Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 26. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with chapters 1 and 2. Be advised that this work considers difficult subjects, including suicide. If you're in crisis, please seek help. Help is available here.
Domonique never woke up. Complications from heart failure, the doctors said, though she was only twenty-one. Standing at a nurse's desk in shock, Horace heard his phone ring and answered without thinking. "This is Special Agent Clipper," said a female voice. "Is this Mr Gomez?"
"Yes," said Horace. "Sorry, I'm at the hospital now. My girlfriend just died."
"I see," said Clipper. "What hospital? I'll come to you."
An hour later, Horace was sobbing into a bag of drive through fast food in the agent's passenger seat. Eventually, he pulled himself together enough to share the broad strokes of Operation Monster Bash. "So, like, you can stop them, right?" he asked finally. "Lori and Jam and all of them? Without anybody getting hurt?"
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," said Cutter. "You're going to agree in writing to assist us. You will also agree to help your friends make their explosive devices, and we'll walk you through creating dummy devices that appear functional. We're going to want to arrest everyone in the act, on the day of the planned attack. Can we go to my office now to sign the paperwork?"
Horace tried to focus, but how could he? Domonique was gone. How could that have happened? Heart failure? She was so young. Wait, he thought, she started acting funny ten days ago, right after receiving a vaccine booster shot. Could there be a connection? "Sure, whatever," he said.
The next day, Horace awoke with a shudder, having passed out on the couch the night before. God, she was gone. Shit. He had some awful calls to make. Domonique's parents in Puerto Rico were devastated. Her brother in Indiana was driving up to pick up her stuff. In a daze, crying intermittently, Horace tried to go to class, but ended up just sitting on the floor outside of the STEM lab.
"Go, what are you doing?" asked Lori, who found him there. "About yesterday, I know it's a lot."
Horace wanted to tell her to fuck off. "It's cool," he said. "Domonique died suddenly of heart failure last night. So I've kinda got other things on my mind."
"I'm so sorry," said Lori, sitting down and hugging him. "Let me know what I can do. Anything at all. I'm here for you."
"Thanks," said Horace. "I thought I could go to class, but that's not happening."
"That's okay," said Lori. "Why don't I get you home. Do you have food? You need to eat."
Whatever else Lori was, she was good at taking care of people. Horace spent most of the rest of the day on his couch on the phone while Lori cleaned the place and made pasta. They ate at the coffee table, in silence at first. "I thought about it, and I'll do it," said Horace eventually. "Operation Monster Bash. I'm in, but I want to handle the devices myself. I know enough to know what I'm doing, and I couldn't bear the thought of an accident happening with them."
"You sure?" asked Lori. "Even after all of this that you're dealing with?"
"I'm sure," said Horace. "We're talking about human rights abusers here. People who profit from crimes against humanity. Plus, I could use a distraction right about now."
"You're a true hero of the people," said Lori. "Jam was sure you'd chicken out, but I had faith in you."
"There is one part I'm having a hard time with," said Horace. "These targets, they all totally suck. The world would be better off if they didn't exist. But they have families. Loved ones. People that will miss them. Even if we can avoid collateral damage, these people will still suffer because of our actions. That's what bothers me the most."
"You're right, it's shitty," said Lori. "But so is providing substandard food and medical care to prisoners. So is slavery. And having so much money wrapped up in those things that the media almost never reports on them. It's true, even the worst people are often loved by someone. But that doesn't mean we should just keep tolerating the harm they do."
"Right, but what if there's another way?" asked Horace. "Some way to force them to see the error of their ways without actually killing them?"
"I love how idealistic you are, Go," said Lori. "We thought about maybe kidnapping and reprogramming them, but couldn't see that leading to an acceptable outcome. If you have a better idea, we'll listen. But we've looked at every angle, and so far the bombs look like the best way."
"The best way because they'll do the job or the best way because of how much attention they'll get?" asked Horace.
"We want to send a clear message," said Lori. "Investing in human rights abuses won't be tolerated anymore. All of the assholes hiding in these glass and steel buildings, pretending to be respectable while profiting from actual fucking slavery. We want them all running scared. Since it's not mechanically feasible to kill all of them, the least we can do is scare the shit out of them."
"I get that," said Horace. "But like, are we just trying to scare them, or is part of this political? To influence policy in some way? I guess I'm asking because I might know a couple of people in that world."
"Our action is pure propaganda of the deed," said Lori. "We hope to inspire others to take similar actions. This whole system has to change, and we want to inspire others to make that happen. Maybe the law will change, but probably not. Not realistically."
It was well after dark when Lori left. Horace was just sitting down to resume crying when he heard a knock at the door. It was Special Agent Clipper. Wordlessly opening the door, Horace returned to the couch, sat down, and rested his head in his hands.
"I brought you a burger," said Clipper, placing a fast food bag on the coffee table. "You hanging in there?"
Sitting up, Horace noticed genuine concern in the agent's eyes. "Thanks," he said. "I'll get through it."
"How was your time with Lori Druthers?" asked Clipper.
"I told her I'd be in charge of the explosive devices, like you wanted," said Horace. "She called me a hero of the people."
"You are a hero, for what you're doing for us," said Clipper.
"I got her talking about the plan and recorded it for you," said Horace. "I felt shitty doing it. She was really nice to me today. About Domonique and all."
"Do I need to remind you that she's plotting a terrorist attack?" asked Clipper.
"I made the recording, didn't I?" said Horace. "I'm helping you take them down, even though I basically agree with their motivations. The people they're after really are monsters, but they own the system so you'll never in a million years hold them responsible for their crimes against humanity."
"I'm not arguing," said Clipper. "But the Bureau does what good it can. For example, by preventing terrorist attacks."
"Hold on," said Horace. "You got here quick after Lori left. Are you watching me now?"
"Watching and listening," said Clipper. "On that subject, you shouldn't do any more recording yourself. It's dangerous for you personally and for the investigation. We're getting all we need from our surveillance."
"Okay," said Horace.
"Now, when you return to the group headquarters, we want you to insist on completing the device assembly at another nearby location," said Clipper. "Say you have access to an unused apartment in an unfinished building where you can control for dust and other contaminants. My people will control this location."
"Okay," said Horace. "You know, they're probably going to want to see some kind of demonstration. What should I do about that?"
"I'll do some research and get back to you on that," said Clipper. "No matter what happens, you can't make even the smallest amount of real explosives for these people. Is that clear?"
"It's clear," said Horace. "Kind of a relief, actually. Explosives terrify me."
"Good," said Clipper. "Stay scared and stay cautious. And no matter what happens, remember that you did the right thing by bringing this to us."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
Read my novels:
See my NFTs:
