Unknown (18 page)

I take four steps in the direction of the compound and my arms weaken and fall to my side. The blood has not stopped or even slowed down. With every pulse of my weakening heart it pumps the thick liquid out of my neck and onto the dirt. I fall to my knees and then to my face as my vision dims and the world slips away once again.

In the final moments before the darkness swallows me whole, I feel hands on me, and movement. I am jostled, flipped, prodded. There is a tiny gasp and quick work about my neck. The sense of gravity shifts about and my stomach lurches. There is bouncing and grunting, the brush of outstretched branches and leaves at my face. I am lulled to sleep on this locomotion ride.

5. ASSIGNED

//

alert

chip 300021 missing

searching for

signal......................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

..........................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

....................//......................

............................................

............................................

............................................

...................................end

search

source missing, assume destruction of chip

and/or citizen gordon

end alert

//

//

incoming email

RE: activation of chip

our resources have not been able to locate

chip 30021, at either source point. possible

options are underground signal loss,

destruction of chip, and/or citizen. also,

radiowave signals are intermittent at this

time due to radioactive bursts, fallout, and

sunspot activity. currently, our own assets

are failing, a resurgence of virus has taken

many.

advise you to send men in search of this

asset. this is an extremely valuable

resource that needs to be found and either

terminated or brought back into the fold.

12433#JKABOL

end mail

//

//

camera update

activate and monitor cameras

1

2

3

4

6

7

12

13

monitor all transportation devices

raise tower alert status to obsidian

summon physical entity

begin download process

prepare for assimilation

mobilization is 86% likely

pjksdfiowjlicijeaseholiesgonnafucithemaoolup

dammiewqtshitewaeahisfucallatem

end

//

7. ROLAND

Sitting on the couch with my mother is the strangest thing to happen to me in a day of strangest things happening to me. In my head she has become Marcy, not my mother, not Mom. And certainly not Mommy. I regress in a moment of weakness and while it is unsettling in certain aspects, it is a relief I admit.

His name is X, she said. Short for Exodus. He strolls in the patio doors as if it’s just another day in paradise, through the wide open french doors on a breeze of salty jasmine, and for a moment he blocks out the sun. A flash of something, silhouettes standing around a body. Black outlines with flashes of white behind them, no details, only a moment in time. And then he is to us, on one knee, eyes wide in ivory wonder. For a moment I am lost in the complexities of the auburn chips and green veins that weave through his iris. I am at once frightened of him and comforted by his presence. He is like an abusive father set to go off on a binge. I am waiting for the second drunken boot to thud to the floor, while he spouts nonsense about playing catch and his glory days on the high school football team.

“Roland, I need a moment alone with your mother,” he says, and he heads for the kitchen, bowls clattering and metal on metal.

Our eyes connect for a second, a lifetime of regret in an instant of panic. I nod my head at her and open the blanket. I am getting hot now, my body temperature back to normal. With a deep breath I close my eyes and rub them with my thumbs sparking a universe of light and filament.

“Go ahead, I’m okay.”

She bounds to the kitchen, glad to be able to do something. Anything. They mutter their concerns and plans, back and forth like jackals snapping at a kill. I care, and yet I don’t. I’m still trying to digest the bizarre series of events that just unfolded. For a skeptic, I absorb everything that just happened to me as if reading the last pages of a Sherlock Holmes novel. Of course this is the answer. Of course this is what was meant to happen. Words drift to me about a poultice, whatever that is, and there is a sense of urgency. Words like unite and virus. There will be a vaccination it seems. A second one. I am as calm as a Zen monk on Quaaludes but I fear that this is all building to a peak, a release. And it sends a chill through my body.

Death is coming and this motley crew of lost souls will be called on to do something beyond our greatest

aspirations. In X if find confidence, but he is the only one. My mother, I don’t know what she could possibly bring. Jacob is a beaten man who looks like somebody just kicked his puppy. I barely remember Jimmy and I don’t know if he was ever there at the fire. Was he real, or did I imagine his presence? He could be counted on. That guy, the one that kept eyeing X as if he’d fucked his mother. He looked strong, but unstable, and I’m not even sure if he’s on our side. And I’m nothing but a scared, skinny teen with some out of control spoon bending skills. So fucking what. I can’t imagine any scenario where together we could do anything more than roll over and die.

I heard a saying once. No man is an island. But we are. I’ve seen that now. There will be no police coming to our rescue. No military rolling into town with tanks and gas masks. Whatever has happened back on the mainland, it doesn’t matter. We are alone here, and as such, will have to find a way to deal with whatever comes our way.

Out the window a gray mist eases up the sides of the yard. Can you fight something that you can’t understand?

Or even see?

A flash of white fur, gunshots in the distance, the yelling of men, and a hot wave of blood. I hope she is okay.

CHAPTER TWELVE

June 2, 2018

1. JACOB

The instructions were pretty simple. The opportunity was a good one. I couldn’t really ask for more than I was being offered. And the chance to be free again someday, although slim, was possible. I was a convicted murderer, like everybody else here. I don’t know where I am, some large, nondescript concrete bunker. It could be Arizona or St. Louis or Mars for all I know.

We sit in the folding chairs like a bunch of students at a rally. Not like the hundred killers that we are. The one thing that keeps popping into my head is that we can’t all be here on murder charges. Can we? That sweet little blonde woman? She’s very attractive and doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly. Is that her son with her? I doubt he’s here for raping another eight year old and then tossing her body in a wood chipper.

I glance at the guy next to me as several men in suits mill around the podium. They’re either going to explain how this works or put on a presentation of Men In Black: The Musical. The harmless looking guy smiles back at me and I look away. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing that I am. Is he a killer too? Mine was arsenic. I wonder how he did it? It’s like meeting somebody in a sports bar.

“Hi, I’m Jacob. So, what’s your sign? Libra, really? You look like a Leo to me. Oh, you went to UCLA too? Film major, that’s fascinating. I’m an accountant now, CPA. Not very exciting. Oh really, gunshot in the middle of the night? Wonderful, I poisoned my wife after she recovered from breast cancer. How’s that for irony. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

I look up and he’s still eyeballing me. I give him a pained look.

“Are we allowed to fraternize?” I ask.

“Probably not. But I’m Jimmy. You look like one of the least likely to kill me in my sleep.”

“Funny. Next to that blonde over there, I was thinking the same thing.”

We extend hands, and give a perfunctory shake. Before we can elaborate on our respective killings the man at the end of the hall taps the mic and adjusts his thin black tie.

“Could I have your attention please? Settle down everyone. I need to go over a few things. Rules, regulations, a little Q&A. You know. The usual briefing that I give whenever a hundred killers depart for a new government experiment on prison life. I’m sorry, alleged. I know you’re all innocent, and we’re testing that DNA right now. As we speak. Seriously.”

“Not me,” a shaved head with tattoos grunts from the back.

“The asshole deserved it.”

“Right, thanks Zeke. We appreciate your honesty. Now shut up.”

The skin on the suits’ face tightens, making the scar that runs over his right cheek surge red for a second. His short, dark hair has an oily sheen to it as if he hasn’t washed it in a week. He rubs the back of his neck and continues.

“This is a satellite program. You are a test population. You are the first U.S. citizens to be a part of it. It is experimental and can be cancelled at any time. So keep your mouths shut and listen.”

A hush settles over the room. Most of us look like middleclass losers. A little overweight, pockmarked faces, calloused hands and beaten down eyes.

“You should consider yourselves lucky,” he says. “Out of 100,000 candidates across this great land of ours, you are the ones we picked. Why you may ask? Because you are the ones that, according to the barrage of psychological and physiological tests we gave you, will most likely go along with the program and not kill again. Zeke, I still don’t know how you got in.”

“I stayed after class, sir. Teacher liked me.”

The man on stage grins for a second, and then it is back to his dead eyes. It will be many years until I see him again, but I will never forget him. Those eyes have a way of singling you out of a crowd and making you shift in your seat.

2. MARCY

I squirm a bit in my chair as his eyes pan the group of misfits that will be our new family. Bringing Roland with me is something that made me sick at first, but the more I learn about the program, the more it feels like the break I never thought I’d get. The thin man at the podium has a violence about him that I’m drawn to, but not as much as the one at the back of the stage. Hiding in the shadows, that guy, there is something exotic about him. His skin is a little dark, his eyes a bit more almond shaped. His clothes grip him like a glove. Every time he turns his neck the muscles bulge and strain at his shoulders. I’ve already caught him checking me out, and when I stood up, turned around, and bent over to reach my purse, I know he took in an eyeful. Next to my breasts, my ass is my best...what’s the word? Asset? Ha, making myself laugh now.

“You will be the ones in charge of our little community. I know, the inmates running the asylum, it’s been passed around already, heard it many times. This is a gift, know that. This is your last chance. If you fuck up while you are staying with us there will be no pardon. There will be no alone time in isolation. There will be no loss of cigarettes and a slap on the wrist. You will get three warnings. Three strikes, many of you are used to that. And then you will be “taken out back,” he says, making little quotation marks with his fingers, “and shot.”

A mumble works its way through the crowd. Heads turn and brows furrow.

“It you don’t like it, you motherfuckers and pederasts, then get the fuck out now. There’s the door.” He gestures to the two men in dark jumpsuits standing next to the double-doors of steel that sit to one side. “You signed up for this and know the riskreward scenario.”

A flush runs across my chest and I fan myself for a second, taking a deep breath and recrossing my legs. He has a way with his words, that’s for sure. I wonder if he’ll take me from behind, or if he prefers to be tied up and told what to do? He seems like a doggie-style kind of guy to me. But you never know. Could be all diapers and mommy complex. His eyes turn to me and I’m forced to look away as he squints in my direction. The smile on my face fades into unease.

“To be honest, there are 106 of you. We fully expect there to be problems. I’d be very surprised if there were 106 who actually make the second leg of this journey. And that’s okay.”

He turns to look behind him at the large man in the shadows. There are several suits on that stage, ear mics and guns under their jackets. But only these two seem to matter. It is as if the rest are in black and white, and they are in high-definition color. A quick nod from his partner and he continues.

“In fact, we’re counting on it. We don’t have room on your transportation. So between now and when we leave, which could be tonight, or could be in a week, several of you will disappear. Outbursts like Zeke’s here, that’s a good indicator. Zeke, you’ll be sorely missed.”

“Fuck you, Gordon,” he snarls, eyes never leaving the stage. A smile grows. “Sir.”

Gordon’s eyes shoot to the guards at the door, “One more outburst like that and you have my permission to take him outside. You got me?”

“Yes sir,” they respond, arms folded behind their backs, feet a shoulder length apart.

I turn to look at Roland. He seems in a daze, and who could blame him. Luckily he has no idea what is going on. I bend down to whisper in his ear, my eyes on the man I now know as Gordon.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Sure Mom. Just bored. Is this over soon? I wanna go back to our room. It’s hot in here.”

“Sure honey, not much longer.”

Making eye contact with the hulk at the back of the stage, I give him a sly grin, and he returns it in spades.

3. JIMMY

A hundred and five actually. I’ve seen it happen already. When we were boarding the buses, I saw a man. Well...that’s what I’ll call him. I didn’t like the sight of him one bit. He made Zeke look like a history teacher. There was a rumor that we’d been drugged. It was bouncing around the prison as we got ready for the bus ride. Turned out it was true. We all got on for the ride from...wait a second. We all got on the ride from...where was it again? Goddamnit, this shit kept happening. It was Phoenix, I think. Or was it Portland. Something with a “P” I think. It was hot, I know that much. I mean, I think it was hot. What was I wearing? No idea. Damnit.