in the scope. Hades-Perdition recognized the color of the
uniform of the figure he had caught in his sights. It was definitely a
L.O.V.E.R, and a sniper at that. But, Hades and Gale were still alive, so he
deduced that they had not been spotted. Hades-Perdition made another sweep with
his scope and counted an additional four personnel.

Hades-Perdition lowered his scope and
surveyed the surrounding landscape. He noticed a ridge to the west of them that
could yield a perfect firing position.

“Gale, this will be your initiation. Are
you up for it?” he inquired.

“What are you getting me into?” she asked
worriedly.

“Trial by fire. L.O.V.E.R.s are present at the depot. I counted about four of them. Now, what
I’m going to do is park up on this ridge and keep you covered, with my M82.
Don’t you worry—I’m a crack shot. But, I need you infiltrate the rail depot.
What we need is numbers on personnel and any intelligence that you might come
across inside. If you feel like you are stepping into any traps or you get into a
sticky situation, ping me—but stay in my visual field, please,”
Hades-Perdition instructed.

“Wow, you don’t think that’s a tall order
for me?” Gale passively protested.

“You’ll surprise yourself. Besides, we need
to test what your neural implant is capable of,” Hades-Perdition encouraged
her.

“Fine. But you better have my back,” she
replied.

“Girl, you know I got you,”
Hades-Perdition teased.

“Alright, here I go. Make sure to call out any new targets you come across.” With that Gale scurried off through the tall grass. She made a beeline toward some old tanker cars that formed a sheltered approach to the rear of the rail depot’s central structure. She reached the rear of the building and found a rusted ladder that lead to the roof. She ascended the ladder when she was pinged by Hades-Perdition. Gale opened a channel, and he told her to halt. She stopped cold.

Hades-Perdition locked on to the Ranger on
the roof in his sights, who was moving toward the ladder Gale was on.
Hades-Perdition squeezed the trigger, and a fifty caliber round escaped
the barrel and a split second later bore through the cranial cavity of the
Ranger, depositing the head’s contents on top of the roof.

“Proceed,” Hades-Perdition instructed.

Gale reached the precipice of the ladder and hoisted herself onto the roof. She moved quickly across the roof to an overhang and peeked over the edge. Two Rangers flanked a doorframe below, a second later a fifty caliber round passed through both heads sequentially. The men fell dead. Gale was shocked by the gruesome spectacle. She pulled herself together and rushed over to the roof access door.

“I am going to enter the building. I suppose that’ll leave me blindsided. But you can’t watch over me all the time,” Gale teased sarcastically. She opened the dented and rusting door. Even moving it slightly the door complained in a high pitch screech.

“I hope no one heard that,” she whispered
through the channel to Hades-Perdition.

“I’ll keep an eye on the exterior of the
building. Good luck,” Hades-Perdition urged.

Gale stepped through the threshold. She
found an old, industrial stairwell with paint peeling off the wall. Gale kept
her assault rifle at the ready, scanning every potential approach as
she moved, and she realized the tactics alien to her. She had
been acting without thinking. She theorized that this was the behavior
programmed into the neural implant by ‘Sam’. Gale thought that she might as
well not fight the instinctual actions that the implant’s programs instilled
into her. She traveled down a hallway with scorch marks scarring the
wall. At the end of the hall was a row of offices. Gale stepped into a middle
office. The room was covered with dusty, vintage office furniture. There was
mildew stains spread about the walls. She gazed around the room looking for
anything that could be used as intelligence.

Gale moved around to the back of the desk. There were signs of it having been used recently. The dust coverage was interrupted by shuffle marks. She opened the large, shallow, middle drawer to have a peek at its contents. Inside she found a curious black, rectangular object that resembled a domino. She guessed that it might be some kind of storage device, so she tucked it away in one of the utility pouches slung across her chest.

“Gale! A patrol is approaching from the
East. Withdraw!”
Hades-Perdition warned.

Gale shut the desk door and moved rapidly across the room toward the door. She swung around the corner and out into the hall and collided head-on with a L.O.V.E. Ranger. The Ranger grabbed the barrel of her gun and tried to wrench it from her grip. She recovered her bearings and a struggle ensued for her gun. They were interlocked. The Ranger raised the gun and Gale off the ground and heaved his weight forward to slam her back into the wall. Decades of dust and grit were jarred loose by the impact, and plaster caved in creating a huge dent. The Ranger shoved his forearm up under her chin attempting to choke her out. She responded by throwing a knee to his groin. He recoiled in pain and loosened his grip. She dropped to the floor—landing on her feet, setting her up to perform a leg sweep, which she executed. The Ranger lost his balance and fell broadside to the floor. She could feel the air forced out of him by the fall. Gale reached for her boot and snatched a small knife from its ankle scabbard. She lunged onto him with the blade point down, aiming for the exposed trachea. The Ranger threw his left forearm in the way of the blade’s trajectory and it bit into his muscle and bone. He let out yelp from the pain, then wound up his first and caught her in the temple with a right hook. Gale was temporarily stunned. The Ranger jumped to his feet and was moving toward her assault rifle that had fallen to the floor when she slide across the floor toward his back leg and racked his right Achilles heel with the blade. The Ranger collapsed to the floor; screaming in agony. She finished him off with a rapid stab to the neck. Still charged up with adrenaline she retrieved her weapon and sprinted to the stairwell that led to the roof.

“Gale, the main enemy body is back. I’m
going to draw their attention away. You get the fuck out of there when I give
you the signal. Make sure you aren’t followed back to the Mothball fleet!”
Hades-Perdition said excitedly.

Hades-Perdition let off a round with his
side arm and immediately the twenty-strong force started moving in the
direction of the gunfire. Hades-Perdition moved off the ridge and away from the
railroad tracks down into a heavily wooded gorge with pines and spruce.

“Go now! Get out of there!” Hades-Perdition exclaimed as he crossed a small stream and climbed up the opposite bank.

Gale descended the ladder from the roof and charged into the brush in the opposite direction from Hades-Perdition and the pursuing Rangers. She could feel the side of her face swelling up. She sprinted through the underbrush. She recalled her close-quarters fight: it had yet to fully impact her that she killed a L.O.V.E.R.: one the Regime’s best, although she recognized that outcome could have easily gone the other way. Gale deduced that this was her trial by fire and there was no disputing that she passed. She rounded the base of a hill and crossed through an open meadow to double back to the railroad tracks. From there she determined she would follow them south back to the Mothball fleet. Gale’s face was throbbing now and the adrenaline had subsided and pain pierced.

She couldn’t help but think about Ravine-Gulch and his drunken episode before they departed the fleet. He had been trying to numb the pain through day drinking. Ravine certainly didn’t help the situation by picking a fight with the most dangerous member of the Apostates. She thought about how confident Hades-Perdition was about the operation that they had just pulled off. He was certain that Gale would be able to handle herself in the thick of danger and encouraged her. She remembered how he had dispatched those Rangers so effortlessly—a true killer. But, he didn’t come off like a psychopath. He had retained his humanity. She realized that because of her ‘trial by fire’ that she was now one of the Apostates. No turning back. She had murdered a Regime agent. There would be no forgiveness.

Her thoughts turned to ‘Sam’ and his
lecture. She pondered if anyone in the Apostates had ever met him in person.
Who was he? How do they know if they can trust him? What if this entire
situation was some elaborate entrapment scheme cooked up by L.O.V.E. to root
out seditious individuals? What if the Apostates were part of some experiment
set up for sick pleasure that ‘Sam’ had for manipulation and suffering? Her
thoughts were neurotic and rapid. Gale felt she was being a tad paranoid, but, she was going to keep her suspicions in the back of her brain, because she had been given a second
chance at life and she wasn’t going to let ‘Sam’ torpedo it.

Gale had been walking for hours and she
felt her stomach roil. She had a cottonmouth due to dehydration. Gale descended an embankment—half sliding in the loose dirt and gravel.
She reached the bottom with a jog to counteract the momentum. Gale reflected on
her mission and decided now she could truly say she was ‘born again’.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

His heart rate increased as the incline angle got steeper. He rose up off his saddle, gripped the sides of the drop bars, and heaved the muscles in his legs to force the rotation of the pedals; left then right, left then right. He could feel the burn in his calves and thighs. The incline leveled off as he reached the crest of the hill. He had always favored single speed bikes over that of geared fair. He thought that it gave a more intense workout by keeping the resistance constant no matter the angle of incline. No cheating on hills. He constantly drove himself even when it was time to relax. Letting one’s guard down and being complacent was a weakness to him. If he could forego sleep he would in a heartbeat. He rested on his bike for a moment surveying the view from the top of the hill. Beyond many rolling hills and tree patches, he could see the Great Lake stretched out on the horizon. He kicked off on his bike to gain momentum and launched down the hill.

Rodrigo was an avid cyclist. He was dressed in a spandex L.O.V.E. jersey and biking shorts and donned clip in shoes. He loved pre-war bikes; he kept a collection of French bike frames in his quarters and would swap them out for rides periodically. He had always wanted to come out West and ride the fabled California hills. His love for biking overshadowed most other aspects of his life, except for his duty to the organization.

Rodrigo reached the bottom of the hill
then turned hard and followed the old access road toward the rail depot. He
cranked hard on the pedals of his Mercier model road bike. When he came upon
the old parking lot of the rail depot, he hopped the back tire, locked his legs
and broke into a skid, stopping on a dime. He leaned his bike against a rusted
out propane tank. He walked in an awkward manner due to his clip in shoes.
Being dressed in his bike spandex and safety helmet gave him the air of an
adolescent, and not a trained killer. The Head Ranger, a man named Frank, was
approaching him.

“Inquisitor Rodrigo, we have finished
conducting our investigation of the site. There are four dead at the scene.
Three had been shot outside and one dead inside. It doesn’t appear that
anything had been taken. We honestly do not know what the motive was,” Frank
reported while standing at attention.

“Please take me to the bodies,” Rodrigo
requested.

“Right this way, sir,” Head Ranger Frank
escorted the Inquisitor to the pair of bodies laying by the main entrance to
the central structure; a cavernous warehouse.

Rodrigo examined the two bodies. He
checked the head wounds on each, then, looked off in a southerly direction. He
walked over to a woodpile due north of the bodies. He paced back and fourth in
front of the pile, then focused in on a hole in one of the pieces of wood. Rodrigo
shoved a finger into the hole, then, turned around to look south again.

‘Please show me the body on the roof,”
Rodrigo requested.

“Yes, please follow me,” Head Ranger Frank
responded.

The duo walked around the back of the
structure to the old, rusted ladder that stretched up to the roof. They
ascended to the roof. Frank led Rodrigo to the body. The head was gone and a
crimson spray extended for some feet to the north of where the head used to be.
Rodrigo knelt down to examine the body for a spell. He then stood up, and
turned to the south, and trained his eyes to a ridge roughly nearly a mile to
the southwest. Rodrigo walked over to the edge of the roof and stared at the
ridge. He stayed in that spot for roughly ten minutes.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured to himself.

“Sir?” Head Ranger Frank asked.

“Head Ranger, please take me to the last
body,” Rodrigo ordered.

“Yes sir, right this way. Down the
stairs,” Head Ranger Frank lead the way into the interior hall that connected
to the office block.

They proceeded to the central office and
Rodrigo stood in the middle of the room. He quickly glanced around at the dated
and dusty office furniture. He trained in on the desk. He moved closer. Rodrigo
noticed that the central desk drawer was ajar.

“This is the commanding officer’s desk,
correct?” Rodrigo asked suspiciously.

“Yes sir,” Head Ranger Frank responded.

“His encryption key is missing,” Rodrigo
said matter of factually, “Please take me to him.”

“Sir!” Head Ranger Frank clicked his
heels.

They traveled down to the central rail
yard. The commander of the unit and his lieutenant were being interrogated by a
couple of Rangers. The two were perched on an old picnic bench and the
interrogators hovered over them like predatory birds. Rodrigo, decked out in
his spandex cycling outfit, slowly swaggered over to the scene. The commander
looked up at Inquisitor Rodrigo as he approached. He had a look of dread on his
face.

“Commander, I am glad to see you well,”
Rodrigo said.

“Thank—Thank you sir. I am
fortunate,” the commander said hesitantly.

“Yes! Very fortunate. A true blessing.”
The sarcasm in Rodrigo’s voice was apparent now. “It was very fortunate that
the majority of your unit was away,” Rodrigo prodded.

“I am glad that we were not wiped out,
Inquisitor,” the commander said nervously.

Rodrigo paced back and forth in front of the commander. He glanced to the south, appearing to be contemplating a matter. Rodrigo unlatched his cycling helmet from under his chin, and removed it, leaving it dangling from his right hand by his side. He turned and faced the commander.

“Commander, what was the nature of your
excursion?” Rodrigo asked.

The commander glanced at the Inquisitor,
then at the Head Ranger nervously. He was visibly shaken. “We were scouting the
surrounding area for signs of the Apostates, sir,” he answered.

“Lieutenant, can you confirm this as the
objective?” Rodrigo pressed.

“No sir, I can’t. We went to get some “R
and R” at a neighboring town’s brothel,” the lieutenant was truthful in his
answer.

The commander looked down and muttered a
profanity under his breath.

“Interesting. Commander, do you have any
clue as to where your unit’s encryption key is located?” Rodrigo looked tense
as he asked the question. The bike helmet swayed in the breeze.

“Well, uh...sir, I believe I left it in
the desk drawer in the office I use—”

“Yes you did! Unsecured. You left your
post with most of your force. Only leaving a skeleton crew to secure your base of
operations. You went on an “R and R” excursion without permission, and you
allowed your encryption key to be taken by the opposition, potentially
compromising our most secure organizational information,” Rodrigo was furious
for a split second, then the poker face took over.

“What really hurts my feelings...is that you lied to me,” Rodrigo finished his sentence then raised his arm, wound up the helmet with a few rotations and brought the bike helmet down on the top of the commander’s head. The sound of molded plastic on skull rang out. Rodrigo rotated his body and landed another backhand swing with the helmet square on the commander’s nose. The crumbling of cartilage was heard. He landed further successive blows, cracking skull and splitting flesh. In those few moments, he had the look of a demon possessed. The plastic of the helmet cracked and jagged pieces of plastic caught skin and tore flesh away from the face of the commander. No one dared intervene. When Rodrigo was finished the commander was unrecognizable and he was out a bike helmet.

Rodrigo composed himself, then, turned to face the lieutenant, who was wide-eyed with fear, but had kept calm throughout the beating. Rodrigo stood over him, gazing down and rubbing the bit of stubble on his chin.

“Thank you for your candor, lieutenant. I
appreciate honesty in my officers. It is a commendable trait. That is what this
organization runs on; honesty and loyalty,” Rodrigo confessed.

“Th-Thank you sir. I try—” He was
interrupted.

“But, you served under an ineffectual
officer and must pay the price,” Rodrigo delighted.

He bent up his leg toward his torso and snatched off a clip-in bike shoe from his right foot. He held it from the toe section with the cleats facing outward. Rodrigo drew his arm back and landed a blow across the face of the lieutenant with the sole of the shoe. He continued the onslaught against the lieutenant’s head until he felt satisfied that it had compromised the skull’s structural integrity. Rodrigo, looked down at his handiwork, dropped the shoe, turned and walked awkwardly away with one shoe on his left foot. His asymmetrical walk led him to his armored vehicle where, within awaited a shower and his fresh uniform.

The Inquisitor entered the armored vehicle via a rear hydraulic ramp, which lowered to the ground. He entered a small living quarters equipped with a bunk, workstation, mini-bar and small bathing area with a basin, toilet and shower. Rodrigo peeled off his bloody spandex, then reached into the shower to warm the water. Rodrigo felt reinvigorated. He felt like he did some good to make an example of the two officers. That was the only way he understood to keep L.O.V.E as a crack organization; show them tough love. He stepped into the shower and scrubbed off the spattered blood that had pelted his face and arms. He rubbed the soap and lathered up his hands and washed his body. As Rodrigo was shampooing his head, he was pinged, which triggered his retinal H.U.D. It was an incoming transmission from the Minister of State Security. Rodrigo willed open the channel. It was Kate Schrubb on the other end.

“Greetings, Inquisitor Rodrigo. I received
your initial communication about the incident. Do you have any other
information to add?” Kate inquired.

“Minister, yes. I investigated the scene myself and concluded it was Apostate operatives that attacked. It seemed they hit while the commander had most of his detail away for a brothel visit. But, not to worry, I took...corrective actions,” Rodrigo reported as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a towel. He tied the towel around his waist.

“This is encouraging news. It seems your
information was correct. With the increased frequency of enemy contact it would
indicate that they are very close to your position,” Kate surmised.

“Yes, I surveyed from the top of a small
mountain. I believe that they are just to the south of my location. Most likely
right around the Great Lake,” Rodrigo finished drying himself then put on a
fresh pair of undershorts followed by uniform slacks.

“Alright, Inquisitor. If you were to lead an assault on their position what would you need to make the operation successful?” Kate asked anxiously.

“In due time, Minister. First we must
observe and gather intelligence. Head Ranger Frank will oversee the recon ops.
Once he reports to my satisfaction I will get back to you on material and
personnel estimates. Does this sound fair?” Rodrigo was stern. He finished
buttoning up his shirt and threw on his decorated uniform jacket. “I need to
wait for my informant to contact us with an update as well,” he added.

“Fair enough, Rodrigo. But, remember, we
need these Apostates taken down before the B.A.G. Our citizens must be focused
on the festival and not living in fear of terrorists. It needs to be L.O.V.E.
who brings them down, not my brother,” Kate insisted.

“Yes, Ms. Schrubb, it’s all in my timetable,” Rodrigo concluded. He was now fully dressed and picked up his lion head
cane.

“Very well, Rodrigo. I leave the matter in
your capable hands,” she disconnected.

Rodrigo looked at the lion head on his cane. Under the chin of the head on the knob was a trigger. He checked it meticulously. Rodrigo sat in his workstation. He called up old satellite photos of the Great Lake region on his retinal H.U.D. He poured over the old, low definition, black and white images and newer Internet age photos. Rodrigo noticed numerous old towns that had since been abandoned. He further noticed old naval bases and currently inhabited cities and towns. His eye was drawn to a pre-war oil refinery. From what he could tell of the photos it was a sprawling complex with many structures that would be perfect to conceal men and material. He pondered this find; this could very well be where the Apostates were holed up.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Rodrigo grew tired of pouring of aerial and satellite photos of the region. He got to thinking about the early days of his organization and the start of his career. Rodrigo was in a mood that was as close to sentimentality as possible for a man like himself. He opened up some official archives to reminisce about “the good old days”. The archives were very revisionist as would be expected of a totalitarian Regime. To a man deeply indoctrinated in Regime dogma, the archives spoke the truth. He opened files pertaining to the Law that was responsible for the creation of L.O.V.E.

The Law of Virtue Enforcement Act was devised as a response to subversive activity against the government, to keep it’s citizenry righteous and to dismantle the anti-war factions that sprang up in opposition to an ongoing war against countless Islamic militant groups that had been raging since the early years of the previous century. The L.O.V.E. Act outlined government and clergy criteria for a citizen to be declared Virtuous. If the people followed the criteria; they were given special status in society and could be considered for government and clerical posts. If they did not meet the criteria; they were branded an Apostate and were open for persecution, and criminal charges. The criteria excluded from the Virtuous drug addicts, drug pushers, pornographers, alcoholics, pedophiles, rapists, adulterers, pagans, Muslims, abortionists, and other undesirables. If an individual was not declared Virtuous by the state their life was effectively over. The implementation of the law enforcement had been a major problem. The first few years of the law saw no enforcement. The Regime feared a credibility backlash and wanted it to be feared by the populace. The Regime turned to street thug tactics. They paid vigilante groups to patrol the public and look for those not declared Virtuous. The vigilantes’ only mandate was to apprehend offenders, but there was no oversight. More often than not offenders would wind up being tortured or killed.