The Alarm Clock at the End of the World

Part 20

Prologue, Part 5

I go into my apartment through the back door, gather a few things I can use. My cash and a couple pairs of clothing. I’m surprised the SI’s are not here already. I’m extra-careful to avoid the windows, sometimes crawling. You can’t be too careful.

The big black television screaming, “TERRORISM TERRORISM TERRORISM.” It’s not entertaining, but it’s mandatory. Bureaucraticus is not at his apartment, and he is not answering his cell phone. A knock comes on the door, and he enters looking flustered.

“Secret Inspectors have been following me all night,” I say, ignoring pleasantries. “They probably know you’re here.”

Secret Inspectors were the observation arm of the Party Mayor’s Regime, and the bane of any superhero that stepped out of line. I’m sure they’d been keeping tabs in an effort to track down Eva Lorraine, but I don’t know why they moved on me so openly earlier in the evening. I’d barely gotten out with my life.

He says, “We’re in trouble, so much trouble. I don’t know if we are going to survive.”

“You say that about everything...”

“It’s the Pisceans,” Nepotism said, looking grave. “Eva has been right about the Party Mayor all along. He’s a villain.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask as we sit down in the living room.

“We need to get out of town,” he says.

The report of a rifle is followed by my shattering window and the explosion of a slug in the floorboards. We’re both ducking for cover as more shots blow apart the panes and through the walls. Powdered drywall drifts in the air. Someone or several are running up the stairs in heavy boots to kick in my door.

“This is a private residence!” I shout, but didn’t expect them to care. It earns me a punch to the stomach with an armored glove. Maybe half a dozen guys in SWAT armor and weapons. Two in the back have suppression shields. They have no rights here, but they don’t care, and are stomping our faces to prove it. The whole building was bugged, and they’d listened to everything I said, and I didn’t know until that day how dangerous they really were.

We were restrained in no time, and dragged to waiting limos parked on the front yard. We were shoved inside separate cars with a dozen other prisoners. No one was talking. No one knew who might be a spy. The cars stopped to collect a few more as we were driven deep in the woods. Other limos were already parked here and a crowd of people was herded in the shade of tall evergreen. Men in suits wearing sunglasses and ear radios circled the group keeping everyone in line. These were Pisceans.

Go to Part 21