Anarchy Page 20

  Glancing back, she adjusted the filter on her glasses, blocking out as much light as possible. Even then, she could only make out faint traces of him. “So what do we do? We can’t just leave them like this,” said Rowen.

  Arthur snorted, his eyes fluttering open and closed. “Bring me closer. The energy radiating from him, it will undo the mess you’ve made of me…enough to do something about this.”

  “Really, after all of this, you think I’m just gonna let you get patched up? You’re the reason we’re in this mess!”

  “Well, now the shoe is on the other foot. If we don’t do anything, he explodes, taking most of Manhattan with him. Not to mention us. In my condition, I can’t get far enough away to avoid the blast that's about to happen. Neither can you,” he finished, wracked by another coughing fit.

  Rowen bit the inside of her cheek, glancing back and forth between the blinding pillar of light that was about to kill them all and Arthur bleeding beside her. “If you so much as flinch in a way I don’t like, I’ll shoot to kill,” she said, dragging him onto his belly and stepping away from him. “Now, crawl!”

  She drew her Mark II, holding it at her side as she watched him pull himself toward the light, gasps of pain escaping his throat with every inch gained. He paused for breath, glaring at her over his shoulder. “This would be easier if you helped me, every second we waste—”

  “Then you'd better shut up and crawl faster!” said Rowen through gritted teeth. “I wouldn’t trust you for a second. You lied to us! And after what Gibbs told us, I think you should be spending the rest of your life in a cell. What kind of monster would want to kill all those people? You’re supposed to be making the world a better place. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

  He glared back at her, his handsome face twisting in rage. He opened his mouth to speak, only to press his lips into a fine line a moment later before resuming his crawl to the light. In that moment, the energy from Uriel flared brighter, the heat washing over her like she had just stepped through a wall of flame. Even with the polarization of her glasses set to maximum, Rowen was nearly blind, forced to look away and shield her eyes. She fell to one knee, pulling her coat over her head to shield her face from being burned. She winced in pain as the skin on her hands began to blister and peel away, only to shudder in relief and horror an instant later as the flesh was stitched back together by the maelstrom of gold and silver that swirled around her.

  “Rowen!” screamed a voice from somewhere behind her, barely heard above the howl. “Come to us!”

  She peeked out from beneath her collar to find the glare had lessened, like staring at the sun at sunset instead of midday, the heat reddening her freckled skin to blackening it. Arthur stood between a distraught-looking Gwen and Uriel, whose eyes were squeezed shut tight, his entire body trembling. The dervishes, comets of pure energy, circled the three of them like a whirlwind. More of them than she could count flew around, a tempest barely restrained.

  Arthur waved her over with his chin, his dark eyes wide like saucers. “I’m trying to transfer the energy from his nanites, turn some of them off, like I did with Gwen in the subway. I—It’s not working. He’s too powerful, too far gone,” began Arthur in a strained voice. Rowen could see his color had returned to normal, his breathing steady, Uriel’s magic having fixed what she’d broken. He continued through gritted teeth. “I’ve shunted some of the energy through myself and Gwen, trying to slow the buildup. If you take their hands, link with us, I can use you too. Give Uriel a few moments to get things under control,” he finished, his face slick with sweat.

  Without a word, Rowen stepped into the circle between Uriel and Gwen, her hands desperately slipping into theirs. She gasped as all the air in her body was sucked out, feeling like she was in a car that suddenly accelerated too fast and a great weight suddenly pressed against her chest. Her entire body shuddered as a torrent of raw power coursed through her like an electrical current, making her already wild hair stand on end. Beside her she could feel Uriel trembling, could sense his hopeless effort to maintain control. He held her hand tight, almost crushing her hand in his. She lost track of how long they stood there, at the center of the light, silent.

  “This isn’t going to work, Arty,” said Uriel with a thin voice, his eyes downcast. “I can’t get a grasp on it, even with everyone helping. It's…it’s too much. Just go, all of you, before it gets worse. I’ll hold it in for as long as I can.”

  In front of her, Arthur opened his eyes, nodding to himself. “I’m sorry, Uriel, but if we let go now, there is a good chance you take out all of Manhattan, maybe the entire city and beyond. I just know we can’t let that happen. You’ve got to try harder!”

  “I can’t. I can feel it. Oh God, I can feel it!” he whispered as the light flared again, sending another wave through Rowen, nearly knocking her from her feet.

  At her side, Gwen had tears streaming down her face. “Fuck that, I won’t leave him,” she said, pressing her lips into a thin line, breathing heavily. “Nothing he can do can hurt me.”

  Arthur cocked his head, his gaze drifting back and forth between Uriel and Gwen. “That's probably true,” said Arthur, his eyes narrowing. “I can keep the link between the two of you going for a little while, even from a distance. If Gwen can absorb some of the energy, we might be able to contain the explosion to the park.”

  “We can’t just let him die, you little shit!” said Gwen. “You did this, you—”

  “Gwen,” said Uriel in a small voice. “I’ve been feeling it since the first day in the cafeteria, the day you hit me. Something’s not right. This is my fault. I shoulda done something to fix this, but I didn’t. It's on me, only me!”

  “It's not fair!”

  Uriel shook his head, the thin lines of metal segmenting his features making the light flare. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. I should have been better, smarter.”

  Hearing the pain in his voice, Rowen had to look away, grateful that her glasses hid her eyes, her thoughts fleeing to her mother. All the people still trapped in the world of hell that was New York. “Sacrifice is painful,” said Rowen, squeezing Gwen’s hand, “but he can save a lot of lives; the both of you can.”

  In front of her, Arthur bowed his head in concentration, his head cocked as though he were listening to something. After a moment, he opened his eyes, giving her a brief nod. “We should go,” he said, slowly pulling his hands from theirs and linking Uriel’s and Gwen’s. “I will hold on for as long as I can, give you as much time as I can.”

  “Thanks, Arty,” said Uriel, nodding, his eyes never leaving Gwen’s.

  Arthur pursed his lips, lifting a hand to touch Uriel’s shoulder before hesitating and shoving his hand behind him. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have been a better friend, been a better person,” he said, looking away.

  Rowen gave the two of them a brief smile, not sure what else she could do. “Let’s go.”

  Together they ran, the glow brighter each time she looked back. She felt different, older. Beside her, Arthur’s face was contorted, lost in concentration. By the time they exited the park, the pulses were just on their heels, waves of heat washing over them. They were halfway to Battery Park to rendezvous with Gibbs and the others she’d sent on ahead when the first tremor hit, powerful enough to knock them from their feet. The ground shook again and again before a pillar of silver-and-gold light shot to the sky, blinding her for a moment.

  Rowen rose to her feet, her eyes locked onto the black pillar of smoke rising in the distance, the stain that was the tower gone from the skyline of the park. Arthur stayed on the pavement, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, tears streaming down his face, muttering under his breath. She put a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. Knowing sometimes tears were the only answer. After a few minutes, he wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up, giving her a strange look. “I think this is where we part ways,” he said.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” said Rowen, locking e
yes with him. “Even without the tower, you’re going to try and carry out your crazy plan?”

  Arthur nodded, glancing around. “Yes. It will be harder, but I have every intention of casting away the old, starting something new here.”

  Rowen bowed her head, wondering if she should try and stop him. Part of her agreed with him. “You gotta stop talking like that. You sound like a villain in a bad holovid”

  He shrugged, locking his arms behind his back and raising his chin. “You could try and stop me. I keep expecting a bullet from you.”

  Rowen turned her lips down, shaking her head. “You did the right thing in the end, and that's what counts,” she said, looking down the street, enjoying the warm sun on her face. “Besides, I want to see what you do here now that you can’t kill thousands of people to do it.”

  Arthur gave her a brief nod. “Thank you, and good luck,” he said with a small smile before turning away. She watched him walk away for a few minutes before heading off in the other direction to find her friends and family in Battery Park, grateful to at last be on her way home.

  Epilogue:

  “Democracy in America is a lie, and we have been slaves to a system that threw us out with the trash a generation ago. Most of us are nothing more than slaves bound by invisible chains of debt. But we can open our eyes; see the truth. Our nation has been ruled by corporate overlords and their purchased government servants for too long. It's time to break our chains; run for freedom. I call on everyone who can hear this to abandon the nation that gives you nothing and asks everything in return.

  “I promise you nothing but freedom, freedom from the slavery of debt, of working your hands to the bone simply to enrich the wealthy. If you want to be free of the lies and tyranny that have corrupted the soul of America, if you feel like the dream was only that, a dream, then join me. Together we can put aside the sins of our fathers and build a nation for all, free of the despair that has infected our home. It will be hard, it will require sacrifice, but nothing really worth it comes easy.

  “The borders are open now to anyone under the age of twenty-one. If you have been abandoned by the government, if you have spent your days and nights in a camp waiting, forgotten, and unwanted by a nation that no longer values its citizens, the free state of New York welcomes you.

  “If you are willing to work hard, we have food, power, and good homes for everyone. We have jobs in abundance because we are building a new nation on the bones of the old, but most of all we offer fairness and hope for a better tomorrow, a place to be truly free.

  Arthur

  ***

  Project Divinity Interview: Subject - Rowen Macdonald (Final Entry)

  “So you didn’t see Uriel die; you just saw the explosion,” said the captain, elbows on his desk, fingers locked tightly together like he was praying. “The boy might still be alive?”

  Rowen wasn’t sure what to say. She knew nothing human could have survived that, and given that Uriel was out of control, the chances of him surviving were impossible. “Maybe…but I don’t think so, sir,” she said frowning at the captain’s suddenly bright eyes.

  “Son of a bitch,” he whispered, looking away from her. “I shoulda done something sooner. I shoulda known better.”

  Rowen watched in stunned silence as the big man broke down, his breathing coming in ugly sobs, his face red and blotchy as tears streamed down his round cheeks. She looked away, wringing her hands behind her back, not sure what to say. Letting him have his moment.

  After a few minutes the captain pulled a box of tissue from his desk, cleaning his face. When he was done he stood, his eyes locked on her. “This interview is over. You can send that boy, Gibbs, in now. Your father will be waiting for you in the lobby where you came in.”

  Rowen hesitated, eyes darting back and forth. “So what happens now?” she said, slowly waking to the door.

  “Now you help me hunt down this Arthur kid,” he said, rubbing his nose with a thick finger. “We gotta rebuild Divinity Corps too. You and your daddy will help me do that, so get your ass in gear. We got tons a shit to do.”

  “Ok—about Uriel, sir?” she asked, her hand on the door. “I mean, he was a good guy; he sacrificed himself—”

  The captain nodded, a half grin on his round face. “That’s the way me an' his momma raised him. He was always a good boy. His sister too. I just wish Ari and Augusta had some goddamn sense!”

  Rowen was glad her hand was on the door, her knees suddenly refusing to support her all the way. “All of them!?” she said, her jaw hanging open.

  “I thought you were smarter than that, girl” he said, raising an eyebrow as he walked over to her and stuck out a pudgy hand. “Name's Angus, Captain Angus Young. Welcome to the team, Rowen. Welcome to Divinity Corps.”

  ***

  She spent part of each day here, with him, at the blackened crater where nothing would grow. The earth here was ashen, covered with shards of melted crystal that formed a mosaic of destruction, surrounding a deep crater that kept most people away. Stories of what had happened terrified even the most determined folks desperate for a place to crash. Most days, she understood that he wasn’t really here, but she talked to him anyway. On good days, she would pretend they were on a date, having those silly conversations that they never had a chance to have, talks about favorite movies and books, favorite foods. She showed him the aged and battered iPod she had gotten from her father, full of classic songs she liked to party to, hoping to impress him. It was a one-sided conversation, but it gave her the strength to go on. On bad days, she would just sit and cry, fat tears cutting wide streaks across her dirty face. Today had been a bad day. She had spent most of the morning sitting listlessly, numb to the warm summer sun and distant sounds of the revived city.

  She cried until there was nothing left, eyes dry and red, her limbs like rubber, barely able to stand. She was taken suddenly with a coughing fit, a dry hacking thing that sapped what little strength she had, painting her lips red with traces of blood. She bent in half, her hands on her knees, arching her back like a cat with each sharp jab, her face a grimace of pain. When it was over, she sucked in a deep, rattling breath, grateful that the air was warm and humid.

  The cough relented for a moment, giving her time to fish in her pockets for her pills, closing her eyes in relief when her fingers grazed against their smooth round surface. She swallowed them dry, cringing each time as if someone had stabbed her in the throat. It would have been easier with a needle, faster, but they never worked for her anymore. She stood hugging herself, trying to ignore the sharp jabbing pain in her throat, relieved when it finally faded to a distant throb, a small smile touching her lips as the pills did their magic, washing everything in a soft glow.

  Heading out of the park, she slipped her earbuds in place and flipped up the hood of her sweater, wiping her lips on her sleeve, adding another stain of red to the mural already in place. New York was alive once again. She passed new construction sites, restaurants, people just idly enjoying their day. She walked slow, head down, avoiding eye contact with the myriad of people on the street, still amazed at how quickly life had flooded back to the city. Thousands of people who had been living in squalid tents not long ago, unwanted by their country, now had homes. True to his word, Arthur had provided all the creature comforts of the modern world, food and clean water, electricity, holo-vids, light and heat, but most of all, safety, and with that he had won their love. He was a hero to everyone. If they only knew…

  Putting her hands in her pockets, she realized those were the last pills she had. Looking deeper, she let out a deep sigh, suddenly aware that she had no money. She cursed herself, knowing the pills she had bought yesterday were supposed to last the week.

  Stopping short in the middle of the avenue, she turned, remembering the construction site she had passed. Making her way back, she stood at the edge of the yard, hiking up her skirt to show a little leg, watching men and machines lumber around. They were at the early stages of this p
roject, just having poured the foundation and laying out beams to support the future tower of glass and steel.

  She didn’t have to wait long before a battered pickup truck the color of rust rolled down its windows on its way off the site. The driver, a broad-shouldered man with oily skin and a week’s worth of stubble on his blotchy face, leaned over in his seat and gave her a toothy smile. “You workin’, honey?”

  She nodded, quickly opening the door and jumping into the car before he could get a good look at her. Most men didn’t really care, only wanting a warm body, but last week one didn’t let her in the car for how old she looked, her cough creeping him out.

  As they drove off, man’s gaze flicked between her and the road, his grin growing wider each time. “Don’t be shy, honey, take off that hoodie. Let’s see that pretty face,” he said, scratching at the stubble on his face.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she complied, running a hand through her thin, blonde hair as she looked him full in the face. As he looked at her, he gave her a small wink, his smile widening.

  “A little long in the tooth, ain’t ya? What's your name, honey, or is that not allowed?”

  She wondered why they cared what her name was; it wasn’t needed for what they were going to do. But she was past the point of caring. He seemed to like her. Maybe he could be a regular. Tossing her hair again, she gave him her best smile, praying that she looked pretty enough for him. “Gwen, my name is Gwen.”

  The End

  Join my mailing list for info, release dates, and free chapters of book three when they are ready.

  www.rhettgervais.com