16

Long live the king.

- Hyperion

“So, you’re telling me that you want to start a revolution?” Drake said to Hunt, stroking his chin at the thought.  “You realize that this isn’t going to be easy.  It’s not going to be a walk in the prison yard. This is going to take work.”

“Please, Mr. Kashkarov.” Hunt replied. “You think we’re children, trying to play with adults. I can assure you, that is not the case. We know full well the amount of work that is going to be required of us. We just hope that you know the amount of work that will be required of you.”

“Oh please. I’ve been planning prison riots since almost the minute I got here. Leave my bits up to me, and just do your parts. We can get this easy.” Drake said, rolling his eyes. “First things first, though.” A switch clicked from somewhere near the bed, and Drake’s body cast lifted up slightly. Robert cocked his head, confused. Drake pushed the top half of the cast upward and over with muscular arms, sitting up in the process.

“Man, it feels good to be out of this thing.” He said, rubbing his arms and flipping his legs over the side of the cast and bed. He lifted himself off of the luxurious mattress and stood up, wiggling his toes. He sighed and rolled his head around his shoulders with his eyes closed, stretching his arms around his back. Robert just gaped. Hunt even managed to look surprised.

“It seems, Mr. Kashkarov,” Hunt said evenly, “that you’re condition of health may have been a bit exaggerated.”

“You think so?” Drake said sarcastically. “Sure, this guy here busted me up a little bit. I always planned on someone getting the better of me though. I have friends in the medical department. They agreed to put me in a full body cast so that I could enjoy all these wonderful toys.” He gestured to the room around him, with its many pleasures and comforts

“How agreeable of them.” Hunt said mockingly. “I suppose that they did this out of the goodness of their hearts?”

“Of course they did. They used to be working in the waste department before I showed up. I got them the jobs they have now.” Drake said with a smile. He finished his stretching with a grunt, and looked at Robert.

“Hey, pretty boy.” He said. “You haven’t said a word since you came in this room. What do you think of Sir Fancy’s plan?”

“I think you already know that answer.” Robert said. Drake nodded, cracking his knuckles. All were silent for a brief moment. Eventually, Drake broke the silence.

“Well, boys, we got a prison to overthrow. Let’s make it fun.” He whooped, walked over to the door, and opened it with a sharp tug. “Oh, and don’t touch anything. I like this room, and I don’t want you two chuckleheads ruining it.” With that, he left, slamming the door behind him. Robert and Hunt stood alone, thinking about what they had just done. Robert tried to strike up a conversation.

“That went better than I expected.” Robert said, looking at Hunt. Hunt nodded, rubbing his eyes. The man’s stiff composure seemed to be breaking.

“I am not used to this.” He muttered.

“What?” Robert asked, walking over to the man and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing, Mr. Thurman.” Hunt said, shrugging off his hand. “I am in no need of comfort. You may be the one in need of that.”

“I’m fine.” Robert said, looking away.

“Are you, Mr. Thurman? You were forced to watch your wife and two friends be murdered in cold blood before your very eyes. Your best friend was killed again at your own hands after turning into an insane animal. I question as to whether you are stable enough to carry out this mission.” Hunt said, his voice growing louder and harsher as he went on.

“I said I’m fine!” Robert said loudly. “Why are you even asking?”

“Because your two missions are the two most important things you shall ever do, Mr. Thurman, and I do not want you straying from your path!” Hunt yelled.

Robert balled his fists and glared at Hunt. Why was this man aggravating him? He had managed to push his feelings and emotions down enough to function; what was the point of bringing them back up again?

“Because, Mr. Thurman, it is no help to push your feelings down.” Hunt said, and Robert gaped at him. Could the man read his mind? In all honesty, he probably could. Hunt had certainly been in his mind long enough. Robert took a deep breath.

“Oh really?” Robert said, walking up to the man and stabbing a finger to his chest. “Because it seems to be the only thing that’s keeping me from bashing your face in right now.” Hunt just smiled.

“So why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will!” Robert yelled, balling his fists.

“If it helps, I will allow it.” Hunt said, forever smiling.

It was that smile that pushed Robert over the edge.

With a yell, he threw a right hook at Hunt’s face, and exulted a small amount when he felt flesh underneath his knuckles. Hunt made no reaction or sound; indeed, he didn’t even move. He stood there continually as Robert bloodied his knuckles on the man’s face, throwing punches like a madman, but Hunt didn’t bleed a single drop. He just stood there, absorbing blow after blow. At least the smile slipped off around the third or fourth uppercut. Eventually, Robert stopped, breathing heavily. All of his emotions came crashing back to his mind, and his legs started to wobble. As Robert sank down on his knees and started to sob with his feelings of anger and sadness and shame, Hunt stood without a scratch on his face. After a moment, Hunt knelt down next to Robert and put a hand on the crying man’s shoulder.

“Mr. Thurman, contrary to popular belief, I am not a man made of stone. I know how to feel, and, more importantly, I know how to deal with what I feel. The things you are going through are enormous and difficult, but pushing down the feelings you have will only jeopardize our aims. I need you to be stable and driven for this; but, if at every moment you have the chance of being reduced to this kind of state, I cannot trust you to work with me and succeed. I need you to be strong.” He said. Robert looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. Hunt stepped back and held out a hand. Robert looked at it for a second, and then he raised a trembling hand of his own to grip it. In one fluid motion, Hunt pulled Robert up to stand next to him.
“I need you, Robert.” Hunt said. Robert simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Hunt nodded back, and gestured to the door.

“We have work to do.”

   

            *            *            *

Robert stood in front of the guards’ cafeteria, breathing hard. Even while they were going over the plan in vivid detail, he had not felt anything close to what he felt now. Why was anxiety creeping in at this precise instant? This was the moment when he needed to be most calm. He could not give anything away now.

That is correct, Mr. Thurman. Hunt said in his mind. You cannot give anything away.  You gave me your word that you would be strong.

I know that! Robert snapped in his mind. Regardless, I can still feel anxiety. How do we know this is going to work?

While I scarcely trust Drake Kashkarov as far as I can throw him, his aims do seem to align with ours. Hunt replied.

So I just go along with it? Robert asked. Drake said that he had friends who were guards, and that they were going to help me convince the other guards to let me in to talk to prisoners. How will I know which ones are them?

He assured us that we would know, Mr. Thurman. At this moment, I will trust him. You will just have to do the same. Hunt said, and Robert felt him leave.

Robert sighed, tapping his foot in frustration. This was the moment of truth. He cracked his knuckles, shook his shoulders, and rolled his head.

Showtime. He thought, and opened the door.

“Hey, Robert!” Someone with a nasally voice shouted above the clatter of utensils on glass plates. “Nice time to show up!”

Robert’s searched around the room for the voice, and spotted a lanky man waving his arms frantically above his head. He was gathered in a dark corner with a few other men who were obviously more masculine than the skinny boy who had beckoned Robert.

“We already got you some food, because we figured you’d try to make an entrance like this.” The kid yelled, earning a few chuckles from the uniformed men around him. Robert forced a smile and strutted over to the group in accordance with his character.

“You’re a prison guard, man, so act like it. Puff out your chest, speak forcefully, walk like you own the place!” Drake had told him, and Robert tried to follow his orders.  A few of the men around him snickered, but most everyone paid him no heed.

Well, at least I’m not sticking out like a sore thumb. He thought.

“Robert, we were waiting for you. We wanted your opinion on something.” The kid said as Robert sat down next to a big man with gratuitous tattoos.

“What’s that… uh…” Robert’s mind scrambled as he tried to find out the kids name.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. My hazing says no one can remember my name.” The kid said, a frown appearing where his grin had been. “My name is Lawrence.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Robert said, grateful that his mistake was not witnessed by the other men. “So what was it you wanted from me?”

“Well,” Lawrence said, sitting down across from him, ignoring the glares from the men on either side as he elbowed their trays. “Some of the guys here say there was a fight a few weeks before that one patient went rogue. A few others say they were the same guy, and that he beat up Drake Kashkarov. We were wondering you knew anything about it.” Robert snorted, falling back into his character.

“Please. You think if Drake got in a fight, the guy would be able to walk away in one piece?”

“Well, rumors were-”

“Idiot.” Robert interrupted. “There wouldn’t have been any of the patient left. Trust me, kid, I know what I’m talking about. Whoever your source is, I’d advise you to find someone else.”

Lawrence looked a bit crestfallen, and the guys next to him were hiding grins. Robert dug a fork into the gray mush on his tray and shoved it into his mouth; he did not even notice the taste. His mind was spinning too fast, every facet of his consciousness striving to not give anything away. For now, it seemed to be working.

“Oh yeah,” Lawrence said, the strange grin once more shining on his face; this time, however, there was a little malice in it. Robert was taken slightly aback.

“What’s going on?” He said, continuing to eat, his arms mechanically going through the motions. He tried to act nonchalant, but a bit of unease may have slipped through.

“There’s more rumors going around that people aren’t really happy with the way that the Warden is running things around here.” Lawrence said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Inwardly, Robert let out a sigh of relief. This is what Drake had told Lawrence to do, and Lawrence was just playing his part. Their goal was to start a conversation with the other men in the cafeteria, see what the general consensus was about the Warden’s regime.

“Really now?” Robert said, following the vague script they had been giving. “What are the rumors really saying?”

“A few of the guards are planning something. Something big.” Lawrence whispered.

“Oh, come on, Lawrence.” The man next to him said through a mouthful of food. “Something like that is way too good to be true. Like Robert said, whoever your source is is full of-”

“No way!” Lawrence countered. “These guys know what their talking about. I swear.”

“Yeah, right.” The guy snorted.

“Hey,” Robert said in Lawrence’s defence, right on cue. “Maybe he actually is on to something.”

“Listen, Robert.” The guy said offhandedly. “Most of us here have been dreaming of a prison riot for years. And yes, it’s a prison. None of that bullcrap ‘patient’ stuff here. This place is a prison, and everyone knows it.”

“So you guys would like a revolution.” Robert said, not believing it for a second. The guy just stared at him.

“Are you kidding me?” The guy said incredulously. “We’d love it! This place is absolutely the pits! We don’t get paid well, we don’t get treated well, and we aren’t even allowed to leave!”

Robert started at that one. Not allowed to leave? What?

Remember, Mr. Thurman. This world is not real. Hunt said in his mind.

Yeah, sure. Robert scoffed. He still didn’t believe what Pontius had told him. That guy belonged in this loony bin, not him.

Whoah. Where did that come from? He thought to himself. That thought was supremely arrogant and pious, something Robert didn’t think he was. Strange.

“So, Robert,” The man continued. “If you say that we might be able to get out of here, we laugh. Because there’s now way it could happen.”

Robert put his fork down and stared the man in the face.

“And what if I told you that the kid is right?” He said, and the man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Then we would follow the guy leading it to the ends of the earth.” The man said.

Robert smiled.

“Then follow me.” He said. The man’s eyes widened, and the fork dropped out of his hands. Lawrence and the other man, who had been silent the whole time, looked at Robert with sheer awe. They all stood up at the same time.
Immediately, Robert frantically gestured for them to sit back down.

“I didn’t mean right now!” He hissed, as they wildly clambered back into their seats. “I meant follow me in my aims. “

“Oh.” They all said, and the first man picked up his fork. They were all silent for a minute, listening to the murmuring in the room. Eventually, the second man held out his hand.

“I’m Cortes.” He said, and Robert grabbed his hand. Cortes shook it briefly but powerfully.

“And I’m Cosmo.” The other man said, neglecting a handshake due to his hands being used once again to shovel food into his mouth. Robert just nodded at him.

“So, Robert.” Cortes said, folding his big brown hands in his lap. “Are you really planning a revolt?”

“Cortes, I’m going to crack this place wide open.” Robert said with a smile. Cortes chuckled.

“And how are you going to execute this delicate operation?” He said. Robert just continued grinning.

“Well, for starters…” He began.

            *            *            *

Well, that went better than expected. Robert said to Hunt, as he left the cafeteria with the other men. Everyone seemed to believe me.

Yes, Mr. Thurman. Hunt replied. You did well; however, do not let it get to your head. That was but the first piece of an enormous puzzle. I need you to stay focused.

Of course I’m going to stay focused. Robert said, and he meant it. Revenge was a very powerful motivator, and he had enough of it in him to sustain his actions for a lifetime. Trust me. I have this under control.

Hunt laughed. As you say, Mr. Thurman. As you say. Robert rolled his eyes.

So what’s next? He asked, as he continued following the crowd. What comes next in this grand scheme?

You must return to Drake’s rather luxurious cell.  Hunt said. He and a few of the other prisoners are there waiting for you.

For what? Robert asked, stopping in his tracks.

You will see. Hunt said simply, and then he was gone.

Robert sighed, annoyed at Hunt’s usual cryptic ways. He wished that, just once, the man could speak in a clear manner that was easily understood. It was the wish of Robert’s heart.

Robert started walking through the dim hallways to Drake’s cell, thinking endlessly about the plan. Inevitably, however, his thoughts turned to the past.

            *            *            *

Robert and his family piled into the small minivan they had found. It was one of the few vehicles that they found that was both driveable and already filled with gas; all of their vehicles had been drained by their scavenging operations. None of the posse wanted to think of the reason this one had been found full: the owner of it had either died or turned. It was a grisly fate.

“Where are we going, Dad?” Jessica asked from the backseat where she lay. She was still recovering from their ordeal at the store. Her body had been damaged heavily, and she needed the rest.

“I really don’t know, sweetie.” Robert replied in a fake voice. “We’re going somewhere where nobody mean can find us.”

“Good,” Jessica said, sitting up slightly. “I don’t want to get hurt anymore.” Tears filled Robert’s eyes.

“Neither do I, sweetie.” He said in a husky voice. “Neither do I.”

They drove for days, never truly stopping. Nowhere they found was safe. They could barely find passable roads to get through. They lived as nomads, fleeing one instance of danger into another. They learned to fight from different people whom they met on the road. They learned how to take care of themselves. Robert often thought to himself that, ironically, they had become more of a family in a time that would tear them apart. He even chuckled to himself about it.

Then one day, they found a cave.

WATCH.

A loud voice sounded in Robert’s head as he walked down the institution hallway, causing him to halt and put his hands to his temples, his memories fleeing. This was not Samuel Hunt speaking to him. This voice was far more forceful, and a thousand times as deafening.

Who are you? He asked, holding his pounding head in his hands.

WATCH. The Voice simply said. WATCH AND LEARN.

And the scenery changed.

Robert was standing in the middle of an empty street, the rain pouring down on his shoulders. He wiped the water out of his eyes, trying to discern where he was. The black asphalt was new, hardly a single mark in it. It was almost as smooth as polished marble, the rain glistening off the pavement.

“So, doctor man, where are we going?” A gruff, Southern accented voice said. It was quiet enough that Robert barely noticed it, but the accent got his attention.

“I have been here before.” He said under his breath, running his hands through his hair.

“Why have I been here before?”

WATCH.

Robert growled, but he followed the voice.

As he walked through the street, he began to get chills on his neck and down his spine. He had been here before. This was Detroit. This was where he had worked, where he had lived. This was where-

“You think I didn’t catch that, doctor man?” The southern voice said again. Robert nearly fell over. That was Darnell! This was where it all happened!

“Hey Darnell, is this it?” Julius said. Robert could already picture what was going on. They had just found the abandoned store and were going in.

WATCH.

NO. Robert said. I already know what is going to happen.

WATCH, ROBERT THURMAN. YOU MUST LEARN.

Robert ground his teeth, but he continued to walk toward the store. When he came around the corner, there was nobody on the sidewalk. They had gone into the building.

Robert suddenly remembered what had happened at the end of the fight. Julius lay dying on the ground, gasping out words to Robert. At the last second, he had looked over and seen a man. Robert had tried to see who it was, but the man was in shadow and left quickly.

Maybe now I can found out who it was. He thought to himself.

So he waited. He waited outside of the store as the fight raged on inside. He waited as his other self fought with the men in protection of his daughter. He cringes he a heard a crash, and remembered how clumsy he was back in these days. This was before he had learned how to defend himself, before he knew how to protect his family. Robert was more surprised than ever before that he had made it out of that building alive. Against men with more firepower than he ever had, he should have been shot to pieces before he ever received a chance to fight back. It had been sheer luck that had carried the day for him, and that seemed to be the last trickle of luck that ever stuck with him.

Two gunshots shattered Robert’s thoughts, jolting him back to reality. Another one quickly followed.

This is it. Robert thought. This is the end of the fight. Any moment, I’ll see the man enter the store.

WATCH. The Voice repeated.

Robert indeed watched.

Nothing appeared.

As Robert waited and waited for what seemed like hours, nobody appeared.

Am I remembering today incorrectly? He thought. Is my timing off?

He walked toward the door and opened it, ignoring the wave of decay that hit him full in the face. He walked between the shelves and aisles, and stopped when he found what he was looking for.

“Don’t give in to them.” Julius said, and he looked toward the entrance of the store.

And saw Robert standing there.

“What…” He said, and slumped over, lifeless.

Robert ducked behind a shelf as the other Robert turned around, ignoring the vile ooze that covered the decaying wood.

What had he just seen?

THAT, MR. THURMAN, IS WHO YOU WERE. YOU WERE A PROTECTOR, A GUARDIAN.

Robert closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was back in the institution hallway.

THAT CANNOT BE.

Why? Robert screamed in his head. WHY?

BECAUSE THESE ARE DESPERATE TIMES, MR. THURMAN. AND MORE DESPERATE MEASURES WERE NEVER NEEDED BEFORE NOW.

Robert shook his head and rubbed his eyes, using his other arm to steady himself against the wall. None of this made any sense!

YOU MUST LET GO OF THE FATHER, AND TAKE UP YOUR NEW ROLE.

“And what exactly is that?!” Robert shouted out loud, chords standing out on his neck as he screamed to the ceiling.

SCOURGE.

And then the Voice was gone.