Herculanium (34 page)

Preston took a deep breath and leaned forward to project his voice. “If that’s true, then you people are the sickest mother-fuckers I’ve ever met.”

A collective gasp resonated from the audience, followed by the crashing of dinner plates and silverware toppling to the floor. Time, space, and music screeched to a grinding halt. Judge Thorne took several steps back and stared at his fellow judges in the front row, shocked at this honoree’s impudence.

“What you’re doing isn’t sport, it’s war. But it’s not against some enemy trying to conquer you, it’s against each other. In my entire career, I have never seen such brutality and mayhem and callous disregard for human life. You have players that swing and beat the shit out of each other; you have referees that use shock-sticks to electrocute unruly players; you even have judges that decide which teams win or lose, based solely on their discretion. But even with all that aside, you have an entire planet of people who have a morbid fetish for seeing blood and violence. You have literally turned the excuse of war into a sports franchise, and it’s gotten so that you can’t even see how wrong it is anymore. This was never the spirit of competition that we, the pioneers, ever envisioned.

“Do y’all get what I’m saying? My God, war is about death and dying. You’re not supposed to be enjoying this shit. Sportsmanship? There’s no sportsmanship here, only pain. Sure, all of you can probably shoot, score, hit, and bat better than anyone from my time. But that doesn’t make you better athletes, just genetically-altered freaks that rely on drugs and gimmicks to win. If you level the playing field, none of you would stand a chance against any us.

“If this is truly what the world has come to, then you should’ve left me for dead back in the ocean. At least I’ll have peace of mind, with this thing called dignity and conscience and mercy. You—all of you—have none of those noble qualities.”

Jayna’s head dropped on her folded hands like a brick. Captain Barrows pursed his lips and nodded his head, as if secretly strategizing in his mind.

“Corporal,” he said with a tone that would chill snow, “I strongly suggest you get your pet off the stage before he is assassinated live on camera.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in somber disgrace. “I’m sorry, Captain; I had no idea. I thought he would be more controlled than this.”

“Someone here’s done a very poor job,” he continued. “I just can’t decide who.”

With phone in hand, Jayna rose from her seat and rushed to the backstage entrance.

Judge Thorne clawed his hand around the microphone and sneered at Preston. “I think that is quite enough, sir. You’ve done more than adequately sully the name of Combattra. There’s no place for you here.”

Preston blinked his eyes and caught his breath. He looked bewildered, seemingly unaware of the speech he had just given. Judge Thorne slowly nudged him away from the podium with his forearm and took control of the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, officers, family and friends, there will be a brief intermission while we deal with our…technical difficulties. I thank you for your patience.”

“Wait,” said Preston, trying to talk into the microphone again, “I didn’t mean…what I meant to say was…”

“You should be proud of yourself, sir,” said the Judge. “You were succinct and quite eloquent in your delivery. Rest assured, you will get another fifteen minutes of fame. It will, however, be on our terms.”

General Cube was standing out of his chair, posed as if waiting for the signal to go for his jugular.

Jayna firmly tapped Preston on the shoulder from behind, then grabbed his sleeve by the elbow. “Let’s go, sport. I think you’ve done enough damage for the night.”

“These people are monsters, Jayna,” he said as they were led away by a small pod of security guards. “Somebody had to tell the truth. Somebody must’ve listened. I know they did.”

Preston could see the disappointment in Jayna’s face as they were escorted out of the building and into a passenger van waiting in the back alley. The roar of applause and music emanated through the Infinidrome and into the streets, indicating the show had continued without them.

Despite the majestic marquee lights scrolling across the van’s windows on the way to the airport, Preston’s attention was focused solely on his bodyguard, escort, and friend.

“Please say something,” he said with profound sadness. “You haven’t said a word since we left. Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“There’s really nothing to say,” said Jayna, keeping her eyes on the scrolling, starlit desert scenery. “You got what you wanted. You did things your way, and I hope you’re happy. Elated. Ecstatic.”

“Is that a smile I see?” he asked playfully, trying to crack her armor of silence.

“It’s midnight, Cinderella. The ball is over and it’s time to hang up your shoes.” Jayna sighed and closed her eyes, letting the outside wind stroke her hair.

“You’re not telling me much, you know. I just want to know what’s inside your head right now.”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?” Jayna wheeled around on her seat and glared at Preston. “Because of you, my commission and my career is over. That stunt you just pulled told the world and my superiors that I’ve done a lousy job looking after you. Have you ever thought about the people whose lives are affected by your actions?”

“I only wanted to get my point across. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”

“Believe it or not, you’ve gotten your way from the day I met you. Despite all your complaining, we’ve given you everything you demanded.”

“Everything but dignity.”

“Well, boo-fucking-hoo. The military doesn’t issue character. That has to come from within. And if it’s not within you to be strong in the time we’ve spent together, then that’s your failing, not mine.”

She returned her gaze to her window and stared at his reflection. “I never thought I’d say this, but you really disappoint me. Maybe you were right about one thing: had we left you in the ocean, none of this would’ve happened. Thanks to you, tonight may be my last night with Combattra, too.”

Preston bowed his head and cupped his hands around his eyes, then began sobbing quietly in the darkness.

“You can put the golf ball down anytime now, Private,” said Judge Thorne. “Preferably before you test for your next commission?”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The young Private carefully, if shakingly, lowered the ball onto the tee with a portable hydraulic lift. Despite accompanying the judicial entourage through seven played holes, he had yet to master its weight and balance.

The judiciary looked on with anticipation, giving the Judge a wide berth as he went through his routine of practice swings. General Cube bristled at the young recruit’s incompetence, mentally taking notes to have him reassigned. Judge Thorne finally lumbered to the tee, adjusting his bulky exo-skeleton frame to match the angle of his pre-programmed swing. Punching buttons on a touch-pad located on his chest, the skeletal frame squealed and hummed as it shifted its ballasts to different parts of its host’s body, anticipating the weight-shift of the swing and its follow-through. Taking his position before the tee, he stared in the direction of the next hole.

“45 degrees left, sir,” said the Private, staring through his bulbous red-tinted binoculars. “Z-plus 85 feet.”

Judge Thorne slowly pulled the club back, then gracefully swung it forward. With the exo-skeleton continuously squeaking and adjusting itself throughout the single motion, he struck the ball perfectly in a wide orbit. With a deafening ping, the seventy-pound metal golf ball quickly disappeared into the lush green landscape.

“Good shot, sir,” said the Private, his eyes still embedded in the binoculars. “It’s on the green.”

“Thank you, son,” said the Judge as he lifted up his blast visor. “Everyone has had their turn, yes?” His fellow judges nodded their heads in unison. “Splendid. On to the next hole.”

General Cube took his seat next to Judge Thorne as the group boarded their personnel transport and proceeded to the next hole, nearly two miles away. Impromptu golf was the judiciary’s prescribed method for relaxation and meditation. Swinging at objects with a metal club was quite effective in releasing stress and frustration.

“He humiliated us, Mason,” said the Judge as he took off his helmet and wiped his brow. “In front of the whole world, he called us barbarians. He should be shot for treason.”

General Cube comfortably sat back and stared out into the tree-lined horizon scrolling outside his window. “It’s no surprise, sir. He’s a dinosaur, outdated and useful only when dead and on display.”

“I had hoped his performance would have some insane reverse effect, and actually make us look more endearing than what he described. That’s not the case, unfortunately; at least not according to the polls.”

“I remember us discussing this very possibility, sir, just a few months ago. I believe your exact words were to ‘strip him of his rank’?”

“We can ‘retire’ him anytime. Unfortunately, it’s much more complex with a public figure. He’s infamous now, a celebrity for all the wrong reasons. If we had reason to act against him, then that would be different.”

“Reason indeed, sir?” General Cube retrieved a folder from his assistant and held it in front of the Judge.

“You know I don’t play guessing games, damn it. What the hell is in the folder, Mason?”

“Please take a look inside, your honor. I think you will find it…enlightening. It’s amazing what one will find if one digs deep enough into someone’s past.”

Judge Thorne opened the folder and gasped. He skimmed through the first few pages before returning his gaze to the General. “This was dated five months ago. Why didn’t Doctor Bentley notify us immediately?”

“We uncovered a conspiracy to keep this information concealed, sir. Doctor Bentley was arrested, and his colleague, Doctor Schaeffer, was more than eager to talk, once we convinced him of the importance of his rank, license and career.”

Judge Thorne continued to thumb through the pages, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is unreal. Do you realize the disaster this can potentially become?” An evil, satisfied grin slowly contorted his face.

“Just one drop, sir; one drop is all it takes. Imagine if the virus becomes airborne…”

“I want everyone connected with the cover-up arrested and prosecuted immediately. I want Level 5 sterilization and quarantine protocols enacted without delay.”

“We now have probable cause to go after our guest, Judge Thorne. A pandemic outbreak is reason enough, I think.” General Cube relaxed in place, smiling from ear to ear.

“Take all the men and resources you need, General. And make it as public and as loud as possible. Turnabout is fair play.” The Judge slapped his thigh in delight.

“How did you want to deal with his baggage, sir? What should we do with all his loose ends?”

“I want everything purged, Mason. I want everything to be exactly as it was before he came, as if he never existed.”

Judge Thorne smiled as the transport approached the next hole. He had planned on calling an emergency meeting with his men upon hearing the General’s news, but decided to put it off until after their game. There would be more good times to come, he assured himself.

Upon disembarking with the group, General Cube signaled for another transport to pick him up and take him back to headquarters. He had much to plan in averting a disaster, and in disgracing a traitor.

He couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself.

Overcast skies kept the city in a perpetual gray, adequately reflecting Preston’s mixed emotions as he looked outside his window. The normally bustling landscape had taken on a new shade, blurring the line where the sky met the horizon. In the proper light and drizzle, the canyon of buildings was a seamless, intricate sculpture carved from a single mountain slab. Umbrellas large and small replaced the swirl of people walking its sidewalks, undulating in broken rhythm and fanning out in all directions. The threat of rain didn’t stop the populace from going about its collective business, just more decorative in appearance. The ambient scent of the city was especially pronounced, an olfactory soup of sweet and fetid.

Preston never took his gaze away from the window, seemingly lost in thought or searching for a symbol only he could understand. The cab ride from base housing to the central cemetery took nearly an hour, passing through one obscure town after another. He didn’t realize that so many small towns had sprung up since he disappeared, cluttering the roadsides with welcome signs that were sometimes only a mile apart. But it was a pleasant change of scenery; it was hard to believe that a countryside even existed in this jumble of life.

There were too many random thoughts fluttering inside his mind for him to think straight. The hope of finding a loved one’s grave, plus the dread of actually seeing it, twisted his gut into painful knots. Finding a grave would re-establish a connection with his past, but it would also reaffirm that he was truly alone.

There would be no closure at all, only loneliness.

“I really appreciate you coming with me today,” said Preston with a gentle tone. “I know how hard I’ve made things for you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Don’t give it a second thought, mate,” said Jayna, returning his smile with one of her own. “I think we’ve both had it hard. Luckily, they just let me off with a slap on the wrist. Being on probation’s nothing new to me.”

“How long will you be on probe?”

Jayna turned her head and looked at the mesmerizing row of trees scrolling across her side of the cab. “Don’t ask.”

“I bet you’re not used to taking public transportation like civilians, huh? This cab must seem pretty ordinary compared to the military transports you’re used to.”

“I actually use public transportation quite a bit. I like the fact that I don’t have to salute the fucking car every time I ride it.”

Preston nodded and secretly smiled inside. He still had to get used to seeing such a beautiful woman curse.

“Driver, how far are we from the Necropolis?” She leaned forward and surveyed the road up ahead.

“We’re coming up to it now, miss,” said the cab driver, glancing at her through his rear-view mirror. “It’s just up ahead, past these trees.”

The redwoods that lined the sides of the road suddenly fell away, revealing an entire countryside of green hills and fields that receded well into the horizon. Vertical tombstones bisected the emerald landscape like a checkerboard maze, aligned perfectly in complex rows and resembling stone stalks of wheat. Staring at the infinite rows while driving past created a dizzying moiré of shapes and colors, causing onlookers to blink or look away.

The cab slowly pulled up to the cemetery’s main entrance rotunda, joining buses and other cars in taking turns offloading their passengers. The Necropolis’ façade was a giant arch flanked by two towering saint statues, their hands outstretched in greeting. At first glance, it resembled an amusement park, complete with monorails speeding by on elevated tracks.

“What’s your name, mate?” asked Jayna of the cab driver, pulling money out of her wallet.

“Max,” he responded with a smile. “My name is Max.”

Preston smiled and turned his head. That name was more than familiar.

“That’s a nice name,” she said. “Well, Max, I’ll make it worth your while if you wait in the parking lot until we leave.” She added another wad of bills to the original fair and balled it in his hand. “I’m taking you at your word that you’ll be here and not run away with me money. We’ll be gone for a few hours, but I’ll stay in touch via phone.”

He stared at the money and smiled. “You got a deal, lady.”

“Micky. My name is Micky.”

Preston’s eyes widened like dinner saucers. He stared at her as if had just seen a ghost. “What did you just say?” he whispered.

She ushered Preston out of the cab and tapped on its frame twice, reminding the driver again to wait for their return. They were quickly motioned by a passing policeman to stay clear of the curb, as other cars were pulling in with more mourners.

“Are you alright, Preston?” she asked, confused by his unwavering stare. “I just told the man my name was Jayna. You know that wasn’t a pick-up line, right? I was just establishing familiarity to make sure the wanker doesn’t leave us here.”

Preston shook his head. “I’m sorry, I must’ve been hearing things. I guess a place like this can do things to you.”

Now he had truly seen everything, he told himself again. Not only did they have to pay to get inside the cemetery, but its winding walkways were also lined with concession stands and gift shops of all possible themes. The choral sound of different funeral processions could be heard nearby, playing simultaneously in different locations. Mourners used the cemetery’s winding monorail system to visit their deceased’s graves, which were located throughout the vast area.

“Necropolis?” asked Preston, reading the cemetery’s complimentary guide.

“It’s an old Greek term, meaning ‘city of the dead.’ Historians have used it to describe Egyptian pyramids, which were actually tombs for the pharaohs.” Jayna used the guide’s map to navigate through the crowds and locate the site’s Hall of Records.

“It feels like we’re in a Disneyland for dead people. All we need is a walking mouse corpse to greet us.” Preston laughed at his own inference.

“I’m sure there are plenty of mice here,” she added with a smile. “They’re the ones eating the bodies.”

Jayna immediately flashed her military identification badge as they ascended the steep marble steps and entered the Hall. “Official military business,” she told the entrance attendants. “Please let us through.”

The large crowd and long lines awaiting to use the Hall’s search engines groaned and jeered collectively, frustrated at the two’s instant passage through security. Preston, too, was surprised at their easy entrance.

“You can go anywhere you damn well please with that badge, can’t you?”

“That’s right,” she said with authority. “Fringe benefits of being in the military. It’s great at strip bars, too.”

Upon entering the Hall’s research room, they found all the computers fully booked and occupied, with a waiting list an hour long. Jayna was unimpressed.

“Official Combattra business, ma’am,” she said, tapping the nearest user on the shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ll need to commandeer your computer. Time is of the essence; I thank you for your cooperation.”

The woman barely had time to protest, before Jayna confidently “guided” her out of the chair and took her spot. The room custodian and Preston both shrugged their shoulders at the frantic woman, who ran out of the room to complain.

Jayna stroked the keyboard like a master pianist, effortlessly pounding the buttons while flipping from screen to screen. Preston had never seen anyone type so fast, and with such grace and expression.

“We have access to the cemetery’s massive library.” She squinted at the flat monitor. “If there is anyone here that you’re related to, we should be able to find them. Please remember that this is Necropolis West, which covers the westernmost states, including Hawaii. Literally everyone within those states’ population districts is buried here.”

She paused and looked at Preston, concerned with his reaction. He was leaning on the back of her chair with a determined look about him.

“You ready?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I need names to begin the search. Who should I look for?”

“I’ll give you several. My dad’s name was Enoch Jones, and my mother was Petra Wilkins. My wife was Erica Spain. See what you can find with those names.”

Jayna’s hands resumed their concert performance, again fluttering on the keyboard while flashing through multiple screens and windows. With her head perfectly stationary, her eyes darted from one end of the screen to the other, changing directions at will and comprehending paragraphs of information in a glance. After what seemed like long minutes of flash research, Jayna finally paused and smiled.

“I’ve found them.”

Preston leaned closer to the screen. “You what?”

“I found four graves positioned together, three of which have the names you just gave me.”

He could feel his voice breaking into sections with each syllable. “Whose…whose name is on the fourth grave?”

“A ‘Maxwell S. Lee.’ Friend of yours?”

The first tear was as cold as an ice cube as it streamed down his face. “Yes.”

A collage of images quickly flooded his mind, and a lifetime’s worth of memories suddenly flattened him to the floor. He wept openly, grimacing and clutching his clothes like a lost little boy. Preston pounded his fists on the floor, tears expanding from his eyes like fireworks streaming down from the sky. He had all but given up on seeing his loved ones, and finding them now only deepened the hope and anguish bottled deep inside him. He was torn between celebrating his discovery and mourning their passing.

"I know where they are, Preston,” said Jayna enthusiastically. “They’re in the middle of the cemetery, in the oldest part directly in the middle.”

She wheeled around and found her friend nearly sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t want to go. Get me the hell out of this place.” His instincts told him to run, to escape from this smothering prison. He felt the tactile stench of death rubbing against his skin, filling his mouth and nostrils. The corpses were aware that he was there, staring from beyond their caskets. Preston was a child again, lost and in search of his parents.

“We have to go, Preston,” said Jayna, crouching down beside him. “This is their chance to see you, and for you to do the same. You owe this to yourself. At least now, you know you’re not alone. I’m here, and I won’t leave your side.” She gently rubbed his shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

Preston repeatedly wiped his eyes with his hand and sleeves.

“Come now,” she said with an assuring tone. “That’s a good lad.”

Preston stayed put, crumpled in place.

Jayna stood up, took a step back, and cleared her voice. “What part of ‘get up’ didn’t you understand, soldier?”

Preston looked up, bewildered by her tone of voice. His tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

“I gave you a direct order to get up," she continued. "Now get up off the floor or I’ll sling you over my shoulder and carry you off.”

It took a few seconds for Preston to shift his weight and crouch on one foot. He was visibly shaken, weak from anguish and slow to respond. He couldn’t understand the sudden shift in her demeanor.

The other computer users sat motionless in place, staring at the two and unsure of what to do next. They didn’t want to distract the officer’s ire and shift it to themselves.

“We have a mission to finish at the center of this shit hole. Now get your sorry black ass off the ground and come with me so we can complete what we were ordered to do.” Jayna took a step forward and glared at him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Preston finally stood erect, collecting himself and realizing what she was trying to do. He quickly tucked in his shirt and took a deep breath.

“Are you able to continue?” she said, standing face to chest with him and placing her nose directly below his. “Or should I stick your ass in the brig?”

“I am able to continue.”

“What did you say?”

“I am able to continue…Sir.”

“Very good. Walk with me, Private Jones. We have a train to catch, and I can’t do this alone.” She turned to the crowd behind her and sneered. “As you were.”

Preston couldn't believe this tiger was the same partner he’d had for months.

The monorail ride through the Necropolis countryside was as eye-opening as it was long. Preston and Jayna had no idea how large the compound truly was until they boarded and headed to its center, its oldest and most traditional landmark. Besides passing by numerous funeral processions and concerts overhead on the elevated tracks, they also saw the Necropolis was divided into different districts. The major religions of Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam and Judaism each had their own respective sections for ceremony and burial, evident by the individual monumental icons rising above the trees.

The tombstones were uniform within all the districts, however. Tall and slender, they were positioned nearly edge to edge with each other. When viewed from afar, it created the illusion of a wheat field that stretched across rolling flatlands and steep hills. According to Jayna, dealing with the burgeoning population called for creative solutions. People were now being buried feet first and then stacked deep into the ground. The practice of recycling soil and rotating bodies with other cemeteries was commonplace, with surprisingly good results.

The field of points began to slowly dissipate as they entered the center, giving way to a more traditional vista of tree-lined groves, headstones, and mausoleums. It was another familiar touch of home for Preston, who could still remember the peace and simplicity of the cemeteries of his time. They were the only ones to disembark from this monorail stop, with the other passengers returning back to the entrance.

Jayna and Preston descended the platform and paused briefly to soak in the ambience.

“This is so…strange,” said Jayna, wary as if she was staring at a murder scene for the first time.

“What’s wrong?” asked Preston with a smile. Was he seeing a sense of dread in his companion’s eyes?

“I’m not used to seeing so much green. There’s no machinery, no noise, no pollution. It’s just…nature. Are those birds in the trees?”

“This is what a cemetery is supposed to look like, my dear. It’s not that dump outside this area. A cemetery is a place of peace, reflection, and prayer. Technology doesn’t matter here; you can’t take anything with you when you’re gone.”