Overrun Page 6

"I will," Deanna said and turned her back to the screen.

  With a hand he tried to keep from shaking, Kirken switched the holovid off.

  The imaginary tentacles resting around his neck began to squeeze. His thoughts became choked in his throat making him cough once and struggle to breathe. Patches of sweat surfaced sticky and uncomfortable under his arms. A thin line trickled down the side of his face. The combination of his medication and what he had just heard made his stomach yearn to retch.

  Next to him, Mel acted like she hadn’t even heard. Still crouched with her legs up in the passenger's seat, she gazed out her window at the bustling activity around the downtown storefronts and the many Beuford shoppers moving in between.

  "They came to the house again," she finally spoke.

  Kirken didn't immediately respond. He waited for a small group of children, all in various stages of the disease, walk in front of the car to get across the street. When they were safely on the other side, he pulled off to the left and parked.

  "Who did?" he asked turning off the ignition.

  "Recruiters, I think. From the domes. They came around once before. Brandon took some tests awhile back. If he wasn’t thinking of going in, I don’t know why he even bothered. But, he did. And he must have done well enough to make them come out here.”

  "What did they say? What did he say?"

  "He wouldn’t talk to them. Just like before."

  She looked away from Kirken to what was happening outside the window.

  “Sometimes I think he knows he could get in,” Mel said hugging her knees tighter to her chest and staring at the car floor. “But as an initial recruit, I don’t think the rest of us could go with him. So he blows it all off and stays back here with us. I know he wouldn’t feel right leaving us.”

  Kirken felt like someone had just kicked him hard in the head. The grip around his neck quickly tightened. A vein started to pulse under the sweat across his forehead while he stared out into the sun-battered parking lot.

  “Sometimes I think it’s that,” Mel said noticing the look on Kirken’s face. “But, then sometimes I think his reasons might be even more.”

  "Goddamn it," Kirken swore to himself.

  Mel didn't react.

  Kirken worked to bring air into his lungs and watched more of Beuford's diseased citizens walk in front of the car. The holovid beeped once and was silent. It sounded two more times before Kirken sighed deeply and fumbled to turn it on.

  "Kirken," he announced softly with almost no sound or emotion in his voice. He looked down at the holovid to see the familiar face of his son fill the small screen.

  "Dad..."

  A heavy burst of static interrupted the transmission. Brandon's face faded in and out making it nearly impossible for Kirken to understand what he was saying.

  "Brandon, hold on. I’m sending over where we are."

  "Never mind, Dad," Brandon answered his voice suddenly clear. A bit of irritation also colored his tone. "I've got your location locked in. I'm almost there."

  Kirken sat back in his seat. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed Mel staring at him.

  "Hold tight, I'm pulling into the parking lot now, and I'm starving. I hope someone is planning on getting something to eat."

  “I could eat,” Mel said softly.

  Kirken looked over at her and smiled weakly. He then turned to see Brandon's vehicle approach from behind. He remained inside the car with Mel until he pulled alongside.

  Her quiet mood lifted a bit upon seeing her brother. She opened her door and stretched her thin pale legs out. She waited for him by the side of Kirken’s car while he unwrapped himself from the inside of his tiny vehicle. He hugged her when he was completely out. Her gaunt frame was almost lost entirely in the largeness of his own.

  Brandon had lost even more weight since Kirken had last seen him. His eyes had hollowed and his skin was white and pale. A few lesions were visible just beneath his shirtsleeve. The brim of a sun bleached baseball cap cast a shadow over most of his face, and a grim look of determination furrowed deeply into his brow.

  Kirken opened his own door and stepped out. The sun blasted at his eyes. The heat bit through the air and seared into his lungs. The bottoms of his feet burned through the soles of his shoes.

  "I just got done talking with her," Brandon accused quietly while walking towards him. "Why do you have to do that? Don't you think people suffer enough while they're out here? Why do you have to cause more?"

  The grip around Kirken's neck was so tight he could barely breathe.

  He struggled to answer his soft-spoken stepson about his conversation with Deanna. There was nothing he could say that his son would accept. Deanna ignited an uncontrollable rage within his heart. Once it got going, it was impossible to stop.

  He knew Brandon was angry, but he wasn't about to apologize for the unchecked wrath he had recently unleashed upon her. Especially when he thought about both him and Mel living with her out here on the outside. And how much of their lives they had already lost.

  "What did they want, Brandon?" Kirken bit out abruptly. "How many times have they been here? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  Mel pulled back from her brother's arms and walked away. She brushed past Kirken while he stepped closer to Brandon and stared into his face.

  Brandon stood next to the open door of his car and did not look away. He stared coolly back at Kirken. His eyes were ominous and blank.

  "Don't go giving me that shit, Brandon,” Kirken’s voice shook from the emotion raging through his head. “You know goddamn well what I'm talking about."

  "You know what they're doing here," Brandon answered his voice level and cold. "They were here for the same reason they were here last year. To recruit. My intelligence scores are high and my technical skills are more than adequate.”

  “Did they make an offer?”

  “Technological trainee.”

  “Not military?”

  “No, not military.”

  “Why do you even test?” Kirken asked looking past Brandon over his shoulder. “If you’re not going to take the chances that are given.”

  Brandon didn’t answer right away. He looked over at Mel and back at Kirken. Kirken followed his gaze and then stared back down at the ground.

  "You realize it would mean medical protection," Kirken pulled off his dark glasses and stood blinking into Brandon's face. The heat scorched his eyes and tears streamed down his cheek. In addition to this discomfort, Kirken was also becoming quite pissed.

  "You realize they'll give you treatment. You could have a much longer life."

  “I'm fine where I am. I don't want it.”

  “That is your mom’s goddamn stubbornness,” Kirken’s voice started to rise.

  "Someone has to stay with them," Brandon replied more hotly back. “We can’t all just abandon them and leave.”

  Kirken felt something in his head suddenly snap. He swung his arm at Brandon’s head and smacked his baseball cap to the ground.

  Beneath the cap, his scalp and skin were pink and glowed in the sun. A small handful of hair came off with the hat and fell in a tiny pile next to it on the ground. At sixteen, Brandon already looked like an old man.

  "You won't have to look like this!” Kirken yelled using every fiber in his brain to control himself from a frenzied scream. “You won't have to feel like you do!”

  Brandon crouched down and picked his cap up from the ground. He stood slowly and glared into Kirken’s eyes. The rest of his face remained calm and empty of expression.

  "I'm not going to leave them,” Brandon said to him. “And I’m not going to live in the domes. I can’t. You know that."

  "No, I don't know that. Tell me why."

  "I can’t be a part of it. Of what goes on inside.”

  “Part of what, Brandon?” Kirken’s yelling was louder. “You tell me what goes on in there! How can you know when you’re out here?!”
>
  “Will you look around?" Brandon said pointing to those walking about the crumbling storefronts. "Look at these people. They live and work out here every day. They produce the technology in the factories to build and improve the domes. Though, mind you, they are not allowed to live in them. They do it hoping their efforts will help make a better life for their families. One better than what they have themselves. They trust their efforts in doing this will save them someday. But you know as well as I that’s not what happens. No one in there could actually even give a shit."

  Mel walked from where she stood next to the car towards Kirken who fidgeted with the dark holovid unit in his hands. She took it from him, dropped it through the open car window and stepped back to sit on the curb.

  "Not everyone can live inside the domes, Brandon," Kirken's head burned like it was about to explode. "These people are making do with what they can. They're trying to make a safer world. The U.S. government knows that. They depend on it."

  "No, they exploit it," Brandon said slamming his fist across the hood of Kirken's car. His voice rose only slightly. "People are starting to figure out what is going on. And once it's out there, it can never be taken back. Can't you see that? They know the government is perverse. They hate them for that. For what they're trying to do. And I don't care if I could live forever, I couldn't live with that. I would never want to become part of it."

  "Tell me Brandon, what are they trying to do?" Kirken asked his own voice dropping slightly.

  “If those people in there are not working to find a way for everyone, and I mean everyone, to survive, what are they in there trying to do? I can’t do it. I won’t. I want to die like everyone else…out here. And to hell with what goes on inside."

  "Brandon, if you really believe it to be like that, you can go in there. Become educated. Become part of it and work to change it. It’s a chance for you to make it right. If anything, you would be doing more than just staying out here waiting to die."

  "Like you, Dad?!" Brandon said, red hot anger now in his voice. "Just like you're changing all that? You could give a shit what happens to these people out here. Just like the rest of them.”

  Kirken felt the muscles in his fists tighten, and his stomach work itself into painful knots.

  “What have you done to change anything? If anything you work to keep it the same. You protect a government that is selfishly hoarding lifesaving technology. A government that is standing back perfectly satisfied with watching the world die around it. Keeping what it knows. Waiting for a perfect time to use this knowledge to flex its power over the rest of the world. And you're part of it all."

  "That's not what's going on, here, Brandon," Kirken's voice rose again. "The domes exist to shelter scientific minds who one day will find a way for everyone to live."

  "That is not true," Brandon returned calmly. “These people have been forsaken. Cast off as a small mess left to be cleaned up. And everyone on the inside hopes that someone else will do it."

  Kirken let out his breath slowly and walked closer to his stepson.

  "Look at you, Brandon. You’re already sick. How long can you expect to continue on out here? Are you in that much of a hurry to die?"

  "I won’t leave them,” Brandon said lowering his voice and looking at Mel waiting patiently on the curbside. “I’m not like you…”

  Mel glanced away down the road pretending she was not listening to their conversation.

  Kirken took a step back like he had been slapped in the face.

  “I will not leave her. Somebody has to stand by somebody in this life.”

  The words echoed coldly in Kirken’s heart.

  “And I can't believe you're saying any of this right now in front of her. Maybe we don't need you coming out here to see us anymore. Just stay in the domes."

  Kirken almost choked on the rage that had overtaken him. In an instant his fury became shame and guilt.

  “Mel, I’m sorry,” he walking to her. “All I want is for both of you…”

  “I know,” she said interrupting him and forcing a thin smile across her face. “You don’t have to say it. I don’t want you to.”

  She stood and walked past him to her brother. Brandon lowered his eyes when she was in front of him. She stood on her tiptoes and hugged him tightly around his neck.

  “There’s nothing you have to justify to me,” she said again towards Kirken and then walked away.

  “I can’t be a part of it,” Brandon said his anger softening. “A country that is merely content to save itself. And not even all of it.”

  They both watched Mel stroll further down the street towards the downtown.

  “Brandon…,” Kirken began. By now he could barely speak.

  "The United States is separating itself from the rest of the world,” Brandon continued. “Once the planet has been unalterably weakened by all the years unprotected, and many, many people have died from the sickness...the takeover will begin. Everyone knows that. On the inside and the out. I think this is the worst thing this world has ever seen."

  Kirken hung his head. His dark glasses slipped halfway down his nose allowing the sun’s glare back into his eyes. Brandon turned to walk after Mel. He stopped in front of Kirken.

  "I will not leave them,” Brandon said not looking at him directly but somewhere over his shoulder down the street. “I will stay and live here with Mom and Mel for as long as I'm able. I want nothing to do with anything else. Tell them to quit coming."

  With that, Brandon left.

  Kirken watched him break into a jog to catch up to Mel. He swore to himself and reached back into the car to grab the holovid from the top of the seat. He watched them walk further away while he clipped it to his waist.

  He stood there for a long while.

  Brandon’s bitterness was much more intense than his own. His fury raged behind his eyes, and Kirken knew firsthand the ravaging effects it had on one’s soul.

  With a heavy heart, he watched them walk further away and slowly disappear from view.

  Chapter 7

  "What happened again?" United States President Franklin F. Ford asked his most senior advisor Daniel Baldwin.

  Ford stood up from behind his desk and nervously paced the room. Color rushed from his face and new wrinkles furrowed deeper into his skin.

  "We had an incident,” Baldwin began to explain. “About two days ago.”

  Baldwin sat in a large seat on the opposite end of the presidential chamber from Ford. His voice echoed in the vast emptiness of the room. A briefcase lay open on a table in front of him covering blank command monitors embedded in its surface.

  War Minister Faulken scowled in a seat just to Baldwin’s left. A pile of documents covered most of his lap.

  "What happened was very large and very difficult to contain."

  President Ford walked over to a couch across from Baldwin, sat down and began rubbing his temples. He took a deep breath and hung his head between knees. Releasing the air slowly from his lungs, he looked up at the two men before him.

  "What kind of incident?" he asked tiredly.

  "About thirty-six hours ago, fifty-four Vulture soldiers were slaughtered in a raid on an abandoned factory," Faulken explained glancing up from the papers in his lap to look at the President.

  Ford’s posture became rigid and straight.

  Faulken leaned back uninterestedly in his seat next to Baldwin appearing not to share in his concern.

  "What are you talking about?” Ford looked quizzically at Faulken then to Baldwin. “Where was the factory?"

  Baldwin avoided his stare and focused his eyes on a spot across the ground.

  "It was a J.G.U. raid,” Faulken droned off like an uncaring machine. “On our soldiers. The factory was about twenty-five miles into the boundary of the old Soviet Union.”

  "What?" Ford straightened further in his seat stunned at what he had just heard.

  "The Vulture team was investigating rumors of nuclear missile existence in that qua
drant," Faulken answered matter-of-factly.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Ford demanded his voice rising. "Nukes haven't existed for more than fifty years. No J.G.U. unit would ever even bother with something as…"

  "It was a dome technological research plant," Baldwin said sitting up. His elbows rubbed next to Faulken's while he leaned closer towards the President across the small table. "At least that’s what we believed it was before it was destroyed."

  "What?"

  "The team was discovered assassinating J.G.U. scientists…," Baldwin stopped short at Faulken's hard glare. "And rigging the facility to explode."

  Ford's mouth hung open incredulously. His face became dark red. Despite a look of seething anger, he did not speak.

  "Prisoners were acquired,” Baldwin said while Faulken turned his head back to the President.

  “Jesus Christ,” Ford said now turning white.

  “Mr. President,” Faulken spoke. “We sent several transmissions to the J.G.U. stating our concerns of a nuclear existence in that part of the globe."

  "There were never any concerns," the President's voice ripped out in a rage-filled whisper.

  "Teams have been discovered before," Faulken responded in a level voice.

  "What goddamn teams?” Ford hissed. “I want to know what the hell armed teams from our country are doing anywhere outside our part of the globe. It’s an act of war for God's sake!"

  The skin under his left eye began to twitch, and his eye fluttered rapidly.

  "And I want to know why I don't know about it."

  "It was not beneficial for you to have this knowledge."

  "I'm only the goddamn President!" Ford slammed his fists across the table and stormed across the room to the large solar-protected window behind his desk.

  "Authorization for these types of operations has never come from me or anyone in this administration. I want to know from where in the goddamn hell these orders are occurring."

  "These operations have been planned and implemented long before you came into office, sir," Baldwin spoke quietly not moving in his seat. "Few people know anything about it."

  "None of that is important right now," Faulken cut in impatiently. "What is important is the fact..."