Five Days Dead (18 page)

An Answer to Humanity

He linked to the digital version of the Provo City Park he had visited while at the Hub and sent an invitation to Marshal Tempest to join him. He didn’t expect that she would. He sat on a park bench and listened to the classical music softly playing in the background.

There was no one else at the park and he watched as a gentle breeze swung the swings and whispered through the trees. He liked it here, even though it wasn’t real; it was a nice place to visit. He gave himself a book to read, an old fashioned paperback novel, a Louis L’Amour western and he enjoyed the feel of the paper in his hands. His mother used to read him Louis L’Amour novels before putting him to bed. He had been thinking too much of his mother and shook the memory away.

He read the first chapter before he was bothered by anyone and when he looked up he saw Marshal Jodi Tempest walking toward him from the playground. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. Instead, she wore a simple pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt and he admired her long legs and trim body. Her hair was down and flowed over her shoulders and he wondered two things at once: the first was why she had chosen to appear to him in such a manner and the second was why had he chosen to be alone most of his life? The first he hadn’t a clue, the second was because in general people annoyed him, even beautiful people.

Jodi sat on the bench beside him and smiled as she surveyed the empty park.

“All alone Harley?”

“You’re here.”

Jodi nodded. “But why sit in a park without any people? You could have fillers at least; it wouldn’t be so depressing.”

“I can’t abide fillers.”

“Can you abide anyone?” Harley was silent for a moment and Jodi laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Thinkin’ on it.”

“Why did you call me here Harley?”

Harley leaned forward and let the Louis L’Amour novel dissolve away.  He clasped his fingers and let them touch his dry lips. “I was thinking about balance.”

Jodi leaned forward as well and turned her head to look at him. “Balance?”

“Balance can be a difficult thing to restore once it’s lost.”

“Agreed.”

“I was just wondering when you have Wrynd still using their  linktags and using scyes and pulse weapons and driving vehicles how that might upset the balance in your Federation.”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Jodi’s eyes looked troubled.

“It is your territory, isn’t it Marshal?”

“It is.”

“Well, you have the makings of a lunatic army in the Wilderness, in case you didn’t know. They’re quite intent on killing me actually, which may be of no concern to you but is a mild one to me.”

“I understand.”

“But that isn’t the biggest problem with balance you’re facing.”

“What is?”

“You’ve got Gandalf running around out there as well.”

“Gandalf?” 

Harley stared at her. “Never mind. I think you know who I’m talking about. I think you know what he did to Orrin and his mad zombies.”

“Is he the Gray Walker?”

“No. He’s something else.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Just am. I think I saw something of the Gray Walker’s out there, at the end. If it was, then I don’t have much interest in meeting up with him.”

“What do you think they are? The Gray Walker and this old man?”

“Something beyond the Federation’s legionnaires and even their mighty Marshals. What I saw of them is beyond anything in any version of reality you claim to control.”

“Are they a threat?”

Harley shrugged. “Maybe they’re an answer.”

“To what?”

Harley looked at Jodi, at the curve of her arm next to his. Their arms almost touched. “To us.”

“Us?”

“I met a young man on the trail who told me we were rotting.”

“We?”

“Humanity. We were rotting and the Earth knew it and was cleansing herself of us. That was the answer for the Rages. Maybe the Gray Walker and the old man are the answer to us. Something of humanity that hasn’t spoiled.”

“Do you think you’re spoiled Harley?”

Harley thought back to the day on the swing when he had watched the old couple hand out the most beautiful apples he had ever seen to the people of Orangeville. He had reached for an apple and the old man had taken it away.

“I know I’m spoiled.”

Jodi studied him quietly and he found her gaze pleasing. “What do your people believe Harley Nearwater?”

“My people?”  Harley’s brow furrowed. “My people.” He remembered his mother sometimes told him stories when he was very small, before his father left, before she grew to hate him. He remembered something of a Changing Woman but nothing more. He also remembered his mother wore a cross on occasion, so he did not know if they were Christian or followed the beliefs of the Navajo. It didn’t seem to matter. Whatever the beliefs of his parents or his people, those beliefs had done little to shape the man he was. “I think whatever my people are, whatever they believe, they would rather I not speak for them.”

Jodi smiled softly. “What do you suggest I do about it, this imbalance in the Wilderness?”

“I know what I would do.”

“And what is that?”

Harley stood and looked down at her. “I’d strap on a sidearm and take care of what needs to be taken care of.”

“Such as?”

“You have a Wrynd Marshal in your territory using his scye and arming his zombies. I’d start there.”

“How do you know he was a marshal?”

“His scye is red, just like yours. Tell me he isn’t.”

“Killing Orrin would serve your purpose rather nicely.”

Harley winked. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“And the Gray Walker and this old man who commands the weather and the animals?”

“I’d steer clear of them. But that’s just me.”

Jodi stood beside him and they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 played in the park. “Do you know where this old man went after the Rages saved him?”

Harley narrowed his gaze into a squint and shook his head. “I don’t.” The lie came easy to his lips. He tipped his head. “Good day Marshal Tempest.” He left the digiverse in a blink, leaving the marshal standing in an empty city park.

Outside the storm began to wane and he slept for a time. When he woke he opened the door and climbed out and his boots sank in the mud. He made his way to the highway.  He walked to where the slope of the hill ended and he could see the entire valley. Lightning and thunder played a symphony to the north in the valley and the black clouds still roiled. He caught the first whiff of smoke and looked to his left. The mountains were burning. It was kindling dry and with the wind he knew a firestorm would soon be racing north and south and east and west.

It was time to go. He could go home to Orangeville and rest up for a bit and after a good night’s sleep or two he could pack the truck and go through the San Rafael Swell until he hit the old Interstate 70. There was still a service road that followed the high-speed rail that had replaced the interstate. He could follow it until he hit US-191 toward the ruins of Moab, where a small hamlet of neands and pilgrims still lived and were preyed upon by Wrynd, who came down the Colorado River to terrorize the natives and eat lunch. From there it was an easy route south to Kayenta. He could save his mother and forget about Wrynd and Gray Walkers and old men who had powers they should not have. He could forget about Marshal Tempest and how it felt to sit beside her, even in the digiverse instead of the universe and he could try to find a bit of peace in his world while there was still a world for it to be found.

He turned and headed back for his truck. Already he was starting to smile because he missed his house, where he used to sit on his porch and look down on the sleepy little town and not worry about people and how uncomfortable they always made him feel.

He took two steps and then from the heavens something swooped towards him and seized him in a powerful grip. Before he could do anything at all he was swept off his feet and soaring north, toward Price.

And all that he could think as the earth fell beneath his feet was that every weapon he owned was sitting in the cab of his truck.  So was his hat.

Restoring Balance

Marshal Jodi Tempest stood in the empty digiverse Provo City Park for some time after Harley Nearwater blinked away. The drifter troubled her greatly, but she could not deny any of the things he had told her and that troubled her more.

She had made mistakes and they were coming home to roost. She had not thoroughly vetted her predecessors and if she had she would have known that Trevor O. Hatcher was Orrin the Wrynd King and much might have been different. She had been too ambitious and it had always been so.

Growing up in the North Carolina Hub she had only wanted to go west, to be in the great outdoors where the view wasn’t obscured by the trees. She wanted to see as far as she could see and feel the age in the dry mountain dust. She had wanted to hunt the great beasts of the west, the bear and the elk and the deer and the mountain lion and the wolf, to prove she was their equal. But mostly she wanted the power that came from shining brightly and there were too many stars to shine brightly in the east. They were like maggots infesting a carcass, squirming and bloated and impossible to tell apart. She would never be noticed there, never be all that she knew she could be.

So she pushed herself. She was the top of her class in school, in college, in history graduate studies. She was the best at her physical conditioning, the best at her weapons training, the most adept with the scye. She was a deputy marshal at 20 and selected as marshal of the Utah Hub at 27, not the youngest marshal in Federation history, but very close. That she was not the youngest was the constant source of self-condemnation. She should have been the youngest, if only she had tried harder.

The thought that she had been chosen to replace the late Marshal Sanchez enamored her so that she had not even bothered to verify the history of the marshals who had served in the Utah Hub. If she had, she would have known before Marshal Sanchez there had been Marshal Hatcher and before Marshal Hatcher there had been no Wrynd. No Wrynd at all.

“And what would that have changed?” She asked herself in the empty park. “Nothing,” she replied, because that was the truth. It would have changed nothing. It would have changed nothing because the Federation knew he was a Wrynd. They had made him a Wrynd. They had ordered him to become one and he had done so. She wondered if she was ordered to become a Wrynd, to rip and tear and destroy everything that she was and everything she loved, would she be able to do so? She hoped that the answer was yes, but had her doubts.

And now Wrynd Marshal Trevor Orrin Hatcher had taken up arms in violation of the secret treaty the Federation had with the Wrynd. He had taken up arms. She knew the High Judges and the Lord High Judge had allowed the Wrynd to exist to serve a purpose, to purge the Wilderness of those who would not come to the Hubs.

They were to herd them out of the Wilderness or destroy them but to purge them either way. The agreement with the Wrynd was a delicate thing and a dark secret kept from the Legion. The Legion answered to the Federation Senate and there was no possible way the chaos of the senate would allow Wrynd to terrorize and kill those who would not come in out of the Wilderness. Even initiating the no-fly zone to keep the neands and the pilgrims in place had been a contentious debate that had stretched on for more than a year. It only came after assurances that the people of the Wilderness would still be allowed their human rights of Income, Housing, Medical, Education and Link. Now to learn that not only were the Wrynd ignored by the Federation, but directed by the Federation; that Lord High Judge Syiada was also High Wrynd King made her question everything she had supposed. There were forces at work here she had never dared to imagine. She wondered how much was known by her masters and what part she might be unwittingly playing. She determined to find out.

She left the park in search of answers.

The capital of the Founder Federation was in the Realm of the Americas, in the Brazilian Hub. Rio de Janeiro was not selected as the capital of the Federation because of any great geopolitical power or position in the world. The capital had to be somewhere and Lord High Judge Syiada was reported to enjoy the weather in Rio, so Rio it was.

Even in the digiverse, Jodi could get no closer to the Palace of the Lord High Judge than the outer gate. She walked toward it in awe, her senses overwhelmed by the swarming mass of humanity that collectively seemed to be a gyrating beast of light and darkness. She did not know how many or if any were fillers, but something told her that nothing among those in this digital representation of the Capital City was a filler. These were the digiselfs of living, breathing humans and she was but a tiny speck in a vast cosmos of activity. She felt tiny, insignificant.

The palace itself was a magnificent structure of tower upon tower upon tower, each reaching higher and higher into the heavens. The highest tower of them all, the Lord Tower, was the tallest man-made structure on earth and Jodi knew from the Lord Tower the Lord High Judge would often make pilgrimages to the Wheel and from there on to the Apollo Moon Base for sabbaticals. She had visited them herself on occasion, but only in the digiverse.

She stood outside the massive, golden and bejeweled gate of the Palace for some time, waiting for a chance to speak with anyone. There was a digi politely taking names of tourists and well-wishers at the gate. He was a beautiful looking creature and so perfect was his profile and his hair and his attire that Jodi knew he must be a full digi, not a digiself. Humanity did not typically have the imagination to be that perfect. In a soft, singsong voice, he told each person who approached the gate that the next tour of the palace would begin at the hour and any other visitors must do so by appointment only. When it was Jodi’s turn, she stepped to the gate, realized her digiself was still dressed in shorts and a T-shirt (why she had dressed so she could not tell you), and quickly flashed into her marshal uniform.

“Greetings Marshal.” The digi proclaimed and seemed quite happy to do so.

“Greetings.”

“What brings you so far south, Marshal Tempest?” The digi asked and Jodi was only slightly uncomfortable that the digi knew who she was. It was common knowledge after all, but still a bit disconcerting.

“I request an audience with the Lord High Judge.”  Jodi tried to sound confident, authoritative even, but knew otherwise.

The digi smiled politely. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you don’t know your place.” The digi’s voice changed from the first word to the last and in a flash Jodi went from standing in front of the Lord High Judge’s Palace gate to standing in the office of the High Judge of the Americas in the Mexico Hub. She swallowed hard and tried not to look as surprised as she felt. She had met High Judge Trevok on two occasions. The first was when she served as a vanguard when he toured the North Carolina Hub and the second was when she was selected to be the marshal of the Utah Hub. Both times he had carried himself as a man not to be trifled with. Standing in his digiverse office, he presented himself as a man who felt that he had very much been trifled with.

“Marshal Tempest.” His voice was like smooth ice, treacherous and slippery and deadly. “I was surprised to learn of your visit to the Palace of the Lord High Judge. Why do you suppose I would be surprised by something like that?”

“Because I did not attend you first, High Judge Trevok.” Jodi lowered her head. She had made a huge tactical mistake. The trick would be to live through it.

“And why,” the high judge stood and stared across his expansive desk at her. “Do you suppose you would so dishonor me to go to the Palace rather than voice your concerns with me?” High Judge Trevok spun a small crystal globe on the desk before him, playfully. The nails of his hands were painted bright green, as was his hair. He was slight of build and stooped of shoulder. He looked harmless, comical even. Jodi knew he was not. The telltale was in his eyes. They were fiercely blue and piercing and gave no hint of compassion.

“I meant no disrespect High Judge. I had questions of a troubling nature and was only trying to obtain answers before requesting an audience with your imminence.”

“From the Lord High Judge?” Trevok was not smiling.

“The questions span beyond the Utah Hub and even the Americas, High Judge Trevok.”

“What questions?”

Jodi took a deep breath. “The Wrynd, High Judge. They serve the Lord High Judge. I had not supposed this to be the case.”

“We all serve the Lord High Judge, Marshal Tempest.” Trevok came out from behind his desk and he so resembled a viper that she had to remind herself that this was the digiverse. Not that it mattered.

“Yes High Judge. But I have learned that the Wrynd serve the Lord High Judge directly. Former marshals are the Wrynd Kings.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“What of it?”

“I had no knowledge of this fact.”

“Should the designs of the Lord High Judge be cleared with you first, Marshal Tempest?”

Jodi blushed. “No High Judge. But…”

“But?”

“My charge is to serve the interests of the Lord Judge. How am I to fulfill my duty if I do not know what those interests are?”

“Those interests will be revealed to you when your skills are required. If they are required.” Trevok slinked closer to her and there was no denying the threat implied.

“Yes High Judge. But my predecessor, Marshal Hatcher, who is now Wrynd King Orrin. He has taken up arms against an enemy in violation of our treaty.”

“Arms?” Trevok seemed mildly interested now.

“Scye and blaster. He told me he would use whatever weapon he had at his disposal to destroy his enemy.”

Trevok grinned and licked his red lips. “And what enemy is that?”

“A man. A drifter.  He killed his queen.”

“And the mighty Wrynd King cannot kill this man without breaking the treaty?”

“He is…problematic High Judge.”

“Then assist Wrynd King Orrin and reinstate the treaty.”

“There is another matter High Judge.”

Trevok sidled behind her and she could feel his breath on her neck. His tongue caressed her right earlobe and she forced herself not to shudder. “What is it Marshal Tempest?

“The Gray Walker.”

“The legend?”

“More than a legend. There is another. An old man. A neand. He has fought against Orrin and his Wrynd three times and each time he has thwarted them. Orrin says he controls the elements themselves, wind and rain and thunder and lightning. The last time they met, when Orrin was sure he would have him, the beasts of the Wilderness intervened and saved the old man.”

“Who is he?”

“We don’t know High Judge. But he is not only immune to the Rages, he controls them.”

Trevok went to the window of his office that overlooked the expanse of Mexico City.  It was a bright and beautiful day outside, but none of it penetrated the gloom of his office. “Do you believe that Mother Earth is sentient Marshal Tempest? That Gaia seeks revenge for our sins against her?”

“Superstition.”

“Do you think so?”

Jodi nodded. “I do. We are suffering from our own mismanagement of the planet High Judge. Nothing more. We must restore balance.”

“Then I suggest you restore balance to your territory marshal.” Trevok hissed, and his eyes darted up and down her frame. “Kill the drifter and the old man and this Gray Walker. Kill them all. And when you have done so, kill Wrynd Orrin for his insolence and restore the Wrynd to their proper place in the Federation as the foot soldiers of the Purge.”

“How would I restore the Wrynd?”

Trevok smiled. It made her cringe. “Perhaps by becoming their queen.”

Jodi nodded and wished that Trevok would release her to escape from the digiverse.

“One other thing before you go, Marshal Tempest.” He slinked toward her then, and his thin hands roamed across her arms, her chest and her stomach. “If you ever attempt to circumvent me and go to the Lord High Judge again, I will not be amused. Not amused in the least.”

“As you say, High Judge.”

Trevok released her, and she blinked out of the digiverse and back to her office. She sat at her desk, sweating and more than a little nauseous and ashamed and knew there was only one thing she could do if she were to excel; if she were to reach her potential. She must carry out the wishes of the High Judge.

She stood and fastened her holster around her waist, spun up her scye and slipped on a jacket, making sure her marshal’s star was clearly visible. She marched out of her office and took the elevator to the roof and stood in the fading sunlight. She looked southeast and could see dark clouds on the horizon. She linked and called up a set of wings and when they arrived she raised her arms and they encased her midsection, leaving her arms and legs free to maneuver. With a thought, the wings’ arms extended like the talons of an eagle and she flexed them with pleasure before dropping off the roof and lifting her wings to soar towards the storm brewing in the Wilderness.

When she swooped down and gripped Harley Nearwater and carried him away toward Price and his death, she felt a moment of regret, but only a moment. It had to be done. Balance demanded it.