Final Empire (29 page)

The next couple weeks were harder than I’d anticipated.

A week before Christmas I flew to Canada to visit my three remaining family members: my older sister, my hyperactive five-year-old nephew Austin, and my precocious seven-year-old niece Addison. We embraced, we laughed, we shed a few tears. It was overwhelming, but also cathartic.

Elizabeth worried (as she always did) that I was making the wrong decision. I assured her it was the only one I had left. She was more of a mother to me than my biological mother ever had been, and she never stopped treating me like her baby brother – emphasis on the ‘baby’. I used to think it was irritating. Now, in a strange way, I almost craved it.

It would be difficult for everyone, but I had no alternatives. I wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth; to have her shout at me for not eating healthy enough, or for going outside in the snow without my coat on. I wanted to teach Addison how to shoot a three-pointer and finally crush Austin at Mario Kart Universe (a feat I’d yet to accomplish…how he got so skilled at VR motion control by the age of five, I’d never know). I wanted to watch them sing in choirs, dance ballet, learn how to snowboard. I wanted to see them
grow.
Now I’d have to experience all of those things through videos and photographs. Just a few short years ago I’d held the little munchkins while they were tightly swaddled in pastel-colored blankets, sucking pacifiers…by the time I’d emerge from cryogenics, they’d be thinking about which universities to apply to. Being an uncle to these kids was such an honor, such a privilege. Missing these years with them was something I’d never get back, and it crushed a little part of me.

Elizabeth asked if I should contact mom and tell her about my tumor, as well as my upcoming cryogenic treatment. She was still in the wind, off the grid. We hadn’t heard from her for longer than either of us could remember, and at this point, she’d pretty much relinquished her rights to even be called ‘family’ to any of us. I had the resources to locate her if I’d really wanted to, but she clearly didn’t want to be found, so who was I to go against her wishes? When I went into stasis, she could hear about it on the simulcasts along with everyone else.

After giving Austin and Addison several hundred gifts, and spoiling them beyond all reason, I said my tearful goodbyes and returned to Fortress 18 for New Years.

Seven days remaining until stasis.

Peyton and I spent a quiet night in our room with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries, blissfully watching a simulcast of the fireworks erupt over Sydney – the first major city to celebrate the New Year. The neon multi-colored explosions were cut through by a call on my com. It was Detective Dzobiak.

I stepped into the hall and pulled open a holoscreen. “What’s up, partner?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, gritting his teeth with agitation. “Your boy Kenneth is still running loose. And now he’s adding to his body count.”

It had been six weeks since the senator’s daughter had washed up on the shore of Kenneth’s island, and he’d all but threatened an attack on any American who’d dare step foot near his self-proclaimed land. It didn’t seem like something that the government would let slide. But here we were, with not a single word of new information being uttered on the news about the incident, and Kenneth staying conspicuously silent.

“He…killed someone?” I asked. “How do you know this?”

“Because I saw it.” Dzobiak swiped a file from his wrist-com and it instantly appeared on mine, blinking, awaiting my command. “And now you’re about to see it.”

I opened the video file. A night-vision satellite image showed a streak of light burst into a building (somewhere in Rural China, judging by the topography) and several bodies being sliced in half. It was as if someone had chucked a six-foot, heat-seeking buzzsaw through a window, directly into a crowded room. It all happened in a blink. The victims were in pieces before they could react.

“That attack looked a lot like when Kenneth took out Darmaki,” I noted. Suspicious, yes, but hardly conclusive. That streak could’ve been someone, or some
thing
else – I didn’t have any evidence it was Kenneth.

“Believe me, it’s your boy all right,” the detective grumbled. “He took out a man named Jian Zhou – but his followers called him ‘The Life Bringer’. This ancient dude could bring dead matter back to life, according to reports. He’d revive farm animals, turn dead crops into food for thousands – this guy could do it all. Except bring
himself
back to life, apparently.”

The second video the detective sent me was a recording from a US satellite tracking system, which saw the streak blasting southward. The cameras lost track of the target not long after it passed over Hong Kong, but whatever the buzzsaw was that killed those people, it was most definitely heading in the direction of the Desolation Islands. Kenneth’s Island. Occam’s Razor.

“All right,” I sighed, massaging my forehead, “so Kenneth probably killed this superhuman in China. That sucks, but I’m not a cop, man. I’ve got my own shit to deal with here.”

“I know you’re stepping into the freezer next week, but I could really use your help on this one, Mox.”

“Help with what? What could I possibly do that the entire US government can’t?”

“It’s not a matter of ‘can’t’,” he said in a hushed tone, as if someone were listening in. “It’s a matter of ‘won’t’. The senator’s daughter was scooped up by some French nationals, shipped stateside and buried. End of story. The media shut up about it, and no one else moved a muscle. Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”

“Hmm…” It did seem suspicious that what seemed like an act of war had suddenly been downgraded to a routine homicide. Though technically it was possible that America’s resources were being spread too thin; even with a military that eclipsed thirty of the largest armies on the planet combined, they could only do so much, and be in so many places at once. At the time, the US was involved in six separate occupations throughout Africa and Asia with no sign of withdrawing from any of them. A senator’s dead daughter was tragic, but possibly not a priority given the world’s political climate.

“This video should change everything,” I suggested. “The Living Eye going on a killing spree? They won’t let this stand, especially if he’s linked to the senator’s daughter. Send your findings to the powers that be, and they’ll have no choice but to do something about it.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, exasperated. “I already
did.
I sent this shit up the chain of command, right to the Secretary of Defense. An hour later I got called into the captain’s office, and was told that I needed to stop investigating this or I’d be put on indefinite suspension.”

I shrugged. “To be fair, China is out of your jurisdiction. It’s a little west of Brooklyn.”

“Come on, Mox,” he pleaded, slamming a fist into his desk with a loud thump. “Don’t you see what’s going on here? Kenneth wants to be the top dog – he’s eliminating his competition. Anyone else who’s being worshipped around the world is on the chopping block. And he already has politicians shitting their pants because they don’t seem willing to lift a finger against him. They’re scared.” 

It was a definite possibility. They
could
be scared to move against Kenneth. Or, more likely, they could’ve been paid off to keep their distance. It wasn’t difficult to believe that particular scenario, since the loyalties of politicians (and their votes) have been for sale since the early 2000s. But that didn’t seem like The Living Eye’s style.

“Maybe they worship The Living Eye,” I suggested. “Maybe some of them are part of this new cult?”

“What? Like even people at the top?”

I sagged against the wall. “Who knows? With Sergei Taktarov’s death leaving a vacuum, someone had to come along and fill the void. Maybe it’s Kenneth. It doesn’t seem like a stretch that at least a few of the policy-makers could be drinking the Kool-Aid. They might even believe he’s doing the right thing.”

“But do
you
think he’s doing the right thing?” the detective asked.

“
No
,” I said emphatically. But it didn’t really matter what I thought. I had a week to spend time with my loved ones, get my finances in order, and say my final goodbyes. There would always be injustice in the world: some caped idiot trying to kill another caped idiot, or start a cult, or turn an island into an evil hideout. Comic books had been preparing us for this insanity for more than a century, and as it turns out they were more accurate than any futurist could have predicted. And just like the monthly adventures of these heroes, their enemies were never truly vanquished. At least not for long. If The Joker or Kingpin or The Green Goblin went down in flames, another villain was more than willing to step into their shoes and wreak havoc, vying for world domination.

What the comic books got wrong, however, was that heroes are not immortal. Superman and Wonder Woman never age with time, which is incredibly helpful; it allows them an endless clock to defeat their enemies, and a bottomless well filled with reboots and retcons and do-overs. I wasn’t so fortunate. My hourglass was running out of sand, and there was no slowing the grains from falling. And besides, there were plenty of stronger, faster, and more capable people who could take my place –
actual
superhumans with
actual
powers – and if they were willing to carry the torch and step into the role of ‘hero’, they were more than welcome. I needed some rest. I deserved it.

“I’m sorry,” I said dully. “I don’t know what to tell you, Todd. I don’t have a lot of time left, and there isn’t anything I can do.”

He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Dzobiak wished me well on my journey and closed the holo-session.

It would be the last time I saw his face.

Three days remaining until stasis.

“And take a big, deep breath for me,” my doctor instructed, pressing the cold metallic disc into the bare skin on my back, sending a shiver through my extremities.

I let out a long, labored breath, halfway expecting to see a plume of cold mist billow from my lips. It was freezing cold in the small basement infirmary, and being shirtless wasn’t helping either my body temperature or my mood. I had a migraine as well, made worse by the incessant ping of my wrist com, chiming with incoming calls and meeting reminders.

“Is this going to take much longer?” I asked, trying not to sound as grumpy as I was. It came out sounding like a whine.

“If you hold still and stop complaining it’ll go much quicker,” she said with an artificially cheerful tone. “And when we’re done you can have a lollipop.”

“Ha, ha,” I said dryly.

She circled around in front of me, plucked a small metal pen from the pocket of her lab coat, and illuminated a blue light at its tip. “Ahhhhhh…” she said, letting her jaw hang open.

I followed her instructions. She hummed and hawed as she inspected the inside of my mouth, and I heard the infirmary doors whoosh open at my back.

“Damn!” a voice called out from behind me. “You need to tone up, Mox. Hit some free weights or so dome Jazzercise or
something.
You don’t wanna come out of the freezer with those pasty white love handles.”

Steve.

Fucking.

McGarrity.

“I’ll be right back with your results, Mister Moxon,” the doctor said, tossing my t-shirt on my lap. She turned and exited the room.

“What do you want, Steve?” I pulled my shirt over my head and slid down off the metal table.

“I know you wanted to talk to me, so…”

I glanced down at my wrist-com, just to confirm my suspicion. “We had a meeting scheduled
tomorrow,
” I groaned. “Today I have to prep for stasis. I’ve got back-to-back appointments all day.”

“Ahh, damn!” He smacked himself on the side of the head. “I
knew
something was off about today. Like today sort of
felt
like tomorrow…you know?”

I was already having reservations about the conversation I needed to have with McGarrity – about the monumental favor I was going to ask of him. He wasn’t instilling me with any great deal of confidence.

“Yeah, okay…sure,” I replied. I offered him a metal stool and sat across from it. “Now that you’re here, we might as well do this.”