Chapter 11
Cold November wind whistled through
the chain link fence surrounding the school yard, pushing the milling students
further into the wind-shadow of the building.
“Can't believe they're keeping us
outside like this...” Rachel muttered.
“Shh, I can't hear,” her friend
Tisha hissed.
The voice of the woman called Cyd
screeched out of the speakers of Tisha's mobile. “Did we start out learning to kill people
with our minds? Phh-- Hell no. No, we just... we just did shit for a while,
you know? Just kinda fucked around
and... Naw, the killin' came
later.”
Another voice said something
indistinct, and Cyd laughed. “Fuck. Naw, no, no, no, I—I couldn't do anything
cool like that now. No, my power's still
blocked. I just got the memories.”
“I thought we already watched this
one...” Rachel muttered.
Tisha shrugged. “You did maybe, but I don't remember it.”
Rachel grunted and pushed further
back into the alcove they had taken shelter in.
The recording of Cyd
continued. “Hell yes, I was there. What, you think I'm crazy? That I'd lie about that? Ha!
'Course I was there when the riot started. Hell, I helped start it. There was this crazy guy, see, and—”
“You know...” Rachel looked down at
the tiny, red-haired pixie manically dancing across the mobile, “my uncle was
there, when the riot started.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he mentioned Cyd.”
“Dang. What'd he think? Crazy?”
Rachel shook her head. “He never said, but I'm guessing crazy.”
Tisha looked up and met her
friend’s eyes. “And you think she's
crazy, too.”
Rachel tried to look offended. “Of course not! We can't discount any—”
“Mmm, no. Don't try to bullshit your way out of
this. You really think she's crazy and
making it up. Why?”
“Well...” Rachel looked up from the mobile and out at
the crowds of freezing, unhappy teenagers.
“Just too coincidental. She's a
super-soldier, who just happens to show up at the site of a pro-'hud rally, the
day after her fellow super-soldier tries to kill the president. She's unable to duplicate any powers, and our
oh-so paranoid government has failed to pick up on her. She's just a crazy street person who was in
the right place at the right time to get a good story.”
Tisha nodded, then stretched her
legs and stared up at the sky. “Looks
like snow.”
Rachel didn't look up. “No it doesn't.”
“So if she's lying, why? Just the attention?”
Rachel opened her mouth to respond,
but didn't answer. She stared at the
screen for a moment, then gestured for the mobile to rewind the video.
“Rachel?”
“Shh! Did you hear that?”
“What?” Tisha leaned forward and scrutinized the
screen. “What'd she say?”
Rachel gestured for the mobile to
play, and Cyd's high, nasal voice returned.
“—was this crazy guy, see, and he showed up there and was just
watching. And I was thinking, and was
all like, 'Shit, he looks familiar.' So
I went over to him, and it was him, one of my buddies from the program. What a fuckin' coincidence, huh? So I was like, 'Hey, John! What's up?'
And he just stared at me like I was crazy or something, and tired to buy
me off, but I knew it was him; I'd recognize that bald little head of his
anywhere, even with those stupid glasses.
And I started tellin' everybody—hey!
Hey, you! Yeah, you, in the
football jersey!” Cyd broke off and
started waving at someone off screen.
Tisha gestured for the video to
stop. “You think she's talking about
your uncle?”
“She described him perfectly...”
“That's hilarious! And she thinks he's an EHUD?”
Rachel shook her head.
“What? She's crazy, right? Why'd you care what she says? Besides, that'd be cool if he really was
one!”
“My dad thinks he's an EHUD”
“So?”
“So I've heard him talking about it." She shrugged.
Tisha dropped the mobile into her
lap and leaned out past the edge of their alcove. “Speaking of your dad; when the hell's he
supposed to get here?”
Rachel shrugged.
“He knows it's his day right, and
that we just can't walk out of here?”
“He knows... probably just got caught up at work.” She sighed, then stood up and began to pace
in a tight circle. “Shit. I can't believe they're doing this to
us! They round us up and store us in
these goddamn concentration camps all day, and now they won't let us leave
until a fucking grown-up comes and holds our hands!”
Tisha nodded. “Sucks.
That's the reactionaries for you.”
“Yeah, like we're gonna get caught
in a riot right outside the school. We
should be free to leave on our own!”
Tisha snorted and swiped a hand at
Rachel's leg. “You just want to see
Wayne without daddy finding out.”
Rachel stopped walking. “Shut up.”
She dropped back down next to Tisha and grabbed for the mobile. “Okay, forget detainment without just cause;
we can argue the constitution later.
Let's watch something.”
Tisha opened her mouth, but Rachel cut
her off. “Not Cyd. I've had too much Cyd. See if AmeriNews has anything new on the riot
yesterday.”
Tisha closed her mouth and
reclaimed the mobile from Rachel.
“Okay... Oh! Breaking news, it's
been out for like ten minutes now, presidential statement about the Defenders!”
“Fatty's trying to bury the
perjury, you think?”
“Video's loading!”
The screen went black for a moment,
then displayed a static shot of a lectern with the presidential seal on the
front, then—
“Hey!” Tisha leaned forward. “That's not—”
“Shh!”
On the screen, looking tired, his
hair and beard sticking up in places, was Edgar Latterndale.
“My fellow Americans,” he began,
his voice deep and firm, “it is my sad duty to inform you that this morning
President Isaac Latterndale was assassinated in the presidential
residence. Following his unfortunate
passing, and the abrupt resignation of Secretary of State Charlton Wong, it has fallen to me to execute the duties of
the office of President of the United States.”
He cleared his throat, looked at the lectern.
“It may seem inappropriate to address matters of policy while the
country should be in a period of morning, but unfortunately we are in a state
of crisis, and policy must be addressed.
“The Defenders.”
Rachel felt a tingle of excitement,
a sense of impending change.
“The previous official line regarding
these so-called foreign saboteurs is now null and void; it is time to reveal
the truth of them and their origins.
Everything alleged by the late Merv Lemlin is true, in general
terms. The American government created
the Defenders. Illegally, unethically.”
This was really happening.
“And I knew about it.”
Latterndale fell silent as a
torrent of mixed emotions surged through Rachel. Everything she had suspected, the hidden
truth she had believed, was true. But
the man she had respected, the hero she had worshiped, had just acknowledged
himself as a fraud.
Latterndale continued. “I'm going to try to be honest with you; I
didn't know all the facts. I knew the
first two subjects were volunteers, and I naturally assumed the rest were as
well. Nothing I was told contradicted
that perception.” He paused and inclined
his head. “Nothing reinforced that
perception. Judge that as you will.
“Now, if I knew about the truth,
why didn't I come forward following Lemlin's accusations? Why didn't anyone? We were afraid. Immediately following Lemlin's attack, my
predecessor was not... rational. He was
unbalanced and threatening, and I feared for my family's safety. I realize now that the greater threat was to
let the deception stand, but it is far too late to make better choices. All that is left to do is to move on, and I
ask for your support in enacting new policy regarding the Defenders.
“Based on wisdom given over the
past two months by leveler heads, especially those of Senator Terstein and
Ambassador Mokri, I feel that it is best to label the Defenders as weapons of
mass destruction, to be placed under international authority and oversight.”
Tisha gasped and Rachel clutched
her arm; Latterndale seemed determined to lose all credibility in this one
speech.
“To ensure that these weapons will
not be misused by any government or other power, only those experienced with
the Defenders should be considered to oversee them. As such, I would respectfully request that
the United Nations accept the Defenders as political refugees from their
country of origin, and grant them governance over the Defender weapons.”
Rachel released Tisha's arm. The wording was clumsy, but it was brilliant:
Latterndale had redeemed himself.
“As of this point, I no longer
consider the Defenders as American citizens.
They are international diplomats, and will be treated with all the
courtesy and authority that this distinction grants them. To any Defenders watching this broadcast, I
ask that you make yourselves known, that you connect with our government--with
any government--to help us in achieving peace, to put this dark period behind
us. You Defenders have been hurt by us;
now it is time for you Defenders to be defended by us.”
There were several moments of
silence as Latterndale looked down at the podium, tapped his fingers, and
finally nodded. “There is much more that
needs to be said, but I feel that it can best be said later. The immediate problem is to right the wrong
that has been done; the rest can come later.
Thank you.” He turned and walked
away. The video ended.
“Oh, holy shit...” Tisha stared at the screen. “Isaac's dead...”
Rachel furrowed her brows. “The man pulls off a brilliant piece of
political bullshitting that gives the world self-aware mutually assured destruction,
and all you can care about is that some old man died?”
“He was assassinated! And 'the man' didn't tell us by who.”
“Why does that matter?”
Tisha lowered the mobile and fixed
Rachel with a withering stare.
“Really? Why do you think he
didn't bring it up? What possible reason
could there be to not give away the identity of the assassin?”
“You don't have to be such a bitch
about it.” Rachel stood and rubbed her
arms; the temperature was dropping.
“Condemning a Defender while trying to make nice would kill the
message.”
“That's going to come back and bite
him.”
“Doesn't matter. Mystery 'hud kills the president, that's a
major no-no, even if public opinion's on their side. Latterndale can get away with this one
thing.”
“Hmm...”
They remained like that for several
minutes, Tisha sitting and scrolling through comments on her mobile, Rachel
standing and shivering.
“You know,” Rachel said, fog
curling away from her mouth, “if this goes down right, if Latterndale can push
this whole independent Defenders thing with the U.N., everything's going to get
better. And then... Then we can GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS FUCKING
PLACE!”
Heads all around the schoolyard
turned in her direction, and Rachel slumped down next to Tisha, resigned to
wait for her father.
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