Voice of a Crimson Angel [Part I]_Persecution Read online

  “But, Mommy, I think we should stay with Daddy. Just for a little longer.”

  “Zaneta, it’s time to go. We have a long flight home.”

  “Mommy, we can’t leave him.”

  “Zaneta, enough!”

  The child no longer fought her mother on the matter. She began to put on her white coat, tears in her eyes. Kane was astonished at the strength of the little girl. With everything around her, she still wasn’t breaking down.

  Thorton stood to see them out, but Kane spoke before anybody could leave.

  “Mrs. Marconi, there’s no need to rush. You can spend all the time you need with your husband. Venloran will pay for a new plane ticket and even a hotel if you like.”

  Julissa shied away from Kane’s face, not sure if she could go down there again and see Will lying there so…still. She saw her daughter’s eyes on her, begging in silence.

  “Okay, okay. Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  Kane saluted her. “No need to thank me. You and your husband both served this country, and now it’s our turn to give back to you. We owe it to you.”

  Julissa wasn’t ready to say anything more, but the gratitude was in her eyes.

  “I’ll have the interns escort you down and then we’ll give you your privacy,” Thorton said as the door opened. A young man in a lab coat was already waiting.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Mrs. Marconi,” he invited.

  Julissa took Zaneta’s hand with one of hers. Before departing, she looked back at Kane and Thorton.

  “Thank you again. For everything.”

  The second the door shut, Thorton went to his computer to watch the cameras in the Cyborg Treatment Center. Kane instead switched the telescreen to a news broadcast. He’d set it to record any coverage on the war, and, sure enough, there was plenty of footage. Hazy skies, streets blown apart, and fallen buildings were the backdrop to a news anchor reporting the US losses for the day. Those images tore Kane apart, especially as the names of soldiers scrolled up the screen. Like credits in a movie. That’s all they get.

  ‘“As long as you need,’ was a bit much, don’t you think, General?” Thorton said as he watched the two humans with the cyborg. “By March, Unit 21 will be deployed just like the rest.”

  “Venloran said to say whatever needed to be said. I did,” Kane said back.

  “Yeah, all that only to disappoint her when she comes back and he’s not here. What am I supposed to tell her since I know you won’t be here either?”

  “You simply tell us when she wants to visit, and we’ll stall by saying he’s been moved to another facility for further examination. If she digs further, we’ll handle it.”

  Thorton looked away from his monitor.

  “So, he’s that bad?”

  “Last time he was activated, he didn’t even know his name.”

  “But he can fight, I see.”

  The commander glared at Thorton. He quickly realized he needed to cool down his tone.

  “I’m just saying having Neeson be the lead surgeon on all those operations was a bad idea. He’s only human. He was bound to mess up eventually.”

  “He’s the best, Thorton. It had nothing to do with him. We’re still not sure what went wrong.”

  Thorton was mildly insulted, but he saw Kane had no intention of acknowledging it and let it go. He said no more and sipped his coffee.

  On the telescreen, Kane watched as a trio of jets turned an entire block into hell itself.

  “Don’t you worry, Doctor. If these fifty do as well they’re predicted to, Venloran wants another two hundred candidates selected by July. You and your team, as well as others around this country, will be lucky if you get home for Christmas.”

  Thorton almost spat up his drink.

  “I didn’t know WP-II was going to be this big of a project,” he said. Kane still focused on the news. Thorton wasn’t sure if the man had even blinked.

  “It’s going to be bigger than any of us imagined. It’s been over ten years since the Sons of Saladin have rampaged across the Middle East. We’ve been humiliated so many times it’s now called the Hollow Wars, but the Super Soldier Forces will change all that. They’ll change everything.”

  ***

  April 4, 2045 - “City of Peace”

  The men ran for their lives. All around them were piles of what used to be tall buildings. On this night, the only light was the glow of flames. These mounds of rubble were too jagged to hide within and attempting to climb them was guaranteed death if the massive chunks shifted and caused an avalanche. So they ran, hearts pounding and skin sweating. The guns in their hands were no comfort. They didn’t attempt to point them at their pursuer.

  As they fled, one man tripped over a piece of loosened asphalt. He went down to the ground, scraping his face badly. His gun hit the ground alongside him, but when he stood he didn’t waste the extra second it would have taken to pick it up. Ahead of him, his allies were already far away. They turned down an alley without giving him another look.

  The second he arose to his feet a bullet blew his head wide open. The contents spilled onto the street in a splatter. The crimson seeped down into the cracks and around the gun as well.

  At the end of the alley, the three remaining troops ran into an obstacle: a wall of debris blocked the opening to the other street. The wall of desecration was at the very least fifteen feet tall. They cursed and shouted, considering their options. After a few seconds of deliberation, two of them slung their weapons on their backs and began to climb.

  The last one wanted to join them, but he saw the rubble already shifting. A few dangerous-sized pieces came loose and nearly hit the straggler. Regardless, they went on. In fact, one of them was almost at the top. He cut his hands on the glass and rough concrete, but by God he was almost there.

  Two shots rang out, followed by yells of agony. The pair of soldiers both lost their grip and hit the pavement. The sound they made upon impact was not a pleasant one.

  To the straggler’s horror, he saw his compatriots had been shot through the stomach. Even with only the moonlight to help him, it was plain to see the fall was what had killed them.

  After a moment, he finally saw the creature at the mouth of the alley. The monster stepped forward slowly, his coat flowing in the night breeze. The sole survivor got down on his knees, positioned between the two dead men. He tossed his gun away.

  “P-please,” he stuttered. “Please, Wolf. Please!”

  Those black boots came to a stop. His coat came to a rest as the wind died down for a moment. All that could be heard was the crackle of raging fire. The blood of the fallen began to stain the straggler’s knees. The monster did nothing but smile.

  “Please, I beg you.”

  The man screamed as The Wolf aimed his gun and put him down a second later.

  ***

  April 4, 2045 - Elsa, Texas

  Zaneta laid in her bed looking up at the bright stars stuck all over her ceiling. She wasn’t under the covers, and she was far from dozing off. The child remembered watching her father put each one up there on the ceiling when she was six-years-old. Wow, baby girl, I think we have enough to cover up the whole room! Sure, you’ll be able to go to bed?

  In the beginning, they had helped her to sleep. Trying to count them all was a feat she had yet to accomplish. Her eyes would fight to stay open, but she could never win that game. Tonight, after long ago giving up, she would try again. One, two, three—

  There it was again. The sound of her mother sobbing was only two doors down. It was just growing louder, leaving Zaneta helpless. Is there someone I can call? The crying of another joined Julissa's crying. Damien.

  Zaneta left her room and entered the hallway. She waited to see if her mother would open her door to comfort the baby, but it never happened. The little girl walked into her brother’s room, reached down into his crib and then sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He quieted quickly in her presence, staring up at her with sweet eyes
and a goofy grin. Even though Zaneta was tired, exhausted really, she found comfort in this. She put on a smile for him, what she considered the duty of a big sister no matter what. She went on rocking him till his eyes fought to stay open.

  On the nightstand, by the door, sat a bag of unopened glow-in-the-dark stars.

  Chapter 2 – Sign of the Times

  In the 2040s, Mexico had suffered the most severe economic downturn in its history, worsened by the government’s policy of heartless austerity. In 2049, Chancellor Venloran, and then Prime Minister Esteban, discussed a stimulus plan that would be provided by the UNR. Supplying hundreds of billions of dollars, the agreement would require Mexico to adopt UNR law as its own, allow an open border between the countries, and demand the Mexican Armed Forces assistance in any UNR military campaign. This deal led to Esteban being nicknamed Mexico’s “Judas.”

  On July 17, 2049, the negotiations were cut short by the assassination of Esteban. With the country falling into chaos, Venloran gave the command for the UNR Armed Forces to restore order and President Camacho was put in power. The situation in Mexico soon became a civil war, but Venloran would never call it a such. To him, it was “The Expansion.”

  The war still rages on…

  ***

  August 9, 2050 – Laredo, Texas

  We should’ve never taken those days for granted. Julissa laid the bouquet of flowers in front of the tombstone. It was a cool year, not a hair above seventy. A breeze played with her dark hair as well as the roses and lilies. The woman bit her lip, which she’d allowed getting dry. She could taste blood, but she forgot about it a second later. All she saw was the grave, and in return she hoped her friend could see what she’d brought him.

  “I’m sorry Val couldn’t make it.”

  The grave said nothing back to her, but Julissa heard her friend crying. There he was, sitting with his back against the tombstone and the flowers at his feet. Useless flowers meant to replace what had been lost.

  “I’m sorry he’s not here, either. I did my best; I promise I did.”

  If not aloud, she always recited it in her head. She felt her hand shaking in her coat pocket. I must go. The visit felt short, and she made sure she didn’t forget her ritual. Julissa recited the markings.

  Bryan Morales

  March 5, 2011 – January 11, 2044

  “A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”

  Julissa saluted, but her posture was dropping and anyone could see the lack of enthusiasm. The woman began to walk away, striding through the rows of graves. There was a pathway for visitors, a nice cobblestone one that glimmered each morning, but she never used it. It was an unconscious decision the first time, and now she preferred it. Perhaps more important than remembering better times, she came here for the silence. Today, though, Julissa felt she wasn’t alone.

  The woman had a specialty for sensing when someone was in her presence. Hell, she could hear the murmuring. There, atop the hill beyond the graves. Someone was there under the shade of the giant tree. To her surprise, the person wasn’t standing. As she walked closer, there was no sudden dash upon detection. The figure remained slumped against the tree.

  Once Julissa got to the foot of the hill, all she could do was a sigh. It only took her a few steps to reach the top, joining the man under cover of the branches.

  “Barry, does Sam know you’re here?” Julissa asked him, but the man said nothing coherent.

  “Knew…Friday…Friday,” he muttered as he peered up at the leaves. The way he stared at the sunlight poking through the branches made it seem as if he had all the answers. He was oblivious to the filthy clothes he wore and the smell coming from him.

  “Let’s get you home, come on,” she said as she helped him up. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes, but still he couldn’t muster up a discernible sentence.

  “Gone…gone…” was all he said.

  Walking back to Julissa’s truck was a trial. Between the stares from other grieving visitors to propping up the man who was taller and heavier than her, she didn’t know which was worse. Julissa endured it all in and trekked on to the parking lot without a single complaint.

  ***

  La Presa, Texas

  The small town was only a few minutes from Laredo, and just like it, it was crawling with UNR military. At every street corner, groups of soldiers in black talked amongst themselves. It was not uncommon to see tanks driving down the street. Julissa braked at the intersection, and, sure enough, a convoy of Bison and Humvees passed on through. They were headed into the newly acquired lands. While La Presa had once been right on the border of two countries, that border now no longer existed.

  People on the street cheered as they passed, even as the ground beneath them started to quake. M1 Abrams dashed by, followed by a tank much larger than all those before it. It was double the height of the tanks of old with a gun longer than most cars. An M-7 Berenger, nothing of note for Julissa, but the cities went nuts. When she thought it was over, she saw the people getting amped up again. Not all damn day, Come—

  It was another M-7 B, but on top of it were soldiers of a different kind. They did not wave at the citizens as they passed. Few looked down at them, and fewer smiled. Their brown coats flowed behind them, exposing the sheaths of their swords.

  Julissa’s heart pounded while Barry remained knocked out in the passenger seat. Even with the ghostly image gone, the woman found herself unable to move. The honking of several cars behind her sent a spike of adrenaline up her spine.

  “Fuck!” she yelled.

  Her hands were shaking again, barely holding onto the steering wheel, but Barry still didn’t budge. Julissa finally made the turn onto Mangana-Hein Road. At one point this had been a desolate street of dirt fields and sporadic housing. Now it was a flourishing neighborhood. Still, there was one sore thumb amongst the homes. That one had a yard of weeds and dead grass, walking past the drive away, she saw his car was covered in filth and one of his tires was flat.

  Julissa knew precisely what all this neglect meant, but she ignored it. It’s not true. She wouldn’t.

  Julissa was aware the neighbors were gawking at her as she helped her brother toward the door. The trudge to the derelict house was not a short one, but none came to her aid. None even bothered to greet her. She recognized many of them, too. Mr. Mead, an old man who wore sweaters any time of the year, had been Barry’s next-door neighbor for years. He stared harder than most from his porch, but the second Julissa’s eyes turned in his direction, Mr. Mead went back to inspecting his freshly cut lawn.

  Using the spare key he’d given her years ago, Julissa, at last, led him inside. It was there she got her confirmation. The house was empty, really, besides the furniture itself. The stuff too heavy to move.

  Julissa laid Barry down on the couch gently. Once doing so, she looked at the walls of the living room. The paint was scratched, a seafoam green, and there wasn’t a single picture to be seen. Julissa was on the verge of checking on the rest of the house next, but her hand was shaking once more. On top of that, she reminded herself it wasn’t her business to inspect his entire home. She came back to him on the couch. Though his body was still very sluggish, his eyes were open.

  Staring into those dilated eyes, and against her better judgment, Julissa spoke to him: “Barry, when did they leave?”

  He laid there quiet, hesitant but refusing to look away. Licking his lips, he now spoke. “Does it really matter?”

  “Yes, yes, it does! You let your family slip through your fingers for a fucking high!” Julissa yelled at him.

  “You sound just like him.”

  “Barry, don’t.”

  “What? You still deny it?”

  “I. Said. Don’t.”

  Silence permeated the living room now, and Julissa considered opening the curtains. The place needed some light, but the woman didn’t want to immerse herself in this dark place any longer. Just touching it was toxic. Something
within her kept from leaving.

  “Listen, you don’t have to take buses around the city just to try and see Zaneta and me. Stay with us. Please.”

  Barry now broke eye contact. Those empty walls were his focus now.

  “No, Julissa, no,” he said in a whisper. “This is where I belong.”

  “You already have one offense against you. They won’t be as forgiving next time.”

  “I appreciate your help, I do. But you have Zaneta to take care of. Don’t worry about me. Almost time to go get her.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it is. Be safe, Barry. Be smart, please.”

  The reminder of her daughter moved to Julissa to disembark, but it still didn’t feel right. And why should it? Back in the sunlight, amongst the laughter of children, it gnawed at her with no end in sight. Nothing’s been right for quite some time.

  ***

  San Antonio, Texas

  Dusk had arrived and voices were rising. In front of the revered Cathedral of San Fernando, one man stood before a large crowd. The speaker was a lot older than anyone who was listening, but that didn’t that stop him from being any less robust. Zaneta and her friend fought their way to the front, Zaneta pushing a lot harder than the young man with her. All the while, the speech went on.

  “Eli, hurry the hell up!” Zaneta said as she pushed her way through the people.

  “I am! I am!” he retaliated. Eli felt an elbow dig into his side as cheers rung in his ears, but he did his best to keep with her. At last, he saw Zaneta stop, not moving an inch. He knew they’d finally made it.

  “My friends, it is not too late,” the speaker announced. “It is never too late to make the right decision. Today there are only a hundred of you here, but by tomorrow it can be a thousand, and the day after that a million! Tonight, we can stop The Expansion!”

  With his raised fist came cheers and the crowd following his lead. Zaneta, at the front, did the same. As he spoke on, their phones recorded his address.

  “They are some in this country who champion Venloran’s war. There are even those in the countries he invades who invite him in like a guest. These people, however, are not the most dangerous. You may presume that his super soldiers are in fact the most dangerous proponent of the conflict, but that isn’t so. No, the most dangerous and destructive people in this travesty who look at this war, disapprove of it within their mind and maybe their own homes, but say nothing against it publicly! Nothing! The greatest evil is the indifference of good men!”