Rising Inevitabilities
It was a strange feeling being able to wind down after such stress had mounted. For many of the survivors inside the admin building, it didn't even seem right, like a priveledge previously denied by a higher, unquestionable authority.
The past few days were what some could only describe as a journey through slipspace—time dilation, traveling so far and so fast without any reference. So much happened in such a short time span.
The zombie plague started out in Justin's igloo, which had already claimed one casualty: Pete. And on the other side of the spectrum was Kaiser Sergei. His loyalist army was out there ravaging the world yet again at his bidding, scouring the lands for all enemies known and suspected. There was also the looming prospect that all of them would soon be dealing with a new threat of alien infestation. All told, they might very well walk into a total nightmare in the open plains if they survived long enough to break free of City 17. And the factory district of that very city was arguably now the focal point of the zombie manifestation itself, no longer the heater room of Justin's igloo. The parasites actually caught up with Justin, their insatiable hunger for flesh propelling them all the way across the open plains. They didn't tire through the journey. They reached the city at a marathon runner's pace, infiltrating it with ease. They claimed victims with God speed.
A larger, renewed parasite collective emerged.
It metastasized.
It took time for it to sink in, but eventually everyone reflected on the horrors that transpired once the fatigue and confusion finally settled. Nothing could have prepared anyone for what happened, the blood and the gore and the shock that blitzed the factory. So fast and so merciless the parasite struck. So many people—co-workers they had shared a conveyor belt or a sleeping room with—now gone. Once casual acquaintences, now nothing more than violent, carnivorous creatures was what became of them. Compounding the living's strife and fear was the fact that they had no idea how much the creatures could multiply now that they had a limitless selection of hosts and no boundaries. Consequently, no one could ever know how far they'd reach.
All those inside the admin building were thankful to be alive, yet wholly morose. Most of the group attempted nothing except existing and coping. Much of the time spent in preparation for Justin's next mission to come was not spent doing anything, at least nothing utilitarian or of any real benefit to collective survival. The activities of the last few days inside admin consisted of people centering themselves and reflecting on events passed, of eating, drinking, of basic self-preservation. A giant, primitive reset button had been pushed by the events of days passed, driving much of those still alive into a dark corner in their mind, dark and safe. Underlying the horrific memories of the factory incident was a wealth of new information, some it beneficial and some it not so encouraging, nevertheless a lot to process—too much for some. Ultimately, whether anyone other than Justin was capable enough to do it, the only thing left was to focus on a new plan now that they lingered in total safety. A plan to carry them over into the next, successive plan. The prospect of dragging on and resisting the fate of a creeping death seemed hopeless to some. Then again, they now had the time for foolish emotional pastime. There was no ammunition to distribute, no armor to don, no pre-battle rituals to enact, nothing to steel them over or incite hope. Nevertheless, tedium was irrelevant. Everyone was now sync'd with Justin's clock.
Only a few among the group faced the fact that food and water supplies were dwindling every hour, every day. And for others, there was nothing to keep them wholly occupied. Patience was at the brink of running thin. A pair of cliques had formed since things had calmed: Justin and those with him—to which Gibson readily clung to; and the Kaiser and his men. Allies of each side banded together, reinforcing the general air of segregation throughout the building.
Very few prospects remained: die here, or die outside with a fight. A slow, bitter death either way...and an unknown conclusion once assimilated into the stalking alien collective.
But if they made it past the administrative district and inside of the resource-rich city, survival had a chance of longevity. More time was available. More plans could be formed, crutches to bolster their efforts from day to day.
This was the basis of Justin's new proposal to the rest of the group, though no real consensus formed on what should happen thereafter. The fact that the creatures outside had expanded their locus of control left the humans with severely-crippled options. There was little to no recovery from another run in with the zombies, unless absolutely every plan from here on out resulted in success. Survival rested on a knife's edge—sanity too, for that matter. Nevertheless, the ex-commander was trying to think beyond current plights in order to circumvent all the odds stacked against them. Highly experienced in conflict, Justin knew those odds would only compound with the passing of time. A choice had to be made this day: get busy living or get busy dying.
He felt he'd given good rationale for the plan, but failed yet again to smooth it over, failed to provide the comforting vibe that everything would be alright. For there was far more complexity in the plan than Justin had mentioned. Once in the city, they'd have to assess the entry points to make sure they'd hold up against the extraordinary strength the creatures possessed. Obviously, the main gate hadn't held their tide, which resulted in a large influx of the smaller parasitic variety into the city—ultimately what had enlarged their masses. Justin tried to not picture what took place a few days ago—all the workers being devoured outside the break room, how fast they changed, how quickly and decisively their lives were extinguished. But whether the zombies overpowered the guards and gained unforced access or if they overpowered the mighty gate of Titanium mesh, it was a total shot in the dark at guessing which. Maybe the guards found escape.
Too many variables to process.
But going back inside was voted the only option despite Justin's cool line of logic and how pointedly it influenced the majority. There was nothing outside for many miles, Justin had argued. Nothing but the barren wasteland of Traxus IX for the vast stretches between the citadels of the THI. They had no reliable transportation. They were stuck. And the supplies and sustenance inside admin were indeed at critical levels. If they survived the journey inwards, they'd all be rewarded with everything they needed to survive with for an indefinite amount of time. Justin had pointed out during steady-state operations, the city had the capability to provide all basic health, nourishment and sanitation needs for more than 500 people. Certainly, 10 could last quite a while if they were smart and rationed things out. But it was air power that Justin was after. To him, it was key. It ensured strategic advantage and a broader perspective of the battlefield. Gibson's company transport, the Pelican.
His only perceived challenge was surviving long enough to acquire it.
Justin began to think about all the variables from now until then: ones he knew of for certain, others he wouldn't normally expect. He weighted all of them over many other variables existing inside the group he was leading, for they also had profound effects—an impact to each person's sanity, stamina, health and cooperation. Taking no unnecessary risks; maintaining an air of confidence to keep control of this volatile lot; most importantly, maintaining an unpredictable course of action to his enemies, both undead and still alive. It was all part of command—something he tried to forget all these years. He'd been suddenly thrown back into the role. He lit a cigarette and savored the first smoky drag.
During the tail end of Justin's ruminations, Chris entered the lobby from the staircase with a plate full of food in one hand and a pair of water bottles grasped tightly in the other. He made for one of the couches and found Justin deep in thought in a nearby chair. Reid stared blankly ahead into one of the windows, staring at the cold and inhospitable night. Justin glanced his way, but as soon as he registered Chris' presence he immediately panned away, going back to thinking again.
"I've got some good eats here. You hungry?" Chris asked.
"No." Justin answered flatly.
Chris knew better by now than to press further and thusly turned away.
Chris suddenly stopped, pivoted back again. Time was running low, and this was the eve of their next big mission. He felt the pressure, the need to deliver Sergei's own plan. Whether it originated from the most immoral and untrustworthy man in known existence was immaterial; it could save them all. And while this reasoning was paramount to escape, Chris also yearned for Justin's approval. For Chris to be deemed worthy and even admirable in Justin's eyes...
Chris had the rehearsed words on the tip of his tounge. The boy was about to speak when he suddenly remembered all the times Justin had been angered by the simple sound of his voice. He remembered the sting on his mouth the day Justin hit him. Chris turned away and left the former combatant commander to his own devices, hoping he'd get his chance with him soon.
Chris wandered around aimlessly about the admin building—strolling to the end of a hallway to get a thoughtful gaze out of one, barred window. Up a flight of stairs for more of the same, until he traversed nearly every square foot of the structure. He glanced down the hallway of the second floor: barely out of earshot was Layla, Joe and Ken, all sitting Indian style over the slate-colored shag carpet. He took a few steps in their direction, his boredom beginning to overwhelm.
Eye contact was coincidentally made with Layla first. She lifted her gaze from the spread of playing cards in her small, adjoined hands and smiled as Chris neared. "Hey," she greeted cheerfully, "wanna join us?"
Chris hovered over the trio and craned his neck around. "Whatchu playing?"
"Five card draw, my favorite." her eyes beamed back.
"Nah...I think I'll pass. I only gamble with my life these days, not my money. I might just go downstairs for food or something. I gotta find some way to shake these jitters."
"You alright?" she set her cards face down on the carpet in front of her shins. It was then that Joe and Ken regarded Chris with concern.
"Yeah, I'm hangin' in there." Chris sighed. "Just ready to leave this place and finally get outside. I need some fresh air."
"Well, you certainly ain't dying to get outside for the sunshine."
Joe and Ken laughed.
"Yeah," she added, contently sighing and scooping up her cards and fanning them out again, "I think we all need fresh air and a change."
"Have a good game, ya'll. Good one, by the way, Layla."
"Wanna come back later?" she said with eyes fixed on her best cards. "We'll deal you in." she coaxed. "Take your mind off things."
"Maybe. We'll see."
Chris left the three and made for the stairwell again, but instead of going downstairs like he said, he glanced upwards. He knew Bill was somewhere above; he knew Justin was downward. He had already seen Justin and most certainly dismissed the thought of troubling him again. He proceeded higher. After another round of laborious climbing step after step, he eventually found Bill not too far from the third floor landing. He was reciting a prayer, kneeling down and facing a wall. He kissed a rosary and spoke softly. He seemed at total peace. From what Chris gathered, Bill did this regularly. He did it religiously.
Bill's tranquility was always so contagious to Chris, and though he always found Bill's rituals soothing, Chris found it unnatural given what was inevitably to come. He waited for Bill to finish.
The priest stood slowly and fluidly turned with a grace expectant of a saint. He regarded Chris with a steady, even gaze.
"How do you keep so centered all the time?"
"Like anything," Bill smiled, "with practice. I know what everyone is going through and I respect that everyone has a particular way in which they'd like to live their own life at any given moment, but is there any use for despair at a time like this? Isn't the only certainty left faith?"
"You are right, but it's time that wears us down. It's natural for the mind to fabricate fear, I think. It's like nature's way of preparing us for the unexpected. It's the mind generating abstractions, giving us new perspective even though we hate the possibility of it."
"I admire your intelligence and your insight. Such a smart boy for such a young age. You appear fragile to some, but in reality you are wise beyond your years. For your sake, take solace in that fact. Trust your instincts."
"Bill, do you think Justin respects me as an equal yet?"
"I would think so. Why do you ask?" Bill brushed the dust off his knees.
"It's harder than ever just to talk to him."
Bill spoke calmer now, his voice deepening. "Like I've said, he's just very set in his own ways. And now we have so much turmoil at hand. Give him more time."
"Time we don't have, Bill. I have an idea that is so great that maybe no one will understand it, and I fear it won't be heard until we're all dead."
"You can tell me."
Chris glanced either way down the hallway. "We have Gibson order a slipspace drive. We fortify the city and wait until the parts arrive. When they drop, we shoehorn the drive into his Pelican. It's a lengthy operation, but within the safety of the city we have all the food and water we'll need. All we have to do is wait and keep a tight vigil over the city."
"That's…amazing! Simple, safe, brilliant! Did you think of this all on your own?"
"…Yes."
"Now, I'm no expert on anything, but who is qualified to do all that work? Who will make it happen?"
"Justin."
Bill's posture slackened. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the young lad.
"Justin is probably no expert," Chris added, "but with everyone working in cooperation, surely we could figure it out. Think about it, Bill. We could actually leave this place."
"Hmm, I don't know, Chris. We'd be leaving a lot of good-hearted people behind, just leaving them to fend for themselves. I couldn't do that in good conscience. Not with so much wrong. Could you?"
"Bill, it's a lost cause and you know that. Please, don't stay here. I don't think I could leave without you."
"You're talking like you're already leaving, and you haven't told anyone this plan but me."
Chris sighed. "You're right. I'm working on it, though. But please, Bill, think about it. You shouldn't stay here. It's so dangerous now. You could die."
"Even if we were to leave here, there would still be danger. Death stalks us all anywhere we go, it's just a matter of time running out. When you accept that, you'll be more at peace."
"I can't, okay? I have too much to do. I want a life again. I'm going to escape."
Bill smiled softly upon the boy and gaited closer. He placed a hand down on Chris' shoulder. "Then you know your path. Don't be saddened that ours may not cross again. You've been my friend and I have been yours, and you can always remember that wherever you go."
Chris bowed his head to the floor and clenched his jaw. "Why, Bill? Why is that everyday there's a new reason to cry?"
Before Chris' tears flowed, Joe and Ken emerged from the stairwell.
"Hey," Joe said, "wanna go up to the roof again? I'm getting sick of these walls."
"I'll pass." Bill said. "I caught a nasty chill last time, but thanks."
"How about you, Chris?"
"No thanks. I've got some business to attend to."
"Suit yourself."
It was now the dead of night. Justin was headed to the lobby after a long day of planning and contemplating. He had been low on sleep and all he wanted was just that.
"Reid," blared Gibson's voice over the facility PA, "I need you in my office right now."
Justin sighed and fought the impulse to kick over the coffee table that had been acting as his impromptu footrest.
The voice overhead sounded calm, but it was just a mask over the vibe of fear that Justin sensed from the loudspeaker. Then again, Gibson had sprung a leak ever since Sergei showed up to this location. The administrator was on perpetual edge, ever keen to denote the fear for his own life to Justin. And even though Justin eventually tuned out Gibson's incessant cries for help while somehow simultaneously reassuring them during recent days, he knew the man was rightfully paranoid. He ought to be, Justin mused as he got up from his resting place.
Kaiser Sergei or any of his men could kill him any time they wanted to. The only thing standing in the way of them doing just that, Justin suspected, was the fact that Gibson was still of some use. He still was to Justin. For one, Justin needed the admin's Pelican. Sergei also wanted it, and his minions needed to survive long enough to do whatever it was they wanted to do—acquire supplies from City 17's stockyard and strike out to where the criminal armies were marching, which also meant Justin was inexorably marked for death once the deal was finalized.
Justin would certainly be of no more use once the leader of the criminal underworld had everything he needed to sustain his war. The ex-Marine was now undoubtedly viewed as no more than a double-crosser to them. A man without any code.
All Justin knew for the moment was that he had to be extra vigilant once they actually reached the stockyard—if—they reached the stockyard.
This train of thought kept him halfway occupied as he rose, yet again up the staircase to Gibson's office. He was starting to get agitated by the constant climbing and descending, his shins throbbing from all the impact. It would be at least one thing off his mind when it finally came time to leave the admin district. He retrieved a cigarette from his breast pocket as he cleared the last step. A few paces forward and he strolled into Gibson's office. The admin hovering over his desk didn't take his eye off the monitor as Justin entered the room.
"Come'ere, Reid. You need to look at this."
On the way in, a glitter of light-glare caught Justin's eye. Gibson's private stock was just a few paces off to the left, a Cherrywood curio with mirror-paneled accents on the outside and spotless glass shelving on the inside.
There were dozens of unique liquors crowded together, everything halogen-backlit. The casks that some of the drinks were aged in prior to bottling had no doubt infused tempting qualities in them, perhaps earthy flavors that ushered the beverage down smoothly. Justin's lips pursed and his mouth watered at the thought. And it just so happened that somewhere at the rear of all the crowding was the unmistakable, extremely-rare container he could have sworn was extinct. He could see it's unmistakable profile peeking over a trio of other savory brands. The genuine label adhered to it was proof-positive that it was in fact Alt Burgundy. Justin never thought he'd see one in his lifetime. Jericho VII was the sole producer of the beverage. The planet fell to the Covenant in 2535.
"What is it now, Gibson, more bugs?"
"Just come here and look."
Justin took his time as he rounded the desk, taking a spot by Gibson's side. Before he even loaned attention to the display, he slowly lit up. After the first drag, he stowed the lighter back in his pocket while taking another glance at the fine spirits in Gibson's collection, then noticed Gibson staring at him impatiently. Justin rolled his eyes at the man and relented, squinting at the display. After about ten seconds of half-hearted scrutiny, Justin asked, "Where'd they all go?"
"That's what the problem is. I don't know."
"I see one or two still there. Where'd their buddies go? They go on another hunt?"
Gibson leaned closer to him with wide, bloodshot eyes. "I don't know."
Justin slowly recoiled. "When's the last time you got any sleep?"
Gibson didn't answer.
"Okay, just do a rewind on the footage and let me see for myself."
"No, it's of no use now. Too much time has gone by. God Damnit! I should've watched these cameras every minute of every day instead of fucking around with you all."
Justin withdrew the cigarette from his mouth. "Seems as though you've watched too much as it is."
Gibson waved Justin off.
"Look, this could mean any number of things, so don't go crazy over it. We'll just have to be extra careful."
"Extra careful? Reid, this is bad. We have no intel now, nothing to base our decisions on. You of all people know that zero situational awareness means no-go. We have to wait until we know what, and how many of that what is still out there."
"Screw waiting." Justin stood taller. "We'll be dead before we know what's going on. This is an animal we know very little about. Their movement patterns aren't the only thing we should be basing our decisions on, okay? We'll just have to take our chances. You know that we leave at dawn. You got the memo, right?"
Justin rounded the desk and proceeded to the door.
"Okay." Gibson said with a plea in his eyes. "But don't leave just yet. Stay here, I've been doing some researching..."
The admin began frantically typing in commands on the keyboard. Justin returned back behind the desk. He looked on the monitor again, saw that the man had about a dozen applications running simultaneously.
"You have been busy."
"Now is not the time for jokes, Reid, I assure you." Gibson typed another series of swift keystrokes, finishing with a hard tap on the ENTER button.
"Well, don't break the damned keyboard."
"Look at this roster here. This shows all the people in City Seventeen when those creatures showed up. Now, it only accounts for the people working the line at the time, so we don't know exactly who was here, but now look at this screen..." Gibson pointed to another quadrant within the wide display. "I have still frames taken from the live video feed when it happened. I went through all their faces and names and referenced it to what's populated in the roster. They don't all match up, Reid."
"What, are you saying that some of them escaped?"
"Maybe," Gibson began to bite a fingernail, zoning out on some part of the screen in particular, "but what I'm concerned about is that we don't know exactly how many zombies we're dealing with. With the amount of uncertainty in the data I've compiled, there could be a lot more than we saw heading to sub-complex C."
"But we went through each camera, each sector of the city."
"There's some sectors that aren't under surveillance."
"I thought the whole damned place was wired."
"That's just what we tell people, Reid. There's more dark fiber than you can imagine. Not every sector was meant to be monitored."
"Why? I thought you admins like to keep tabs on everything in your stable."
"Yes, but anything I monitor has the chance to be monitored by others as well."
"Like your higher-ups?" Justin smirked.
"Among others, yes."
"There's more to this. Keep going."
"There's their operations and then there's my operations. And I don't just work for salary and benefits. I've taken my own liberties during my time here. I've got my own investments just like anybody else on Traxus Nine, things I don't want prying eyes seeing."
"What sort of operations?" Justin grinned again. "You skimming shit off the top?"
Gibson returned the same facial expression. "You could say I occasionally deal under the table."
"You might as well spill the beans while we're flirting with death."
"When the time is right."
"Well…way to build up the suspense." Justin stepped towards the door. "Jackass."
"Just know that I will eventually clue you in, Justin. Only you."
Justin shrugged. "Whatever."
"Where are you going to?"
"I'm going to get some sleep before we leave."
"What about Sergei? You said you'd keep an eye out for me."
"He's not gonna kill you, Mister Gibson. He wants you alive until he's certain you're useless. Lock yourself in your little panick room if you're still scared. Hell, you've got all the comforts of home here. I'm getting some sleep and don't even think about waking me."
Immediately after the meeting in Gibson's office, Justin descended the stairwell on his way to bed. Sleep always helped him see things clearer. It was one of a few basic tenets of the Marine.
A good soldier always makes sure they get proper rest, food and water.
There was never any certainty when those opportunities would come again.
He literally just passed the last step at the threshold to the lobby when Chris came into view. Justin already fathomed the kid had been waiting there, waiting for someone to help him ease the passing of time. But unbeknownst to Justin, Chris had been waiting specifically for him.
"Can I talk to you?"
"Make it quick, I'm off to sleep."
"I just thought of something that could save all our asses." Chris grinned. "Listen to this…
"We have Gibson order parts through his connections. Not just any parts," Chris' eyes flashed, "slipspace parts. He can order a slipspace drive, a small one. We can hole up in the city while we wait on the parts. We'll make sure it's all clear when the shipment arrives at the stockyard, and we'll get to work on the Pelican. It's a lengthy plan and the results don't really come until the end, but I think it's worth it. Freedom."
Justin smiled as he looked Chris up and down. "Hmm, we could do that." Justin fished his pocket for a lighter while placing a cigarette at the tip of his lips, relaxing his rigid stance as if deciding to stay and chat for a while. He lit up, taking in a deep drag. "…and we could go on the offensive in the meantime."
Chris' smile faded. "You can't be serious."
"I am. The city has already been breached once. Even if we kill all the zombies inside, we still don't know how many have made it outside. They'll keep growing stronger as they move on to nearby towns. And damn us if they reach another city."
"Well, that's okay. We want them outside so we can safely work on the Pelican, yes?"
"No. They'll keep trying to find new ways in. I've been watching the CCTV network here, Chris. You haven't seen what I've seen."
Chris folded his arms. "What have you seen?"
"Actually, it's what I haven't seen. We don't even know where the damned bastards are anymore. They could be anywhere. We don't even know how many they number. And we know they're at least somewhat intelligent. They probably know we're gonna try to get a hold of transport. They'll be more aggressive and more prepared now. We have to end this."
"So how are we gonna deal with them?"
"We're taking another trip to the stockyard for more ammo."
"So we deal with the ones inside, but what about the ones that you say might be outside? We need to secure the city again; this fits rather nicely into my plan."
"I know that, but I'm taking it a step further because then we'll have a Pelican and all the fuel we need. We know that, but they don't know that. And while we keep them down and running, they ain't attacking nobody. We won't just be helping ourselves, either. Think about all those still alive out there, holed up in some shitbox. There could still be factory workers that need saving. And more guns equals more survival. So, we go out there first chance we get, we frag as many of those pussbuckets as possible, and we just generally have a kick-ass time."
"Have you gone completely mad, Justin?"
Reid withdrew his cigarette from his lips and waved it around casually, grinning. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"Please, can you take me seriously for once? Why risk the Pelican and yourself to rack up a few more kills? It's not necessary."
"You think this is about killing?"
"That's what it seems like."
"Let me tell you what it is. First it was us against a few parasites. Now, it's us against a whole horde of these undead humans. And hundreds, maybe thousands have already died out there. They grow stronger the more we wait and argue. We can't let that become us. We can't let the zombies even have the balls to come near us. We have to drive the point into their lopsided heads that they're gonna suffer serious losses if they make a move on us. Like I said, they already made it inside. If we can buy ourselves twenty-four hours after the parts arrive, just twenty-four hours, we might be able to pull off this crazy plan of yours…because I actually like it."
"That's an awfully big 'might', Justin. I think we should fortify the city instead of attacking."
"The best defense is a good offense." Justin ashed the cigarette and winked.
"I'm scared."
Justin took another drag and glanced at the boy with a frown. He then gazed off into the void outside the window. "I've been a soldier since I was seventeen years old, Chris. I believe a true soldier waits for a moment like this. And you know what? I'm scared too. And that tells me we're in the right place at the right time."
Whatever response Chris had next was stammered. He never heard words like those come from Justin. He thought words like those were impossible to hear from someone so reluctant to be human, so reluctant to harbor vulnerabilities and welcome sympathy. He looked up and admired him for merely a fraction of a second before seeing nothing but foolish, stubborn determination returning to Justin's eyes.
"These are still our lives we're talking about, Justin."
"Yeah, well, like or not we're all soldiers now."
Chris' eyes glazed over with a frustration he couldn't fully express.
"And soldiers have their...duty?"
"Right." Justin answered firmly, locking eyes with Chris again. "We're all in this together, kid. You wanna be different? Be my guest. You don't have to follow me."
"Tell me something. Are you going to order them to go with you?"
Justin clenched his jaw. "…No. Of course I can't." He took his last drag and threw the but to the linoleum floor, squashing it with his boot an instant later. "I'll put it to them."
"Go ahead, then. Put it to them." Chris walked away.
The sun had barely surpassed the horizon, rising higher at a snail's pace.
No light permeated through the admin windows just yet; the atmosphere was naturally and artificially too constrictive. Already, the air outside rose a few degrees in temperature nonetheless, another cold day dawning. Strangely enough, everyone had a decent measure of rest during the night, all of them waking in close sync from the far-reaching influence of an indifferent star.
Despite the dangers that awaited them, each was ready for the task at hand. It was a dreary chain of causality that led them all to this end, this crossroads of fate. They'd be venturing into the unknown that was the aftermath of City 17. With no tangible advantages in their favor, they'd hoof it on foot unarmed and ill-equipped in every conceiveable way. The outcome of their trek was a akin to the careless toss of dice.
Justin managed to claim himself a room before the night had fully settled in, small but with privacy. He had pulled in a couch from the main lobby, which was more comfortable than the igloo's couch. This one wasn't a health hazard like his, either.
Justin—always the earliest riser out of the group—had awoken just as the faintest rays profoundly refracted by the many mediums in the air, struck the window sill outside his room. For the moment, he laid there in peace over his improvised bed. He heard the muffling of footsteps outside the door, then watched it opened through still-heavy eyes. There, standing in the door frame was Layla.
He sat up and strained to see past the fog of sleep. "Something wrong?"
He couldn't see clearly, but her hands were interlocked together over her waist.
"No." she said, hanging her head an instant later. "…Maybe."
"What is it?"
She proceeded a single step into the room and shut the door behind her.
"You probably already know this...Everyone's worried. No matter how much it won't show, they're worried. I'm worried."
Justin shrugged. "Well, that's natural. But I think we've all had enough of waiting. We've all been over this. We know that there's a chance for us in the city. I think we're all ready for that now."
Layla shyly took another step further inward. She gave a petite, slight chuckle that went perfectly with her petite silhouette. "Sheer boredom makes us ready."
"Yeah, we need a change. Nothing wrong with that."
A still, silent moment passed. Layla hung her head once more. "I just wanted to let you know before we go outside...that I really appreciate you coming back for me in the factory. I don't know how long I could've lasted."
She inched closer, nearing the foot of the couch.
Justin remained motionless, his mind devoid of things to say.
"No problem. Is there something else?"
"No. Unless I'm intruding—"
"—No." Justin replied.
"I didn't expect you to be so quiet. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." he said.
"C'mon, you can tell me. You don't want to be alone, do you? Even if this might be the last chance we'll get?"
"It's just that…I haven't had to care about anyone in a long time."
"You care about your friends, don't you?"
"That's different. We were all just thrown together in this place."
"But you grew on each other with time."
"Sure."
"So what is wrong with one more friend?" She said, scooting closer, her knees resting on the cushions. Her eyes suddenly filled with something that Justin had longed for many years. Her face was aflush with affection.
"Because, Layla, when I look into your eyes—"
"—Yes?"
"...I see someone that I could truly care for."
"All these years...why didn't you ever take a chance on me?"
"Because I could lose you so easily in this horrible place. I'm scared to even try."
"You don't have to try." she said, gazing softly upon his face. She gingerly took a seat next to him. "Before we wake the others, do you think you could you just hold me for a while?"
On the rooftop, the scenery was tranquil. The dense fog lingered among the eaves of the building, leaving a clearing directly above their heads, creating a natural oculus into the sky above. Blue-grey was a color rarely seen in the world, equally as soothing. But Joe and Ken had trouble getting any sustained sleep. It was either an hour here or an hour there, no REM for either of them. They were on edge over the next mission to come. They'd be venturing into the heart of City 17, the very place they tried to get away from in the first place, as the parasite/zombie horde overran them. For the moment, things were actually peaceful. The wind had died down, now just a subtle breeze. The air temperature rose along with the sun, even though the light was choked off as usual. But lingering in the back of their minds was the feeling, the proverbial calm before the storm.
Ken looked around: Joe was awake as he wiped the fog of sleep from his eyes. "So did you have a girl on Sirius 6B?" he asked Joe.
Joe, who had been awake for the last hour, hung in thought for a moment, with a hearty smile draping his face an instant later. "I did."
"What was her name?"
"Jessica. Jessica Hanson, from Pittsburg. She had the most beautiful, black hair. Like a raven."
"What else did she look like?" Ken asked, sitting straighter.
"Her eyes had wisdom in them, you know? She was slender. Her skin was white like porcelain…and smooth. She was perfect. Too perfect."
Ken laughed. "How can a woman be too perfect?"
"Because she wasn't even—"
"—Hey!" A deep voice shouted from near the staircase. "I changed my mind."
"Hey, Bill!" Ken said, waving him over. "Glad you decided to join us. Get your holy ass over here and join the conversation!"
"Yeah, I worked up the nerve after a power nap." Bill wouldn't yet admit that he hadn't slept a wink. A voice was trapped in his head, a low rumbling, and no amount of prayer could will it away. "Didn't feel like being alone."
Bill strolled up to their corner of the rooftop, where the eaves rose just above the ledges. It made a nice windbreaker for the three of them.
"You okay?" Ken asked. "You look a little pale."
"I'm fine."
"If you say so. Just jittery before we move out?"
"Something like that."
"So tell me a little more about Sirius Six-B." Ken said, turning back to Joe.
Joe huddled his arms in close to his body, confining himself to the inside his jacket, which was now oozing out body heat with every shift of movement. He nestled himself in the exact corner and made himself comfortable. He looked down at the shingles of the roof, kicking a few stray pebbles from underneath. He sighed comfortably once rested. "Let me bum a smoke from you before I go on any further. Ran out yesterday."
"Sure." Ken said.
Joe took it, graciously nodded and lit up. "Sirius Six-B, huh? Well, it wasn't much different than this place. Cold and ugly, industry everywhere. Only thing different about us is that we lived our last years there in a nuclear winter."
"Damn."
Joe nodded.
"Nothing changes." Ken shook his head.
"Tell me about it." Joe said.
"Funny…" Bill interjected, picking his head up into the wind. "That philosophers much like you and I are powerless to change it all."
"So what caused the war on Sirius Six-B?" Ken asked.
"It was energy. Earth was running out of it. They used their last reserves to mine other planets. A conglomerate of scientists and engineers known as the New Economic Block discovered Berynium on Sirius Six-B, the great answer to the world's energy question. A spoonful of Berynium could take you from Earth to Saturn in a day. I came to that place to take Berynium out of the ground for the New Economic Block. Hell, we were all nebs back then. When miners and scientists found radiation coming out of the ground they refused to work it and shut down the mines. The NEB Corporation threatened armed force to reopen them, so there was a standoff for about four years.
...and then they started to rain everything down on us. Nuclear disk bombs, fuel-air bombs, bacteria crystals. We were decimated. Civilian survivors were evacuated and we holed up in the bunkers ever since then."
"How did you fight back?" asked Ken.
"We reinvented man's first modern weapon."
"Me and the other girls used to talk about you during shift."
Layla was curled up in Justin's embrace, the two of them lying side by side on the couch. His left arm was draped over her waist. He'd grown more affectionate with every passing minute, and the warmth radiating between their huddled bodies became electric.
"I didn't know City Seventeen was gossip central." Justin replied softly.
"Oh, it is. You'd be surprised. Girls talk no matter where they go."
"I see." Justin smiled.
"We used to call you Camo Reid."
"Why's that?"
Layla perched herself up, now sitting up and leaving the warmth. She turned around to lock eyes with him. "Because you were camouflaged everywhere you went. You wore the camouflage like it was your own face. You never talked. You never wanted to be talked to. You were just in and out every day, so serious all the time."
Justin grinned and grabbed a hold of Layla's hand, caressing her knuckles. "This is a serious place."
"Trying to teach a tough girl to be tough, are you?"
Justin looked away. "Someone's at the door. Hold on."
"How can you tell?"
"There's a shadow under it."
Justin got up and scooped his knife off a nearby table. He stepped to the door as Layla watched.
"Wait here." he said.
He went to the door and opened it just an inch. Standing there was Kaiser Sergei. A low rumble sounded off in between Justin's ears, then went away.
He refocused back to the Kaiser. He had the usual, sly glimmer in his eyes, establishing visual contact with Justin as the door opened somewhat wider.
"I was wondering when we're getting the day started. Everyone is restless. It seems now is as good a time as any to get going."
"I know, Sergei. We'll be leaving soon enough."
"Since we're entrusting our lives to you and your plan, I wanted to ask you a question."
"Shoot."
"How did you become a Marine officer?"
"I graduated WestPoint."
"Which locale?"
"Reach."
The Kaiser nodded. "And I understand that WestPoint has a very fine program academically."
"It seems I've answered your question."
Justin closed the door, but a firm, outstretched arm pushed it open again.
"Have you had any real combat experience on top of all that theory?"
"Plenty."
"Name one instance in which you commanded."
"Jericho Seven. Light Reaction Force of fifteen Marines. Seven skirmishes with three Covenant squads in one night. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, it is. And I do believe you're telling the truth."
"Unlike you." Justin closed the door, but Sergei once again barred it open. "What now?"
"Have you had the chance to talk with Chris since the battle in the courtyard?"
"Yeah, why?" Justin glanced behind him to where Layla was sitting. She sat motionless and didn't make a sound.
"You should've seen him outside when he had that gun. He must've put down ten all by himself. He actually saved my life. I owe the boy."
"Hard to imagine you owing anybody."
"Remember, we're all equals; you said that yourself: just a bunch of rotten sons-of-bitches fighting for our survival. And really, don't we all do that every day? You and I, we're not so different."
"There's a difference between self-preservation and murder. You are a murderer. That's how you prosper. And you're doing that once we part ways. Your army is out there doing it as we speak, so don't even try to mindfuck me. Your days of manipulating people are over, not while I'm in charge."
"Ha! You are denser than I once thought. Murder, as you call it, can be a necessary evil. And here, it most certainly is in most cases. Have you ever comprehended the amount of conflicts I've put to rest over the years? Crushing your enemy in one, swift stroke prevents the kind of suffering that is seen on a scale too large to comprehend, too large to revert back to the way it was. You should know this; you and I are living in it. Look at what this place has become, Justin."
"I wonder whose fault that is."
"People like Gibson. They know nothing about honor or living by the sword. They figured out greed wasn't enough once we proved a threat to them and their capitalism, so they created Hell on this planet and made us serve in it. In the end, I was to unite the people against that evil, end the gang wars, shape them all into a force much larger than THI could deal with. We could have won, too. In the end, I would've created stability and a true sense of freedom among the lesser privaledged in this world."
"Instead, you just went ahead and killed, what, thousands of innocents? Yeah..."
"Again, by necessity, not by design. Regretfully, some of my own conspired against me...which harkens back to your self-preservation complex. Only through war was there to be peace after that. And it's the only way to deal with THI and people like the administrator. Some people could never accept that, but all that means is that they cannot see the bigger picture. Can you see the bigger picture yet?"
"What sort of stability are you talking about? You don't create for other people, you never have. You don't have that right. You're not a one-man government. You're just a slave here like everyone else! All these years, you still haven't accepted that. You've spilt blood, shattered families. All you've done is destroy. The world wasn't at war until you got here! You turned life on Traxus Nine into a prison with a life sentence for everyone in it."
"No, THI did that with the help of the New Model Army."
Justin shook his head. "Nothing changes with you. When's that sad, old dream of yours gonna die? And don't even try blaming this infestation on me."
"Look, I don't have an axe to grind. I came here to help you out. Help us out."
"You shouldn't have anything to say to me because I have nothing to say to you. We're working together right now, which doesn't mean we're on equal footing. We're polar opposites and nothing you say matters to me."
"Fine. I'm the Devil you can see, but what about the Devil you can't see? Open your eyes and look past everything you've known in this world, because these creatures of yours don't care whether we're at odds with each other or not. They won't afford us the time to find a solution. The real subject at hand is the boy."
"How is Chris going to keep us alive? Right, you owe him your life for what he did back at the factory. Great, give the kid some alcohol and be on your way."
"You give him no credit. Pretty soon, you'll owe him your life as well. The boy has a plan to save us all. If only you'd realize that your solutions aren't the only correct ones."
"I heard about Chris' plan and I'll consider it."
"Then you know the plan is to get off this ashtray."
Justin scoffed. "The plan," he corrected, "is to get to Gibson's Pelican and fly city-to-city to regroup with other survivors. We're all alone out here and that's not good. I'm fine with waiting until the parts get here, but we need a bridge to survive 'till then. I'm not going to assume the world is peachy out there while we sit around with thumbs up our asses! You can stay with us and fight or you can go it alone and go straight to Hell for all I care."
Justin remained with the door open, staring confidently back at Kaiser Sergei.
"We've been slaves to the Traxus Heavy Industries for way too long." Sergei asserted. "Don't underestimate the boy's plan. And don't go putting our only escape asset at risk; there's only one Pelican."
"Fine." Justin said. "We'll worry about that later. Get outta here and get ready. We're moving out soon if you're still intersted in that."
"That boy looks up to you, Reid."
"Mention that again, and you'll find yourself on your own."
Sergei nodded and turned away, strolling towards the lobby.
Morning was now in full effect. Even still, the light was unsurprisingly choked off by the haze in the air. One by one, the individuals in the admin building gathered in the lobby.
Justin took a head count as he stood by the main door.
"Good. Alright, look, we've got a lot of walking to do today. It's about a graveball field to the tunnel. It's about another two and a half to get through it, and then another field to get into the factory once on the other side. It may very well turn into running if we meet trouble. We may have to beat feet pretty hard, so if anyone thinks they can't hustle, you need to say something now. You can stay here in the admin building and wait it out, but you will be waiting until the rest of us can bring back food and water. Be on the safe side, or die as one of those things, it's your choice. If you can't keep up, don't step up. I don't speak for anyone else when I say this, but I won't be doubling back for your sorry ass if you get tired, trip up, sprain an ankle, whatever. From here to the factory, it's everyone for themselves.
But make no mistake...no matter what happens, we're getting into that factory and into that stockyard. Otherwise, we're dying a slow and agonizing death…and that ain't my style! So just suck it up and survive. That's why you all put me in the lead. You wanna bitch about it now? Then do as you please. I'm going to take this planet back from these assholes." Justin nodded at Gibson. "Got your datapad handy?"
Gibson nodded back swiftly.
"Good. We're gonna need it every step of the way. For starters, tell me if the perimeter is clear."
Gibson peered into his datapad, tapping a few keys, inspecting the display. After a good moment, "It's all clear. We can exit."
Justin turned and opened the door. Cool, dry air whisked in along with the blunt scent of chemical vapors. "God damn I miss that smell." He turned back to address the group. "Alright, stay sharp. We need all eyes and ears focused and working together if we're gonna make it. And whatever happens, don't let Ken get hurt."
Justin took two steps out the door and stood in the courtyard. He let his eyes adjust to the light after being so accustomed to artificial illumination inside the building. He let the cool air fill his jacket. He then looked toward the gaping black hole that was the tunnel entrance.
"Let's move."