Seed: Judgment - Chapter 16

1,117 days passed between James's order forbidding the Angels from leaving the base to the day Thad died alone in Seed's evil clutches.

In that time, I created Nellis' first gang, recklessly risked the lives of every known survivor on Earth, and developed an addiction to nearly everything I could get my hands on. My lovely state of mind and refusal to rejoin any element of humanity even caused Thad and me to grow apart. That's a nice way of saying that even he was sick of my crap.

Peter and James left me alone, too. I think they hoped I would just come around on my own. They'd seen the mayhem that followed a more direct approach and had other things to worry about without kicking over that beehive again. I kept up my little war to justify my existence when I was sober enough to take on a mission. Generally, though, I slipped into Jack's when it was clear and pleaded with the gods to send some women on the next boat of refugees to wash up on our dusty shores. They never listened.

I kept my whereabouts concealed by shifting around the vast and mostly unoccupied base, or so I thought. I was surprised to be awakened early that morning by a knock on the door rather than the pounding in my head. Zeb, one of my old scavenging buddies, was kind enough to give me the news as soon as he heard. I sat up on the RV's broken-down couch when Zeb entered and told me what had happened. It hit me harder than anything I was expecting. I could see genuine concern and surprise in Zeb's eyes, while mine filled with tears.

Thad had taken a mission from a newly arrived refugee only a few days prior, which was odd. We generally prepped an excursion longer to ready supplies and form a plan beyond the attempted acquisition of just one thing. He left the base just before dawn that day, another tactical error. Seed could often see us before we saw it in the daylight, so it was smarter to move at night. Stranger still, his target was rumored to be a person, not a thing. That was unbelievable. A single person alone in the wastes was better described as a corpse, plain and simple.

No one yet knew the details of his demise, but Thad died so soon after leaving the base that Alice had apparently seen part of his final struggle. Zeb's voice shook as he explained that it was like Seed was waiting for Thad beyond the scorch. He looked to me for some kind of reassurance. I had none. Then he hit me with another painful detail: Thad rode out with a full complement of weapons, including a jump pack.

I felt the noose tighten around my neck. I knew this tragedy and loss of tech might be enough to push James over the edge. He might come for me. In fact, Zeb might have been acting as the point man for just such an operation. In my typically graceful form, I snatched Zeb by the throat and smashed him against the RV's door. "Who's with you?" I demanded.

Choking, Zeb clarified that he was alone and had come only because he knew I would want to hear the news. Charming, wasn't I? I forced a brief apology through clenched teeth, then tried to thank Zeb while he hurriedly evacuated. I don't think he heard it.

There was nothing left to do but drink. Pondering my complicity in my friend's death was simply more than my sober mind could endure. I knew I might find trouble at Jack's, but the addict in me swore that everyone would just leave me alone in my grief. The liar.

It was like a scene from an old western when I entered Jack's. Everyone stopped to gaze at the black-hatted devil who bullied the poor townsfolk after I threw open the door. I swear the piano music stopped as they stared, but that was impossible. It was a loop on an old iPhone. I stood motionless for a moment so they could get a good look. If someone had something to say, they got their chance.

When most returned to their distractions, I went straight for the bar. Peaceful conversation slowly filled the room, and Jack deliberately approached, popping open a fresh bottle of scotch. I wanted to say something more meaningful but all I could manage was small talk. "Bowmore Sherriff's?" That was a fine bottle. "What's the..." The occasion that merited commemoration kicked me in the stomach mid-sentence.

"So, you heard," Jack said as he poured. "I'm sorry, son. Hell of a loss." My eyes welled up, again. I didn't want to think about it. That was the point of the particular stool to which I had attached myself.

"Yeah," I managed after gulping the first shot. "I don't know many details though. Zeb only gave me some weird intel about a hasty run into town."

"Well," Jack continued, filling two glasses. "I'm hearing weird things myself. Some kind of rescue."

"How is that even possible?" I asked, happy to start thinking of mission parameters instead of my friend lying disemboweled or wandering the wastes as an infested ghoul.

"Oh, no." Jack was looking at the small crowd behind me get up and hurriedly exit. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a figure in the doorway motioning everyone out. The other side of the bar had a door, too. I could see through its crusty window the silhouette of another soldier. Here it came. "What do you want me to do?" Jack asked. I was so grateful for that. One person was still on my side.

"I'm good, brother," I said. "Just back off. I'll try to take this outside before anything gets messy."

"Maybe he just wants to talk," Jack offered, gathering a few bottles before retreating down a hallway.

"No, he doesn't," I whispered. Jack was too far to hear. I stayed in my seat and continued leisurely sipping my drink while the squad filed in behind me. I could hear the rattle of heavy gear as two men covered each of the three exits from the main bar. Then the footsteps of another two men approached. Finally, I heard the stomps and mechanical whines of an Atlas enter the room and take up overwatch in the farthest corner. I was flattered.

"You need to come back with me," Peter said. "You need to do it now and without resistance. Dad needs to talk to you immediately, and we're authorized to use whatever force is necessary to make that happen."

I stewed for a moment, still sipping. I felt offended then aggrieved, as was my custom when things happened that I didn't care for. These flunkies were using my grief against me. How repugnant! Peter knew I would need a drink out of utter despair, so decided to defile my only sanctuary and trample over my friend's memory to arrest me. Couldn't he have waited just a day? Such selfish thoughts and a broken heart fired my next words. "You are as much my brother as he is my dad."

Now that, folks, was some perfectly venomous heresy. Oh, it felt good. Misery loves company.

"You're right," Peter painfully countered. "My mistake," he said, then began to remove his tac vest and holster. "You can't be part of my family, because we come from better stock."

I spun around on my stool. Peter wanted a fight, and that's all I ever wanted. He really shouldn't have played into my hands so easily. "You sure about this, Pete?" I said with a smile. "I'm in, and I'll even let you limp out of here for old times' sake, but I can't guarantee everyone else's safety if they get heroic."

"They can't hear it, Sal, but I know when you mask fear with swagger. Don't be scared, baby brother. I'll let you off the hook for the time being." Pete turned to his backup. "Stand down. That's an order. Either I drag him out of here or no one does." He turned back to me, stealing my smile. "Satisfied?"

"Completely." I stood reassured and set down my drink. We looked each other in the eye before we got started. I was so busy hiding in the scattered trailers, abodes, warehouses, and empty hangers that I actually hadn't laid eyes on Peter in quite some time. He looked good. I did not.

His first punch was telegraphed pathetically. He was a little emotional, wanting desperately to teach a lesson to his petulant little brother. I had the advantage: I was dead inside. I easily avoided the shot, lunged in, and snatched his neck and dangling arm in a standing triangle choke. A quick trip and we were on the floor, while I began to squeeze. I scrambled my legs around his pinned body until we were nearly perpendicular, applying maximum pressure to the strangle. I wasn't killing him, only sending him off to a nice nap. Then I had to worry about the seven heavily armed men watching the show. I was betting they'd kick the crap out of me once I finished Peter.

He must have hit me with his free arm, which is impressive if you understand ground fighting. It's difficult to generate enough force for a good punch while lying on your back. But I saw stars and loosened my grip, so I must have been hit pretty hard. Peter was incredibly strong. He'd apparently spent his free time lifting weights instead of drinking, such a typically valorous big brother.

I gave a few strikes back while I still had the top position, but I think I got the worst of it because I was still rattled. When Peter flung me off and stood, I knew I was in trouble. He tackled me over the bar. We scrambled in the tight quarters between the bar and the bottles to fight with some dignity, but we were just roughhousing so cramped together. I noticed, though, that as we went over the bar, a few of the guards raised their guns and clicked their safeties off. I wasn't the only lawbreaker, apparently.

Peter kept beating on me, sometimes with good effect. I felt blood start to trickle down my face after we crashed over a table next to the bar. It was clear that I was losing. And even if I won, I didn't think I'd be walking out of there a free man. It was time to get nasty, my favorite mode. If you're not cheating, you're not trying, a wise man once told me.

I let Peter loose his frustrations, avoiding most of the damage. Seed, a much faster and more ferocious opponent, had tried to kill me a hundred times, so it wasn't difficult to matador my brother around while loosening my belt. Then I kicked off my steel-toed boots while I let Peter grapple me to the floor. When he went for a choke, I tugged my dog tags off and put them in his pocket for safekeeping. None of the loafing soldiers around me noticed. They spent too much time wasting time instead of honing their skills to anticipate threats.

They all thought they were watching a jerk get his comeuppance when I threw a magnetic grenade onto the ceiling in the corner of the room, above the tough guy in the Atlas. They all, every one of them, looked at it curiously while I bolted past the two guards standing at one of the exits. I was only a few yards away when it went off. What a beautiful mess. Not only were all the weapons and all the light metal furniture sucked across the room, so were the metal-laden soldiers. Atlas's exoskeleton was the first to meet the ceiling, followed by the others, including Peter. Then the building itself began to crumple and collapse from all the weight clinging to the single point on the ceiling. According to the squealing and swearing, it was quite painful to be crumpled like sardines inside a big tin can. Oh well, I thought. They messed with the bull.

I felt bad about the bar, though, as I stumbled away through the dirt in my socks. I would have to make it up to Jack, which would be difficult now that no place was safe for me. I knew the rabble would be out with their pitchforks in no time after that little stunt.

I wasn't more than a few trailers away when I was ambushed. She was beautiful. She had to be closing in on fifty, but beautiful all the same. I'm not going to say that I immediately began formulating some romantic plans for the two of us, but I'm not not saying it, either. Anyway, she didn't give me time to break out any of my trusty opening lines. "You're Sal," she said in a piercing and direct tone while grabbing my shirt to hold me still.

I was taken aback. People didn't usually manhandle Sal and get to keep using their fingers, but this lady was fearless. "Yes," I said, feeling like I was in trouble for something.

"I need you to find someone," she ordered, staring straight into my eyes. "I was told you're one of the few brave enough to leave this place. Thank God you're here."

I was flattered for about half a second, then enraged. I grabbed her by the shirt and marched her into the wall of the closest trailer. "You killed Thad!"

"Dios!" she cried. "It is true, then. I heard only rumors." She began to tremble. "I had hoped he made it back. I am so sorry to hear that, but I cannot explain how important it is that you do this. Thad understood..."

"And now he's dead," I snarled. "You sent him to die to rescue a corpse. No one lives alone out there! Where have you been, lady?"

"I arrived a few days ago. My group survived in a place far from here because of my daughter. She kept us safe, and I promise you she is still alive. But you're right, not even she can last forever without someone with her."

The certainty in her voice turned some of my anger into curiosity, but I still wasn't falling for her nutty story. I felt more blood drip off my face and remembered my head was still pounding. I was wobbly and didn't feel like yelling anymore, so I sat in the dirt at her feet. "Lady, she's gone, just like Thad, just like everyone else."

She wouldn't join my sorrow. "You still don't understand! I'm telling you that my daughter is special. She's not like you, or Thad, or me. I won't tell you how, because you wouldn't believe me, but if you can just believe that she lives and is worth finding, you might save us all. And I mean everyone!"

I laughed. I was arguing with a crazy person while half the base was probably sharpening the pitchforks and lighting the torches. I tried to stand up but stumbled. The crazy lady helped me up, then held onto my hand. I felt kindness there, not desperation, even when she wouldn't let go. "I'm sorry, lady," I said with as much understanding as I could engender. "I'm sorry you lost your daughter. I'm sorry Thad is gone. It's my fault, too. I got him into the business of risking his life for nothing. I'm sorry for a lot of things. But even if I believed you, which I do not, I'm not the right guy to save anyone." I felt some relief after telling her the truth. I smiled. "Look at me."

"You are not hearing me!" she exclaimed, then tugged harder on her grip. When it was clear that she was not going to give up, I flung off her grasp and starting walking away. She chased after me, spouting all kinds of ridiculous notions about the unique nature of her daughter, of her power. The hysteria made me feel for her. She was clearly grieving to the point of madness. I'd been there. I was there. I turned back to her to explain the reality of the situation when she shoved a picture in my face. "Look at her!"

"I'll do it," left my mouth before my brain had a chance to catch up. Then my brain caught up. She was absolutely, completely stunning. And not because I lived in a dirty fort filled with mostly dudes. She was truly beautiful. "I'll do it," I said, again.

She smiled. "Thank you. Thank God. Her name is Jessica. I'll show you where I think she's gone."

Sucker, right? Easily conned into the same deathtrap as Thad, lured by some tail that was as good as dead. I thought so, too, but was forced to consider that there was nothing left for me on the base but jail. I had nowhere else to go.