Future Days Anthology, page 20
part #1 of The Days Series
Denton felt a sudden hard impact against his chest, closely followed by an intense electric shock which paralyzed his entire body. He fell helplessly to the sidewalk, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, experiencing a shooting pain through his skull as everything went black.
✽✽✽
Denton awoke to blackness, his body aching and his head throbbing. He tried to move but soon discovered that his hands were bound behind his back. He heard the soft humming sound of a diesel engine and felt the sensation of movement. Denton soon concluded that he was trapped in the rear of a fast-moving vehicle and was currently speeding towards an undisclosed location. He fought to contain a surge of panic as he struggled to come to terms with his desperate situation.
The men who’d kidnapped him hadn’t identified themselves, but – as they’d taken him alive – the smart money was on Adebisi’s crew. Denton could only imagine what horrors awaited him. The assholes would surely torture him to find out who’d contracted the hit. Denton knew he’d talk – why not, after all? He didn’t owe any loyalty to Rodriguez. But still they would surely kill him brutally to set an example. There was no way he could talk his way out of this.
Denton put his mind to the prospect of escape, but he never got the opportunity. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt and a moment later the rear doors of the van swung open. A pair of thugs leaped inside, quickly and roughly taking hold of Denton and pulling him to his feet. His wrists were hand-cuffed, his body was still in shock and Denton could only put up a feeble resistance.
The men dragged him down a darkened alleyway and into an abandoned and decrepit old building, an empty room containing nothing but two hard-backed chairs and a battery powered lamp. They frog marched him across the floor and slammed him down in a chair. Denton quaked with fear as he awaited his grisly fate. Suddenly, a new figure emerged from the shadows. The man was tall and imposing but his right arm was held in a sling. Denton recognized him straight away – before him stood Don Adebisi in the flesh.
In that moment, he thought he was truly fucked, but what Adebisi said surprised him. The Nigerian mob boss spoke directly to his men, remonstrating angrily.
“What the hell is this?” he shouted in a West African accent, “Take those cuffs off him…now!”
The henchman promptly complied with their boss’s order, freeing Denton from his restraints. He could hardly believe it – was this a trick? Adebisi looked sincere as he held out his hand in friendship.
“My apologies, Mr. Denton. My boys can be heavy-handed. I hope you’re not injured?”
“No, I’m fine…” Denton replied in a baffled tone.
“Good,” Adebisi replied, “now, leave us to talk in private.”
The order was directed to his two henchmen and both promptly left the room. Denton considered making a run for it now he was free, but strangely enough, he wanted to hear Adebisi out.
“Well, Denton,” the mob boss began, “you’re probably wondering why I brought you here under such dramatic circumstances…Well, as you may have heard, I was shot the other night, so naturally I’m feeling somewhat cautious…”
Denton said nothing. He didn’t flinch or even blink as he maintained solid eye contact with Adebisi, not wanting to reveal his guilt.
“That motherfucker Rodriguez!” Adebisi growled, “I reckoned he’d make a move after the Don passed – God rest his soul – but I didn’t think he’d have the balls to come after me so fast…Fortunately, he hired some clown to do the hit. He fucked up, and now it’s time for payback!”
Denton clenched his teeth, saying nothing.
“I want to hire you for this contract, Denton. Your reputation proceeds you my friend…I need Rodriguez gone and will give you everything you need to get the job done…”
Denton could hardly believe what he was hearing – was this for real? He was tempted, but it was too risky…this whole situation was too fucked up!
“Thank you for thinking of me, Don Adebisi, but I don’t feel I can get involved in this feud.”
Adebisi smiled coyly. “You haven’t heard my offer yet. Firstly, if you complete this contract, I’ll write off all your debts. Secondly, when I take the top job – which I will, once Rodriguez is dead – when I’m in charge, I’ll sponsor you for full membership of the Syndicate, set you up with your own block, give you whatever you need to get up and running…So, what do you say, Denton?”
The man could hardly believe his good fortune. He’d come here expecting to die horribly, but instead was getting the offer of a lifetime! Adebisi clearly had no idea that Denton was the one who’d shot him, and…once Rodriguez was out of the way, he’d never find out.
“Thank you for your generous offer, Don Adebisi…I gladly accept.”
“Excellent,” said a smiling Adebisi, as he shook Denton’s hand, thus sealing an unlikely alliance.
He did feel like a turncoat, but business was business and Rodriguez had to go.
✽✽✽
Denton hit the streets during the early hours, set loose by his new patron and armed with a powerful machine-pistol, thirty rounds in the magazine and two spares in his pocket. Adebisi’s crew had provided him with the weaponry, the intelligence, and had given Denton the address of a safe house where he could hide out after the job was done…All he needed to do was kill his target. Rodriguez was not known for his caution. He must have known that Adebisi would be out for revenge and yet, he wasn’t in hiding. Rodriguez had been spotted by one of Adebisi’s spies, drinking in a well-known bar in the downtown district.
The Don wasn’t alone – there were at least two bodyguards with him according to the spotter, but Denton was armed with an automatic weapon and they didn’t know he was coming. He weaved down the city street, avoiding pimps, whores, junkies and conmen as he focused on his lethal mission. He entered the neon lit bar-room, scanning the crowded room and quickly finding his target.
Rodriguez was sitting at a table in the corner of the bar along with two heavy set men – one black, the other white. Denton recognized the bodyguards and quickly realised they were the same two goons who’d ambushed him that night outside of the Underworld…All the better, Denton reckoned…he could take them all out in one fatal swoop, thus erasing any link between him and the botched hit on Adebisi.
He marched purposefully across the floor towards his targets, his hand on the gun which remained concealed under his jacket. Rodriguez and his men saw him approach. The look on the Don’s face was one of confusion and annoyance rather than fear. He would never have guessed they’d send his own assassin to kill him. The black bodyguard was more alert to the danger. He quickly rose from his chair, reaching into his jacket for a pistol. The henchman was fast, but Denton was quicker.
He pulled out his machine pistol and opened up, firing a short burst as the din of rapid gunshots filled the room. The bodyguard was cut to shreds in an instant and Denton rapidly turned his attentions to the remaining targets. In that final second, he locked eyes with the not-so-mighty Don Rodriguez, savoring the absolute terror in his adversary’s eyes. Denton pulled the trigger, firing a sustained burst which took out both Rodriguez and his second henchman. He ignored the screams and cries of the crowd as he re-aimed and fired a third burst into Rodriguez’s limp body, making sure the fucker was dead.
Thus satisfied, the killer swung around and faced the bar, watching the terrified crowd stampede towards the back door. The bartender apparently didn’t appreciate his business being shot up. He went for a pistol, but a spray of bullets from Denton’s gun sent him diving for cover instead. Denton used the interlude to dart for the door, exiting the bar-room and fleeing out onto the street. He ran for about ten blocks straight, until he was gasping for breath.
Eventually, the man took cover in a darkened alleyway as he tried to get his bearings. Just then, Denton was surprised by an unwanted visitor. He heard the ominous whirling sound and saw the armed surveillance drone hovering above his head, its camera and mini-gun trained upon him. Denton knew the drill – drop his gun and raise his hands in submission – that’s all he needed to do to go free…But no, not this time!
Denton’s heart was suddenly filled with defiance, as he quite deliberately loaded a fresh magazine into his machine pistol and aimed his gun upwards at the drone.
“Come and get me, motherfucker!” he cried out rebelliously.
“LOWER YOUR WEAPON.” Came the mechanized reply from the drone’s in-built speakers. “LETHAL FORCE IS AUTHORISED. YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY.”
Denton didn’t flinch. He was sick of it, sick of the corporate fucks who treated the people of the Pit like animals, the one-percenters whose greed and corruption had destroyed this community, and whose crimes went unpunished while those they oppressed continued to suffer…and yes, Denton himself was a killer, but he was the man this society had made him.
“YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO COMPLY.” Barked the aerial killer.
One burst of automatic gunfire would probably bring the drone down, but as soon as he pulled the trigger, the machine would transmit a S.O.S. signal to every other attack drone in the district, Denton would be overwhelmed and killed within minutes. He controlled his anger, realizing such a death would be futile, and lowered his weapon, throwing his gun to the ground as he raised his hands to surrender.
The drone hovered for another moment, observing and threatening its target for several more seconds, before finally it rose up into the sky disappearing from sight. Denton sighed in relief, realizing he’d made the smart decision. But still, his submission to the corporate overlords didn’t sit right. Denton was determined that one day he would fight back against the system, but it would be a long struggle…and, until the time was right, he would continue to play the game. The killer stooped down to pick up his gun before darting off into the night.
###
About Mark Lynch
MARK LYNCH WAS BORN IN 1983 and hails from the beautiful coastal town of Holywood in County Down, where he lives with his wife Jackie and cat Jet. Mark studied History & Politics at Queen's University Belfast and maintains a keen interest in these subjects. His fascination with the 'What ifs?' of history and his love of the genre classics (such as Philip K Dick's The Man in the High Castle and Robert Harris's Fatherland) inspired him to develop his own alternative history timelines and transform them into works of fiction.
Connect with Mark here: www.castrumpress.com/mark-lynch.
Jericho
Matthew Williams
‘The most profound and noted effect of cryosleep is the extreme sense of disorientation one feels upon awakening.”
That was the last thought that went through Angelica’s mind before going down for her nap. Consequently, it was the first lucid thought she had when she finally woke up.
The second was that the training regimen ought to be revised to make mention of the interminably long time the process took. Time had a way of dilating and stretching on as one spent days going from near-death to full wakefulness. Somehow, the term “subjective time” just didn’t seem to cut it, not where space travel and cryosleep were concerned.
“Good morning, Doctor Baudin. How are you feeling?”
Angelica rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes and squinted to see the face of Florence, their helpful nursebot. Her deep black eyes focused and refocused on Angelica, the lenses rotating back and forth to accommodate the ambient light in the cell. Closer at hand was Florence’s mechanical arm, its many muscle-pulleys visible through her external shell, the fingers reaching gently forward.
No matter how much time passed, the sight of those articulated metal joints made Angelica feel uneasy. Holding them always seemed like an invitation to get her hand crushed. And yet, she found herself taking the offered help anyway, using Florence as a support to get her lower body out of the cryopod and onto the floor.
“Are we there already, Florence?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the machine pleasantly. “We are currently in position twenty astronomical units from our destination world, HD 85512b. The Levant finished conducting its braking maneuvers, and we are en route at cruising speed.”
“Ah, good,” Angelica said, sighing heavily. “And for the sake of the crew, you should begin using its true name.”
“I shall make the appropriate adjustments, ma’am.”
Angelica put pressure on her feet as she tried to stand and was immediately greeted by the sensation of a thousand pins and needles, all of which seemed to be on fire. A small gasp escaped her mouth, prompting Florence to come to her side.
“Are you all right, Doctor? Some pain is normal during recovery. If you want, I can offer you a mild anesthetic.”
“No need,” said Angelica, waiting for the pain to subside. In time, something approaching normal feeling began to flood into her feet, and Angelica began to walk on her own.
“Do you need further assistance, ma’am?”
“No, Florence,” Angelica replied. “I can certainly shower and dress myself. Why don’t you check on the others? I’m sure they’re coming to by now.”
“Very well,” said Florence, rotating her lower segment and wheeling away.
✽✽✽
“As you can see, the long-range array has picked up multiple signs of activity,” said Sarin, pointing to the large holographic mass that now filled the center of the room. “Our long-range scans have yielded some interesting returns. Spectrometer shows that the planet’s surface deposits of key minerals, silicates, and trace elements have been redistributed in subtle but meaningful ways. The path of their redistribution goes from the surrounding landscape directly to the coordinates of the colony.” He paused for emphasis, indicating that his third and ultimate point would be the most significant. “And last, but certainly not least, the atmospheric content now shows a significant depletion of carbon compounds, and high concentrations of nitrogen, oxygen gas, and ozone.”
Sarin punched in some commands on his wrist-mounted interface. The picture of the surface began to change, with tiny dancing lights moving from positions around the globe to a center marked in the northeastern hemisphere.
“In short, the Seedlings are hard at work forming the basis of our colony. By the time we arrive on HD 85512b, all infrastructure will be laid, and all settlements erected and working properly.”
From her seat, Angelica stood and crossed her arms. The display was little more than a conglomeration of sensor data: returns on optical, microwave, infrared, and electromagnetic dispatches. And yet, it was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in a long time. A world waiting, a new home. Nothing in her lexicon seemed up to the challenge of describing it. Luckily, Sarin had provided her with the next best thing.
“I think what you mean to say, Doctor, is that the Seedlings are busy creating our new home. And that by the time we set foot on Eden, all will be ready and waiting for us.”
Sarin cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. We certainly can’t understate the importance of what they’re creating for us.”
A moment of silence followed as everyone in the circle of chairs watched and admired the display. No one seemed to mind that the simulation was running on a loop, as evidenced by the way that the image conducted a slight panning and then quickly reset. As far as they were concerned, they were beholding the real thing, no artifice or simulation involved.
“Have the colonists agreed on a name yet?” asked Doctor Zamani from the other side of the circle.
“They have,” said Sarin, consulting his wrist again. A small holographic window appeared above it, with many lines of script appearing in it. “It seems that after several rounds of voting, Jericho has won out.”
“Ah, thank you, God!” cried Zamani.
A small chuckle went up from the circle. No one needed to be reminded how fraught with peril the selection process had been. It wasn’t enough that there had been interfaith disputes over what to name their new settlement, names that threatened to bring up deep divides that they’d hoped to leave behind them. But in addition, the process had been deliberately democratic, with suggestions being requested and given from the prospective settlers. The Council had been noticeably unimpressed by some of the suggestions. Others had just been plain appalling.
“I think we can all rest more calmly knowing that we’ll be living in a colony named in honor of the oldest continuously inhabited city on Earth,” said Angelica. “Not something that will shame our children and our children’s children for generations to come.”
Around the circle, every member of the Council uttered a small prayer in their respective language, pertaining to their respective faith. Consensus was a beautiful thing, especially when it coincided with the right decision.
The final phase of descent began, and the vibrations in the cabin reached a fever pitch. Angelica lay back and hummed with trepidation as her restraints tightened to hold her in place. Around her, the entire Council was assembled, with a few observers from the rest of the Levant’s crew.
For everyone packed into the shuttle’s cabin, this would be the first glimpse any of them got of their new home, yet the final phase of their journey, the planetary descent, was proving more than just a little nerve wracking. Though the odds were certainly in their favor, there was still a marginal chance that they might suffer catastrophic failure and die horribly.
Within a few minutes, the violent shaking subsided and became a dull drum. When that happened, Angelica heard several voices raised around her, intermittent conversation mixed with sighs of relief. Angelica smiled, knowing now that she wasn’t the only one frightened by the process known as “breaking atmo.” Many a member of their troop liked to pretend that the vagaries of space travel didn’t bother them, that the risks incurred were no different than with any other aspect of life. Still, she swore she could see looks of quiet relief all about her, faces humbled by the fear they felt when faced with eternity.
