Love Bug (19 page)

“Remmy lives,” Jessica
paused, “for now.”

Remmy felt hands, filthy and calloused, close around his neck and arms. The Reds began dragging Remmy out of the arena, no do
ubt to put him back in that dingy rundown shack that had become his prison. The urge to fight swelled in Remmy’s chest, but he fought it down and that was what the Reds wanted, what Jessica wanted.

As Remmy was pushed out of the
arena, he wondered what lay ahead for him. Was this where his life would end or was he destined to keep fighting until he eventually gave in and became a Red or died? Both options seemed horrible. All Remmy wanted was to return to the peace of his fields, his waterfall…his Cora. Remmy’s heart ached for Cora. Was their first kiss really destined to be their last? That seemed so unfair, so cruel. Why had fate bothered letting Remmy know what it was like to care about Cora and to have her care about him if he was never really going to be able to keep her?

A deep sigh escaped from Remmy’s lips. He tilted his head up towards the darkening sky to watch the misty plume of his breath rise up into the air. At least some part of him was free to escape.

The sky seemed endless, so dark and expansive like an entire sea made of ink. Sadness pressed down upon Remmy. He imagined the endless darkness of the sky seeping into him, smudging his soul.

Looking up to release another breath, Remmy’s eyes settled on a brilliant red star. How had he never noticed it before? Especially when it shone brighter than any other star or planet. The star appeared to expand, filling more of the sky and growing larger and larger.

The ground trembled ever so slightly under Remmy’s feet as he was pushed back into the shed.

“What’s going on?” Remmy demanded. None of the Reds answered, they were too busy staring at the sky, which was oddly enough becoming lighter instead of darker.

A blinding ruby red flash cut through the night sky. A pillar of light, no wider than a dinner plate, appeared in the center of the arena. The luminous column rapidly expanded, filling more and more of the arena. A few Reds slowly crept towards the light, unsure of what they were seeing. Most began to run.

Remmy stared for what could have only been seconds, but felt like hours, before he was thrown backwards into the shack by the blast that incinerated the arena.
The buses forming the ring of the arena wilted under the intense heat of the flash, crumbling into twisted remains that no longer resembled what they once were. Outlines of Reds spiraled through the air. The bodies careened through the empty space surrounding the arena before crashing to the ground like meteors of charred meat and bone. 

Outside the
shack, Remmy heard the pounding of terrified footsteps and shouts. Large red spots swam through his vision, making it almost impossible to see. All the sounds were muffled, as if Remmy’s head was packed in cotton, but somewhere in the insanity that swirled around him, Remmy was sure that he could hear someone calling his name.

-45-

The failed rescue had been embarrassing
to say the least. An entire broadcast based upon fear and hatred for an enemy that wasn’t there culminating with a dozen cows staring stupidly into the camera. Citizens expected death and victory. What had been delivered to them was a field full of cows.

Eldritch would have been furious if his Em-Pak allowed it, but he nonetheless found himself dissatisfied with the situation. Sure, Ortiz had swept two Emo camps before returning to the city and those successful campaigns were broadcast, but Eldritch could feel the questions of doubt quietly eroding the foundation of his power.
It was simple logic. When a leader appears weak, contenders for the throne will emerge.

Eldritch’s fingers tentatively touched the keyboard. He could easily ensure that no one ever questioned him again, could ensure that no citizen ever did anything that he would find unacceptable, but there were certain drawbacks to increasing everyone’s Em-Pak signal, drawbacks that made Eldritch hesitate and decide not to.

An entire population of citizens like Ortiz and his men would be easy to control, but Eldritch imagined all of them standing in the middle of the roads or blankly staring at the walls of cubicles. They would be no better than the cows. The signal increase would create a loyal population, but one that would need to be babysat and directed at almost every turn. But even this was not why Eldritch paused.

What really kept him from punching the keys required to subjugate all citizens was the challenge, the thrill of victory. With no
emotions, all that remained to give Eldritch any sense of accomplishment was intelligence and victory. He would outsmart the citizens and maintain his control without the use of increased Em-Pak signals, because that would make his success that much sweeter.

Still,
thoughts of all those doughy-eyed cows haunted Eldritch. Was there some remnant of concern for his family, some long since forgotten shard of love that festered and nagged at the back of his mind?

No
, Eldritch thought, that wasn’t why he perseverated upon the failed rescue mission. His family was a political prop and could continue to be so, alive or dead. What plagued him like a cut on the roof of his mouth that he couldn’t stop opening and reopening with his tongue, was the fact that someone had outsmarted him. Who would have the know-how and intelligence required to reroute an ERC emergency signal? That required an understanding of the technology and access to it that was well beyond anything they had ever seen from an Emo and certainly not a Red. Then who? Who understood the working of ERC satellites and radio transmissions?

Eldritch shuddered as if the temperature had suddenly dropped in his office.
Was it possible? But how? There was no way!
All these thoughts ricocheted through Eldritch’s mind as another shudder passed through his body. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a ghost stood behind him, its cold hands slowly wrapping around his neck.

“How could he?” Eldritch wondered. “He’s dead. There’s no way.” But Eldritch was a logical man and when all other options were
eliminated, what remained, no matter how unlikely, was the answer.

Eldritch’s fingers began to fly across his keyboard. They had been able to trace the ERC SOS signal back to the satellite that transmitted it, albeit falsely
, into that field of cows. From there, the signal was lost in a mishmash of encryption and rerouting through countless other sources. But one thing still remained that presented Eldritch with a splinter of hope. The transmission had been sent from a source on the ground and that source could possibly be triangulated. A ground-based signal would most likely be small, lacking any major broadcasting power, so it would need to employ the nearest tower and satellite to send its signal successfully.

Pu
nching a few more keys, Eldritch cued a screen showing the paths of multiple ERC satellites. He wound the timeframe back to the day the emergency signal began transmitting. The area that the signal had come from only had two available satellites nearby. A few more keystrokes brought up the activity logs for both satellites. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

“Damn it,” ‘Eldritch growled. “Where are you?” His eyes narrowed as he studied the numbers and activities. Nothing but ERC approved transmissions. Could the signal be hidden in one of these? That was likely, but that also meant that Eldritch could spend a lifetime sorting through the
hundreds of thousands of transmissions that were sent in a single day and still be no closer to finding the source. There was only one person Eldritch would credit with being this devious, this intelligent – his father.

A loud
ping
from the computer caused Eldritch to look up from where he had buried his head in his hands. The satellite activity log showed something strange. A third satellite had deviated from its orbit and was entering the space of the two satellites Eldritch was currently studying. However, this one was very different from the other two. Those two were little more than communications satellites, capable of tracking and sending communications, useful for spying and taking intel pictures. That was not the use of the third satellite, a satellite that had been kept private, even from some of the most high-ranking politicians. But Eldritch knew this satellite well, remembered his father showing him the plans for it and excitedly describing how it would bring an end to all wars. The movement of this satellite left no doubt in Eldritch’s mind. His father was alive.

The ERC military satellite moved into position over a large clearing and began powering up. The gas particles contained within the glass cylinders would be agitated, forced to bounce
off one another faster and faster, releasing energy with each collision. This energy would soon reach critical mass resulting in the release of a massive beam of light and a searing explosion. Eldritch could have tried to override the satellite. There was undoubtedly a failsafe programmed into it, but curiosity prevented him. Why was this person, who most likely was his long dead father, powering up one of the most deadly weapons in the ERC’s arsenal and discharging it into the middle of nowhere?

As if in answer to Eldritch’s
question, his phone beeped loudly and began to vibrate. The emergency signal was once again transmitting and this time the coordinates were almost identical to those of the military satellite. Eldritch opened his phone, silenced the SOS transmission and called Ortiz.

“Captain!” Eldritch snapped. “Get your men to this location immediately. I am sending you the coordinates now.”

“Yes, sir,” Ortiz answered. “Coordinates were received. One thing though, Mr. Eldritch, sir?”

“What? What is it?” Eldritch demanded. “Time is off the essence
, Ortiz!”

“Of course,” Ortiz responded, “but Mr. Eldritch, these coordinates are almost in the exact location of reports we just received regarding a massive explosion. Could they be connected?”

“Damn it, Ortiz!” Eldritch shouted. “Congratulations! You are a freaking genius! Of course, they must be connected. Now get in your little car and go figure out what the hell is happening!”

“Yes
, sir,” Ortiz said. “Immediately, sir.”

“One more thing
, Ortiz,” Eldritch said slowly, “and this is strictly between the two of us.”

“Yes sir,” Ortiz agreed.

Eldritch took a deep breath and exhaled. The beeping of his Em-Pak could be heard in the background. “If by chance you see any of my family members, I want them brought back alive.”

“Of course
, Mr. Eldritch,” Ortiz answered, as if there was really no reason for clarification. Why wouldn’t Assemblyman Eldritch want his family brought back alive? Wasn’t that why Ortiz was still chipping cow crap off his boots?

“Ortiz!” Eldritch shouted. “I mean
any - ANY
of my family members! Even dead ones!”

“Dead ones?” Ortiz asked, his own Em-Pak beeping now. Was Assemblyman Eldritch beginning to crack under the weight of his new position? He wouldn’t have been the first politician to lose it because of
the pressure. “Sir, how can I bring back the dead ones alive? I’m sorry, Mr. Eldritch, but I’m not understanding these orders.”

“Listen to me
very
carefully, Ortiz,” Eldritch seethed. “I have reason to believe that my father may be involved in this current situation. To what degree and in what manner I know not, but if he is there, I want him brought in alive and away from the cameras. Everything and everyone else is fair game, Captain. We need this to look good, Ortiz, not like last time. Because God help me, Ortiz, if I so much as see a cow this time, they’re not going to be the only ones that need to worry about being ground up.”

“Understood, sir,” Ortiz answered, as he looked down at hi
s boots, still caked and filthy and then added, “Perfectly, Mr. Eldritch, sir.”

-46-

A red spot formed miles above the circle of buses, barely noticeable among the smattering of stars in the night sky. Cora was terrified to see that Samuel and Xander had been right - the Reds were forcing Remmy to fight in some sort of sick arena. But she remained with Samuel on a wooded rise and waited.

It was hard for Cora to keep quite as a large Red chased after Remmy swinging an axe and gnashing his wicked looking teeth. Remmy was doing a good job avoiding the attacks, but had yet to fight back. He was going to need to do something to buy some time. He needed to last until Samuel’s red dot did whatever it was supposed to do.

“Not much of a fighter,” Xander shrugged as he watched the arena through a pair of binoculars. “Lover boy is going to need to find some nerve if he’s going to last much longer.”

“Shut up
, Xander!” Cora spat through her teeth.

The lar
ge Red swung his axe, getting it stuck in the rusted roof of an old junker. The Red dropped the axe and lunged forward, but this time Remmy dropped low, smashing his axe into the Red’s knee. Cora smiled as the Red’s scream filled the arena. Remmy turned to yell something at the other Reds. Cora couldn’t hear, but she could see the other Reds getting anxious.

“Uh oh,” Xander mumbled as he watched the Red launch himself towards Remmy on his one good leg. “It’s not over yet. Lover boy should have finished the job when that Red was out of commission.”

“What?” Cora cried. She watched as Remmy swung the axe once more, this time aiming for the Red’s face. The spray of blood and teeth was visible even from where Cora sat. Remmy’s face was red and twisted with rage and Cora momentarily worried that she had lost him – that everything had been for nothing. Remmy’s face relaxed, returning to its regular color. He was back, had never been gone. There was still time.

“Samuel,” Cora pleaded
, “how much longer do we have to wait? Remmy won’t last much longer.” Her grandfather lay on his back staring up at the night sky, as if watching the stars were his only care in the world.

“Right there,” Samuel pointed at the red spot. “
As soon as Remmy is clear, I’ll do my part. Watch that until it gets a bit bigger, but then avert your eyes. You’re going to need to be able to see to save Remmy.”

“Oh boy
, Cora,” Xander called still watching the arena, “you’re going to want to see this.”

Cora rolled away from Samuel and pressed the binoculars to her eyes. The Reds were dropping over the sides of the
buses and heading towards Remmy. Countless pairs of hands closed around Remmy and pulled him out of the arena.

“But he won!” Cora protested.

“I don’t think they care,” Xander answered.

“Cora. Xander,” Samuel called. “You might want to cover your eyes.” They turned to see Samuel prone on the ground, his eyes shielded behind his folded arms.

The sky lightened, as if the sun were rising early. Cora covered her eyes and hoped that Remmy could survive whatever was about to happen.

A concussive
BOOM
split the night. Wave after wave of intense heat rolled through the clearing surrounding the Red camp. Cora felt her back getting hot, imagining that her clothes and hair might catch fire. How could Remmy survive this?

“Let’s go!” Samuel shouted. “Remember how to use your wrist guns?”

“Aim and flick?” Xander mocked as he looked at the device. He would never admit that they slightly impressed him.

“Come on,” Cora called. She was already over the rise and heading towards the Red camp.

“It looks like they took Remmy to that building,” Samuel shouted as he checked his wrist screen and pointed at a run-down shack.

Cora immediately corrected her path and headed towards the building. A Red rushed towards her from the left side. The Red’s
eyes were wild and shot with blood. Half of her hair had had been singed off by Samuel’s attack and still smoldered on the side of her head. The blade raised over her head, though slightly blackened by the fire, still posed a very real threat. Cora froze, the insanity of the Red rooting her feet to the ground.

Xander didn’t hesitate. A loud
poof
burst beside Cora’s head. Seconds later, countless tiny red wounds blossomed on the Red’s face. Both the blade and Red fell to the ground.

“Um…thank you,” Cora said, the words almost sounding like a question.

Xander laughed dryly as he reloaded his wrist gun. “Save your sisterly gushing,” Xander grinned sarcastically. “I just saw a chance to kill a Red and wanted to do it before you could. That’s one for me, zero for you.”

Cora wanted to believe that some part of Xander had wanted to protect her, wanted to keep her safe because she was his sister. Emotions swirled in Cora’s heart, a mix of both ends of the spectrum, creating a feeling of unease that she did her best to push down.
The polarized feelings she felt towards her brother could be dealt with after Remmy was safe. The ramshackle little shed was right up ahead. Remmy was so close to safety, so close to Cora.

“Three to zero!” Xander shouted as he took down another Red. He had found an axe somewhere and was now using it more than his wrist gun. He appeared to enjoy a more hands on approach.  “Four!” Xander grunted bringing the axe down with a sickening
thud, squish.

Three Reds rushed Cora from the sides of the shed.

“I’ve got the two on the left!” Samuel shouted and rushed forward. Cora saw her grandfather fire a shot that dropped one Red, but the second still came forward, tackling Samuel.

“Samuel!” Cora yelled. The third Red was within arm’s reach of her. Cora leapt backwards and tilted her hand upward, releasing the compressed air and tightly packed steel buckshot. The Red’s head was almost
sheared in half from being shot at such close range. Cora was splattered with a slick of the Red’s blood and bits of gore. She wanted to puke, but Samuel, her grandfather, needed her.

“Five to one!” Xander yelled as he rushed past Cora towards Samuel. “You’re not stealing this one!”

“Damn it, Xander, no one is keeping track! Help Samuel!” Cora shouted and raced after her brother. He had been distracted by an easier target and left Samuel to the mercy of the Red. All questions regarding Xander’s motivation were answered. With no emotions to color his actions, this was little more than a game to Xander.

“Six to one! You’d better step it up
, Cora!” Xander taunted as he wrenched his axe free from the shoulder of a now dead Red.

Samuel wrestled with the Red, showing the strength
of a man twenty years younger, but the Red was still stronger.

“Go
, Cora!” Samuel said as he fought the Red. “Get Remmy while there’s still confusion!”

Cora hesitated.

“GO!” Samuel demanded. The Red’s teeth snapped closed just inches from his face.

“Seven!” Xander bellowed and pressed the barrel of his wrist gun against the side of the Red’s head. The Red’s eyes showed a moment of confusion, a touch of fear
having felt the cold metal of the gun.

The Red’s head disappeared in a large cloud of
red. Ragged, wet bits rained down around Xander and Samuel. Cora pushed the disturbing image out of her mind and ran towards Remmy. She could see him through the open door of the shed. He was on the ground, but moving. Cora hoped that he was only stunned.

“Remmy!” Cora shouted. “Remmy get up. Get up!”
Cora could hear feet pounding the ground behind her, but something hummed beneath the noise. Was Samuel firing up the satellite again? Couldn’t be. Cora remembered her grandfather saying that they would only get one shot, but what was the noise? It sounded like an entire army of enraged bees. A
thrum-thrum-thrum
muted all the sounds around Cora, filled her ears and made her bones feel like they were vibrating.

“Samuel?” Cora called over her shoulder. Her grandfather, covered with gore, shook his head.

“It’s not me, Cora,” Samuel shouted over the sound, “but I really, really think we need to get moving now.”

Three black ERC helicopters emerged from behind the trees. A small army of heavy military vehicles kept pace below the helicopters. Cora’s eyes widened as she the heavy multi-barreled machine guns begin to spin.

“Remmy! Remmy!” Cora screamed. She dashed into the shack and yanked him from the ground. “Remmy, we need to go now!”

“Cora?” Remmy asked weakly as he rubbed his eyes and struggled to stand. “Cora, what are you doing here?”

Cora opened her mouth to answer, but her words were lost beneath the high-pitched whine of the helicopter’s machine guns. Clouds of dirt leapt up from the ground around them as Cora and Remmy ran from the shack. A moment’s hesitation and they would have been chewed to bits and lost in the splintered remains of the building.