Progtopia: Book 1 of The Progtopia Trilogy (11 page)

“That may be true,” Franklin replied, “but we can’t wait around to answer questions. We’re on the run, and either you help us continue along the way, or I will have to kill you.”

“Look, I have a wife and kids. Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded. “I don’t know who you are, but if you are against these goons invading the countryside, I think we are on the same side. I can help you, but you will have to trust me. What I need you to do is to shoot me in the arm.”

“What? Why?” asked Franklin.

“Simple. I can radio in an ambush on me and those officers. It will give me some credibility and buy you guys some time. I can say that I saw Barbara walking along the roadside, and I was trying to help her. But when Homeland showed up, she ambushed all of us. By the time they figure out the truth, you will be long gone.”

Without any warning, Franklin fired several rounds hitting Stone’s left arm and leg, and then his patrol car’s windshield and headlight. Stone doubled over in pain.

“Sorry,” Franklin said. “Didn’t want to give you time to reconsider.”

By this time, Stone was on the ground writhing in pain. “Okay,” he grunted, “this is what you guys need to do. I have a place deep in the woods on the Monongahela River. I have a small boat with a motor, some fishing equipment, supplies, and other stuff you may need. I would use the river for your travel from now on. The roads are dangerous—too much surveillance—and once I call this in and they figure out what really happened, you will have Homeland and the State Police looking for you. If you take the river south toward West Virginia, you can hide out in the mountains. Homeland Security hasn’t invaded West Virginia yet, and frankly I don’t think they feel like dealing with the geography. I think that’s your safest bet. The other option is to go north, hit Pittsburgh, and take the Ohio River to the west or the Allegheny River to the east. Pittsburgh is crawling with Feds, though, so I would advise against it. Those idiots there welcomed them with open arms.” Looking toward the truck, Stone continued, “Peter, I think you just need some water in your engine’s cooling system. Just get some in there, and your truck should get you where you need to go.”

Franklin grabbed his water bottle and made his way over to the engine while directing Camille to get their equipment into the back of the bakery truck. He saw she was still crying and hovering over Barbara’s body. He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and said softly, “Camille, I’m devastated about what just happened to Barbara. We were very close friends, but you need to focus. If we don’t get out of here, we will never be able to avenge her death.”

Franklin wiped down his gun and placed it in Barbara’s hand. Camille knew he was right and started gathering their equipment, storing it in the truck. Peter got detailed directions to Stone’s cabin in the woods. Familiar with the area, he knew where it was. As the bakery truck pulled away, they saw Stone crawl to his vehicle to radio in the shooting.

What Stone hadn’t told anyone—not even his family—was that he had just been diagnosed the day before with leukemia. The first available appointment to see a cancer specialist was eleven months. Since the government took over healthcare, wait times had increased, costs had skyrocketed, care was denied, and everything that made U.S. healthcare superior was destroyed. He would be dead within months because the wait to see the doctor was just too long.

Twenty

The Year: 2172

It had been quite some time since 345 and 888’s eyes had first locked. That single moment had stirred intense emotions in both of them—feelings they had never experienced before. With 345 always early and 888 always lingering at the rear of the women on the platform, they ensured at least a quick glance of each other. It wasn’t much, but it was something. They both wanted so much more, but it was absolutely forbidden for the Recipient Class.

Growing up in the State-run homes and schools, they were made aware of how relationships among the Recipient Class could destroy the State. Everyone had to take the course
History of Relationships: The Dangers, Perils, and Failures That Almost Destroyed Society
. They learned all classes had relationships, bore their own children, and were raised by their parents, not the State. They were taught how that model was detrimental to society and led to financial collapse, famine, wars, and hardships that were too horrific to describe. They were lucky to live in a more
evolved
society where those tragedies didn’t exist. Prohibiting relationships was the only way to preserve the peace and security they all experienced. Lack of meaningful connections was their duty and contribution to the stability of the world. Most in the Recipient Class felt a sense of obligation to maintain order and refrain from relationships. Both 345 and 888, although knowing these teachings to be the truth, were still drawn to each other.

As he walked to the tram station that morning, 345 thought about his existence. He endured the State homes in order to live securely and safely with no sickness, starvation, or struggle. Yet, he lacked something. He wasn’t fulfilled. He yearned for more than just security. He wanted her. Why couldn’t he? His leaders—the Givers—could. Although he understood his mere existence was because they had created him, he still wondered why, just this once, he couldn’t touch her. His pace quickened as he got closer to the station. Almost rushing down the steps, he caught sight of her trailing behind the sea of pink biometric suits. She turned as she heard his footsteps, and then, unlike his usual routine of merely watching her from a distance, he rushed toward her—his right arm outstretched—to finally touch a real woman for the first time! His hand touched hers. She did not struggle. She squeezed it and turned to face him. They embraced for what seemed like an eternity, both lost in feelings and sensations they had never experienced before. Suddenly startled by the wailing of overhead sirens and the loud clicking of boots, they held each other tighter, knowing what was coming next. Two-dozen Social Keepers appeared from nowhere, ripping them from each other’s arms, extending the distance between them, until they could no longer see one other.

Twenty-one

The Year: 2172

Waiting in his stark white, windowless cell, Nikolai knew he had less than thirty minutes to live. He reflected upon his life, hoping he had done enough for the resistance. Always the perfect cover with access to the highest government officials, he had done much to turn some officials at the highest levels to their side. The irony that he was about to go down for something he didn’t do was not lost on him, but he had been handed his fate and was powerless to change it.

His latest target was Thatcher. He was so close to turning her, but now, he wasn’t sure it would be accomplished. Sitting on his cot with his elbows resting on his knees and hands over his face, he silently prayed to God. Although the State had successfully removed God from the world, Nikolai believed in His existence. Everything he had, his talents, his life and being, all came from his Creator—not the Benefactor. He knew in his heart of hearts that God wanted His people to be free to live, think, and enjoy life. He had always hoped he would see that world in his lifetime, but it was not meant to be. He had to have faith that Thatcher could be turned. The resistance was pinning their hopes on it. He prayed the undertaker would fulfill what Nikolai knew he could not.

His thoughts were interrupted by the
whoosh
of the opening of the cell door. When it opened, his young apprentice, Jake, appeared. He looked sad and tired, but he struggled to put on a brave face for Nikolai. Immediately, Nikolai felt reenergized. He walked over to Jake and started to give his famous Nikolai greeting. As Jake turned his head to the right for Nikolai to kiss him on the cheek, Nikolai noticed a small cut on his ear. Now, more inspired than ever, he placed his hands on Jake’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Jake, I have taught you so much. Please don’t let it go to waste. I hope you will take the world by storm in a way I never could.”

For anyone listening, they would’ve thought these two were talking about fashion. The two, however, knew there was a much deeper meaning. Jake embraced Nikolai tightly as his eyes filled with tears. He said, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“All right,” the guard said in a gruff voice, “your little reunion is over.” Not giving them any more time with each other, he dragged Jake away and the door closed.

Nikolai was so happy to see that cut on Jake’s ear. He knew his death would not be in vain—even if he couldn’t get to Thatcher.

Since the State deleted God from existence, the last visit no longer came from clergy. Instead, it came from someone in Justice. The door opened again, and Judge Kelleher strutted in. “Well, it’s time.” Nikolai looked confused. “What about Thatcher?”

“Nikolai, I’m not going back on my word. You asked that Thatcher be there when you die and be with your body until it’s taken away. You will get your wish. She’s going to watch you die. It’s time for her to grow up and see how things are handled here. Now, if there are no last words from you, it’s time.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he said disgusted with the Judge.

After the Judge left the cell, Nikolai stood there feeling empty. He would die never knowing whether Thatcher was reached. He would never have the chance to tell her goodbye or how much she meant to him. Not giving him time to reflect, the guards grabbed him, dragging him down the hallway to the execution room. Nikolai didn’t struggle once they were in the execution chamber. They strapped him down into the execution chair, making it impossible to escape. After the guards left the room, he peered through the glass barrier separating him from the viewing room. Although the room was dark, he could see people on the other side of the window. Sitting there were the Judge, Jonathan, Jake, Thatcher and Nikolai’s good friend, Fitz—the undertaker. He was sitting next to Thatcher, and all he could do was hope Fitz would come through for him.

A hissing noise interrupted the silence of the execution chamber. A mist slowly filled the room, making its way to Nikolai’s nostrils. Nikolai closed his eyes and prayed silently to himself while breathing in the deadly gas. Within seconds, he was dead.

Thatcher watched in horror as her most trusted companion took his last gasp of air. The only light filling the viewing room was that of the execution chamber. She was intently focused on Nikolai’s dead body, not paying attention to the man beside her, Fitz. This was not Fitz’s first execution, so he knew about the poor lighting and lack of cameras. Not wasting time because he had to retrieve the body, he placed a small pill into Thatcher’s hand while whispering, “Nikolai wants you to have this pill. He gave me strict instructions for you to have it with you—always. When you are ready to hear the truth, take it.”

Thatcher, startled and confused, wanted to ask questions, but before she could say a word, Fitz stood up and walked away. She looked at the pill and placed it in her pocket, wondering what it was.

Twenty-two

The Year: 2032

As their vehicle rumbled along the small winding dirt road, Franklin was happy with his decision of ditching the bakery truck for the SUV he stole. The final road, which was really no more than two tire tracks, led to Stone’s cabin. It was getting dark. They needed to get on the river to get as much distance as possible between them and Homeland Security. When they finally reached their destination, they were met by a small cabin overlooking the river. Its seclusion was a perfect getaway spot, reminding Camille of the camping trips she had taken with her family when she was a child. She didn’t have time to dwell on the past, however, as her reminiscing was interrupted by Franklin’s voice handing out tasks to the group.

Stone’s riverside abode was a small, single-room, prefabricated log cabin with two rocking chairs filling the front porch space. Franklin was already leading the way down the small path to the dock. Peter and Camille grabbed their backpacks and followed closely behind. All day, the mood had been somber. Although Camille knew she had to keep plugging along and not fixate on Barbara’s death, she had a hard time doing it. She didn’t know how Franklin was moving along as though nothing had happened. She figured he had lost friends in the war. It must have trained him to keep going no matter what. Camille noticed a sense of relief come over him when he reached the dock and saw the single-engine motorboat. He picked up his burner phone to make a call.

Franklin directed Peter to check its fuel gauge while ordering Camille to pack the boat and get ready to move. Peter found the gas can and topped off the motor. “Okay, folks, let’s get going,” yelled Franklin. Since nightfall was upon them, Franklin felt comfortable leaving the dock. They headed down the river until they reached a fork. Franklin veered to the right knowing it would take them to West Virginia. “Okay, Morgantown shouldn’t be too far from here.” Taking out his burner phone, he made a call and said, “In about thirty minutes, the cemetery.”

As they traveled down the river in silence, Peter was trying to wrap his head around the day’s events. He was finally getting his life back on track, and now he was with a gang of people who killed two Homeland Security officers, shot a State policeman, stole an SUV, and were evading capture from the federal government. His mom was going to kill him, if he ever made it home alive.

Peter was used to getting into trouble—shoplifting, drinking, and staying out all hours of the night. But all the fun came to an abrupt end when he was with a group of friends who robbed a store and beat up the clerk. He was in serious trouble. Charged as an adult, he was waiting for a trial date. His mom didn’t know where to turn. She thought getting a job at Michael’s Bakery might help. Michael was a Gulf War vet, known in the community for his no-nonsense style and good work ethic. Peter’s mom was at the end of her rope with her son. Not knowing what to do, she begged Michael to hire her son. Michael wasn’t thrilled with the request, but he felt sorry for her. Knowing Peter was heading down a one-way road to self-destruction if he didn’t get some direction in his life, he decided to hire Peter.

Peter thought it was a death sentence—his life was over. Michael made sure he went to school and came to work every night by picking him up in front of the school in the bakery truck. Michael pushed him hard and didn’t let him make excuses for poor grades, an unfinished job, or not working to his potential. After a while, Peter’s grades started to improve, and he was given more responsibility at work. Michael was tough but fair and taught him a lot about the business.

Michael was very active in the groups who were protesting all the recent events in the country—like the execution of Camille’s parents and the formation of the nationalized police force through Homeland Security. Peter didn’t pay too much attention to Michael’s warnings about a government that was moving toward limiting freedoms. He would just let Michael ramble on. Last night, though, Peter got scared. He noticed a change in Michael. Something was going on he wouldn’t share with Peter. For the first time since he knew Michael, Peter took him seriously when it came to the government talk. He gave specific instructions to Peter that if he were to disappear, to check the five pound bag of flour in storage for instructions.

This morning, which seemed like years ago, Peter was late to work. As he rounded the corner, he could see Homeland Security dragging Michael from the bakery. Peter drove past the bakery, not pulling into the parking lot. His eyes caught Michael’s, and they were filled with terror. Peter was sick, but knew there was nothing he could do for the man who had taken him under his wing. He kept driving, went to get a coffee, and sat down to try to regroup. It was then he remembered Michael’s instructions about the flour bag. He knew he had to make his way back to the bakery, and after calming down, he returned to the place he thought was his death sentence.

When he saw Homeland had left, he pulled into the lot. He figured if anyone came back, he could act as though he had come in for work. When he entered the bakery, he saw the place was trashed. Peter made his way to the storage room. Ripping open the bag of flour, he sifted through it until he found a small piece of paper that had a mile marker and state route listed with the instructions:
Pick up special delivery. Wait until it is delivered
.

Peter stared at the small piece of paper. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he felt in his heart he owed it to Michael to follow the instructions. He was scared. He saw the look on Michael’s face as he was being dragged away by Homeland. He wasn’t sure where this small piece of paper would lead him. Now, he was heading down the river in the dark of night with people whom he didn’t know. He trusted Michael, though. He didn’t believe the man who had taught him so much about right and wrong would lead him down the wrong path.

Camille was watching Peter closely, sensing he was struggling with his current predicament. “Peter, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess I just didn’t picture my day going like this.”

This perplexed Camille. She thought Peter was part of Franklin’s network and knew exactly what was going on. She wanted to probe a little further, but she was afraid of pushing him away. Instead, she decided to completely change the subject.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

By his one-word answers, she knew he didn’t want to talk. “Don’t worry, Mr. Franklin knows what he’s doing, and he’ll get us to a safe place.”

“Like he did with Barbara?”

The comment stung Camille. She didn’t expect it and felt she had to defend Franklin, but before she could say a word, Franklin broke in. “Peter, I don’t know who you are, but the government killed Barbara, not me. She meant more to me than you will ever know, so I would shut it before I make you.”

Peter got the message, not saying a word for the rest of the evening. He felt bad about saying that to Camille. She was trying to be friendly. It took him most of the day to place her face, but he finally realized she was the girl who posted the video and ran away, setting off everything going on in the country. From all the media coverage, he felt he knew her well, but would like to get to know her better.

Franklin was concerned about Peter. All he could get out of him was that Michael was taken away by Homeland Security earlier this morning. The kid was totally clueless, and Franklin was concerned he could be a liability. On the other hand, for being so clueless, he did manage to follow Michael’s instructions and get them to safety. He knew he would have to keep a close eye on him.

They were making good time, and being late in the evening, they were the only boat on the river. Going down the Monongahela River in the middle of the night was quite an experience. Luckily, it was not overcast, so the moon and stars provided light. It would have been an enjoyable, peaceful trip under any other circumstance.

The darkness started to lift as they came closer to the city. Seeing lights ahead, Franklin knew their rendezvous spot was coming up soon. As their boat rounded the bend, he could see the cemetery and began steering the boat toward the bank of the river. Once he got it close to land, he directed everyone to get out. He pushed the boat back into the river and shot a few holes in it, letting it sink, concealing their final destination. They slowly made their way up the river bank into the cemetery. In a few minutes, a hearse came out of nowhere, stopping at their gravesite. As the driver got out, Franklin could not believe his eyes, nor could he contain his relief when he saw his dear friend, Benson, standing there.

“Franklin, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Barbara told me that you may have been taken into custody.”

“Where’s Barbara?” Benson asked, looking around.

“She didn’t make it.”

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“I’ll explain on the way. We need to keep moving.”

“Okay.” Benson didn’t have much to say. He was friends with Barbara and was devastated to hear about her death.