Monsters of the Apocalypse (5 page)

The room had grown very
quiet. October unconsciously attempted to tuck the front of his shirt
into his pants. The computer specialist tried to find enough moisture in
his mouth to allow him to swallow. Miho lowered her ever-present tablet
to her side and stared at the screen showing Nestor Bravo's feed with cold
eyes. Flores stood tall and perfectly straight, his expression unreadable
as always.

The nervous and beaten computer
specialist finally turned to look at October Carnegie.

“Is what
he’s saying true, sir?”

“No,
of course not! Are you sure he didn’t do anything to the cameras?
He said he entered a virus that would kill their feeds. How are we able
to see this?"

"Sir,
he seems to have tried, but… give me a second," the specialist began to
read a line of code on his laptop screen.

"Hurry
up."

"Yeah
okay, he did enter a virus but, it didn't block anything. It seems to
have just entered into the system, but to no effect."

"So it
was ineffective? A dud? Did it effect
any
of the
feeds?"

"I'm
checking, Mr. President. I have them all on right now. They all
seem fine. You see, there's me on the corner screen, that's your feed -
your feed shows me with no interference."

October
tried not to smile. He wanted to believe that Jacob was wrong, but he was
hesitant. He looked at Miho who had returned her gaze to her tablet with
feverish intensity.

"But,
he said that… That's it then, is it?" October allowed his smile to
come. "It's his ego. That is Jacob's downfall. He never
could understand how someone could be better, it always blinded him. In
his desperation he convinced himself that he…"

“Sir?” the
specialist interrupted with a croak.

“What is
it?”

"What
he said about The Shot… is it really… is it really going to kill
everyone?"

October
looked down at the little specialist, throat noticeably swollen, his one hand
holding his stomach where he'd been kicked, his other hand fingering the scar
from his shot. October frowned with pity, the man was weak, but that did
not entitle October to be cruel like he had been. October had been cruel
to this man. In two strides October reached the computer specialist, who
flinched in fear, as October again rustled his hair with smiling affection.

"My
friend, I am sorry. Understand, I'm sorry to have laid hands on you and
treated you with disrespect. That was wrong of me. Your work today
was exemplary. I apologize for my cruelty."

"But,
The Shot? Will it kill me?"

October
lowered himself, with some effort, to one knee, so that he would be face to
face with the smaller man, who hunched over as another throb of pain rocked
through his battered body.

"Yes,
it will. It will kill you," October frowned sympathetically. "I
am sorry. I hope you realize, or that you grow to realize, how many will
live because of you. Because of The Shot. I hope you grow to
realize that just because your sacrifice was forced, doesn't make it less
noble. I hope you and all of America, in their dying breath, understand
that they die so that mankind may live…"

"Shut
up, October!"

October
turned to glare at Miho, his rage already blistering up to the surface as he
rose to his full height, but he couldn't see her because the huge form of
Flores now stood between them. October tried unsuccessfully to move past
the giant Indian as he screamed, "What did you say to me, Miho?!"

“I said shut
up! It’s being broadcast!”

“What?”

“The speech
Jacob just gave, was broadcast to every phone, tablet, TV, computer... what you
just said, Mr. President, this conversation now, the whole country is
watching!”

October spun
back to the computer specialist, grabbing the man's hair, the hair just moments
before so sweetly tussled, and screamed, “Turn it off! Turn off the
cameras now!”

The computer
specialist just stared at the President, the confused expression still
plastered across his face. October looked over at the screens, he saw
Jacob's smiling face in one and in the screen next to it, a screen turned into
a mirror by the blackness of a dead soldiers dead feed, the reflection of his
own face - wild eyed and crazed. October with one hand pulled the
computer specialist up by his hair, only to knock the man back down to the
ground. He picked up the now empty chair and with one swift motion
brought it down on the computer specialist's head just as Miho managed to turn
off the feeds.

“It’s off,”
Arian said in a dazed monotone.

“It worked?”
Jacob turned with excitement, which quickly faded as he saw how Arian sat stunned
in front of his computer.

“Everyone
saw it, Jacob. Everyone saw everything."

"What's
wrong? Did October slip up? Did he say anything
incriminating?"

"You
might say that."

Arian turned
on the wall TV and pointed. The news was already showing a clip edited
from the recording of October's broadcasted feed: the image of October's crazed
reflection in the screen, the fear in the face of the computer
specialist. The clip ended abruptly as the chair split open the
specialist's head.

"Holy
shit! October just killed that guy?! That was not expected,"
Jacob shook his head in disbelief. "This changes things. I
think this… I wasn't prepared for this. Give me a moment."

"What
did you do, Jacob?" Nestor asked moving in from the doorway.

"What
will he do?" Jacob turned to Arian. "Do we have contact?"

Arian looked
at his computer and nodded.

"Standing
by, sir."

"Jacob!"
Nestor grabbed Jacob by the shoulders and shook the man. "What the
hell just happened?"

“I entered a
virus into the Alpha computer feeds, Nestor. It allowed us to broadcast
the feeds to the internet. I just wanted the people to know what he'd
done. He's always been a violent man. I suppose I should have
prepared for this. Well, it has started now. Whether or not this
helps us I can't tell. October is still a capable man. Once he
calms down he's going to accelerate things, The Migration, the missile
launches, the EMPC blasts - we don't have much time. There’s a car out
back with one of those Barrett sniper rifles you like so much in the
trunk. Here are the keys. Take it, Nestor, you stick to the
plan. October Carnegie is still a risk."

Nestor
grabbed the keys and walked towards the back door. He stopped and
turned. Backlit by the brilliant moonlight Nestor was nothing but a silhouette.

"What
are our chances, Jacob?"

Jacob was
lighting a new cigarette from the end of the one in his mouth, watching
intently as Arian searched the internet for more breaking news.

"Our
chances of what?"

"Success,"
Nestor snapped.

"Oh,
I'd say… fifty, fifty."

"And of
survival?"

Jacob looked
up from the Arian's computer and smiled at his old friend's silhouette.

"Smile,
Nestor, this is supposed to be fun.”

October was sitting cross-legged
on the ground staring at the body. Flores had his fingers on the computer
specialist's neck, checking for his pulse, but his eyes stayed on the
President, his face void of emotion.

"Is he dead?"

Flores simply nodded once,
yes. He got up and regained his position behind Miho.

"I didn't mean to kill
him."

Miho kneeled down so that she
filled the President's eye line. He tried, unsuccessfully, not to look
down her shirt.

"You need to focus, Mr.
President. There is the safety of The Migration to think about.
There’s concern about your safety. I believe it would be prudent to
accelerate our plans."

“It's over,
Miho. Just stop.”

"Sir?”

“I just
killed a man in front of the nation. I just admitted to the reality of
The Shot in front of everyone. It's over. We might as well just
cancel the whole thing. It's over. It's all over.”

Miho stood
up and pulled out her tablet and began typing on the touchscreen. October
tried hard not to look up her dress. He managed to pull his eyes away
long enough to see that Flores was looking down at him, his passive face
somehow disapproving. He felt so weak and small. October forced
himself up to standing. Once he had gained his legs he shifted, feeling
the weight of his body, the size of his frame. He looked down on the
crumpled form of the man that he'd killed with his own might. He noticed
Miho, her fingers frozen as she looked up at him, the slightest arch of her
eyebrow the only indication of confusion. But it was there. She was
uncertain, waiting.

Just like
everyone else.

"No,"
he heard the word before he had actually meant to say it, but it sounded strong
and certain. "No, it wasn't a mistake. It was a good
thing."

"Sir?"

"Now
they know," October growled. "They know who they follow.
They know to fear me!"

Miho glanced
quickly over as Flores shifted himself into what appeared a casual pose, but
held a tension that belied the danger that could come from it.

"What
do you want to do, sir?"

“We
get as much of The Migration done as we can in the next 48 hours while
finishing military preparations and then we push the button.”

“I expect
riots in hours,” Miho said, again lost in the screen.

“I’ll give a
speech, it’ll buy us time.”

“What can
you say? You just admitted to…”

“Doctored.
A plot. A conspiracy that utilized computer effects to manipulate
reality! That wasn't me they saw, but an actor, a CGI avatar. The
people will believe me. The people, they love me.”

Miho's
fingers were running across the touchscreen as the words finished leaving the
President's mouth, but she paused momentarily to glance at October's face, to
check for the familiar expression that he gained when believing his own lies,
when creating his own reality - she was not disappointed.

“Yes,
sir. I'll make arrangements for the speech.”

“Also,
double my security. Nestor is coming for me.”

“You’re
sure?”

“There’s no
reason to call Nestor unless you want someone dead. Take every
precaution, he’s capable.”

“Capable of
what? Beyond Flores, you have a security detail of fifty elite soldiers.
”

"And if he kills all of them,
it won't even be one of his deadliest days! Nestor Bravo isn't a killer,
he's Death and he's coming for me!" October said as he stormed out of the
room leaving Miho and Flores alone in the control room with twenty black
screens, an empty donut box, a broken chair and a corpse not yet cold.

"Do you think he'll
succeed?"

"Yes, Nestor Bravo always
succeeds," Jacob said to Arian after Nestor had sped off in the car.
The words were spoken with an admiration that Arian had never witnessed in his
time with Jacob. "Alright. Pack up then. We have a great
distance to cover in a very short amount of time. Chaos is coming.”

Arian packed
up his gear quickly and then stood up and stared questioningly at Jacob who
lifted the gym bag which held the bomb.

"He
knew my name."

"What?"

"Nestor,"
Arian went on, "he knew my name. How would he know my name?"

"Well,
if I had to guess: at some point Nestor contemplated killing you in a really
terrible way. He doesn't do that without learning a man's name.
He's very old school in that."

Arian
reached out and stopped Jacob who had begun heading towards the door.
Jacob quickly spun, hand straightening the shoulder of his expensive suit, his
eyebrow arched in menacing question.

"What?"

"Why
does Nestor want to kill me?"

"Oh
Arian, relax. It's a compliment. He doesn't
want
to kill
you. He just contemplated it. You work for me and I have sent many
people to kill him over the years. Understand, Nestor only sees people as
threats, or he doesn't see them at all. As long as you don't threaten
him, he won't kill you. I promise."

"About
that, why did you send people to kill him?"

Jacob sighed
and lit up a cigarette, glancing quickly at his watch.

"Have
you ever been in love?"

"Not
really."

Jacob nodded
his head, with what was perhaps sympathy. Then he moved forward and put a
hand on Arian's shoulder and squeezed it once, firmly with kindness.

"Then
you wouldn't understand. Now, can we please go hijack that plane before
it takes off? If Dr. Thomas gets away, Nestor will be the least of your
problems."

“In five,
Mr. President,” the man behind the camera said, his face hidden by the glare of
the studio lights.

October
resisted the urge to wipe his nose, fix his hair or adjust his tie. Any
fidgeting would look guilty. He had to appear confident, honest.

No, he
thought, he had to
be
confident and honest. The camera showed the
truth in your eyes. There were tricks to it, techniques to be learned and
skills practiced, but, in the end the relationship a man had with the camera
was just that: a relationship. It was a mix of circuits and lighting,
chemistry and personality, all relating to convey an idea of President October
Carnegie. There was a version of October, the one that the world knew,
that came through the filter of a lens that no matter how much weight he gained
or how many wrinkles showed on his face, was familiar and trustworthy.

It was this
man that smiled at the silent cue of the red light blinking to life above the
tiny lens across the room.

"My
fellow Americans, I speak to you now, in a moment of chaos and crisis. A
moment of terror for me and all of my fellow citizens. I speak to you
now, to tell you, you are not alone. You are not adrift. But also,
I assure you, you are not a fool. No, I am not here to tell you, the
people, that you didn't see what you saw. I'm here to tell you that what
you saw, wasn't true."

He paused
and smiled, picturing the masses, frozen in their terror, wanting to trust
him. Waiting, hoping for the assuring words, carried across the ether by
unseen waves to their living rooms and bedrooms, to screens on their phones as
they rode the subway, or the tablet screens that the held in their hands as
they sat on the toilet.

"I know
this because, no matter how real it seemed, and believe me, when I watched it
myself I was taken in by the reality - the appearance of reality - what you saw
was a fiction. I know this not because of any flaw of production or fact
that proves fraud. No, even I cannot say to have found a single glitch in
the piece of film shown over and over on every channel of every television, on
every screen. I know it to be false, simply because I was not there.
I know I didn't kill that man, or say those things, because I am me - but
you are not. So, how am I to convince you? Is it enough to point
out that the video clip begins with the image of a man, Jacob Rothschild, who
we all know to be the dead leader of a defeated Shadow Army? And are we
to believe that when he says the word "Nestor" that he is truly
speaking into the eyes, and therefore the camera installed into the head, of
Nestor Bravo? Nestor Bravo, a man who has long been relegated to the
world of myth? Or is it enough to say that for a decade I have been your
President, your humble servant, and in that time I have never shown cruelty or
viciousness?"

In the
darkness Miho and Flores stood unblinking watching the man weave the reality
around him. Flores always had to fight the urge to reach for his gun when
October did this. He felt October's words, like oil that adhered to his
skin, reminding him of the fireside tales his father had told him of sorcerers
who used words of control to bend the will of men.

Miho stood
motionless beside Flores, at most, admiringly amused.

"No.
That's not enough, but, unfortunately it is almost all I have to offer - but
for this: my humanity. We are the same. We are the survivors of the
Great War, the last of humankind. We are the same. We have survived
and struggled together, and now in our greatest moment, men of myth and of a
cruel and vicious past have arrived to question that humanity, to question us
in our greatest effort of survival, to question our motives. But, we are
the same.

"Whoever
made this film made one simple mistake. He forgot what you and I will
never forget: that while nature and time may be cruel and heartless - humans,
humankind, humanity, the thing that links us all, the thing we sacrifice so
hard to preserve - is kind and good. People elected me to lead them,
because I am one of them. That which attacks that, that humanity, be it
disease or wayward science or a man with a camera and the technology to create
fiction on the screen, will never succeed, never win, never defeat us.

"We
know the truth. We know a lie when we see it and we feel the truth when
we hear it. And this is that truth: I will never hurt mankind.
Though I may fail in my attempts to save mankind, because like all men I am
fallible, I will never quit, or hesitate, or waiver. And where I fail,
you will rise up and survive and thrive and prosper, because you are mankind,
you are the good of this world, and that good will never be extinguished.
Goodnight, my fellow Americans and God bless you all."

The little
red light over the lens went black.