Love Bug (16 page)

-38-

The lead Red child, a little boy, leapt from the dusty
, trampled ground. Remmy instinctively swung his arm up to stop the boy from burying his razor-like teeth in his neck, but screamed in agony as the flesh of his arm shredded between the Red’s powerful jaws and sharp teeth.  Remmy’s screams were lost beneath the joyful cheers and taunts of the surrounding Reds.

The Red snarled and clamped its tiny jaws down harder onto Remmy’s arm. Blood pooled around the edges of his lips before trailing off the sides. The boy snarled, causing the blood to bu
rble and froth around his mouth.

“Get off! Get off!” Remmy screamed as he felt the Red’s slender neck twist from one side to the other in an attempt to flay flesh from the bone. Pain made Remmy’s head swim, but he refused to give in, controlled his breathing and demanded that his mind focus. There were still two more Reds
to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, Remmy prepared himself to do what he needed to. He didn’t want to hurt these children, even if they were Reds and trying to kill him, but he would need to do something. Remmy jammed the
tapered end of the club into an open corner of the young Red’s mouth. The tiny teeth bore into the tough wood. Remmy twisted the club sideways creating space and loosening the Red’s grip. Feeling the vicious bite lessen a tiny bit, Remmy spun his arm, allowing the Red’s body weight to pull him away. The child’s bite finally broke and his small frame was sent pin wheeling across the arena where it collided with the side of one of the rusted buses. A loud
thunk
echoed off the side of the bus as the Red’s small head smashed into the side. The boy fell to the ground and didn’t get up. The crowd erupted with cheers. Remmy was happy the Red was off his arm, no longer tearing into his flesh, but still found himself hoping that the child had only been knocked unconscious, not killed.

The remaining Red children came at Remmy as a pair. He prepared to face them, but at the last
minute, they split from one another, coming around from Remmy’s sides. The two children launched themselves, jaws wide, for the back of Remmy’s legs – they were going tear out the back of his knees and cripple him.

There was only time to deal with one of the Reds. Remmy chose the larger of the two, a girl, maybe
eight years old at the most. Dropping his shoulder and swinging the club in a powerful upward arc, Remmy connected with the girl’s chin. He felt the vibrations of his attack reverberate through the length of the club. His stomach churned, revolted by what he had just done.

The girl tumbled to the ground. A loud, bloody hack gurgled from the back of her throat as she spat shards of broken teeth onto the ground. She tried to right herself, but listed to the side
and fell over. Remmy’s attack had shaken her, but she would be back in the fight soon enough.

The last Red, a filthy wiry boy, who was so grimy Remmy couldn’t even begin to predict his age, crashed into the side of Remmy’s leg with
the force of a small truck. Remmy’s leg buckled underneath his weight and he fell to the ground. The Red clambered up Remmy’s body, stopping at his stomach.

A wicked smirk spread across the boy’s face as he reared his head back, exposing teeth that belonged in the mouth of a
sea dwelling nightmare, not a child. The soft flesh of Remmy’s stomach beckoned to the Red, calling for him to split it wide and peel it from Remmy’s ribs.

Remmy rolled sideways. The Red lost his grip and tumbled with Remmy’s rolling body. Remmy suddenly found himself pinning the boy to the ground with no idea of what to do next.

“Kill him!” someone shrieked from the edge of the arena. Remmy figured they were calling for his death, but as he looked up, he saw that it was Jessica. Jessica was screaming for Remmy to kill the boy. “Do it Remmy! Do it!” Hatch sat beside Jessica, a bemused smile on her face, but no real reaction to the events unfolding before her.

The young Red thrashed wildly
under Remmy’s grip. The blood from Remmy’s bite wound spattered across the boy’s dirty face, adding to the streaks of red paint that peeked out from underneath grime. The Red’s teeth clacked together with bone rattling force. Remmy had to fight the urge to jump back each time the boy’s teeth connected with the other rows.

The Reds on the edges of the arena began to grow bored. Screams and jeers were launched from the sides. Some threatened to join in, to finish what the children couldn’t. Remmy glanced to the sides, were they really going to enter the arena? Was that allowed? Allowed? Remmy almost laughed. There were no rules. The Reds could do whatever they wanted.

Dropping his bloodied forearm onto the young Red’s slender neck, Remmy pushed down, pressing against his windpipe and cutting off his air. The child might be a monster, but he still needed to breathe and Remmy was going to take that from him.

The Red thrashed with a renewed vigor as he felt his air supply being cut off. His eyes bulged and thin tendrils of blood began to curl towards his dilated pupils from the corners of his eyes. The child stopped moving.

Remmy jumped to his feet, remembering that the girl was still a threat, but she had collapsed to the ground, evidently crumbling under the violence of Remmy’s attack. Remmy had won. He felt relieved to be alive. He felt completely disgusted with himself. But he didn’t feel angry.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Remmy shouted as he eyed the other Reds. He had won, but he hadn’t changed. Remmy could only think of one way he was getting out of the arena – on dinner plates.
“Are we done? Let’s get this over with!”

“Done?” a gruff
voice barked, the words sounding as if they were dragged across sandpaper and shards of glass. “Oh, no food,” Tam grinned, “we aren’t done at all.” He pulled a wicked looking axe from behind his back and spun it at his side.

“Tam!” a wild voice commanded. Notes
of something wild, yet feminine painted the words with strange tones. Remmy could hear that the voice had once been beautiful, something made for songs, the kind of voice that could lull children to sleep simply through words, foregoing the trickery of nursery rhymes. Now it spoke of nothing but violence and pain.

Tam froze in his tracks, the axe held at half ready. Hatch had risen from her seat causing the other Reds to become silent.  “What are you doing
, Tam? The boy won. You know the rules!”

“He hasn’t changed,” Tam protested, “hasn’t become one of us. He’s food.”

“He won, Tam!” Hatch growled. Remmy was surprised to see Tam actually step back a few steps, startled by the ferocity in Hatch’s voice.

“I have the right to redeem myself,” Tam yelled, though with slightly less force than before. He pointed to his crooked, bruised nose. “I have a right to challenge him.”

Hatch paused for a moment mulling over what Tam had said. What Remmy didn’t realize is that there were rules and Hatch, being the chief, was responsible for interrupting them as she saw fit.

Jessica leapt up and tapped Hatch on the shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. She whispered something into Hatch’s ear that spread a wide toothy grin across both of their faces. Remmy found no comfort in Jessica’s intercession.

“Fine,” Hatch snapped. “You do have the right to redeem
yourself. That is the rule.” Tam smiled as he eyed down Remmy. “But you also know that if this boy beats you that he takes your place. That is also the rule.”

“Take my place?” Tam laughed. “He’s not one of us!” Remmy could hear a handful of other Reds rumbling on the edges of the arena.

“Shut your mouth, Tam! Those are the rules! You knew that when you challenged him,” Hatch barked. The Reds fell silent. “If this boy plans on living much longer, he had better be one of us by the end of the fight.”

-39
-

“Evolution of all things is an inevitability,
a rule of nature, even with regards to our way of life. The ERC Council kept you safe, kept you sheltered from the storm that raged outside of our cities’ walls. Their approach worked for some time, but became stagnant and it is that lack of action that led to their unfortunate downfall.

But fear not citizens, their fate does not determine ours! No! Our future is bright my fellow citizens, as long as we are willing to take the action required to ensure that it is! For it is action that is demanded in these troubling moments! We must take up arms against those that threaten our cities,
threaten our way of life.

It is time we did more than just defend ourselves from the vicious Reds and traitorous Emos! It is time we took the fight to them!
But our brave ERC soldiers alone cannot fight the battle that looms on the horizon. No, my fellow citizens, we must all join in the fight and shed blood, both theirs and ours, to ensure that our future is bright. That is the cost. That is the price to be paid.

I am immediately instituting a draft to bolster our ranks and ensure our success. I know that these words, these actions must be as disconcerting for you as they are for me, but I promise you one thing my fellow citizens
, and that is success, but only through these means will it be achieved. Were there another method I would gladly employ it, but I have weighed the options and this is all that remains. To deviate from this path will lead us to only one end, death. The decision was mine my fellow citizens, but the choice is yours. Life or death.”

Eldritch listened to his words replayed throughout the city on the same speakers that had once broadcast the ERC Council’s message of compliance. He knew that his words were essentially the same thing, really nothing more than some overly dramatic words to get the cattle to move in the right direction. Eldritch was satisfied with his words, even if they were a little over the top. With Em-P
aks, there really was no need for overly emotional statements and speeches, but in the end, Eldritch was still a politician and some habits simply refused to be lost beneath the influence of an Em-Pak.

The citizens had responded well, offering up their youth, but few came from the more privileged families. Eldritch would gladly take the lower class, use them as cannon fodder, but ensuring his complete control meant holding the lives of those rich, u
ndeserving little snots in the palm of his hand. The rich did what they always did and tried to resist, tried to find some means of excluding their children from the draft. Surely there was an extra tax that could be paid or possibly a stand in could be provided, fairly compensated of course.

Eldritch demanded that they enter the draft, even if it was little more than a puppet show. He knew full well what numbers would be drawn, had programmed the computers to select children from the most politically
connected families. When he met with resistance, Eldritch simply turned off one or two family members’ Em-Paks, unleashing a Red or two within the immaculate halls of mansions and high-rise apartments. No one was safe. No one could hide. Eldritch made sure that point was clear.

Eventually
, all of the citizens, even the rich and powerful, fell in line. The ranks of the ERC army swelled with the bodies of children who had lived on little more than their last names and trust funds. Eldritch had complete control.

“Mr. Eldritch, sir?” Captain Ortiz asked as he
walked into the immense office that had previously been the ERC Council’s chambers.  Eldritch stood in front of the massive window looking out over the Stele, his city. All of the cities were his city.

“Remember when we first took control of this office
, Captain Ortiz?” Eldritch asked, still looking out the window. The sunset in the distance, splashing brilliant hues across the sky that neither man had the ability or inclination to appreciate.

“Yes sir,” Ortiz nodded
, “I do, sir.”

“Rem
ember how you worried about my desk being in front of this window?” Eldritch continued.

“I do
, sir,” Ortiz answered. “I was concerned about an attempt being made on your life. It was not a good idea to have you positioned in such an open area on a daily basis. With all due respect, Mr. Eldritch, sir, I still don’t think it is a wise decision, even with the bullet proof glass installed.”

Eldritch waved his hand dismissively. “Ortiz, there is not a citizen in any city that would stand against me now. To control the youth is to control the future. No citizen is stupid enough to challenge me when their child’s life rests squarely in the palm of my hand.”

“Sir?” Ortiz questioned. “Is it wise to rely upon out of date constructs like family, loyalty and love? These motivations have all become extinct with the implantation of Em-Paks.”

“Love?” Eldritch snorted. “I’m not putting any stock in anyone’s love for their children.
Who the hell
loves
their children? God lord, does anyone even use that term anymore? Honestly, Ortiz, I’m shocked you’d even think I’d make such a mistake.”

“My apologies
, sir,” Ortiz responded. “Perhaps I require some clarification. Of course, only as long as it is acceptable for me to ask for it, sir.”

“Yes, of course,” Eldritch said slowly. He had Ortiz and his men under his control, but he still knew better than to trust them completely. “My point was
, Captain, that every citizen, especially those rich and powerful ones, are concerned with ensuring their legacy, which could be viewed as their wealth, possessions or work, but ultimately everyone’s ability to live forever is realized through their children. By taking control of these citizens’ children I have essentially taken away their future and legacy.”

“Understood sir,” Ortiz nodded. “Their loyalty will determine whether or not they have any hope of regaining
control over their legacies.”

“Exactly,” Eldritch grinned. “As I said in my speech, the choice is theirs to make. Life or death, it’s really that simple
, Ortiz.”

“Yes, sir,” Ortiz agreed. “Quite clear.”

“Glad you agree, Ortiz,” Eldritch joked sarcastically, even though his sense of humor was suppressed by his Em-Pak. “Your astute observations and unbiased opinions have always been your most admirable qualities.”

“Thank you sir,” Ortiz said flatly.

“Are the troops ready?” Eldritch asked, growing bored and changing the subject.

“
Almost all of those who were called into service by the draft have reported to local ERC stations,” Ortiz reported. “There are still a few that are being somewhat reluctant, sir. I have compiled a list of those names for you, Mr. Eldritch, so that they can be compelled to comply. I will have all of the new recruits prepared for service within the next few days. The new Em-Pak programs have streamlined training and eliminated the need for an extended boot camp.”

“Excellent,” Eldritch nodded. “I want them ready to go in two days
, Captain. That is all.” Eldritch held out his hand for the list of families that had resisted enlisting their children.

“Understood sir,” Ortiz answered
. He handed Eldritch the list and turned to attend to his orders.

Eldritch collapsed into his studded leather desk chair. He punched the Em-Pak ID numbers into his computer, sentencing the corresponding people to d
eath without so much as a long look at the screen.

“I made it clear to them,” Eldritch mumbled. If these citizens were still too strong willed then they faced the same fate as the ERC Council. People needed to grow, to find a new place within his vision of society. Those that clung to the old ways were useless. Eldritch wondered how many more examples he would have to make before the citizens realized their place – probably not too many more.

“Time will tell,” Eldritch shrugged, answering his own question. He powered down his computer and got up from his desk. He had done enough for today. He was exhausted and it was time for some well-deserved rest.

Eldritch flicked off the lights and locked his office. In his tired
state, he failed to realize that he had left his phone on the desk, a phone that now lit up and vibrated as it received an SOS signal relayed to his phone from an ERC emergency radio transmitter – a radio transmitter that was supposed to have been lost in the wreckage of his family’s limo accident.