I refuse to write crap material.
Which is why this took me so long to write this particular chapter.
There's a lot of answered questions, as well as new ones that arise. There's a lot of surprises as well as closures. Let me know what you think!
Once again, thanks for reading!
~Hiardragon2006
* * * *
D R E A D
Chapter 5
Johnny was at the end of his rope.
His family was dead.
His DNA was twisted.
He was charged with assault.
And If he didn't die in prison, he'd die out on the field.
When he got out of this cell, he was going to kick some ass.
For hours there had been a lot of movement above him. Although the cell walls were
thick, he could hear activity as though they were made out of paper.
He had to leave, right now. Yet there was no weak point in this box of a room.
Even with his new found strength and agility, escape was impossible.
He observed his surroundings. The place was dark, it smelled like piss. There was an entire row of empty cells around him, and one guard at the far end of the hallway.
More activity overhead.
There was a familiar rattle among the ceiling pipes and Johnny knew that artillery was being fired. He bit his lower lip and with a creeping realization it struck him.
"Hey!" he threw himself against the bars. "You gotta get me outta here!"
"Fuck off." the guard said absently.
"C'mon, man!" Johnny rattled himself against the bars. "This place is under attack! you're gonna leave me to die?!"
The guard beckoned toward his night stick and Johnny growled. He marched back toward his seat and dropped down. The ceiling continued to rattle, the pipes were shaking violently. Dust drifted through the air.
Down the hallway a door opened. Johnny sat forward. A tall, dark man was speaking to the guard. There was a brief exchange of words, a handshake, and the guard dismissed himself from the room.
"Hey!" Johnny called. "Who's there?"
The man strode confidently down to the edge of Johnny's cell and stood before him, a foot away from the bars.
"Who are you?"
"My name's Ian Surge, son. Who are you?"
"PFC Johnny, I'm with Enfor--"
Ian waved him off.
"That's all I need to know," he responded. Johnny licked his lips.
"Did you come here to get me out?" he asked. Ian smirked.
"That depends." he replied. "I understand that you're in a pretty bad mood."
"How--"
"Your family's dead, we toyed with your DNA…now you're this raging monster…the only surviving test subject of G.E.S., might I add."
Johnny tried not to show his building rage. He was getting that familiar feeling again. He wanted to smash Ian's face in. It would feel sooooo good…
"What's your point, sir?"
"My point being, are you a patriot, son?"
"I wouldn't be serving in this nation's military if I wasn't, sir."
Ian grinned.
"Good answer. Then I have a proposition for you."
"I'll do anything to get out of here, sir."
"There is a little boy upstairs in the service room, right next to the lobby. He's of great value to me. I need you to bring him to Fuchsia City."
"A boy?"
"A boy," Ian confirmed. "He's no older than 4 or 5 years old, and he has dark hair. He's with his mother right now…Misty Ketchum. The mother is of no value to me, if he stays with her, he will perish."
Johnny cocked an eyebrow.
"What's the angle here?" he asked. "Why's this boy so important?"
"That's classified." Ian said firmly. "Now do we have an agreement?"
There was something hypnotic about Ian. It was in his eyes. A few minutes ago Johnny had contemplated snapping his neck, but this deal..something about him..
it was irresistible.
He looked at the ground for a moment. No harm would come to the boy. This was his mission now. He could feel Ian's gaze burning into him. Something in his head demanded an answer. Ian must be answered.
"Can you let me out now?"
"You already are."
The cell door stood open ajar. Johnny watched Ian carefully as he stepped through.
"I didn't even see you take out a key."
Ian patted him on the back.
"There's gear outside for you. Grab the boy, and head toward Fuchsia. You've done enough work for today."
Johnny paused.
"Just who are you?"
Ian Surge grinned devilishly.
* * * * *
Hopkins knocked quietly and peeked into the office.
Inside Ian was pouring himself a glass of bourbon. He swallowed the drink whole and chased it with two caffeine pills.
"…Sir?"
Ian looked up. His eyes retained the look of a tired old man.
"So much for Lockdown. Come in, Hopkins."
Hopkins straightened his jacket and stepped inside. He made careful note to close the door behind himself.
"Sir..Colonel Thompson, Commander Rayes and…" he bit his lower lip. Ian poured himself another glass and offered Hopkins a seat.
"I know." He said dismissively. "Either MIA, KIA, or scrambling to organize their men. Everyone's busy. You know, Hopkins," he sipped the bourbon, savoring the taste. "That means you've been promoted again. You must be excited."
"Sir..."
"When I was your age," Ian said, rubbing his chin. "I was a junior officer at the Academy in Cerulean. I'm not that old…I still remember that feeling…of power." He frowned at Hopkins. "You must be shitting your pants now."
"All my superiors are MIA at the moment, except for you." Hopkins said finally. "What…what do I do?"
Ian smiled warmly and offered Hopkins a drink. He politely declined.
"As usual I'm a step ahead," Ian said, beckoning toward his drink. "Which is why I'm taking a break to do this. Not often you get to drink in the office."
Hopkins bit his lower lip.
"We have eight helicopters left on base, prepped and ready." Ian continued. "Select personnel and refugees will be flown to the Presidential Bunker."
"Sir, the Presidential compound hasn't been used in decades…technology there is obsolete, it's--"
"The compound is not going to be our next base of operations." Ian replied flatly. "It's going to be a refuge."
"Sir, what do you.."
"You're one of the 'higher ups' now, Hopkins. These helicopters are leaving in," he checked his watch. "Just a few minutes. I'd advise you to get on one."
"I'm not leaving, sir."
Ian grinned.
"I like that, Hopkins. Good to hear."
As he took a drink, Hopkins adjusted his weight in his seat.
"Sir, permission to speak freely?"
Ian waved him off.
"…what the fuck do we do now?"
Ian nodded and licked his lips. He put the bourbon back in the drawer and rubbed his chin.
"You're a Commander, now, Hopkins. Assess the situation."
Hopkins paused. He gave Ian a hard look. There was a chart in his hand that he glanced at before speaking.
"…we've lost all contact with local authorities. Most of our commanding officers are in the field or KIA. As of now, two units of 25 Enforcers are combat-ready. The rest of the fighting force have been dispatched around the island…most of which we've lost contact with. Our scouts have reported a mass of enemy troops advancing on our location."
"With nothing to stop them in the way of getting here." Ian concluded sourly.
"…What are my final orders, sir?"
Ian forced a grin and beckoned toward the clipboard that Hopkins gripped nervously.
"You've been holding onto that damn clipboard since The Academy, haven't you? you must be good with numbers."
"The best, sir."
"Then you can tell me how much artillery we have stockpiled here."
"About 200 rounds, sir."
"200." Ian said softly and leaned back in his chair. "Right now all available personnel are fortifying positions on the front lawn. They've been setting markers with rounds over the last ten minutes. Make sure every available artillery gun is in place. If they're trying to get in, we'll give 'em hell doing it."
Hopkins nodded and turned to leave.
"It's been an honor serving under you, sir…you did your best."
Ian nodded as Hopkins left. The bourbon was slowly starting to mix with the caffeine pills. He felt light headed.
"Well dad," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You heard it. I did my best…and just like you said, my best was never good enough.."
* * * * *
From the crest of the hill, they watched helicopters leave the compound.
"Where are they headed?" Duplica mused.
"Either the compound in Mt. Moon or the Presidential Bunker somewhere in the mountains." Clyde replied. Brock growled.
"You mean to tell me we came all this way just to have to go further?"
Clyde gave him a cynical look.
"It doesn't matter, I don't know where exactly the fucking place is."
"So that's it?" Cindy asked. "What do we do now?"
Brock grabbed Duplica's hand. She looked over at him.
"Do we even have a home to go back to?" she asked. Brock said nothing and turned his gaze back to the compound. Firepower lit up the sky in a dazzling display of red and yellow light. Parts of the building were on fire.
Clyde slung his rifle over his shoulder.
"There's an airfield big enough to house a fleet of 747s." He said. "If there's helicopters, there's one for us."
"Like they're just going to let us walk in and steal a chopper," Brock scoffed. "Do you even have any flight experience?"
Clyde looked over at him.
"You got a better idea?" he asked.
* * * * *
When the sirens began to wail, Misty knew it was time to leave. She scooped Foxx up and began to push through the crowd of screaming refugees.
"Where are we going, mommy?"
"We're leaving, honey."
"But what about Daddy?"
Misty said nothing and continued pushing through. The building began to rattle as she made her way into the lobby. Across the room a disheveled looking young man appeared. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit with a utility belt tied loosely around his waist. He didn't belong here, Misty realized that already. She didn't mean to look at him, but she could feel his eyes prying her from across the room.
"Over here!" he called. Misty froze, holding Foxx in her arms. He began to push through the crowd of people. He had a gun.
"Help!" Misty shrieked. The man reacted, pushing people out of the way quickly. Misty ran around the reception desk to a hallway. She didn't know where she was going. A Security Officer stepped out from an open door and stopped her.
"You have to help me," Misty said breathlessly. "This man, he's.."
"It's okay." The man said gently, walking up behind her. "I'm a soldier, I'm here to help."
"Why are you in prisoner fatigues?" the officer asked, hand on his nightstick. "Who let you out?"
The man held up his hands.
"My name is Johnny, I was pardoned by Ian Surge…"
"Please." Misty begged. "Just…get him away from me."
The officer looked at both of them. Misty pushed past the officer and sprinted down the hall, tucking Foxx in her arms.
"NO!" Johnny roared. The officer went to block him.
Johnny grabbed the Officer's vest and threw him across the hall. He sprinted after Misty.
"BACKUP!" the officer yelled into his radio. "I NEED BACKUP!"
The building rumbled again and both were knocked off balance. Foxx tumbled from Misty's arms and began to cry. Ceiling pipes exploded and blew out steam.
"C'mon, honey!" Misty yelled, tugging Foxx along with her. Two soldiers were running down the hallway after them. Johnny pushed himself back onto his feet and was right behind Misty when the soldiers grabbed him. He swung them off.
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" one of them ordered, drawing a pistol. In one fluid motion Johnny grabbed the firearm, directed it at the ceiling, and kicked him in the knee. The other soldier swung a punch that connected with Johnny's kidney and he faltered. He went in for another swing and Johnny grabbed his arm, twisted it, and slammed him against the wall.
The officer was catching up now, he pulled out his gun and fired two rounds. One grazed Johnny's shoulder and the other blasted through it. He cried out and fired three rounds into the Officer's chest. Clutching his wound, he turned to see Misty breaking through the exit doors at the far end of the hallway.
"DAMNIT!" he howled, sprinting after her.
Misty broke into the afternoon sunlight to the airfield. Several yards away two helicopters were about to take off.
"WAIT!" she screeched, scooping Foxx back into her arms and chasing after them. Soldiers assisting the evacuation apprehended her.
"Ma'am, you can't--"
"MY SON!" Misty shrieked. "Please, just take my son--!"
Foxx was sobbing. The soldiers exchanged glances. Johnny burst out the doors behind her, clutching his wound in one arm and a pistol in the other.
"GIVE ME THE BOY!" he demanded.
"He's got a gun!" one of the soldiers cried out. They drew their firearms. Misty pushed through the soldiers to the nearest helicopter.
"We're at full capacity, ma'am!" the pilot yelled over the swinging blades.
"PLEASE!" Misty yelled. Smoke was blowing in from the front of the compound. "LEAVE ME BUT TAKE MY SON!"
"MOMMY!" Foxx shrieked.
Two rounds ripped through Misty's back and her grip on him faltered. Behind her, Johnny was taken down by the soldiers.
"PLEase.." she gurgled, her eyes in shock. Blood trailed out her mouth. The pilot looked at a fellow soldier and grabbed the sobbing child from her dying arms.
"MOMMMMYYY!" Foxx yelped, reaching for her.
"This is Bravo 2, we are set and ready for take off." The pilot spoke into his radio. A soldier held onto Foxx tightly, buckling his seatbelt around the two of them. He stroked Foxx's hair softly.
"Don't look at it, son." he said. Around them were several refugees. Three other helicopters rose from the ground.
"Mommy…" Foxx sobbed, his throat too sore for words.
"Copy that, Bravo 2, you are clear for take off, Proceed to Presidential Compound 1-A, over."
Moments later the chopper was up in the air. Foxx watched Misty cringe on the ground in a pool of blood. As they rose, she shrank and shrank until she was far behind them. The soldier held onto Foxx tightly.
"We're going to take good care of you, buddy." he said softly.
Foxx could only gurgle behind tears.
The helicopter roared over the empty, open plains. Small villages below them seemed void of all life. The sky over the Indigo Plateau was a crimson hue. Just beyond a patch of forest were the mountains, tucking away the Compound.
Foxx would never see it.
"..Bravo 2, this is control, be advised that we are detecting--"
The helicopter rattled violently.
"SHIT!" The pilot grunted. Someone screamed. A Fearow slammed into the side of the helicopter. The co-pilot went for his sidearm as the Pokemon slammed into it again.
Another soldier drew his firearm, but as another Fearow slammed into helicopter, it went off and landed a round in someone's leg.
"FUCK!" The pilot yelped.
Another slam and the chopper was spinning out of control.
More screams.
The chopper was headed for the trees.
The last thing Foxx heard was the screech of the Fearow.
* * * * *
Chaos ensued as soldiers scrambled around the base. On the horizon clouds were gathering. It was going to storm soon. Clyde, Brock, Duplica and Cindy had taken advantage of the confusion and slipped into the base relatively undetected.
"Where's the airfield?" Duplica panted as Brock tugged her along.
"On the west side of the compound," Clyde reported. "We have to go through the building."
"How are we going to get inside?" Brock asked. Clyde gave him a cynical look.
"You think I forgot my I.D. at home?"
They approached the main entrance. The guard's post was abandoned, but the door was still operated by a card lock. Clyde swiped his card through and the glass doors slid open.
"Easiest thing we've done all day." Cindy scoffed. They stepped inside to meet a panicked crowd.
"Please remain calm!" a soldier called hurriedly from the reception desk. "We are mobilizing Transport Vehicles--women and children are first in line!"
Brock and Duplica exchanged glances.
"You think they really have the resources to give everyone here a ride?" Clyde whispered. "C'mon."
They pushed through the crowd past the reception desk.
"This place is huge." Cindy pointed out. "How do you know where to go?"
"I've been here for Boot Camp." Clyde replied. He looked over at them as two guards approached. "Play it cool."
"This area's off limits." The guards said sternly. "Please stay in The Lobby."
"It's okay guys, I'm with Enforcer Unit." Clyde flashed his I.D. "I'm moving these civilians to the evacuation Chopper."
"Those are reserved for select personnel," The Guards pointed out. "Where's your papers?"
Brock was watching Clyde's fingers dance against his hips, reaching for his combat knife. Everyone stood tense, the guards watching them carefully.
"My papers…"
The windows at the front of the Lobby shattered. People screamed. Outside artillery was beginning to fire. A Pidgeotto swooped into the building, scooping up refugees in its wake.
"HOLY SHIT!" the guards ran past the group, drawing their sidearms.
"C'mon!" Clyde hissed. They bolted down the hallway to the exit on the far end.
Coming out onto the airfield, one last helicopter was about to take off. Its blades kicked up a cloud of dust as soldiers stepped away. Clyde drew his rifle and charged toward it.
"STAY TOGETHER!" he ordered.
Soldiers began firing at the group. Wild Fearows and Pidgeottos swooped over the field to distract them. Clyde pivoted on his heel to return fire as he jogged backward toward the helicopter. It began to raise off the ground. Back toward the exit, a Voltorb rolled onto the airfield and exploded.
Clyde jumped onto the open deck of the helicopter, his gun clattering away. The pilot turned, surprised, and Clyde pulled out his combat knife. He looked back at Brock, Duplica and Cindy, whom were scrambling to get onto the craft.
"C'MON!" he yelled over the blades. The pilot drew his firearm and shot Clyde in the shoulder. The boy stumbled back, his knife clattering away as his clutched his wound. The pilot reached over and fired another round into Cindy's chest before Brock fired a round into his head.
Cindy stumbled forward. Duplica caught her and began to pull her along.
"It's okay.." Cindy gurgled. "Leave me…I'll be with Jason.."
Brock turned to grab Duplica. Clyde was moving the helicopter forward at a snail's pace. He had little training.
"DUPLICA!" Brock roared, returning fire at the soldiers behind them. Duplica hesitated briefly, finally letting Cindy flop to the ground as she fled for the chopper. Brock pulled her in front of him, hoisting her into the craft. He climbed inside just as two bullets struck him through the back.
"JESUS!" he grunted, falling over.
"BROCK!" Duplica shrieked. Bullets pounded into the side of the helicopter. Clyde cursed as he yanked on the controls, navigating the helicopter off the ground. Soldiers on the ground continued firing, the windshield shattered. Controls beeped furiously in warning. He tugged on the controls as the helicopter soared above the Indigo Plateau. Duplica sobbed in the back as she held Brock in her arms. A pool of blood began to form underneath him.
"It's okay, baby…" he grunted.
"Don't talk." Duplica ordered, stroking his hair. "Please, just…don't.." her head lowered against his. Clyde looked back from the pilot seat. He frowned and said nothing.
Behind them The Indigo Plateau was on fire. Poke'mon had begun to surround the complex. The artillery had ceased firing. In less than two hours the screams would be drowned out by the deafening silence consuming the land. The only noise left in the sky was the quiet grief of a woman with her fallen lover, and the roaring blades of a helicopter low on fuel.
Alas, while the chapter on Man's Rule closes,
there are always survivors.
Survivors that in their wake find a world void of
salvation.
Only a world of new horror,
a world of Devastation.
* * * * *
I know you have a lot of questions. It's not over. In fact, this is only the beginning. I want to thank everyone whom has supported me this far. Let me assure you that the best is yet to come.
Thus ends the first part of the series: "D R E A D"
Look for "DEVASTATION" coming soon!
thanks for reading!