Expecting to be on the move again shortly, I found Peter sitting alone in the remnants of a library. I wanted to ask him what the plan was, but when I approached, he looked so at peace that I hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. He snapped out of his bliss and smiled up at me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No. No, you’re alright. I was just trying to clear my head. But honestly, I think I could use a distraction more,” Peter replied. “What’s on your mind, Jack?”
I wanted to berate him with the questions flooding my mind but thought better of it. I knew he didn’t have the answers, so instead, I diverted. “Where do you think the books went?”
“Moved, I’d imagine. To wherever they set up the new school.”
“I wonder why they abandoned this place. Everything looks intact.”
“When I was young, a virus rampaged through the city. They didn’t have enough hospital beds, so they started housing the sick in schools like this one. After the virus subsided, people were reluctant to send their children back. Even in the absence of religion, we are a superstitious people.”
“So they just abandoned it? Why not put some people out on the streets here?”
“Because, in the eyes of the Capital, everyone is accounted for. And everyone has their housing supplied. Everyone you see sleeping outside is an unacknowledged blight in the eyes of our government.”
“Not an input the GCS can handle?” I joked.
“The GCS. Sometimes, I forget a glorified piece of software runs our lives. Not to defend the system, but its solutions are only as useful as the information you give it. I suppose therein lies the critical failure. It gets its input from humans. Unelected officials tipped the scales while hiding behind claims of its efficient outcomes.”
The human in the loop is always the point of failure.
“I studied and created intelligent systems like that in my time.”
“So I’ve heard. Did they really find one in your station?”
“They did. How’d you know about that?”
“We have ears everywhere. There are more supporters of this movement than you’d think.”
Enough stalling.
“Are we moving again?”
“At some point, yes. We have to. But when that is, I haven’t a clue.”
The clang of a metal door swinging open echoed off the barren shelves around us. I looked back to find Constantine approaching, holding two leather satchels, one in each hand.
“Jack. Brother,” Constantine greeted us.
“What do you have there Peter asked, lifting himself off the dusty tile.
“We’ve got a job.”
“Another target? Big or small?” Peter asked.
“It’s a small job, but according to the source, it should stir the hornets’ nest.”
“And?”
Constantine grinned, tossing one of the pouches into Peter’s arms. “The capital is sending down one of their officials to extend some half-assed apology for indiscriminately firing into the crowd the other day.”
Peter opened the bag. Peering at its contents, he asked, “So we kill a low ranking official. What of it? How’s that going to stir the nest?”
“Not kill, kidnap,” Constantine replied, tossing the other bag in my direction. I caught it, nearly dropping to one knee from its oblong weight.
“I was going to bring James, but he’s still shaken up. Jack you up for this?”
Feeling the heft of an explosive in my hands, I responded, “No.”
He tilted his head. “No one has to die as long as we execute the plan,” he rebutted.
“What is the plan, brother?”
“Set the charges a block down from where the official is making their public appearance. Then, in the ensuing chaos, grab the official.”
“The Capital Guard will close ranks as soon as we detonate. They won’t let anything happen to them,” Peter contested.
“They will. You just have to trust me.”
“This is sloppy, brother. I don’t like it. There are too many holes. The best-case scenario is we turn some concrete. Worst case, a lot of people, including us wind up shot or captured.”
Constantine walked over to Peter, extending a hand onto his shoulder. “Have faith in me, brother. I’ve gotten us this far.”
****
A shivering body hung in the corner, her bare flesh singing against the frigid air. Sobbs seeped out of the black canvas bag zipped around her neck. Her legs quivered, reverberating with the fear of what would come next. Striations of dried blood accented her arms and lower legs, where shards of shrapnel lodged themselves into her skin.
I stood shoulder to shoulder with Peter and James, pulling my oversized shirt tight to ward off the dense air of the walk-in freezer we hung her in. The poor woman squirmed more and more, screaming out in agony after one of her shoulders popped loose, bulging the ball of her upper arm against its skin. She hung lopsided, allowing one of her feet to contact the ground. It wasn’t much, but she could now support some of her weight with her toes.
I had enough. I couldn’t bear the sight of her anymore. Her suffering was proof that nothing had gone to plan, at least, nothing within the scraps Constantine had fed us in the library earlier that day. I followed him, taking his word that no one needed to die, but I was wrong.
We left in the early morning hours before the sun rose. The official wasn’t slated to arrive until midday, at which time the guards would gather a crowd to give the appearance that people cared what the Capital had to say about the massacre. When we got to the courtyard where the speech would be given, Constantine relieved me of my satchel, directing me to scout out an adjacent building. We needed a place to hide close enough to snatch the official and escape unnoticed. I handed my bag to Constantine, checking doors to see if any were unlocked. To my surprise, most were. Peter would later explain that locks were discouraged, and anyone found to have one on their door would be immediately detained under suspicion of working with the PLM. The logic made sense in a backward sort of way.
I found a building with a good vantage point and a direct route to a maze of alleys we could slip down. When I returned to the courtyard, Peter and Constantine had just finished setting the charges. They placed them quicker than anticipated, but I thought nothing of it. In hindsight, I should’ve realized there wasn’t enough time to go further down the street and lay the explosives, a reality I became all too aware of when the sun hit the middle of the sky. I’d grown to recognize when it was at or near noon. For a brief period, the shadows cast by the buildings around us receded, injecting the ground with direct sunlight. We had holed up in the building, politely greeting its occupants who trickled in and out.
The official was late, but a little after noon, they arrived with a small escort of the Capital Guard. Peter was the first to notice, advising his brother to call it off as no important official would have so few armed protectors. Constantine ignored him, watching as the black uniforms rounded up bystanders into a crowd around an elevated concrete platform at the front of the courtyard.
The official began to speak. I didn’t get a good look at them before Constantine depressed a button centered in a small black box he produced from his pocket. A ground-rattling explosion burst through the crowd. It was close - much closer than was planned. The super-heated wave expelled by the charge drove through the air and knocked me to the ground. Peter held steady until his brother wrestled another black box from him. Constantine depressed that one as well, detonating the second explosive. Another wave shook the building, shattering what was left of the glass around us. Unfortunately, the explosion wasn’t close enough to drown my eardrums, forcing me to reckon with the blood-curdling screams just outside.
Constantine poked his head up to look out the window. He dropped back down and grabbed my shirt to pull me out the door. I jolted back, releasing myself from his grip. He glared at me briefly before grabbing Peter and leaving the building. They were gone for maybe thirty seconds, bursting back in with a bloodied, tattered woman in tow. They both ignored me as they passed, dragging the woman along. Instinctively, I followed.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
We raced down alley after alley until we reached a safe house. Constantine pounded on the door, barking at whoever was inside. A meek older man opened up, allowing us in. Peter told the man to torch the place, then dropped the official down a shaft. It was a long way back to the school, and the woman popped in and out of consciousness, taking a group effort to drag her down those cramped, narrow passages.
When we finally got back to the school, Constantine ordered she be stripped and hung in the cafeteria’s walk-in freezer. When I stepped back out, a group of Constantine’s followers passed me carrying what appeared to be camera equipment.
I’ve seen this before.
I found Constantine in the cafeteria dining hall, basking in the admiration of his fellow revolutionaries, all congratulating him on a mission accomplished. A buzz vibrated the school. Constantine carried a handful of white tunics adjourned with onyx black buttons. I tore through the crowd, seething as I approached the exuberant leader.
“What the fuck was that, Constantine?”
“It’s alright to celebrate, Jack. That wasn’t an easy task.”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“Plan? What did you know of the plan? From where I’m standing, everything went according to plan.”
“No one was supposed to die.”
“Blood is the currency of revolution, Jack. Always has been, always will be.”
Before I could carry on, Peter grabbed me from behind and pulled me away.
“Come on, let’s find somewhere quiet to decompress.”
****
Screams stuck to the walls like oil from a frying pan, splattering, muddying its once pristine varnish.
They’ve been at it for hours.
Peter sat beside me, busying his mind with repairing a hole in the sanitation uniform he’d dawned earlier. He’d cringe every time a screech broke the air but refused to openly acknowledge what was happening in the other room. Between desperate cries for help, muffled voices would trickle out. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but occasionally, I’d catch a scrap. A minister’s name here, a veiled threat there. All part and parcel to what I’d already determined to be a hostage video, not so unlike those that scarred my country’s collective conscience early on in my Naval career.
The procession continued until the meager sunlight fighting through the cracks in our window coverings was snuffed out by the night.
“I need some air,” I said, cradling my forehead with my palms.
“They’ll be done soon,” Peter replied.
“Why aren’t you in there with them?”
“I have no desire to be in there, Jack.”
“I’m surprised.”
Peter dropped the blouse he’d been working on and looked back at me, saying, “Constantine has his ways. I don’t always agree with him and his plans, but he’s never led us astray.”
“They’re torturing her, Peter.”
“I know you just got here, but have faith in him. He’s doing this because he has to, not because he wants to.”
“You lose the moral high ground when you pull shit like this,” I sternly said, pointing toward the steel double doors separating us from the screaming woman.
“My brother does what he has to,” Peter finished, picking back up his blouse to continue sewing.
I stood and paced about the room. I had nowhere to go. Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. Peter kept a watchful eye, constantly peering up from his busy work. The wails stopped. A heard of footsteps approached, followed by Constantine bursting out the double doors. Whisks of blood splattered his once immaculate white tunic. The cuffs were drenched, deep red toward the base, gradually drying into clusters of brown further up his sleeve, looking like he’d washed his hands in a bucket of blood. I was struck by the stoicism he wore, even now, always set to task.
A man with a purpose.
“We need to rig every room. I don’t want a single square inch not in the blast radius of a charge. Brother, get it done.”
“The usual charges should work.”
“Not this time. We need enough to level the place. Just burning it down won’t do.”
“What are you planning?” Peter asked.
“You’ll see.”
Peter crossed his arms, but Constantine left with his white-clad entourage before he could protest. I looked back at Peter, who was wearily watching as the last white tunics disappeared down a hall and out of sight. Peter set off in a different direction, leaving me alone to check on the bureaucrat. I poked my head into the room. A waft of iron and excrement assaulted my nose, rocking me back on my heels. The smell was overwhelming, but I needed to get closer. With one hand covering my lower face, I approached. Slumped over in a chair sat the woman. Her hands and feet were disfigured. Between the blood and swelling, I could see that she had been relieved of all her fingers and toes. All except one index finger.
The black bag covering her face fluttered. Startled, I jumped back, waking her more. Tears trickled out from under the bag, washing away dried blood clinging to her chest in streaks.
“Please. Please, no more,” the woman wept.
“I’m not—” I began, but my words lost their footing. I had nothing to say. Nothing that would change her fate or bring any sense of comfort.
“I don’t want to die,” she begged, lifting her head to meet my eyes.
Can she see me?
“I’m sorry,” I stammered before backpedaling out. Soft sobs followed me as I shut the double doors. I’d stared death in the face before, but never had I seen him clinging to someone so seemingly innocent.
Peter entered the room, leading a small group carrying oblong metal cylinders. A couple broke away and began laying charges around the room’s corners while the rest continued into the cafeteria. The woman screamed, presumably believing they were back to hack more bits from her body. Peter stood watch, ensuring all the charges were correctly laid. The process was quick but thorough. Still, I couldn’t bear the sound of the bureaucrat begging for mercy any longer. I pushed past Peter and made my way out into the room where we’d bedded down over the past several days. Others were milling about, gathering blankets and mats to be moved to our next safe house.
Constantine entered the room, taking notice of my sulking. He walked over and sat next to me, nestling up uncomfortably close. He’d changed out of his white tunic and dressed in his customary brown blouse to blend in better.
“I though you would be helping my brother.”
“I’m done. I—”
“I know it seems harsh, Jack, but this is how things must be done. Freedom requires sacrifice.”
“Her sacrifice. Not yours.”
“I’ve sacrificed enough. The people you see here, including my brother and I, didn’t get to this point because we enjoy it. Every sleepless night I toss and turn, agonizing over the pain I’ve caused— I hate the Capital for what they’ve made us do.”
“No one made you bomb those guards. No one made you mutilate her.”
Constantine nodded, looking down at the rough tile between his knees. “Jack, why are you here?”
“I was sent down here. I was told to tell you all of the suffering your actions would lead to. If you got what you wanted, the masses would starve. The Secretary-General wanted me to tell you of my time when governments of the world weren’t unified. I’m starting to think he was right.”
“I can’t control what happens after we topple the Capital, but we can give the people their freedom. I’ve read the histories. You, above all others, must understand. Your civilization cherished individual freedoms above almost all else.”
I fumbled my words, looking for a response. I wanted to protest, claiming our freedoms were won righteously, but in truth if he’d read our histories like he claimed, Constantine would already know of all the blood spilled in their pursuit. I shuffled my feet, grinding the rubber soles of my boots against the coarse tile.
“Why’d you come here? Not to us specifically, but here, this time?”
“Over the past weeks, I’ve been asking myself the same. It wasn’t my intention to come here. None of us knew what we’d find when we looked for the signal’s origin.” I tapped my finger on the table, remembering the lone appendage left on the bureaucrat. “You probably don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“We have ears everywhere. I’m aware of the logs they pulled off…Arlo, was it?”
“Yeah, Arlo.”
“They told you we never received the same signal when you were in the Capital, I heard.”
“Yes. They were adamant about that.”
Constantine raised his eyebrows, looking into the room’s dark corners, and continued, “So, did you find it? The origin?”
“No, we were led here.”
“We?”
“I was a part of a crew that was sent up. Six in all. I was the only one that made it.”
“No one lived? You’re sure of this?”
“Yeah.” The tone of his question struck me. “Why?”
“Just… interesting is all,” he replied, tapping his finger. “Why did you go up? I’d imagine there was a substantial pool of qualified candidates for the mission. Why you?”
I let out a sigh. “Whoever sent that signal had knowledge of how to traverse space-time. Not just move forward but in reverse as well. I need to know how to do the same.”
“Sure, but why?” Constantine persisted, his eyes blazing into mine.
“I lost someone.”
“Ah, I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Loss and suffering are a staple of our seemingly comfortable existence here. So, I understand.” Constantine paused, gazing at the open door where a congregation passed carrying metallic cylinders. “Again, I don’t know if we ever received a signal. But if we did, the proof–”
“I know, in the Capital archives.”
Constantine nudged my shoulder. “Keep helping us, Jack. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way to get back the one you lost.” Constantine finished, swatting me on the back before rising and walking out into the hall.
Echos clanged through the building, bouncing off walls from the busy bees laying their stingers. I sat for a moment longer and contemplated what Constantine had said.
I don’t have much of a choice. If Augustus and Hadrian lied about the signal, Constantine was now my only hope.
I hid away for the next several hours while the preparations were completed. Once they were, everyone regrouped and were accounted for. We then filed down a shaft and into the tunnel leading away from the building. I noticed the woman wasn’t with us, but I figured they’d likely finish her off once done filming. She wouldn’t serve a purpose beyond the suffering she’d already endured, and I hoped it was quick for her.
We meandered through corridor after corridor, passing through new and old dugouts alike on our way to the next safe house. When we finally arrived, my eyes were starved of light, and my blood was coursing with C02. I burst from the shaft, quickly ascending the ladder to steal away much-needed oxygen. The air was crisp. My mind grew clearer, shaking off the encroaching fog from the claustrophobic tunnel. A hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling into a narrow room. Above, railing and concrete reached the heavens, blending as one continuous vertical grey passage.
“Don’t crowd the tunnel,” an unfamiliar voice said, prompting me up the stairs where a single file wormed upward.
The stairwell dragged on. My quads and calves burned, and my lungs were spent. I was in agony, but the footsteps climbing ever higher never ceased. Every time I would break, those below would chastise me to continue. Begrudgingly, I pushed on. Soaked with sweat and cement hardening in my muscles, I pushed on.
Eventually, the steps reached a platform with a single door that opened into the penthouse level of the sky-scraping building. The space was barren concrete, but the walls were glass, providing a panoramic view. Below, grey blocks jutted out of the ground. To our right, the field of spires stood firm in the gusting winds. Pillars broke up the room, but other than those, my view was unobstructed from one end of the floor to the other.
“So it begins?” Peter panted, having just left the stairwell.
Constantine winced and smiled, “Yes, brother.” He raised his head, surveying the growing crowd. “This is where we’ll watch the seeds of our revolution grow.”