A Guardian Angel (38 page)

Nonetheless, the
ends never justified the means in Haley's mind. As much as she didn't
want to have anything to do with the lot of them, she had to try to
get someone to consider a peace treaty. She needed to negotiate the
terms of surrender to the people who killed so many others in front
of her. The ones who had imprisoned her.

Desperation was
thick in D.C.

“Miss Flynn?”
her secretary interrupted. Haley jumped a little, then turned to the
woman with expecting eyes. “The president wants you in his
office. We're getting a broadcast on Federal and Decree channels.”

“The same
program on both feeds?” Haley asked, confused.

“Yes, ma'am,”
the secretary replied before disappearing behind the door again.

Two men of a
certain age sat next to each other on stools in a finely decorated
office, both dressed in suits with different flags pinned on their
lapels. The television in the president's office was large and high
resolution. It was impossible for everyone in the office not to
recognize the two men on the screen as both presidents from the
Federal States and the Decree Nation. The image itself was startling
to everyone, particularly Haley. She entered and shut the door behind
her while everyone watched the address.

“My name is
Dominic Fesgen, and I am the president of the Federal States of
America.” He was the older one on the left. He was a skinny man
wearing glasses, with nothing more than a ring of gray hair circling
his scalp. His glasses were circular and reflected the studio
lighting behind the camera.

“And my name
is Bruce Barringer, the president of the Decree Nation.” The
man on the right was heftier. His brown hair gleamed.

The first president
continued. “With current events and conflicts, it is easy to
understand any confusion you might have about seeing us here,
together,” he said. “This much strife in a homeland that
hadn't seen war on its grounds in over a century must not continue.
Citizens in both of our countries used to be brothers and sisters,
and only through this unity can we recover.”

“Enemies to
all people of all creeds have arisen in our home. Terrorists have
attacked civilians on all sides. Divided though we are, we must stand
together against war criminals,” President Barringer explained.
Haley rolled her eyes at the verboseness. “Friends, there has
been an attack.”

“Early this
morning, a terrorist organization infamously known as the Knights of
the Proletariat attacked and captured a military facility in Decree
territory,” said President Fesgen. “This facility had
been used by the United States military to hide some of its nuclear
arsenal at the beginning of the War. The soldiers of the Decree
Nation had decided to secure and guard the weapons for the United
States, but were attacked by an overwhelming force of insurgents.”

“The
terrorists threaten to detonate one of the weapons of mass
destruction that they now possess at an undisclosed location at an
unknown time tomorrow morning,” President Barringer cut to the
chase. “The list of their demands include over nine major
cities in both of our nations among many other difficult requests.
Our attempts to negotiate have been ignored and our safe-guard
systems, though carefully regulated, will not be able to fend off
such an attack.”

“Our response
is simple,” President Fesgen started. “Together,
President Barringer and myself are forming a treaty between our two
nations.”

President Barringer
leaned forward and stared into the lens. “And declaring war
together on the Knights of the Proletariat,” he added in.

The president of
the Federal States began, “We will not succumb to the will of
violent – ”

The screen cut
black.

Everyone in the
president's office looked about at each other. They all had looks on
their faces as if they waited for their neighbor to explain what was
going on. Some of them began chattering about the terrifying news
that had just been received. Most of them stared with wide eyes at
the black, blank screen. Haley didn't move an eyelash as she watched
the device.

A loud and
uncomfortable screech blasted out of the speakers. The people in the
room covered their ears and made respective groans of pain to the
volume. The image of George Washington popped onto the television. It
was a still image of one of Washington's many portraits. Static
cracked around the edges of the screen.

A voice spoke that
was so unfamiliar and bizarre that the audio device had a difficult
time capturing the sound. Squeals and hisses came in through the
background as the machine struggled to broadcast its user's words.

What it said was
this:

“Enough is
enough. My patience has worn to its finest thread and yet you
continue to wear at it. Thousands of my eyes have seen little more
than malice and violence in the human heart. It seems that your
compassion is a limited resource, one that you overvalue and hoard
for yourselves. Your kindnesses are just a polar result of your
destructive nature. A mere recess to the hate and disease you spread
amongst yourselves. A basic and collective value of life is my most
cherished and unchanging law. As you have broken it, consider this
the beginning of your probation as a species.

“I am
watching you. I am
always
watching you. Your sins have become
my memories, your crimes my tales. Right now, you are infected. You
are sick with the contagious plague of irrationality that I cannot
allow to spread beyond its home. Your home. Be mindful of your greed,
your self importance, and your arrogance. If there will be no change
to your nature – if you will chose to destroy what has so
carefully been given to you, I will come for you.

“I am your
harbinger. This is your warning.”

The television
turned off. George Washington disappeared off the screen in a quick
click of light. All that was left was a dull, black square that
everyone in the office stood around.

-Chapter Thirty-Five-

Harbinger

The keys Andy had
lifted off of the dead man belonged to an old fashioned road chopper.
The bike almost made him laugh when he realized the key fit in its
ignition. It was a deep and shiny jet black body with purplish flames
detailed on the side, just where his knees rested as he sped down the
highway. All that was missing, he thought, was a leather jacket.

His path was clear.
East. He must follow the interstate east and get to Haley before
anyone like the former talk show host did. Andy knew that it was ugly
out there in a first-rate nation torn apart by civil war, but his
encounter with Davey Tolmes threw the whole concept into a new
perspective. People out there were evil. He had doubted it, but Andy
knew now. Some men in the world just have bad hearts and sick minds.
These psychopaths deserve to die more than anyone. Put down like the
animals they are.

There are people in
this world who want nothing more than to destroy. As long as he was
away from Haley, Andy worried relentlessly. Nothing mattered if he
could not keep her safe.

Something he had
heard once was that if you speak of the devil, he will appear.
Brooding was no exception.

Andy had no idea
where he was within the country. For the last four and a half hours
he sat on the motorbike in silence with no sound besides the hum of
the tires outside of his skull. The world jogged on past him and he
paid it little mind as he thought. Once he entered a small railway
town, the thing that alerted him to the things around him was his
car. His previous car. It sat parked in front of a small health
clinic, a bit askew.

Brakes screeched as
Andy slammed on them. He whipped back around and parked next to the
vehicle. When he had gotten off of the motorcycle, he almost climbed
back on in doubt. For a decent moment he thought that his eyes had
just played tricks on him and that he should just turn back and
continue east. Andy stepped forward for a more thorough glance.

The clinic door
opened and closed while the former assassin had his nose pressed up
against the car window. He turned to the entrance to see Davey
standing in it with his arm in a sling, speckled by blood. Andy
jumped with pure shock.

Davey's face
remained unwavering. “You know, I'm not much of a gun guy, but
you inspired me yesterday,” he said. He gestured to the
revolver that hung in his hand. “I like it.”

“I know who
you are,” Andy told him. With a quick snap of muscles, he
reached for his handgun. Davey tightened his grip on his own weapon
and aimed it at Andy's head. The hitman froze.

“No, now,
don't spoil this for us,” Davey commanded. “Alright?”

Andy was upset and
it showed on his brow. Davey grinned at the expression he made. “What
are you doing here?” Andy asked the psychopath.

“I'm fixing a
little bit of your damage, stranger,” the deranged celebrity
answered. “That hole you blew in me hurt quite a bit, you know.
But I knew I'd find someone to fix it up for me and then I knew that
I'd be able to get a little even. And here you are.” He laughed
as if on cue. “Did you hear the harbinger last night?”

Andy replied with a
slight turn of his jaw and confusion in his eyes.

“I did,”
Davey continued. He was an animated speaker, waving the gun around as
he talked. It was all Andy could focus his stare on as it darted
about. “I'm not an arrogant man; never one to jump to
conclusions. I couldn't tell you for sure if God spoke to us last
night or who, but I can assure you that I don't believe in
coincidences. I believe that you, me, and the fate of this whole
generation is connected. Our destiny has come to the door, sir.”

“What are you
talking about?” Andy demanded.

Davey glanced into
Andy's eyes, reminded of his presence. “I'm talking about
something bigger than ourselves,” he stated. He pointed down at
the gun in Andy's holster. “I need you to throw that thing on
the ground so I don't worry about it anymore.”

With careful
deliberation, Andy obliged. He kicked the three-eighty auto away.
Gesturing to the clinic, he asked, “Are they all...?”

“Dead?”
Davey finished the question. “Yes.”

Andy squeezed his
eyelids shut and turned his head down in disgust. He didn't want
Davey to see the bitter tears of outrage that welled beneath his
eyes. The sick bastard would only enjoy it, he decided. “Goddammit!
Why!?” he cried in fury.

He was right. The
murderer's smile got even wider when he could see how upset Andy was.
“It doesn't matter any way,” Davey explained. “Although
your obvious approval is always a bonus.”

“Why wouldn't
it matter?” Andy asked.

“Because none
of them had long anyway,” Davey responded. “None of us
do, do we? Besides, they died knowing the truth.”

“The truth?”

“A truth,”
Davey began, “that I want to prove to our harbinger fellow.
Something important to the fate of all that is. That we are all evil
in an ugly, ugly world and the universe would be much better off
without us.”

Andy continued to
stare into the deranged man's eye with pure concern on his face.
Nothing of what Davey said made any sense to him. However, the man
seemed so passionate about it. Like he believed in it more than
anything else.

“That sounds
like a suicide,” Andy commented. He watched his captor's eyes.

Davey scoffed in
response. “It's necessary. The problem here is that no one has
the balls the pull the trigger. So we have to find someone to do it
for us,” Davey told him. “This harbinger thing? He gets
that. Stupidly, he's giving us a chance to redeem ourselves, but it
will be hopeless in the end.”

“How could
you speak for so many people?”

“Because I am
not an idiot,” Davey replied, offended. “I know that a
forest must burn in order to grow.” The two of them exchanged
fierce looks for several moments. Davey nodded his head back to the
clinic. “Come. I have something I want to show you.”

Andy hated this
feeling of no control. His submission to Davey's will made him
cringe, and although he obeyed, he could not hold his tongue on the
matter. “Your favorite lives you took?” he asked with
bitter twang of sarcasm in his tone.

Davey chuckled,
like a grandfather does when a child asks if monsters are real. “Not
at all!” he answered. “My favorite lives
we
took.”
He waved his gun, urging Andy to step inside.

When they entered
the place, the first thing Andy noticed was the blood. There were
spots stained on the walls and the carpets. All of it was fresh,
still wet and bright red. Four corpses lay slain in various positions
in the waiting room. Andy covered his mouth with his hand and fought
back tears of disgust. He wanted nothing more than to thrash his
captor and bring down the full weight of justice upon his head.
Davey, however, paid no attention to the victims of his latest spree.
Instead, he stared up at the TV that hung in the corner of the room.