Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (9 page)

And even if we managed that feat it still
wouldn't stop any new data from being created and uploaded, which means any
form of media could be uploaded at a later date. No bueno.

Fortunately for us there existed a highly
controversial solution to that problem. On one hand this solution greatly
diminishes the negative backlash against people who, for the most part, don't
deserve it. And on the other, it erases all data, without prejudice, created
during and pertaining to the event.

I'm sure you can understand the opposition.

Such lofty ambitions naturally lead us to
another problem, the distribution.

How do you distribute the program (read
'virus') to every internet connected device in the greater Los Angeles area? Keeping in mind that a
failure to follow through on this insanely difficult course of action leads to
no less than a modern day witch hunt in which hundreds, if not thousands more,
could die; and eventual martial law. That's just the consequences on American
soil. I have neither the space nor interest in talking global politics. I can't
have that weighing on my shoulders, they're not that sturdy. Not yet.

This is why I've been so busy. A nigh insurmountable
obstacle conquered by sheer force of will, a small dedicated team of novices
working ourselves deep into the bowels of mental exhaustion, kept going only
for the hope that our tiring effort bring about a better future for our fellow
man.

The stuff of legends. If nothing more, a decent
straight to video DVD.

And it possibly wouldn’t have been if not for
the efforts of one man: Carter McLennon. A man who was never a computer guy,
and had only recently upgraded to a smart phone. He has a Facebook page that
should feel lucky if he checks it twice a month, a twitter account with four
tweets he's had for five years, and more than his fair share of e-mail
addresses because he keeps forgetting his passwords. Aside from 1's and 0's he
knew nothing about how computers worked and honestly wasn't too interested in
finding out. That was of course until March 10th.

It wasn't until three days later, during a
phone call I'd arranged, that he'd learn of my intentions and assumed I was
either a con artist or a terrorist, and refused to help me until I helped him.
And even under those terms he wasn't fully complacent. Even when I made the
call on the 18th I could still hear the skepticism in his voice, evident by the
cautious nature with which he's followed through with this task.

Though, if nothing more, he's been a man of his
word. He

released the virus that took the life-blood of
electricity out of the city, made the internet inaccessible, phone calls impossible,
and for three long hours subjected a modern metropolis to rely on technologies
Barney Rubble could understand. Because of his tiring efforts, aside from
pictures taken on actual film, stories from today's events will be no more than
an oral tradition.

If there is a God he's surely looking out for
us.

Alvin
went to work at seven after ten and finished a
jaw-dropping thirty-eight seconds later.

The entire city was motionless and quiet save
for the numerous fires and collapsing structures. Another quarter-second later
and the crackle of fire turned to the low simmer of hot ashes and rising smoke.
A few milliseconds later and all hazardous debris vanished. But Alvin is no miracle
worker, you can still see the mangled holes blown into the sides of buildings
and the gaping crater-like impacts scattered through the streets, but the
legwork of the clean-up is complete.

Michael and Kaylie waited back at the diner,
her mother feverishly trying to reach the rest of their family. Laurie was
moved to the middle of the Mojave Desert along
with the crazed beast who'd since reverted back to his human form. Laurie
obviously caught onto what had occurred much faster.

Back at the hospital I had just begun a phone
conversation with Carter when Alvin
returned, visibly agitated and without the slightest sign of exhaustion.

 
I was in
the middle of thanking Carter for his contribution and explaining the reason
for the slight hiccup in the plan when Alvin
interrupted, catching himself during my swift yet polite motion for silence.
Carter's case was special, he barely trusted me as it was and I couldn't risk
scaring him away right before the big reveal.

I ended by off-handedly mentioning that Alvin
or Michael would pick him up, a remark that made Alvin shoot me this weird
"What the fuck" type look.

"So what am I now, your errand boy?"
sneered Alvin.

I brushed off the comment and handed the woman
back her phone which she took wearing a look of extreme discomfort. It was odd
enough that our arrival coincidently occurred at the same time as a woman
suffering from multiple gun shots, or that nobody had actually witnessed us
entering the area, so to speak of plans over a stranger’s phone while everyone
was still losing their minds over the blackout in LA; we were bound to catch
someone’s attention.

Two cops round the corner, directed by some
noble upstanding citizen, their hands resting on their firearm as they
approached with a confident pace.

Alvin and I both took note and, wondering what
he was waiting for, I asked if we could leave.

"I can," he said with a smirk and
laugh, but an instant later we were already gone.

For the record, going from a sitting position
to standing position is a very jarring experience; your body isn't ready for
ready to support your weight so you end up falling for a half a second until
you can situate yourself. I guess that was his little way of getting me back.

So there we were at ground zero; Alvin, Kaylie
and her mother, Laurie, Michael and myself. Strangers to each other, standing
at the precipice of a major impact on each other’s lives.

There was a moment of silence as I looked at
each one of them, a huge cheesy smile stretched across my face. I couldn't find
any other words to express my gratitude, I just kept thanking them over and
over. Yet, through all my cheerful welcoming and gratifications, I could tell
they were eager for answers. And the time for those was quickly approaching.

When I noticed them starting to kindly
introducing themselves to each other I felt like all the pieces were falling
into place, it started with Laurie who introduced himself with a comedic
pounding of his chest.

They introduced themselves and spoke of where
they came from, first Michael, then Alvin, and finally Kaylie.

Kaylie's mother's main focus was on contacting
her husband, even through my constant assurance that they were just fine.
Michael certainly needed to check in with his fiancé. I don't know what Laurie
wanted to do but I'm sure it involved sleep or a hot bath, possibly both; and Alvin was going to do whatever it is Alvin does. I'm too not sure if even he knows
what it's going to be from one second to the next.

I politely interrupted their conversation,
explaining how pleasant it was to see them getting along and becoming
interested in each other in such a short period of time. Fate, I guess.

I explained how I understood they all had more
pressing matters to attend to, but stressed that I would like to meet later
that night around 9:30pm Pacific time. I knew it was rather sudden given the
exciting nature of the morning’s events, but I assured them that time was of
the essence.

"Just tell me where," asserted
Laurie, to the bewilderment of the others. This definitely isn't a group I can
expect to blindly follow orders and I'd reached the limit on dragging them
along by pure curiosity.

"Wait just a goddamn second!"
exclaimed Michael. "And pardon the French ladies, but just what the hell
is going on here?
 
I'm no soldier. I came
here because you said I could help, and I did. Thank you. But until I get some
answers I'm done."

Alvin
agreed, voicing similar frustrations.

They were confused, felt used, and wanted
answers to questions that given the current situation, they weren't ready to
handle yet. It was a long stressful morning and everyone was on edge, that will
never be the best time to break important news.

I reached into my pocket for a few cards with
my number on the back in case anyone needed a lift, the card was for a
Restaurant called the 14 Coins Located in Midtown Seattle. It's an upscale twenty-four
hour spot that's used for high-end business deals and conversations of
importance. The perfect spot. Not to mention the menu isn't half bad either.

Kaylie's mother demanded to know what this had
to do with her daughter, and I gave her the one answer she didn't want to hear;
that I wasn't sure.

To be fair, I still don't know what this has to
do with any of us, we're just one of the names on a list of people I was told
could make a difference. But I couldn't tell that bit to her, or any of them.
Not yet. She was flustered and too far from thinking clearly, they all needed
the few hours of downtime to clear their minds and wind down. She didn't take
too well to that though, but Kaylie wasn't too put off so all hope wasn't lost.

Sensing my intention to speak, a very
frustrated Alvin
spoke first, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he was neither my
"errand boy" or "pawn." And that if I needed help with
anything other than kissing his ass, I was on my own. I'll admit it had a
little sting to it. I wasn't expecting it that's for sure. I guess that's what
I get for making assumptions.

He was irritated and I was wasting his time, I
got a few more words out before he vanished mid-sentence.

Kaylie Horn
(3/18) -

Hey, I'm back. I've got a lot to discuss and
I'm not going to get to it all right now, but trust me, you will hear it.

So we're on the outskirts of a genuine disaster
area talking to people who just spent their entire morning risking their necks
saving people, including me, and my wonderful mother does nothing but try to
keep us quarantined like they're going to give us rabbis or something. I swear
I'll never understand her.

"Let's go, Kaylie." "Kaylie, we
need to leave." "Come with me, Kaylie." Over and over again. I'm
almost 17 and she insists on treating me like a child. I thought it'd be in our
better interest to know who he was, even if everyone was just as suspicious of
him as my mother. It's obvious he knows something. Plus he sent a stranger to
save my life so how bad of a guy could he be?

As for me, little innocent me; I'm a murderer.
A killer. I can't get the memories out of my head. I remember so vividly the
pitch of their screams, the color of their eyes, and the depth of my rage. What
callous soul could force people to be so evil? I feel horrible, but this is
natural, right?

I should have fought back, I'm sure there's
somebody out there who did. There must have been something I could've done, but
I failed; and people died because of it. It happened to so many people, is it
selfish for me to feel I'm in this alone?

Michael gave us a lift back to the hotel which
was located right next to the staples center, and lots of people means a
massive amount of property damage, which is exactly what we returned to. And even
though Mr. Otep had told us a million times that dad and Brandon would be just
fine I couldn't help that empty sinking feeling I got in the pit of my stomach.

The hotel was in a state of complete disarray,
the windows of the top five floors were completely blown out, and I spotted a
couple of people peering out though the busted windows on some of the lower
floors.

The lobby was a mess of open luggage,
overturned furniture, and lifeless bodies. We covered our mouths with our
shirts as we moved through the area though we could still taste the slight
hints of blood and ash in the air. We took the stairs fifteen flights up
because obviously nobody was dumb enough to ride the elevator, which had
somehow managed to stay intact. It wasn't until we got to our floor that we ran
into people actually trying to evacuate the building, though it wasn't like
there was a safer place for us to go. There were a few more bodies in the
hallway we had to step over before we made it back to our room and the entire
floor was soaking wet because the sprinklers had kicked on to put out the
fires, I guess they worked.

The room was basically as we left it since it'd
been locked. Dad and Brandon left a note saying they were alright and had gone
to look for us. That calmed down mom a lot, which was great because she doesn't
really handle stress too well. I guess I get that from dad.

Hotel management came knocking door to door
after a couple minutes, retracting their statement about evacuating. Apparently
none of the damage was structural and we were free to stay in the building, but
at our own risk.

Mom wanted to talk. I could tell she was
disturbed by what she'd seen me do. Hell, so was I, and she could tell.
Wouldn't be much of a mom if she couldn't, I guess. But I brushed off her
attempts at comforting me. I didn't want to be touched. I felt dirty and had a
strong urge to sit in the shower and wash myself of what I'd done. Like I could
feel it lingering on my skin like a nasty film.