Broken Worlds Super Boxset (62 page)

Both of the sentries’ rifles were on the floor in front of them, but they weren’t able to reach for them fast enough as two extremists penetrated the silo. Alex squeezed off six shots, sending bullets into their ribs, legs, and necks before they had a chance to fire. He motioned to the other two sentries, waving them to retreat. “C’mon!” The three of them sprinted to the back, leaving the shouts and gunfire behind them.

When Alex made it to the rear of the facility, most of the staff had already been escorted out of the area. The sentries were loading up the last vehicle by the time Alex arrived. The researcher Alex had ordered to evacuate everyone was in the passenger seat. “Did we get everyone out?”

“I think so.”

“Think so?”

Before Alex could get anything else out of him, the van took off. One vehicle remained, and Alex’s men started piling in. Alex had one foot on the door frame and was about to pull himself inside when he stopped himself. “You hear that?”

“Sir, we need to get out of here.”

“Shh. Listen.” The van rocked slightly as Alex took his foot off the bottom of the doorframe and walked closer to the building, positioning his left ear to try and make out the sound. A few seconds passed and then he heard it again. The faint, distinct cry of help. “C’mon!” Alex sprinted back into the building where the yells grew louder along with gunshots and the crash of glass and equipment.

“Over there,” Alex said, pointing to one of the rooms on the left.

“Sir!” one of the sentries yelled.

But Alex could already smell it. Smoke wafted across his nose and the faint glow of fire danced along the walls. The extremists had graduated from vandalism to arson. “Go!” Alex said. “I’ll grab whoever's left and meet you out back.” The sentries didn’t waste any time evacuating, and Alex burst through the door from where the cries emanated.

Alex kept his rifle up, quickly scanning the entryways of opened doors and hallways before passing and entering. The smoke thickened the deeper he moved into the building, continuing its assault on his eyes, blurring his vision and burning his lungs and throat with every breath.

One of the extremists appeared from around the corner at the end of the hallway. The two saw each other at the same time, but Alex beat him to the draw. One quick squeeze of the trigger and Alex’s shot sent a bullet slicing through the rioter, dropping him to the floor where he was devoured by the advancing fire.

Alex finally traced the cries to a door halfway between the back and front entrances. He jiggled the handle. Locked. “Hang on! I’m almost there!” A deep, throaty cough interrupted him and Alex collapsed to the floor, paralyzed by the inability to breathe. The room felt like it was shifting, spinning. The fire had completely turned the corner of the hallway now, bringing intense heat and darker smoke. The ceiling was consumed in bright oranges and reds.

Alex grabbed the handle and forced himself up. He smacked the butt of his rifle against the door. Each violent blow sent vibrations through his arms and shoulders. His fingers clung to the grips of the rifle with what strength he had left. He lowered the rifle and sent the heel of his boot into the door. The frame splintered slightly. He kicked it again. The crack in the frame grew wider. Another forceful kick and the door burst open.

The source of the voice was a man trapped underneath a large cabinet. “Help! I’m stuck!” Alex stumbled to the man, bent over, coughing and hacking as his insides continued to burn to a crisp. The carnivorous roar of the flames barreling down upon him and the cries of the trapped man deafened his ears.

The blaze had made its way into the room, spreading across the ceiling. The smoke inhalation overwhelmed Alex and he fell to the floor. He crawled forward, dragging himself across the tile until he had the coordination to force his feet under him. He shuffled forward with his back in a curved hunch, still choking on the smoke. By the time Alex made it to the man who had been crying for help, he was unconscious.

Alex’s fingers fumbled for the Kevlar around his chest and peeled it off. He tossed the heavy material over the man’s torso to protect him from any falling debris. He lifted the cabinet up and used his foot to slide the man’s legs out from underneath. With the man almost clear, a piece of molten hot ceiling disintegrated from above and landed on his shoulder, burning through his uniform. With his right shoulder on fire, Alex gave one final push against the man’s legs and he was free. The edge of the cabinet slipped from Alex’s fingers and smacked to the floor. Alex extinguished the fire searing his flesh and cauterizing his nerve endings. Smoke rose from the blackened stump that was his shoulder. Alex stood up, threw the unconscious man over his good shoulder, keeping the Kevlar on him, and carried him out.

The walls and ceiling of the hallway were completely consumed by flames. Drops of liquid fire rained down and Alex did his best to avoid the deadly drizzle. The flesh on his face felt like it was melting as he navigated the smoky corridors until he finally saw the sunlight coming from the opened door in the back.

Once outside, Alex collapsed to the ground and the man fell with him. Vicious spouts of coughing erupted from Alex’s raw throat as he rolled from side to side, trying to clean his lungs with massive gulps of fresh air around him.

Alex flipped to his back and through his bloodshot eyes he could see thick plumes of smoke twisting and forcing their way upwards. One of the other sentries came to check on him, but Alex waved him off. “We need to get out of here. The rioters could come around back.”

“They all left,” the sentry said. “Once they set the building on fire, they disappeared.”

The thump of helicopter blades vibrated in Alex’s ears and was immediately followed up with a gust of wind as the chopper landed just outside the fence’s perimeter. The first person out of the chopper was the newly appointed commissioner of the Soil Coalition, Gordon Reath.

“What the hell happened here?” Gordon asked, marching right past the unconscious man Alex had rescued.

Alex rolled himself to a sitting position and caught a whiff of the burnt flesh on his shoulder. He gagged, almost vomiting into his own lap.

“Grives!” Gordon said. “I said what the hell happened here?”

“The protests turned violent. I sent a radio call hours ago stating that we needed more resources here, but no one responded,” Alex answered.

“So you just let them burn down the entire seed bank along with all of the soil research?”

“Sir, I understand you’re upset, but-”

“It’s fucking gone!”

Gordon’s face had the same reddish tinge as the flames consuming the building behind them. Alex pushed himself off the ground, and when his knee buckled, the sentry next to him helped steady him. “Then you should have gotten here sooner.”

The man that Alex had dragged from the building awoke in a fit of coughing, breaking the tension between Alex and Gordon. Gordon immediately bombarded the man with questions.

“Were you able to salvage anything?” Gordon asked.

“No,” the man said, covering his mouth and trying not to choke. “I tried to grab some of the backup files, but the fire... It came out of nowhere.”

“The group that attacked us were heavily armed,” Alex said. “They bulldozed the fence with an armored truck, then shot at us with assault rifles and grenades.”

Gordon gritted his teeth, his face almost turning purple from rage. “I don’t give a shit who they were! Do you know what this place was? What we were trying to do? This was one of the last research facilities in the country capable of fixing this crisis, and now it’s gone!”

The scientist on the ground looked up at the both of them, the expression on his face unable to comprehend everything that had happened. “Why would they do that? Why would they burn everything down? We’re trying to help.”

“Well, whoever did this,” Alex said, turning back to the burning building, “definitely didn’t think we were helping.”

“You sniveling little shit!” Gordon said, then smacked the scientist across the face. Gordon raised his hand again, but the scientist cowered into a small ball on the ground. “Kill him.” Gordon turned to Alex, pointing at the scientist trembling on the ground.

“What?” Alex asked.

“It was his job to secure the research, and he failed to accomplish it. I can’t allow this type of insubordination to happen. Kill. Him.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll do it myself.” Gordon snatched one of the rifles from the sentries, but before he could aim it at the scientist holding his hands up like he’d be able to stop one of the bullets himself, a caravan of vehicles that had followed the helicopter arrived and a mixture of military soldiers and sentries piled out.

Out of all the uniformed men that exited the vehicles, a giant of a man, with meticulously combed hair and a clean shaven face, buttoned the suit of his jacket as one of the military soldiers opened his door. Alex recognized him from the newspapers: Jared Farnes. He was the founder of one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the world and had secured a contract with the Defense department six months ago to become the main supplier of weapons to the United States military.

“Is this how you run your department, Gordon?” Jared asked, slamming the Humvee door behind him.

“This isn’t your jurisdiction, Jared. My men are handling it.”

“Clearly,” Jared responded, glancing at the flame-engulfed building. He looked down at the ash-covered scientist and frowned. The scientist lowered his head and Jared’s face remained a solid granite of stone. “Get in the car. We’ll talk about this at home.” The scientist quickly scurried to one of the vehicles with his tail between his legs.

“You see what happens when I don’t get the requested resources I need to solve this? Here’s your message to the President,” Gordon said, pointing at the flames consuming the silo behind him. “I need more men to stop things like this from happening. I need more of the Army’s soldiers enrolled in the sentry program. And I need them now.”

Jared adjusted his cufflinks. “I’ll be sure to pass along the message.” Jared turned to leave and when one of the soldiers opened the door, Alex could see the scientist curled up in a ball in the far back seat.

“And remind that son of yours who he works for!” Gordon snapped.

Jared paused before entering the car, but didn’t turn around. Once the caravan of vehicles had disappeared, Gordon turned around to the tattered and fire-scorched sentries around him. “Where did you send the other scientists?”

“Junction City,” Alex answered.

Gordon leaned in close to Alex and wrenched his collar. Despite Alex’s senses still being filled with smoke, he could smell the overbearing cologne on Gordon that only worsened the sickening pit in his stomach. “I want them vetted. Do you understand? I don’t care how hard you have to beat them. You find out what they know about this attack.”

Alex placed his hand over Gordon’s wrist and squeezed. The thin pieces of bone gave a slight bend under the amount of pressure Alex applied, and it didn’t take long for Gordon to relinquish his grip. Alex shoved Gordon’s chest and then ripped the Class 2 sentry badge from his uniform. He tossed it to Gordon, who caught it. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

Gordon laughed. “You think I won’t find someone else to take your place? There are millions of starving men out there that would kill to be in the position you’re in! I have the power to feed them. I have the power to ease their suffering.”

Alex shook his head. “You won’t always have that power.”

A few sentries tried helping him walk, but he pushed them away. Alex shed what was left of the torn and burnt cloth that was his uniform and let one of the medics still on site attend to his shoulder and give him some oxygen. He would go back to Kansas. He knew the Coalition was establishing one of their “communities” close to his hometown, and if this was a sign of the things to come, then his neighbors would need all the help they could get. That was his mission now. And he didn’t need a sentry uniform to accomplish that.

The smooth surface of the bucket of water reflected the grey sky morning from the window above it. A small ripple distorted the peaceful images as Alex rested his foot on the floor off the edge of his bed. He rubbed the dark circles under his eyes and reached for the bucket of water by the window. His hands caused the still water to ripple violently and he splashed his face. Water dripped from the thick beard on his face and landed in sporadic patterns on the floor and the tops of his feet. He pushed the bucket aside with his foot and dried his hands on the front of his dirty, community-issued t-shirt.

Alex kept his face buried in the soiled shirt, hesitant to start his day. The unfamiliar bedsprings cried in strained squeaks from the restless, foreign body that had tossed and turned on it the entire night. Finally, Alex pulled his face from his shirt and dressed. He pulled the hunting permit out of his left boot before slipping it on, slung his leather sack over his shoulder, and took his first step out of the bedroom.

The transfer to the new community happened yesterday, and he’d yet to meet his new roommates, who were already asleep by the time he arrived the night before, as he hoped they’d be. Alex just wanted to make this as quick and painless as possible. Once it was done, then he could get back to Kansas. Get back to his friends, his family, one of which he’d already lost to his foolishness. And now the fate of two communities rested in his callused, tired hands. One of which he would leave as a traitor, the other he would return to as a hero.

When Alex entered the living room, one of his housemates was sitting on the only piece of furniture the common area offered, a square card table with a warped leg that caused it to slope. The old man had his leg crossed and was dressed in the same uniform cloth shirt that all community members wore. Judging by the condition of the stitching around the sleeves, Alex figured he’d had that shirt since his first day. He had an old newspaper folded on the table with a pencil in his hand. Some of the smaller print had faded, but the headlines and pictures still looked intact. Alex hadn’t seen an actual newspaper in over three years. The only thing that was printed now was that damned Soil Coalition propaganda. It was filled with bullshit nutritional facts and overly exaggerated progress of their work on solving the soil crisis. Alex had stopped reading them and started using them as toilet paper the day he quit the sentry program.

The balding head and worn face gave the impression that the man was old, but these days everyone looked ten years older than they actually were. What hair the man had left on his head still retained its color, and his thin frame held the remnants of a once-sturdy physique. The man finally looked up from the paper to acknowledge Alex with a pair of vibrant blue eyes. “Morning.”

Alex’s throat cracked slightly from a combination of no sleep and a dry throat. “Morning.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, a shoulder smacked into Alex’s back and jolted him forward out of the hallway entrance.

“Gonna stand there all day?”

In contrast to the blue eyes he’d just seen, the ones now staring at him were a dark green, almost black. The young, wiry man they belonged to kept his eyes on Alex until he was out the door. Another man around the same age followed him, giving Alex the same cold stare until he too left the house.

“Don’t mind them,” blue eyes said. “The old hunter was a close friend of theirs. The fact that you’re staying in his room now is a bit of a sore spot.”

“Right,” Alex replied.

The man jotted down something on the paper with his pencil, and Alex slipped out the front door to avoid any further interaction. Alex buttoned his jacket, shielding himself from the cool morning air. The house had remained surprisingly warm despite no heat, and he hoped it would stay that way for the rest of his stay.

Lines of men and women in their dirty and torn khaki uniforms exited their homes and headed down to the community’s Main Street to begin their day’s labor. The women were housed on the left side of the buildings, with the men on the right. The Coalition didn’t believe in mixing sexes. It had the potential to create too much of a distraction.

Main Street was the same in this community as it was in Alex’s previous one. The mass produced structures were designed in the cheapest, most efficient way possible to allow community members to have the basic necessities to survive and continue the work needed to keep the Coalition functional. The meal station rationed out one meal in the middle of the day, and the water buckets each citizen was assigned and able to fill at the water pump gave a person enough water to last a few days when filled to the brim, so long as they didn’t try and use any to wash themselves.

The majority of the community members marched into the factory building where their assigned jobs waited for them. Each community had its own commodity to contribute to the whole of the Coalition. Alex’s previous community made the candles used in the buildings of communities where there was no power, while this community sewed clothing. But while citizens worked in slave-like conditions, living with no running water or power, the sentry’s housing unit had a generator that hummed twenty-four hours a day to provide heat and cooling to ensure the community’s guards were comfortable and well-fed.

While the rest of the community filed into line at the factory, Alex made his way to the front gate. On his way, a woman he’d met the day before upon his arrival saw him and rushed over.

“Hey, you’re our new hunter, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Emma.” She extended her hand, and Alex let it linger in the air between them before shaking it.
“I’m the one that gave you directions the other day when you came in. How was your first night?”

“I remember. It was fine.”

The line of workers had almost completely disappeared into the factory, and Alex could see one of the sentries stationed in front start to eye the two of them.

“Where are you from?” Emma asked.

“Kansas,” Alex answered.

“Well, hopefully you’ll find this place as nice as your old community.”

“They’re all the same.”

“Hey!” the sentry by the factory said. “Let’s get to work!”

Emma turned back to Alex and smiled. “Well, I’ve got to go. And just so you know, I happen to like duck if you find any out there.”

Once Emma had disappeared into the factory, Alex continued his march to the front gate. There the sentries patted him down, took inventory of what he had in his pack, presented him with a meal’s worth of rations for being out in the field, and handed him an old, worn hunting rifle that had a crack in the stock. Alex checked the magazine and saw that it was empty.

“Where’s the rest of the ammo?” Alex asked.

“Both of us know that you won’t need that.”

The sentry recorded Alex’s departure time on his hunting permit then shoved it into his chest. Alex slid the paper into his back pocket and headed out into the dead fields of Wyoming.