Spanners - The Fountain of Youth (20 page)

“Hey crater-face,” said Freeman Rajter. “It’s time to let the caveman go.”

“What?!” screamed Cannon, his jaw quivering.

“You heard me,” said Freeman Rajter. “You smell like a corpse and look like someone put your face in an
ant pile. Now you want to fight me?”

“You shut up!” yelled Cannon.

Tears rolled down Cannon’s face and soaked the dried blood that had come from his burst acne. He dropped Brogg with a thud and then ran at Freeman Rajter, who disappeared deep into the homestead, leaving the crew alone.

/***/

Adam went into the RV and opened the windows, letting the cool air dampen the Fountain’s powers. The RV had become warm with her inside and the Fountain’s unmuted power had weakened Adam, and when he got out of the vehicle he immediately collapsed to the ground.
She’s radioactive,
thought Mayfly.
If that was me, I would have been killed.

Mayfly rushed to Adam, but Adam wheezed at Mayfly to stay away; the RV would take a few more moments to cool off.

When the RV was cool, the Treys started it and the engine turned; it was loud but ran well. Freeman Rajter had only done a few hours’ work on it, but it was enough and they would be able to get away.

Mayfly looked through the gate and saw that a blizzard had come in and a layer of snow was
accumulating on the ground. One of the Treys went into the back of the RV and came out with tire chains. Two of him put the chains on the back tires, and the third backed up the RV. They did the same with the front tires, and in under a minute the RV was ready to drive through ice.

The
Fountain was still hiding in the back, but she was no longer under the cold blankets. She was scared but sat compliantly as the group piled into the vehicle around her. Cattaga smiled at her; the Fountain smiled back nervously and then nodded to indicate that she was okay.

She trusts us,
thought Mayfly.
She doesn’t understand our language, and she doesn’t know that the battle outside is over her, but she trusts us.

As soon as they determined that
the Fountain was secure and calm, they dragged Brogg into the vehicle. He was barely conscious and mostly dead weight, but they got him in. Adam went to unlock the gate, and in doing so had to step over the body of Freeman Rajter, who had been made unrecognizable by Cannon. They dragged the body of Freeman Rajter into the RV as well, but Mayfly could tell at a glance that the old man was beyond help. Adam opened the gate and allowed the RV to roll through.

Several shots rang out
, and Adam screamed in pain. He crumpled to the ground in agony, and the two human guards that had shot him were now rushing towards the RV, drawing their weapons. Adam rolled over on the ground and picked up one of Freeman Rajter’s dropped crossbows and shot at the guards, hitting them both, but more guards were on the way. Mayfly went out to help Adam, but Adam yelled back with an anger he’d never shown before.

“Go!” Adam yelled. “I’ll be fine. Go, or I’ll kill you myself.”

Mayfly knew this is what Adam wanted, so he ran into the RV and closed the door.

“Floor it,” said Mayfly.

Trey accelerated as fast as he could, but the snowy ground slowed the vehicle. Shots rang out, but they didn’t hit the RV or the RV’s tires, and soon they had trudged into the mist and were out of the marksmen’s range.

“Storms coming in,” said Trey as he drove. “They won’t get their helicopter up to follow us.”

They drove in silence, and a few moments later Mayfly took his night
-vision goggles and took one last look at the compound. He briefly saw Cannon ripping the crossbow out of Adam’s hand and then punching him in his stomach.

“You did what needed to be done,” said Cattaga to Mayfly.

“She’s right. This is bigger than you and me both,” said Trey. “This is even bigger than Adam.”

THE INQUISITION

Adam woke up with a splitting headache and vomited soon thereafter. He had the wherewithal to aim away from himself, but the bile came slowly
, and since he was tied to a chair, most of it ended up on his clothes. He looked around and noticed that he was in the room where his group had eaten the meat stew, but the room had been cleared out. There were no stray forks on the ground with which he could pry open the knots that bound his wrists, and there were no knives to cut the ropes or even to use as a weapon. He’d been captured like this before, and he knew when there was no escape. Adam had no recourse but to wait for his captors to come in and do whatever it was they wished to do with him.

Drayne soon came in and tried to hurt him, but she couldn’t cause much damage. She started with
blades and scalpels but couldn’t get him to talk. Adam had been tortured with knives before, and they weren’t effective against him; to Adam a knife through the stomach was like a needle from a doctor—unpleasant but tolerable. Drayne became frustrated and removed her gloves, and then Adam knew he had her. She put her hands on his neck and soon started to quiver, then fell to the ground unconscious.
Tree-class spanners are strong against scourges,
Adam thought.
We have more life than they can handle; it’s like putting the power of a bomb into a small battery.

Drayne had been debilitated from taking Adam’s power, but she was still alive. Two gloved guards dragged her out of the shed
, and Adam looked through the window and saw her twitching in the snow outside. Adam used the time to try to escape the chair, but it was no use; the ropes were too well tied.

Adam sat in the shed with vomit on his shirt and saw Cannon strutting outside, flexing his muscles.
This isn’t going to be pretty,
thought Adam.
The boy won’t get me to talk, but it’ll be some time before he realizes it.

They sent in Cannon after, and it wasn’t good. The boy beat Adam senseless, and the kid’s p
unches were like sledgehammers, relentless and without purpose. He broke Adam’s nose and ribs, cracked his sternum and gave him so many bruises that they started to join one another, and soon Adam’s body was a single discolored mess. Adam knew his injuries would heal, but in the meantime he had no choice but to take the blows, and soon he passed out again. When he woke up this time, he had a bigger headache and the vomit was still on his shirt.

How many times have I woken up like this?
thought Adam.

Adam tried not to think of the times he’d been in similar situations, but the memories flooded his mind and he had to dwell on them. He had been chained and forgotten in a Spartan prison during a Helot revolt. A deranged commander had found him a year later, emaciated
, and had beaten him for a week before he managed to escape.

Adam had been tortured for three days during the French Revolution
, and pressed to death with large stones in Massachusetts after villagers had accused him of witchcraft. The Nazis thought he had knowledge of ammunition dumps during World War II, and he survived two weeks of their torment before their bunker was blown to pieces by Russian artillery, them along with it.

This is why I hide from the world
, thought Adam.
Whenever I show myself, I end up in a place like this.

“It’s been some time, Adam,” said a voice from the darkness.

The door to the shed was open, and Adam saw the thin figure of a man in the shadows; when the man walked forward Adam immediately recognized him as Balthasar, and he saw that he was carrying a metal case. Balthasar took a chair and table from the corner and placed it in front of Adam, and then sat down in the chair and opened the case to reveal a flask and two glasses. He poured two glasses and placed one near Adam, and it smelled like tequila.

“An immortal inevitably has a lasting relationship with all other immortals, don’t you think
, Adam?” asked Balthasar. “Friend, enemy or even stranger to one another, we’re the only constants in each other’s lives as the centuries pass.”

Adam found truth in that statement but chose not to acknowledge it.
When tied to a chair you have but one weapon,
thought Adam,
and that’s silence.

“I know you’re no stranger to sessions like these,” said Balthasar, pushing the glass of
tequila towards Adam. “So I’ll assure you that I’m not trying to play psychological games; I like tequila, and would have brought cognac if I’d had the time. Drink if you so desire; I assure you it’s not drugged.”

Adam remained silent, and after a moment Balthasar sipped his own glass of
tequila.

“I’ll also be candid when I tell you your fate. Again, no mind games.”

Balthasar took one more sip of the tequila and savored it. He was calm, but it sounded to Adam as if his speech had been rehearsed a hundred times over.

“You’re in a bad place
, Adam, and you know this,” said Balthasar. “The only way out is to join our cause, and you’ll do this by telling us where the Fountain is headed. I understand the chances of you assenting to this are slim, but allow me to rationally explain what we hope to achieve first. May I do this?”

Adam didn’t respond.

“I’ll explain, and you’ll listen,” said Balthasar, “and if I fail to persuade you that our goal is just, I’ll have no recourse but to punish you, severely and permanently. I’ll do this by bringing your class’s persistent nightmare into being.”

Adam’s
stomach became hollow and he started to sweat, but he averted his eyes and tried not to show his fear.

“But first
, an argument on our behalf,” said Balthasar. “I understand that you think Juan Ponce de León to be a mass murderer, and nothing more. I agree that if we have our way, a lot of people will die, but he’s much more than a simple killer.”

Balthasar took another sip from his
tequila.

“Let’s say we use the Fountain
to kill ninety-nine percent of this earth; I’d say that’s almost seven billion people. Tragic, hmm?”

Adam didn’t respond.

“Perhaps,” said Balthasar, “but perhaps
not
. Since you were born Adam, almost a hundred billion people have come and gone in this world … a
hundred
billion born and now dead forever! Now, truthfully, answer me; does anyone mourn their deaths?”

Adam didn’t answer.

“I’ll not cover you with an avalanche of comparative statistics—a hundred and fifty-five thousand dying each day, five hundred dying since we started this conversation and so forth. But I’ll tell you that death is part of life, and we only mourn those who are close to us, and once
we
are gone, there is no sadness to
their
deaths. The only thing that remains after death is what lasts, be it a poem, architecture, scientific progress or even a bizarre relic.”

Balthasar gestured outside the shed’s window at Drayne, who was still woozy but upright.

“She was in a brothel when I found her,” said Balthasar. “Not the voluntary type, mind you, but the type where children are trafficked, bred, used and discarded against their will; that kind of thing. They’re all around the world you know, in every country, operating around the clock while you hide in the shadows and do absolutely nothing to prevent it.”

Balthasar took another
drink of his tequila.

“Well
we’re
doing something,” said Balthasar. “We’re not saving up to buy a girl from some predatory pimp, nor are we hoping to arrest a few traffickers in a daring midnight raid. We’re
burning the brothel to the ground,
metaphorically speaking, of course. And if I could extend the metaphor, we’ll burn every other brothel on earth to the ground and ensure that no others take their place.”

Adam didn’t respond.

“I understand you worked for Scotland Yard on and off for a century or two?” asked Balthasar. “All those arrests, using your experience to solve crimes … and what of it? Did you ever once make a difference? You stemmed the bleeding perhaps, but you never fixed the wound. Solve a murder and another one comes; stop a robber and two more take his place elsewhere.”

Balthasar got up and took another look at Drayne.

“We’re creating a new world where brothels won’t exist, and there will be no need for detectives. There will be no murder, no environmental destruction and no war caused by shortage of resources. Many will have to die to achieve this goal, but in a century they would have been dead anyway.”

Balthasar walked around Adam twice and then knelt down and peered at him in the eye.

“We’re creating a world with or without your help, Adam,” said Balthasar. “It will be a small,
controlled
world with no room for sin, and no room for suffering. No one will mourn anyone who dies today, but humanity
will
know our society ten thousand years from now, because they’ll still be living in the utopia we
will
create. All I ask from you is a little help telling me where your friends are headed. Tell us where the Fountain is, Adam, and help bring our new world into being.”

Adam looked
at Balthasar and then nodded his head towards the tequila. Balthasar brought the glass to his lips and Adam drank.

“You remind me of someone,” said Adam. “A half century ago, I was tied to a chair in a freezing room just like this in the Gulag. They did brutal things there, which would have made a little sense if they’d been doing it to their enemies, but most of the prisoners were their own people, the ones for which they were trying to create a … utopia.

“After one session much like this, I asked the guard
why
he was doing what he did. He responded just the same as you, that to create this utopia, bad things had to happen first. Stalin had to purge the elements that he had to purge, but the ends would justify the means; in a thousand years, the perfect world would make the pain we suffered now worth it.”

With a nod, Adam
asked for another draft of tequila, and Balthasar obliged.

“I’ve seen a lot over the years,” said Adam. “Empires grown and crumbled and a thousand leaders come and gone with the same promise:
‘
Do whatever I ask, no matter how ignoble, and it will be worth it, for our way is the way that the world will remember.’
”

Adam looked Balthasar in the eye.

“Your leader promises heaven if only you do horrible things,” said Adam, “but heaven never comes from a frozen prison, and it never
comes by force, with men tied to chairs and tortured. You know this to be true.”

Balthasar didn’t respond.

“Do what you need to do, because I’m not going to tell you where the Fountain is headed,” said Adam. “But before you do away with me, think of what you’ve done, what you’re doing now and what Juan will ask you to do next. Think of it and realize that utopia won’t spring from your actions; you’ll only be a cruel guard, torturing those beneath you because a man above you ordered it. That will be
your
utopia, Balthasar, and it’s up to you to follow the path or not.”

/***/

Balthasar had Cannon carry Adam outside, chair and all, and together they watched as the human guards sprayed hot water into the frozen ground twenty meters out, melting it just enough for Cannon to start digging.

“There’s a wave of history coming
, Adam,” said Balthasar. “Right or wrong doesn’t matter; the future will happen, and that will be that, just as when the asteroid cleared the dinosaurs out for us, the Romans cleared the Barbarians from their hovels, and we cleared the Indians away so that you and I could be here, at this point. It won’t be ‘right’ or ‘wrong’; it will be an event, and it will happen without judgment. Right now, you and your cadre are a minor roadblock to this event.”

Adam took the words in, and shook his head in
disbelief.

“You work for a monster, Balthasar,” said Adam. “History always finds a way to rid itself of its monsters.”

Balthasar looked at the hole Cannon had dug in the melted earth; it was shallow but still deep enough to keep Adam there forever.

“Perhaps we will be gotten rid of,” said Balthasar, “but we will not be gotten rid of
now
, not before we achieve our goals. I’ll give you one last chance Adam: Tell me, where you have taken the Fountain?”

“You’re on the wrong side of history and the wrong side of morality, Balthasar,” said Adam.

Balthasar smiled, nodded slowly and grabbed a shovel from the ground. He then nodded at Cannon, who picked up Adam’s chair and leaned it over the hole for a few moments before returning him to Balthasar.

“Why, Adam?” asked Balthasar. “Just tell me
why
we’re immoral.”

“I can’t argue from the basis of a higher power, and I can’t argue from the basis of reason,” said Adam, “because you’ve clearly abandoned both. All I’ll say is that you’re wrong because you
just are
, and you know it. I’ve been where you are right now before, and I’ve been where I am before, both a thousand times over. All I know is that morality exists within us, and for whatever reason, those who kill the innocent never bring a better society, and they
never
bring utopia. Look at where you are right now and realize that it won’t end with me, Balthasar; it will only get worse.”