The Troll (21 page)

“
Then
I don’t get why you’re not going to help me.”

“
Because
you’re talking about a rescue mission to save two people and
even if you did pull it off, he’d just kill a few
million
to get back at you. You can’t beat him. The only way to keep
the
world safe is to keep
The Moderator happy, and so that’s what we do. We follow orders
to keep him happy. And the crazier he gets, the more we bite our
tongue.”

“
But
if you all feel this way…”

“
I’m
the only one left in Circular Prime who feels this way. The others
have become so desensitized to it all. People are binary to them. Bar
codes. Ones and zeros. For you to end Psi, you would be fighting nine
men who individually could easily kill you.”

“
But
we can take the mission back. If we can get Rainbow back and save
Guide and…”

“
You
still need a plan!” The Acrobat shouted. “Without a plan,
you’ve got a fantasy. Fantasies will not restore the world!”

The
Troll fell silent and he watched the dust fall in the air like
snowflakes and swirl around in the moonlight. He could see The
Acrobat wanted to help but couldn’t. It reminded The Troll of
himself. He hadn’t really changed. He’d just realized
that there were things that needed to be done. He wished he could be
back on the boards, fighting with people and antagonizing them until
they snapped. He wished conflict could be less real again.

The
Acrobat turned and walked for the exit, passing a cage, what was once
a candy stand, a pile of bones which had once belonged to a tiger, a
red plastic clown nose. The Troll hurried to catch up with him. The
Acrobat walked quickly, as if he wanted to get out of the tent as
soon as possible. As they felt the cool breeze in their face, they
stopped as screens lit up in the sky. They silently watched the
broadcast, their eyes frozen to The Guide and Iris as they turned the
conversation against The Moderator.

When
it ended, The Troll turned to The Acrobat, who was equally frozen in
place. “He denied you took down the chopper,” The Acrobat
said.

“
No
one ever accused him of being honest,” The Troll said.

“
Your
friends did a good thing there,” The Acrobat said. “He
looked flustered.”

“
They
were doing what I do,” The Troll said, bitterly. “They
don't need me anymore, but they're doing what I do. There's not...”
The Troll trailed off and finished quietly, “…my
friends.”

They
hopped on their mopeds and drove the next two hours until they
finally came within range of the sound of the Mississippi crashing
below. They left the mopeds behind and walked toward the town, and
when they were close, they circled at a distance, staying on high
ground and among the trees. There was little movement below. There
was an occasional passerby, but it was mostly quiet.

The
Troll saw them first, bound to the fountain, facing away from each
other. It was the only light in the dark and displayed them for
everyone to see. He squinted his eyes at them. The Guide and Iris
looked dead. He started walking toward them but The Acrobat’s
arm shot out and grabbed his own.

“
You’re
crazy if you think you can just walk in there.”

“
Then
what do I do?”

“
You
transmit here and now. Turn yourself in and I’ll talk to The
Moderator. You probably won’t get Chicago, but we might be able
to put you back where you started.”

“
And
then what?”

“
And
then you’ve saved millions of lives.”

“
And
what happens to them?” The Troll asked, gesturing toward The
Guide and Iris.

“
I
don’t see a lot of scenarios that play out where they’re
not dead in the end.”

“
Do
you see any that do?”

The
Acrobat paused. “Troll, you walk down there to save them and
you’ll be dead before you even reach the fountain and then
they’re dead too. It’s time to do what we came here to
do. You need to transmit now.”

The
Troll pulled the transmitter from his pocket and held it close to his
eye, studying it. Transmitting now meant a certain end, but no matter
how much he brainstormed, in his head, he came up blank.

“
Make
up a story,” The Acrobat said. “Find a way to stay in The
Moderator’s good graces and you’ll have a fighting
chance.”

“
And
how do I do that?”

“
When
you, me, and Iris were walking, you expressed the reason you troll.
Use that. Make something up, outright lie. Smoke and mirrors,
remember?”

“
Smoke
and mirrors,” The Troll said, his eyes narrowing as a
revelation began to hit
him. He tuned the world out as his mind began to spin, and by the
time he was done, The Acrobat was staring at him perplexed. “Smoke
and mirrors,” The Troll said again, with some confidence.

“
Yeah,
so what?”

“
How
about I describe my plan now?”

Chapter
5

The
Pilot flew a small stunt plane in the sky, his every spin calculated.
He’d hoped for a sighting of The Troll but wasn’t
surprised when the early hours of the morning hit and he was a
no-show. The Coach and The Mortician woke to the sound of the plane
overhead. The Coach forced himself out of bed and shook his head with
dissatisfaction. The Pilot was the sharpest, most focused person he
knew, and somehow functioned 100% on little or no sleep.

The
Mortician stayed in his bed silently for a long time, as if he was
getting himself ramped up for the day’s events. The Coach was
all business as he loaded his duffel bag with six metallic objects
and filled his jacket with soft pouches. The Mortician had only heard
of his special “skill” but had yet to see it in action.
The Coach didn’t look like much at first glance, but there was
a reason he was called The Coach and the duffel bag held the key.

The
Pilot was seemingly bitter. The Mortician though…he only had
his own interests in mind: To watch the life drain from someone’s
eyes was all he lived for. The Coach was there to weaken and taunt
them, but The Mortician was allowed the final kiss of death.

The
Coach hurried The Mortician along, reminding him that when the sun
was in the sky, the time would come to punish The Guide and Iris.

They
found The Acrobat on the ground outside the motel, laying with his
arm outstretched as if he’d almost completed his journey but
fell short. The Coach crouched down and shook him awake, concerned
for his well-being while The Mortician stood back and watched with
fascination.

The
Acrobat turned and blinked his eyes as if coming to. He suddenly sat
up. “Water…” he gasped and The Mortician ran off
to fetch some water.

“
What
happened?” The Coach asked. “Did you see The Troll?”

“
They
locked me up with him,” he said, nodding toward The Guide and
Iris. “Troll’s still there…locked in a cell.”

The
Coach took in the information, thinking hard about what it meant. It
meant one in ten people would die this morning unless someone told
The Moderator that The Troll was unable to turn himself in. The Coach
didn’t see the need to tell though. They could pick up The
Troll later and make an example of him. All in all, it would be an
eventful morning filled with death and destruction and The Coach
could still be back in time for lunch.

When
The Acrobat finished his story, The Coach scratched his head and
pretended to consider. “Let’s keep that to ourselves for
now,” he said. “We’ll finish up here and take care
of him later.”

“
We
need to tell The Moderator,” The Acrobat said.

“
Don’t
get soft on me Acrobat,” The Coach said. “I’m
almost positive this is what he wants. If The Troll can’t call
it off in person, then
there’s no point. To the public, it will seem as if we bluffed
and made up a last minute excuse. Just hang tight and we’ll get
you some water and something to eat. You’ve been through a lot.
Let’s get you to a room.”

The
Acrobat wanted to protest but bit his tongue. Their plan was far from
complete, but he hoped simply placing The Troll in a helpless
situation would stop The Moderator from executing millions. Instead,
he could only wait and hope that The Troll would come through on his
end.

The
Coach and Mortician fed The Acrobat and gave him plenty of water,
unknowing that he was feigning his weakness. When they were alone in
the hotel, The Acrobat went over his story again, which was mostly
truth, up until the point The Troll talked him into helping stop The
Moderator. It was an easy lie to pull off, but though he appreciated
the theory of what The Troll was hoping to pull off, he didn’t
see it coming together the way The Troll described. The Troll wasn’t
a fighter, and he needed fighters to win.

The
Guide and Iris were fighters though, and without them, The Troll
wouldn’t win today.

“
I
want to see The Guide,” The Acrobat said, looking up.

“
Sorry,
but this is our kill,” The Coach said.

“
I
don’t care about that,” The Acrobat said. “I was
locked up for days. I could have starved to death. I have the right
to see him before he dies. They left me there.”

The
Coach stepped aside and gestured for him to go ahead and say whatever
last words he had. They all walked into the hall but The Acrobat
asked if he could shower first. The Mortician brought him a fresh
pair of clothes as he showered and they walked back to the fountain
to wait. In the bathroom, The Acrobat smashed the mirror with his
elbow and picked out a shard of glass that looked like a long claw.
He tucked it into his pants and covered it with his shirt. He was
pleased that there was no suspicion raised, and there never would
have to be. At the very least though, he could give the resistance a
chance. He didn’t know why he was going the extra mile for
them. He wanted to stop the killing, but had no investment in ending
Psi…except…without Psi, The Moderator could never make
this threat again. He could never deactivate another person just
because he was having a bad day. The Acrobat wasn’t willing to
fight, but they deserved a shot.

He
approached the fountain where The Coach and Mortician stood back and
watched as The Acrobat walked a large circle around the fountain.
Iris and The Guide were surprised to see him and could only assume
the worst.

“
What
did
you do with The Troll?”
Iris asked.

“
He
didn’t make it out,” he said with a smile.

The
Guide was unsurprised, but Iris hung her head, disheartened to hear
this.

“
You
left me there to die,” The Acrobat said with a sneer, stepping
onto the stone wall that surrounded the water and facing The Guide
across the way.

“
I
left you to kill The Troll,” The Guide said. “I was
indifferent in what would happen to you.”

The
Acrobat stepped into the fountain and approached The Guide, standing
face to face. He suddenly balled up his fist and hit him in the
stomach, knocking the wind out of The Guide. The Coach laughed from
the side.

The
Acrobat stood nose to nose with The Guide and before The Guide could
spew off a threat, he said, “There will be a signal.”

The
Guide felt something sharp slip into his hand, out of range from
where The Coach and Mortician could see.

“
What?”
The Guide asked, searching Acrobat’s eyes, trying to find the
bluff or a trick.

“
You’ll
know when,” The Acrobat said. “Trust me. It
will
be hard to miss.”

With
that, he turned and left the fountain, approaching The Coach and
Mortician with a laugh and buddying up to them again. The Guide’s
brain worked a mile a minute, trying to decipher what could possibly
be happening. The Acrobat was with them? There was only one way that
was possible: The Troll. They’d certainly had time to spend
together, but what happened in that time? A fraction of hope filled
him as he considered the possibilities. In his hand was an escape
option: A shard of glass he could use to work through the rope. There
was also the possibility of an attack of some sort, but by…The
Troll? What could he possibly do?

And
when? There was only moments left to strike if it was really going to
happen. He watched The Acrobat hurry back to the hotel, as if trying
to get away from the scene. His eyes darted from one spot to the
next, searching for a clue as to what was about to happen.