Last Chance (2 page)

Evan grabbed a cigar that had been sitting on his desk, took a couple of puffs, and said, “You are just as talented as I am; you can go do your own thing. No hard feelings.”

Daniel sensed the change of tone in his brother’s voice and decided that this was a good time to make his exit. He watched his brother spin his chair back around to look at the monitors, a clear signal that he was done talking.

Before Daniel left, he looked back to the chair and placed his right hand on his chest. Just as calmly as his brother had spoken earlier, Daniel said, “I am the only one in the world who understands the burden of the choices we make.” He began to open the door but quickly turned around and said, “Brother or not, I’ll stop you from making the wrong choices if I have to.”

Daniel Elliott left his brother’s office and made his way back through the club to the rear exit, where he expected his car to be waiting for him. Evan Elliott watched him on those same monitors situated behind his desk and began to rub his chest. He began to tap and grab one of the chains around his neck. He talked to himself in a very low whispering voice. It was so low it was as much a thought as a statement.

The particular chain that he was handling had a small pendant attached to the end of it. The pendant had six small charms, each with a different shape inscribed into the face. His fingers picked up the slight indentations of the various designs that jetted just above the face of the item.

As he rubbed the pendant, he appeared to go into a light trance as thoughts and memories flooded his mind. He continued to watch Daniel on the monitors, as if waiting for a moment of clarity.

Daniel made his way through the club and reached the back exit where he was met by two of the club’s bouncers, Scotty and Jimmy. “Ya leavin’ already, Mr. Elliott?” snickered Jimmy.

“We can probably find ya some company for the night, since it looks like you struck out,” added Scotty.

Daniel Elliott had never been a fan of Scotty or Jimmy. The clean smell of the office had been replaced by the bouncers’ odors of sweat and cheap booze. He turned around, shot them an ice-cold stare, and said, “What I want you to do is go get my convertible and bring it to the door; I’m ready to leave. Leo should have it ready by now.”

Jimmy looked at Mr. Elliott, got right in his face, and said, “I’m no gopher, Danny Boy. Go find your own damn car.”

Red faced, Daniel responded, “You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to! Go bring my car around with a smile on your face, or I will make you go get it with a frown!”

Jimmy Lorenzen was approximately six feet eight inches tall and weighed about 280 pounds. He easily towered over Daniel Elliott, but Daniel would not back down. Jimmy began to remove the rings from his fingers and told Scotty to make sure no one was looking. “When I get done, you’re gonna remember that I don’t take orders from no rich pricks.”

Daniel reached for Jimmy Lorenzen’s arm and grabbed his shirt. He recovered his calm demeanor, because he knew that he had everything under control.

Jimmy looked at Daniel’s hand on his shirt as Daniel said, “I didn’t want it to have to be this way, but you forced my hand. Go pull my car around, now!”

Daniel couldn’t believe that Jimmy Lorenzen, a minimum wage club junkie, had the nerve to pick a fight with him. Had he lost his mind? Was he drunk? Regardless, Daniel was confident that he had taken care of the situation.

As Daniel removed his hand, he relaxed and expected to see Jimmy make his way to the door, but he didn’t. Jimmy’s face was now red with rage and his fist was closed.

“You ignorant bastard, now I’m really gonna kick your ass,” snorted Jimmy as he popped his neck and knuckles.

Daniel looked on as it was clear that Jimmy was about to take a swing at him. Daniel’s pulse quickened and a sharp fear took hold. What was happening? Had he missed something? Was something different about Jimmy?

Just as Jimmy started to make his move against Daniel, Roger Timmons came around the corner. “What’s going on, mates?”

Jimmy quickly stopped his movement toward Daniel, as he recognized Roger’s Aussie accent.

Roger was the floor manager of the club. He was also Jimmy and Scotty’s boss. Scotty began to slither away, hoping to avoid Roger completely. Jimmy, head and hands lowered, told Roger that he was about to go out back and get Mr. Elliott’s car pulled around.

Roger responded, “Betcha were. I’m sure Mr. Elliott is ready to get out of here.”

It was a strange feeling for Daniel having Roger Timmons, of all people, come to his aid. It was normally the other way around. Daniel was the one who had talked Evan into letting Roger run the floor of the club. Roger and Daniel had their moments of disagreement in the past, but for the most part, Daniel trusted Roger. Daniel knew that Roger wasn’t a threat, so he had always felt comfortable with him.

Roger put his arm around Daniel and said, “What’s up with you tonight? You don’t look so good.”

Daniel replied, “I’m fine; just tired, I guess.”

Roger, startled, said, “I dunno if I’ve ever seen you or your brother get tired; must be having an off day.”

“Maybe you’re right; everybody has an off day every now and then.”

The problem was that Daniel Elliott didn’t have off days, he didn’t get tired, and he didn’t have problems with guys like Jimmy Lorenzen. Something wasn’t right. Daniel just wanted to get away from the club and go somewhere to think.

Roger walked out the back door with Daniel and asked him where he was headed. Daniel told him that he was going out to their spot on the Potomac to look at the stars. That spot was famous for the Elliotts’ after-club parties, but it was also a place that Daniel could find the quiet that he needed. Roger told Daniel that he wished he could go out there with him, but he had to finish up at the club.

Jimmy pulled Daniel’s car to the door and headed back into the club, but not before bumping into Daniel on the way. “Sorry about that, sir. I just don’t know my own size,” chuckled Jimmy. Daniel let it go and got into his car to begin his drive to the Potomac.

Before he pulled away, he yelled back to Roger, “Thanks for the help! I probably won’t be seeing you for a while, so take care.”

Roger, a partial smile on this face, yelled back, “No worries! I’m sure I’ll see you sooner than you think.”

As Roger watched Daniel pull from the parking lot, he was startled by a voice from the club. “Roger! You’ve got a call!”

Daniel had a good thirty minutes to drive before he reached his destination by the river. Daniel replayed his talk with Evan over and over in his mind. Would it really be that easy to move away from his brother? Was Evan going to take the talk seriously? Why did he suddenly have this strange feeling of dread, and why did he have such a problem getting Jimmy Lorenzen to do what he wanted him to do?

A lack of confidence and anxiety had never been problems for Daniel, but something just seemed different now. Daniel just wanted to get to his favorite spot on the river and figure things out. It was a nice clearing, far away from the heavy lights of the city, and it was the perfect location for spotting stars and relaxing. As he sped his way through traffic, he could see the small side road that would take him to the river.

Daniel was happy to see that he was the only one there. It was a cool, clear night and he could see plenty of stars in the sky. He could spend hours looking up at the dark and speckled nighttime sky and think about all that was out there. He stopped his car, turned off the engine, and decided to lie on the hood to get a better view. The warmth of the engine could still be felt on his back as he took his place. The rush of the water mellowed the sounds of the woods around him.

This was not a night to be pondering the universe; it was a night for decisions about his future. Was it time to break apart from his brother? He began to question himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have threatened Evan before he left the club. The last thing he wanted was to start a war with his own brother; but he knew what Evan was capable of and that scared him.

As Daniel sat and watched the stars twinkle in the sky, he felt a small mosquito land on his arm. As he looked over at it, he felt a small tap where the bug had landed. He swatted the mosquito away and looked down at his arm. It began to swell around the area of the bite.

For most people, a mosquito bite and the light swell that it can cause would not be a big deal, but for Daniel Elliott, a sense of panic that he had never felt before engulfed his entire body. He now knew why he was so off and why Jimmy Lorenzen had caused him problems earlier in the night. Daniel began to rummage through all of his pockets. His manic search was no different than an asthmatic searching for his inhaler during an attack. Daniel mumbled to himself, “Where the hell is it?”

A bright light had sneaked up behind Daniel as he was searching his pockets. A black sedan had pulled up behind him and the headlights blinded Daniel. The car came to a slow stop, and Daniel looked to see who was driving. A man stepped from the vehicle and made his way to Daniel’s car.

Daniel, his eyes now focused from the lights on the sedan, yelled to the man, “Roger, is that you?”

It was Roger Timmons from the club. Daniel, now relaxed, asked, “What are you doing out here? Decide to look at some stars with me?”

“No, mate, I’m not here to look at stars, just to take care of some business.”

“What kind of business could you possibly have out here?” replied Daniel.

Roger slowly walked toward Daniel while reaching for something in his pocket. He pulled the object from his coat and pointed it directly at him. It was a small revolver and the hammer was cocked.

Daniel mustered up as much confidence as he could and demanded that Roger lower his weapon. “Are you a fool? You know you can’t hurt me with that thing. Who put you up to this?”

Roger, with a small smirk, stared back at Daniel and said, “What’s wrong, mate? Can’t you tell what I’m thinkin’ or don’t you have the juice anymore?”

Daniel responded, “I’ve always helped you out and this is how you repay me! Who is making you do this?”

Daniel knew that his threats were useless at this point, so he decided to make one last play. “I’m warning you. You don’t know what you’re doing, and I won’t forget this.” Daniel slowly reached his hand up to his chest and stared back at Roger.

“I’m not being controlled to do anythin’. I’m doin’ this because I’m good at it and I get the job done.” Roger shook his head as he saw Daniel’s hand come up. “By the way, you can stop clutchin’ your chest; it’s nothin’ more than a paperweight now.”

Daniel’s eyes grew large as the realization of what was happening took hold. Roger walked within a couple of feet of him and pointed the gun right at his head. Daniel moved back as close to the river as he could get without falling in. “You don’t have to do this, Roger! We can work something out!” exclaimed Daniel.

“It’s already worked out, mate, and it’s no bull dust; you’re gonna miss out on all the fun to come.”

A shot rang out at the secluded location just beside the Potomac. Roger had squeezed the trigger and put a bullet between the eyes of Daniel Elliott. Daniel fell backward into the river, his limp body being dragged by the current. He slowly sank out of sight, blood pouring from his wound.

Roger walked back to his sedan and drove away from the crime scene. He wasn’t in a rush or flustered at all. He knew that he would never be brought to justice for the murder that he had just committed, and he took a sick joy out of that knowledge.

Roger reached the edge of town and found a pay phone located at the corner of an old, closed-down gas station. He dialed the number he was instructed to use and waited for an answer. A deep baritone voice asked, “Is it done?”

Roger replied, “Yes sir, Mr. Elliott. I put a bullet between his eyes, just like you wanted.”

“Good job. Did you tell him that I had sent you?”

“I didn’ have to, boss. By the look on his face, he knew. He knew you were the only one that could do that to him.”

Evan was silent on the line for a moment, and Roger asked, “You still there?”

Evan replied, “Give me a minute. It’s not every day that you kill your own brother.” There was another short pause before Evan added, “It’s time to change the world.”

Chapter 2

history lessons

“Ten minutes to shutdown. Finish your work and clean up your areas!” shouted the lead supervisor to his workforce. “No sneaking out early; we need to meet those quotas.”

The last thing the lead supervisor for the largest uniform manufacturer in the South wanted to do was inform his bosses that they missed their quota for production. Luckily for Mr. Jim Dial, today had gone well on the shop floor and he had nothing but good news to report.

Mr. Dial was the lead supervisor for Assembly Area 12 at Manufacturing Hub 4 in Sector 37 of the South region of Continent 4, or C4 for short. Continent 4 was the term used to describe the area of the former United States of America. The year was 2185, and the world that Daniel Elliott knew in 1984 was all but gone.

“Stop loading those uniforms, 14561, and start cleaning up; this place needs to be topnotch before the next shift gets here!” exclaimed Mr. Dial.

“Sorry, I was concentrating on my work so much, I didn’t realize it was so late,” replied Ms. April 14561.

“No problem,” said Mr. Dial. “Just hurry up and get your machine ready for the next shift.”

April had worked at Manufacturing Hub 4 since she was nineteen years old. It was a modernized building, and the equipment was built with safety in mind for the employees. Rows and rows of equipment lined the aisles of the factory, and hundreds of personnel worked the cells along them.

She had been loading cloth uniforms into a machine that would correctly size and mark them for the area of the world to which they would later be sent. It was an efficient setup where everyone had a job to do and it was expected to be done.

It was a meager job, but she did it to the best of her ability every day. April, now thirty-two years old, had become robotic in her daily tasks—the same work, at the same station, day after day. The same could be said of anyone at the hub.

“What are you having for dinner tonight?” asked Paula Anderson. Paula had worked beside April at station B42 for the last eight years. Paula was a friendly person and tried to talk to April as often as she could. April, on the other hand, was a quiet worker and would speak only when spoken to.

“Well, it’s Saturday night, so I believe we’re scheduled for sub-meal 16.”

“That sounds good; I think our housing district is having sub-meal 11,” replied Paula. “I can’t stand roasted chicken, but I’ll make up for it with Sunday’s meal.”

“That’s not my favorite either, but at least it isn’t one of those protein shake meals where you have to drink your dinner.”

The protein shakes were only used when a district ran out of rations, and that was only toward the end of the month. For tonight, the ladies would be able to enjoy a nice mix of meat and vegetables, prepared by the chefs of their particular housing districts. They both needed to get a move on to make sure they didn’t miss the dinner bell.

“Hope you have a nice day of rest, and tell the boys I hope they play well tomorrow!” exclaimed Paula as she made her way out the front door of Hub 4.

“You too, and I’ll let Matt and Connor know you’re rooting for them.”

April made her way down the front stairs of the uniform plant that she had worked at for thirteen years and proceeded to make the 1.5-mile walk home to check on her two boys. Manufacturing Hub 4 was a large brick building with few windows and few distinguishing marks beyond the large stencils of “Hub 4 / Sector 37.” The building was the same color and shape as the building beside it, a medical complex, and the same color and shape as the building across the street, a security station. In fact, the structure and style of all the buildings in Sector 37 were almost identical, except for their functional markings.

The walkways were packed with local citizens going to and from their respective jobs. It resembled a swarm of multicolored butterflies moving about in formation. Each citizen’s dress was color coordinated to match the type of job he or she was trained to do. For example, a factory worker, like April, wore a darker gray, while doctors wore a traditional white. All was well organized and laid out for the citizens.

For someone who did not know this area, it would be very difficult to determine where you were or where you were going, but for April, it was no problem at all. She had lived and functioned in this area for a long time. She could walk to her housing complex with her eyes closed.

Any remnants from the world of the 1980s were just a distant folktale to the people of 2185. There were no personal vehicles, only sectional transporters. There were no personal residencies, only controlled housing apartments.

There was no choice in occupation. Residents were allowed to go to school until eighteen and were then separated into determined groups either selected for higher education or for labor jobs, like the one April had. Students who excelled in math and science might be forced into a medical profession or engineering profession. Students who had skills with the written word might move on to get an education in journalism, a controlled style of journalism where all printed writing was reviewed and validated for content before reaching citizens of a sector.

Strong or athletic citizens might be moved into security professions and dispersed among the many sectors. The disabled or those deemed a burden to society lived under a different set of rules. All roles were determined by an all-world governing power, with little concern for individual preference or desire.

April was forced to walk by a security post stationed just outside of her housing complex manned by two guards, Brett and Sam. The post was positioned so that anyone entering or leaving the building would be checked in or out. Multiple video cameras and windows lined the building’s face, and the smell of coffee was always present.

Both guards were quite large, a prerequisite for a security guard, but their personalities were quite different. April had no problems with Sam. He was a respectful man and had always been very nice to her, but Brett was a different story. The small bit of power that he wielded went straight to his head, and he had no problem abusing that power whenever he felt like it. April dreaded having to listen to Brett’s sarcastic, misogynistic comments.

“Planning to head on up for dinner?” inquired Brett.

April hastily replied, “Of course I am; the same as every day.”

Brett, rubbed his chest, smirked, and offered his assistance. “Maybe I’ll come up later tonight and give you some dessert. What time do your boys go to bed now?”

Sam stepped in and played interference, as usual. “Now Brett, you know you can’t leave the post in the middle of the night. What if the sector leader comes by for a visit and sees you gone?”

Just as Sam finished his thought, a loud jingle filled the air. It sounded like giant wind chimes had flooded the area, and once it stopped, everyone stood at attention and looked to the sky. April was frozen, along with the guards, as they awaited the imminent announcement. It was like an echo from the past, but the comments were as clear as speaking to someone on the telephone.

“Let us take this opportunity to pause and give thanks to the Council of Compassion and World Order and our Supreme Leader Minister Hathmec. Without our esteemed leadership, where would we all be?”

A round of applause and cheering bounced from the walls of the buildings that made up Sector 37. April, with little enthusiasm, clapped her hands until the surrounding areas came back to normality. As if Minister Hathmec or the council needed more reassurance of their place in the world, they certainly didn’t need the applause of the hardworking people of Sector 37. This was the CCWO’s world, and everyone else just lived in it.

The daily affirmation was complete, and April slinked away from the security post and headed up to her apartment on the ninth floor of Housing Complex 22. Before leaving, she gave a quick wink to Sam, just as a thank-you for getting Brett’s attention away from her.

Not that she was interested in Sam, but he was one of the nicer men she had ever known. April tried to avoid most of the security personnel in her sector; they all seemed to feel privileged in some way, but Sam actually cared about people. As part of Sector 37’s security team, Sam was never one to use force as a first resort. In a different time, Sam and April would have probably gravitated toward a relationship.

Relationships of any type were difficult in the year 2185. Conventional marriage was regulated. You were allowed to set up a contract between a man and a woman, but the government gave the final authorization to allow its completion. No unauthorized breeding would be tolerated. Couples were forced to go through a battery of physical and mental tests before permission would be granted to bring a new child into the world.

The CCWO had placed these restrictions on its citizens after years of population booms and the introduction of new strains of superviruses to its citizens. The system was very slow and cumbersome. Most couples waited up to a year to get permission to have a child. For couples that did not follow these guidelines, the repercussions were severe. This included sterilization, confinement, exile, and, in some cases, death. The unregulated child would be moved into a caretaker’s home. In extreme cases, the child might be sent to a government citizen camp.

The concept of familial labels had also vanished. There were no longer the labels of father, mother, son, daughter, and brother or sister. Certain people were caretakers of younger or older persons as assigned by the government. For the most part, they did try to keep breeding partners and those offspring together, but this was not always the case, depending on the greater good. In fact, over the last thirty-five years, the idea of a last name had been removed as a social norm. April’s full name was April 14561; a last name replaced by a random number.

For someone born within the last thirty-five years, having a random number for a last name was not a big deal. They didn’t know any better. They went on about their predetermined lives and had no idea of what they might be missing. April, on the other hand, had an idea of what could be.

April was a beautiful woman. Long blond hair accentuated her lean five-foot six-inch frame. She completed school and had expected her life to take the path of a scholar. She was a creative and fearless teenager. She excelled in math and science, an accomplished student. She was a bit of a troublemaker in her younger days, but she had the respect of her teachers and friends. Big things were expected to consume the life of April 14561, but they didn’t. She was a factory worker with a desire for more.

She wanted more from life for her and her kids, and in her heart, she knew that life would eventually find her. April 14561 was a woman on a clock. She knew that her time was coming; she just didn’t know when. For now, she just continued to live day-to-day, waiting for her chance.

As April opened the door to her apartment, she braced for the impending attack of two very lively and spirited young men. She walked into the main living quarters and noticed a pile of books lying on the small couch in the center of the room. She thought,
I know Connor’s here
.

A dim light flickered just past a small bookshelf, illuminating a small kitchen and dining table. Just a few cupboards and a refrigerant unit to hold snacks were allowed in the housing complex apartments. April picked up the fresh aroma of pine and lemons as she made her way past the couch. The complex sterilization team had been there earlier in the day. She wasn’t worried; the boys’ natural stink would have it back to normal in less than a day.

April peeked into her bedroom to see if the boys were hiding in there, but no luck. The shades were pulled on her only room window and the clothes she had left out on the bed that morning had been removed by the same pine and lemon team. She looked across her small dresser and wondered what other items had been moved while she was at work. She didn’t worry about jewelry or family heirlooms, as those were not permitted for a factory laborer. She left her one area of the apartment that was hers alone and proceeded to the far end of the home. The boys’ room was the only other spot to check in the apartment, but before she could get to the door, it flew wide open.

“Where you been?” asked Connor.

“Yeah, dinner will be here any minute. You don’t want to have to wait for the second go-around; it’s always cold!” exclaimed Matthew.

April responded as any good mother—or in this case, caretaker—would have responded: she changed the subject to what the boys had been doing.

“Have you finished your schoolwork?”

Both of the boys responded, “Yessssss.”

“Have you finished your chores?”

Another prolonged response: “Yessssss.”

“Have you finished the reading I told you to have done before I got home tonight?”

The boys looked at each other and then back to April. Connor spoke up first: “Sure we have—a very interesting read about the things that we were reading about.”

April replied, “That’s a pretty pathetic response. Can you tell me what the reading was about or even the year that it refers to?”