Exodus (The Fall of Haven) Page 4

  Without turning toward her, he replied, "I couldn't say. I've always been a bit curious, and I doubt the images provided by Lange's misinformation have been remotely genuine. I would guess there to be quite a bit of crumbling infrastructure with wildlife thriving and blooming, taking into account the diminished population."

  He ticked off on his fingers. "It's been, now, what... a hundred and fifteen years since the global epidemic?" Kaylee rolled her eyes and shrugged, but Michaels descended more in his own consideration. "If the ninety-five percent fatality rate was at all accurate, only ninety million souls worldwide survived the disease."

  Kaylee's eyes went wide at the figures.

  "Now, there was a considerable amount of panic and fighting for resources and of course anarchy, so shave another ten off of that number. Scattered, frightened pockets of about eighty million people in roughly ninety years of harsh, likely brutal re-expansion..."

  Michaels waved both hands. "I doubt we've done much better than two hundred million in world population. Since, as far as I'm aware, there has been no communication or attack on our fair city, I must assume we retained the highest level of technology and quality of life. With too few people to maintain city infrastructure, my guess would be the outside world experienced a reversion to agrarian society with smaller villages, perhaps salvaging varied technology to assist in survival."

  His guest gave a sharp laugh. "Whatever you say."

  Eyes widening, Michaels remembered Kaylee's presence. "Only theories, you understand. I doubt the authenticity of any data provided by Citizen Lange's regime, so in truth no one knows the status of the outside world. Perhaps there never was an epidemic, and we all exist as the product of some heinous social experiment."

  "All very fascinating," Kaylee replied, "but I actually didn't come for a theoretical history lesson."

  Scowling, Michaels said, "Then what do you want? You were the one who asked all of this, and why so suddenly curious about the outside world?"

  Kaylee gave a noncommittal shrug. "Someone I know was talking about it. Just wondered what the fuss was." She waved it aside. "Doesn't really matter. I actually came to ask about Malcolm."

  "Ah, another interesting thought. Perhaps more samples than the one Marcus acquired have been discovered. I've wondered at its function, perhaps not as one race's survival methods but a sentient, symbiotic..." he trailed off, noting her glare.

  "Have you seen him lately?" she asked.

  Michaels gave a shrug. "Marcus comes and goes..."

  "His name is Malcolm."

  "Very well," he sighed, "Malcolm comes and goes as he pleases. He visited not long ago, but he remained silent and aloof. He did not mention what he had been accomplishing with his time, but..." Michaels frowned, remembering something about his encounter.

  "What is it?" Kaylee asked.

  Michaels rubbed his chin. "He favored his right arm. An injury of some kind, I had assumed, but I was busy and distracted. Now that I think of it..."

  Kaylee finished the thought. "He usually doesn't stay hurt for very long. Was he okay?" Concern crossed her features.

  "I haven't the slightest idea," Michaels replied. "As I said, he did not speak much and did not highlight any personal discomfort. If I see him again, I shall inquire as to what damage he incurred. In any case," he turned to Kaylee, "I need to return to my office and sift through some data. If you'll excuse me..." He gestured toward the exit.

  "Fine, fine. I can take a hint. See ya later, doc." Kaylee punched a button on the wall and stepped out of the room.

  Sighing at the nickname, Michaels moved over to the table. After a few minutes of tidying the lab and gathering up his materials, he clicked off the lights and stepped out.

  Chapter 2: Catch and Release

  Rick awoke, skull thudding and a sharp pain in his forehead. Blinking, holding in check the slight buzz of nausea, he took hazy stock of his surroundings.

  Where am I? he thought. What happened?

  Images of his meeting with Kaylee flashed through his thoughts, followed by his long trek through Citizen territory and then...

  Gottfried, what the...? Rick tried to move, noticing his bound wrists and ankles.

  "Good, you're awake." He heard a deep voice, crisp in tone. Rick swiveled his sluggish gaze over to the source, seeing his "ally" standing upright with arms folded.

  Glancing around, Rick noted familiar surroundings and foul smells: Nigel's apartment. He was sprawled in the corner of the living room, and two men flanked the entrance. His eyes flickered over toward the bathroom. The pile of debris, difficult to squeeze through but obscuring the exit point, had been cleared away, and now an individual stood over the hole in the bathroom floor. Damn, he thought.

  "Gottfried," Rick's voice came out slurred. Wrists lashed together in front, he reached fingertips to his forehead, feeling a lance of sharp pain as he touched the tender spot crusted with bits of blood. "What the hell-"

  "You are being detained for numerous crimes against the well-being of the Citizenship. The sentence is death." Gottfried spoke without looking at Rick, not even the slightest acknowledgment of past alliances in his voice or on his face. "Because you may be in possession of sensitive information which may be useful to the Citizen cause, you will transferred to a proper holding facility where interrogation will administered."

  Rick spat, anger rising through him. "You son of I bitch, I can't believe you-"

  "So this is the one, yes?" A different voice cut in, curiosity brimming in the inflection. The man's speech was wavering and abrupt, awkward pauses as though uncertain of what to say. "This... is the man who destroyed our way of life?"

  The Citizen crouching over the exit point stood up walked into the room, face revealed in the golden light filtering in through the windows. Tall and thin, wearing a dusty suit, Rick didn't recognize the man's features. Gaunt and hollow cheeks framed a long, aging face. "Have we met?" Rick asked, forgetting about Gottfried for the moment.

  "Jeremiah Davidson, leader of the reunited Citizen forces." The man, Davidson, ran a hand along his clean-shaven face. "You are... just Rick, is it? No surname?"

  Rick gave a bitter chuckle, wincing at the thudding pain in his head. "Nah. Us types don't warrant anything like that, last I heard. 'Fraid I forgot the damn thing years ago, anyway."

  Davidson gestured at the apartment around him. "I'm sure you've realized by now that we've discovered your... entry point. A shame nothing down below is of any use to us, but at least we can keep anything from scurrying though this little hole, yes?"

  "Whatever you say."

  The man gave a slight frown. "Flippant. You're certain he has information?" He directed the question to the High Inquisitor.

  Gottfried gave a nod. "His efforts united the people of Old Haven."

  "And you're certain you can obtain any... secrets he holds?" Davidson peered down his nose at the captive.

  Rick flashed him a grin. "I'd bet your good buddy Herman's got a few tricks up his sleeve." The smile faded as he shot Gottfried a deadly glare, one filled with malice at the betrayal. Damn, I hate it when Kaylee's right. If I actually live through this, I'll never hear the end of it.

  The tall man leaned down, studying Rick's ragged face and body. "Doesn't appear to be much, but I will defer to your judgment, High Inquisitor. Two of my people will accompany you to ensure the matter is conducted properly." Gottfried gave another nod as the apparent leader of the Citizens whispered to the door guards before stepping out of the room.

  "Get up," Gottfried spoke without a hint of sympathy.

  "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

  "Get up," his captor repeated.

  Rick lounged backward, smiling wickedly up at Gottfried. "You wanna move me somewhere to torture and kill me? Well by God, you'll have to drag me there."

  The passive mask of Gottfried's face cracked into light irritation, he leaned down, cutting the bindings on Rick's ankles. Grabbing the still-bound hands of Rick, Gottfr
ied hauled him up.

  Rick considered keeping his promise and letting himself be completely dead weight for his betrayer, but Gottfried whispered into his ear, "Don't be a fool." The small knife which cut the bindings on his legs passed into his hands.

  Sliding a glance over to the guards near the entrance, Rick looked at Gottfried, raising an eyebrow a tiny fraction. Almost imperceptible, the other man gave a nod.

  Wary but hopeful, Rick said, "Fine. Let's get on with it." He clasped his hands together, concealing the knife between them. He tensed himself, ready to use it the moment he drew within range of the guards.

  "Not yet," Gottfried whispered, almost unheard.

  Rick relaxed slightly and continued walking, hoping and trusting Gottfried hadn't betrayed him after all.

  They moved out into the streets again. Passing through areas containing more people, Rick saw grime-smudged Citizen heads poking out of windows and watching openly on the streets. They featured angry expressions.

  I suppose it makes sense, he thought. Big bad vermin-guy here to spoil their evening. Even so, he smiled at them as if he didn't have a care in the world. The anger and discomfort of the immediate area heightened; they didn't enjoy his relaxed attitude.

  "So how far is it, good chums?"

  "Be quiet," Gottfried replied in a sharp tone, seeming to speak as a means to actually silence Rick as well as hold his cover. He must not want me to draw too much attention. Rick winced. All right, all right; I'm not going to gain anything by being an ass.

  The angry stares of Citizens faded as they passed into unoccupied - or at least vacant at the time - areas. Rick noted no other individuals, sweeping his eyes across the buildings to check for figures in windows or the like. No one was around.

  His eyes locked with Gottfried's, and he tensed again, pressing the knife edge against his wrist binding.

  Gottfried's head gave a slight shake. Frustrated, Rick's doubts rushed forward again, and he wondered if he should take his chances and go against the wishes of his ally/captor.

  Rick started drawing the knife up and down against the cords which held his wrists. At least, he could be ready to break free and strike when he or Gottfried decided the moment was right.

  Focusing upon wearing away the bonds, he hardly noticed a heavy thud behind him. In a heartbeat of silence, he casually turned, expecting to ridicule one of the guards for having tripped, fallen, or something of the sort.

  Limbs sprawled and blood dribbling from where his forehead smashed into the sidewalk, the guard on Rick's left lay prone and unconscious. A shadowed figure crouched on top of him. Swathed in layers of clothing, Rick immediately recognized the individual from his glowing eyes.

  "No," Gottfried broke the silence, alarm decorating his face. "Not like this-"

  Malcolm snapped out a hand, striking Gottfried in the chest and knocking him sprawling. Hearing no crunch of bone, Rick gave an internal sigh of relief. He still didn't know where Gottfried's loyalties were, but he had seen Malcolm crush a man's sternum and ribs with a single strike like that.

  The other guard grasped at the weapon slung over his shoulder. Malcolm seized the submachine gun, yanking it and the guard by the sling. With a cry of surprise, the man was dragged and casually flung into the side of a building. Eyes wide and terrified, back to the wall, the man seemed to forget about his weapon as Malcolm bore down on him.

  Rick sliced through his bonds as Malcolm's gloved fist impacted the guard's face. Without a sound, the man crumpled.

  A radio crackled, and a voice came through. "High Inquisitor Gottfried, are you there?" Both Rick and Malcolm instantly shot glares over to Gottfried, who laid upon the ground, clutching his chest.

  The Inquisitor's eyes flitted over to the radio on his belt. A growl issued from Malcolm's throat, and the imposing figure stepped forward. Breathing labored, Gottfried reached for the radio.

  Malcolm ripped it from the Inquisitor's grasp.

  The voice issued again. "High Inquisitor, please respond."

  "Destroy it," Gottfried spoke in a strained tone.

  Rick did a double take. "Come again?"

  "Destroy the radio before you manage to compromise me any further!" Gottfried snapped.

  The hulking figure eyed Rick, who gave a nod. The voice cut off as the communicator crumbled within Malcolm's grasp.

  Gottfried tried to rise, halted by another growl from Malcolm.

  "Easy there," Rick said. "He's on our side, I think."

  Lying upon the ground, Gottfried examined Malcolm with equal measures of fear and fascination.

  "All right then," Rick said, tossing the small knife to the ground where his former/current ally lay, "what the hell?"

  "Your exit point was discovered," Gottfried spoke in an even tone, but Rick could hear the slightest tension in the man's voice. "I had to do something to keep you and my position intact. Though we may have jeopardized it beyond-"

  Rick held up a hand. "Hang on and let me catch up; my head's a little fuzzy from that smack of yours."

  "I'm sorry, but there was no alternative solution."

  "Please explain." Rick twirled his hand.

  "May I stand?"

  Tilting his head, Rick considered the request. "Yeah, okay." He held out a reassuring hand to Malcolm, who tensed as Gottfried rose to his feet.

  The High Inquisitor straightened and dusted off his black clothing. With his usual stiff posture, he resumed his usual air of crisp confidence, marred only slightly by the occasional glance flitting over to the quiet and watchful Malcolm.

  Gottfried took a deep breath. "Your exit point was discovered earlier this evening. I was not able to make you aware of this fact before your return, so your capture was inevitable. My position within the Citizen ranks remains as important as your well-being, but compromises had to be made in order to keep us both functioning."

  He picked up the small knife and gestured at the twisted mash of radio bits scattered on the ground. "A loyal subject of mine was set to call me away regarding an urgent matter. I intended for you to escape when I departed, minimizing any suspicion of my involvement. Now, we will have to alter the strategy, as surely someone will be sent here soon."

  "Suspicion?" Rick narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you being a little paranoid? You haven't done anything-"

  "Citizen Davidson is wary and watchful of everyone around him, and it is he who is paranoid beyond reason. I assure you, the thought of me working against him has entered his mind many times, though I doubt he would ever divine the true reasons for it. He has long coveted a leadership position, and I fear he would do almost anything to keep it."

  "What should we do then?" Rick asked.

  The slightest wince came to Gottfried's face. "I believe you'll have to incapacitate me." He gestured at Malcolm. "The creature was recorded months ago when he killed the former High Inquisitor, Julian Wresh. We have been aware of him."

  Malcolm's body tensed at the mention, and Rick shuddered, remembering the entire encounter in the Institute very clearly.

  Gottfried continued, "Though his presence is known to the Citizens, his nature and motivation are not. My report of his intervention here will cast scrutiny away from myself."

  "You hope," Rick said, cringing.

  "There is no other option, and it must be done now." Gottfried set his jaw. "When opportunity presents itself, I will attempt to contact you."

  Malcolm glanced at Rick, who sighed and gave a nod.

  The High Inquisitor crumpled as Malcolm struck. Gottfried fell to the ground in an unconscious heap, blood dribbling down his face.

  "We have to get outta here," Rick said, "we're still pretty far inside their territory."

  "Follow." Malcolm spoke, his tone harsh and grating yet quite a bit more clear than Rick remembered.

  "Lead the way." Rick gestured.

  The pair took off at a run.

  ******

  Blocks, miles, a great distance he couldn't determine away from the unconscious Gottfrie
d, Rick collapsed against a wall. "Just a sec," he said, "need to catch... my breath..." He stood upright, ignoring his tired muscles and letting his lungs drag air in and out.

  Malcolm looked on, his features ever concealed by the scarves and hat. In spite of what must have been considerable warmth with the numerous layers and the many miles, Malcolm gave no sign of discomfort or fatigue.

  One thing Rick did notice was that Malcolm's left arm appeared to be dangling, limp and unmoving. He wanted to ask why but couldn't quite figure out how to approach the subject. Recalling how unbreakable Malcolm seemed, Rick didn't think he wanted to know how the brute could sustain any lasting injury.

  "How'd you find me?" Rick asked, light-headed and dripping with sweat.

  "Not difficult. Hkaylee said to watch."

  "She asked you to keep an eye on me? How long ago was that?"

  Malcolm gave a shrug.

  Thanks, Kaylee. I owe you one, even if he is a little creepy, Rick thought.

  He blew out a long sigh and flexed his tired limbs. "Okay, I suppose we should figure out where we're going. Any ideas?"

  His companion stared, not responding.

  "Great, okay..." Rick was still not entirely used to the hulking presence of Malcolm. Whether it was because the guy used to be a Citizen or that he was now some kind of alien monster, Rick didn't feel comfortable having him around. "So the places I can use to get down below are all guarded now. Do you know of any others?"

  Malcolm titled his head before taking off at a jog.

  "Hey, wait up!" Rick called out.

  Time passed again while Rick focused on keeping up and drawing enough breath to avoid passing out. Malcolm moved swiftly, without speaking, and the pair progressed northward, toward the contested area.