Tourists of the Apocalypse (41 page)

“Anyone not wanting to get shot should clear out of here right now,” I order. “This is a limited time offer.”

They don’t go right off and I fire a warning shot in to the ceiling to get them moving. With this act apparently I have demonstrated enough of a sense of purpose for them to take me at my word. What I assume to be the techs and a power guy scramble away to the lift. The last breathing lab coat is a woman. She has leaned over a few feet from Flynn and vomited onto the floor. She’s wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her lab coat when she sees me watching her.

“You should go with them,” I advise her, pointing the gun at the lift.

“Or you’ll do what?” she announces defiantly.

“I thought that was assumed.”

“Oh, you’re going to start shooting women now?” she challenges me, and then crosses her arms over her chest.

In the back recesses of my brain I can hear Graham shouting at Lance.
So you’re shooting defenseless women now?
This disturbs me and I pause.
Have I inadvertently become Lance?

“Well?” the woman needles me.

“Lady, I am having an epic bad day. Do us both a favor and just go.”

She starts to defy me, but then changes her mind and stomps her heels all the way to the lift. They’re going down the elevator I arrived in.
I wonder if they will stop to help Lucy
. I want to ask the lady in the lab coat, but before I can the last security guy appears. He comes out of a door that I assume is the restroom. He zips up his fly, and then begins drying his hands with a paper towel. After a self-absorbed moment, he notices Flynn’s blood all over the floor. His eyes trace it to my feet, his gaze moving along the trail. He goes for his Taser, but I fire a blast from fifteen feet away driving him back, but not down. He winds up looking like he got hit with a sandstorm of razor blades. He slumps to his knees and I step closer and end him with a second shot.
You have to break some eggs
. On the ground next to his hand is the Taser.

“Non-lethal,” I whisper to myself, picking it up and stuffing it in the back pocket of the pants.

When I turn back to the group standing in the bright light, they have closed ranks. I march toward them, the gun leveled in their direction at my hip. Getting closer I can make out Lance and T-Buck, as they are taller. The light burns my eyes, forcing me to shade them with a hand.

“Everyone listen up,” I shout. “The following people have ten seconds to run for the lifts before I start shooting.”

T-Bucks lurches forward to rush me and I fire, but the gun just clicks. I must have fired the eight rounds in the first tube. I push down the thumb lever and twist the shotgun in both hands, causing the heavier top tube full of shells to flip down and snap into place. T-Buck is practically on top of me when the gun goes off, hitting him in the shoulder at point blank range. He careens into my legs, knocking me to one side as he goes down hard. I turn back and level the gun at Lance, who has taken a step forward. He lifts his hands up signaling his compliance.

Blister, T-Bucks most trusted friend comes at me. He’s small and runs like a girl, which looks odd in this circumstance. By the time he gets to me his bravado has worn off and he skids to a stop only a foot from the end of the barrel. Behind me, T-Buck growls having rolled over and sat up with his good hand gripping his injured shoulder. My instincts beg me shoot him in the face. At first I rationalize that it would be revenge for Dickey, but that’s not actually true. This T-Buck hasn’t even met Dickey.
He’s not an egg I have to break
. I’m not Lance and I don’t indiscriminately murder people.

“Help him to the elevators,” I order Blister, who after a pause does so.

T-Buck spits on the floor at my feet as he passes a sneer pasted across his lips.
In his place I might feel the same way.
On the edge of my periphery, I notice Cain and Able scrambling to the lift. When I turn, only Lance, Graham, Izzy and Mr. Dibble remain. The sight of Izzy leaves me slack jawed. She’s younger, virtually the same age as myself. She stares at me with contempt. This gives me pause yet again.
How would anyone react to a guy blowing away innocent people?

“In this life or the next,” I mutter to myself.

In a curious happenstance, Graham takes a half step forward in front of Izzy, while Lance stays where he is. Why am I not surprised he’s looking out for number one?

“Mr. Dibble,” I shout walking closer. “You better bug out too.”

“But—,” he stammers, pointing at the glowing portal clearly wanting to go on his vacation.

I raise the gun to my shoulder and aim it at his head. His attitude changes quickly and he scampers off to join the others. It seems odd, but now the hardest part of this ballet begins. My fury at Lance has gotten me past the ugly necessity of the violence of the past ten minutes, but now it’s more about diplomacy.

“Who the hell are you?” Lance shouts.

“Technically I’m the
Fail Safe
,” I declare, pulling the shirt up to expose the scar.

Graham glances from Lance to me in a stunned way.

“Graham, Lance is going to shoot you down in cold blood. After you were killed, my friend removed the device and inserted in into me.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Lance complains, pointing a finger at Graham. “You know it doesn’t.”

“It shouldn’t, but then who is this guy?” Graham shrugs.

“You didn’t die right off,” I push on, trying to keep Graham with me. “We hooked the pulse wire up to another person and kept you from being pulled back.”

“Nonsense,” Lance accuses. “You can’t swap the
Fail Safe
.”

“And yet here I am. Which in an odd way, collaborates my story.”

“It doesn’t mean I shot him,” Lance contends, wagging a finger at Graham.

Growing annoyed with Lance and expecting the power to go out any minute I pull out the Taser and fire. His interruptions are not helping me make my case to Izzy. I’m shooting for his chest, but it goes low, hitting him in the thigh. His face tightens, the veins in his neck visible, and then King Lance falls over wiggling like a fish on a dock.
That felt good
. When I turn back, Graham stands lost in thought, while Izzy wears the same contemptuous face as before.

“You two need to listen to me because we have precious little time,” I plead. “I came back to stop you from going because Lance is going to build an army back there. I know you don’t know me, but I have known both of you since I was thirteen years old. Lance will turn on you and kill the people you care about.”

“Even if we did believe what you’re saying,” Izzy barks. “So, we don’t go back. What then?”

“It’s a start,” I suggest, a cold sweat coming over me from just seeing her alive. “He kills you too Izzy. He put a bullet in your forehead moments after doing the same to my mother.”

“Why would he do that?” Izzy grimaces, waving her arms at me. “What reason could he have?”

“Because you were pregnant with our son,” I blurt out before thinking about how that sounds.

They stare at me and then at each other. Their mouths hang open in disbelief. I can tell she’s not quite taking me at face value.
None of this is worth doing if Izzy hates me or thinks I am crazy
. I need to convince her and quick.

“I know it sounds unbelievable, but it’s all true. You were there for a long time. All of this happened almost a year after the EMP blasts took down the entire planet. Graham, you of all people have to understand what I went through to get here. I came to warn you.”

“Once I go through I can’t have children,” Izzy points out. “That’s a pretty big hole in your story.”

“I know. We couldn’t figure out how that happened, but you were pregnant. I held our son in my arms this morning,” I plead. “He’s beautiful.”

“We can’t trust him,” Izzy groans, poking Graham who is frozen like a snowman. “We can’t verify what he’s saying.”

My mind scrambles for something to say. This isn’t going like I thought. I have overlooked a basic truth.
These people don’t know me
. They are technically Graham and Izzy, but they don’t share the memories I have. It’s an odd irony, but no matter how long I spend with them, they may never develop the same bonds I shared with their alternate selves. I had hoped to play my ace in the hole more privately, but it seems I have no choice.

“You aborted Lance’s baby,” I croak out. “You never told him, but you did.”

Izzy face slackens. She stagers back a step before Graham catches her by the upper arm. Before any rebuttal questions can be asked, there is a pop, like a deep bass bump from a car speaker. The lights wink out and the three of us are drown in complete darkness. The only audible sound is our breathing.

“Why would I tell you that?” Izzy’s voice echoes quietly.

“We were a couple,” I reply, unable to see her. “I asked you why you stayed with Lance. You told me it was because he pledged his pay to your parents, but I think we both know there was a lot of guilt involved.”

She doesn’t answer and all I can hear is her ragged breathing. Lights begin to glow on slowly. Bright green ones around the opening of the Hadron looking pipe flicker at first, then reds and yellows all around us. Izzy emerges from the blackness in the green glow with tears dripping down her face.
Please believe me.

“Is any of that true?” Graham asks, glancing between us.

“All of it,” she replies sounding stunned and confused. “We have a son?”

“We do,” I exhale, feeling like I’m gaining some traction. “Lance was furious when he found out. He lined us all up and started shooting people. You were pregnant and one of our friends delivered the baby after you passed. I named him Robert.”

“What was he like?”

“I don’t really know,” I admit. “He was only three days old when I pulled the plug and came here. But I do know that he grew up and had a family.”

“How can you know that?” Graham butts in.

“Because I just had a conversation with a distant relative downstairs,” I reveal, and then hold up the letter. “Family Tree so to speak.”

“This is all lies,” Lance shouts. “None of it’s true. He’s lying.”

“I’m beginning to think not,” Graham mumbles, a finger on his chin.

I turn back and see Lance pulling the leads from the Taser wire out of his leg. The yellow lights have returned as the machine begins to ramp up. I point the gun at Lance and gesture for him to stay down. With the same cocky expression that I have witnessed many times, he rises slowly and dusts off his hands. We lock eyes and I can see he’s going to make this very easy for me.

“Maybe not,” Izzy suggests. “If it happened as he described then I’m tempted to believe him.”

“This may be off topic,” Lance interrupts, “but did you just admit to having an abortion without even telling me?”

Izzy doesn’t speak, but a subtle nod in his direction turns Lance’s face into a storm of pain.

“Graham,” Lance barks. “Rush this guy on three. He can only shoot one of us.”

“Don’t—,” Izzy shouts.

“I’ll deal with you when I am done,” he snarls shooting her a bloodthirsty look.

“Just stop,” Izzy coughs, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her, Lance counts aloud to three and lunges at me. I fire, hitting him in the leg. He goes down right in front of me, sliding on the polished stone. Surprisingly calm, I level the gun at his head. The man at my feet hasn’t committed the litany of crimes I am condemning him for, but he will. Either it’s a
God Complex
or he’s a
Sociopath
, but it’s just who he is. If not for my mother, for Izzy or even Dickey, then for my son never having a chance to know his mother.
In this life or the next.

“There’s no way Izzy would choose you over me,” Lance growls through gritted teeth as he tries to grab my foot.

“Maybe it wasn’t a choice,” I remark, tipping the gun down at his chest. “Maybe she just didn’t want you.”

He tries to grab it with both hands, and in the heat of the moment I pull the trigger, spraying the ground with his blood. The faces of my mother and Dickey flash through my mind.
You can’t hide from me.

I stagger backwards, noticing that Graham never moved. My stolen shoes and pant legs are red and shiny. The yellow light has returned to mid-day sun glare. Graham is shocked back to the present by the blast and raises his hands as if I may shoot him next. Izzy stares at what’s left of Lance, holding her hands over her mouth.

The temperature in the room is climbing. Sweat runs down my temple and I swipe at it with my hand. Twenty-five minutes from blackout to smoldering crater. I don’t have any more time to chat here. Graham continues to stare, a frown washing over his face.

“I didn’t come here to shoot my friends. No matter how this goes down I want you to know that everything I told you was true,” I pause then shrug. “Or it would have been.”

“Graham,” Izzy pleads. “How else would he know these things?”

“Here,” I shout holding up the gun with one hand, “heads up.”

I toss the gun to Graham, who barely catches it. After fumbling it initially, he gets a hold of it and turns it on me. Raising my hands, I try to force a smile.

“Hair trigger on that,” I remark, pointing with a raised hand at the gun. “If you’re going to shoot me please make it a clean shot.”

“Graham?” Izzy whines, looking from him to me. “Graham?”

“Let me think,” Graham stammers.

“How can we know for sure?” Izzy presses him.

“You’re the only
Fail Safe
,” I reveal, playing my last gasp card. “It’s always you, but even Lance didn’t know. Your company never tells anyone. Which way to the room full of Grahams?”

The electrical hum is all that fills the room as everyone runs out of words. The look on Graham’s face shifts from confused to calm. He can’t know for sure, but the evidence is starting to pile up.
Besides, he has to know Lance is a bastard.

“Is he telling the truth?” Izzy gasps, looking at me fearfully. “Graham tell me.”

“Yes, I believe he is,” he responds, nodding at me. “Did I tell you that?”