Prologue

Lightning flashed on the horizon. No wind blew that summer night, leaving a blanket of humidity over the area. Brent Williams pressed a button on his watch to illuminate the time. Twenty minutes until midnight. The limited movement sent a rush of heat through his body and sweat percolated from his armpits and back. Ben Anderson paced in a wide circle, nervously glancing into the woods at every noise. 

Yellow light washed over the factory as the moon peeked from behind the clouds. It was the best place for a classified meeting because no one dared to venture on the property without permission. The workers left by nine o'clock, because of the citywide ten PM curfew. The cover of the woods prevented anyone from witnessing the meeting. 

Headlights flashed through the trees. Brent turned his head briefly to escape the blinding light. Moments later, the faint whir of Charles Payne’s limousine stopped next to Ben's two-door electric car. The driver climbed out and removed the wheelchair from the back. It was not an easy task to move the 95-year-old man out of the back seat. Brent and Ben stepped up to the limo. 

Brent stuck an arm out to stop Ben as soon as he made a move toward the door. "Don't try to help." 

"Why not?" 

"I tried to help him once and got an earful of nasty insults. Let the man he pays do his job." 

The passenger door swung open and knocked Brent into Ben. Ben lost his balance and landed on one knee, dirtying his uniform. A young woman in a long lab coat scrambled out. Without a second look, she brushed past them, clutching a clipboard and stack of papers. Her eyes flashed toward the car after the factory was unlocked, and then she rushed inside. 

"I told you not to wear your uniform," Brent said. "That's why you have the curfew pass." 

Ben brushed his pant leg off. "I don't own a lot of other clothes." 

"Well fix that. You stick out like a wolf in a sheep flock." 

Charles's steely gaze shifted from the factory door as he maneuvered across the pavement to Brent's location. "They say they've made progress with the drug's longevity, but we'll see. Those troublesome Robidoux. Why do I keep them on the staff?" 

The reason for woman's actions became clear to Brent. No doubt, Charles verbally abused her in his displeasure. 

"The top minds form your research team," Brent said. "Angel's Tears is good in solution for a week." 

"It is not good enough. If the other cities are to conform to God's way by the year 2100, it must last longer. It only gives us five years. Enough of that. Is this your new associate?" 

"Yes, sir. This is Police Force Officer Benjamin Anderson." 

Charles beckoned Ben. "Come here, my boy. Tell me, what is it you do for us? And how do you like having your own car?" 

Brent blinked rapidly and then stared at Charles. He remembered that? Cars were luxury items that only the most wealthy could afford because they had to be imported from Detroit, due to the lack of automobile plants in the territory.  But Charles's mind waned by the day.

Ben cautiously walked closer Charles. "I work in the Police Force headquarters, sir. And I play on their soccer team, both summer and winter leagues. The car is really swell. I can get home from headquarters in ten minutes flat." 

"Excellent! That is admirable work you do," Charles said. 

"Officer Anderson is quite ambitious and perhaps he is overdue for a promotion," Brent divulged. "Now I'd like for you to repeat some of the things you've told me about Lieutenant Andrews." 

Ben looked from Brent to Charles and back to Brent again. His hands fell to his side and he wiped his palms on his pants. 

"You are among friends here. Whatever is said here stays between us. No one will find out," Charles said. 

"I didn't invite you here to cause trouble," Brent assured him. 

Ben cleared his throat. "Well, it just doesn't sit right with me, how she moved up in the ranks so fast. Everyone agrees she is intimidating." 

Charles tipped his head inquisitively. "So you think she strong-armed her way up?" 

"Well, she didn't get high marks on anything except for the physical training in boot camp. It's the only thing that makes sense to me," Ben said. 

Only the Chief of Police figured out she almost failed the intelligence assessment on purpose. Even the Director, who Brent worked for, did not catch it. An admirable person who stood up for those who could not and stellar Police Force Intel Agent was how Brent would describe her. Ben was a pushover and it was too easy to dupe him. 

"Is there anything else, in particular, you can think of?" Charles asked. 

Ben stopped for a moment and rubbed his chin. "Well, she stands up for the wrong things." 

"Like what?" 

"Whispers and rumors in headquarters that she convinced the Chief not to press charges against people who break the unsanctioned music and book law. Last week, she stopped a raid on someone's house. The Chief has a sweet spot for her." 

"Now I wonder why." Charles leaned toward Ben and wrinkled up his nose. "Unless she is helping to breed dissent in the city. The peace we established since the chaos of the Revelation Virus depends on those rules. Did you ever confront her about it?" 

"Oh no, sir. I was not supposed to eavesdrop in the first place. Plus I haven't really talked to her much over the past year." 

"Have you had a falling out?" 

"Of sorts. She does not like my soccer friends and gives me a hard time for hanging out with them. I just got tired of hearing it. So I only see her for training sometimes." 

Charles's mouth twisted up in a goofy smile. "Good to know you aren't getting corrupted. That line of thinking cannot continue." 

Meaningless banter, Brent thought. "I can explain my plan," he interjected. "But the council may not approve it." 

"If it aligns with God's plan, let's hear it." 

Brent gritted his teeth. "The mountain rebels broke into some warehouses and we don't know their motive yet. I would like Officer Anderson to befriend them, win their trust, and find out what they are after. Once we know, we make sure Lieutenant Andrews is there. The other Peacekeepers will leave her alone to deal with them. No one could overcome those insurmountable odds. Now if her friend here betrays her, I believe she will run away. Run away back to her family, where she won't be betrayed again." 

"I...I am not sure," Ben wavered. One hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I understand you are nervous. Captain Williams brought you here because he believes you are the best candidate for this, am I right?" 

"Have some confidence in yourself," Brent said. "In return, I will talk to the Chief about you becoming a liaison between SIS and the Police Force. A new title bestows a hefty a promotion." 

An important duty for the city was proposed to him by the city leader and the SIS Captain. Ben's posture changed. His shoulders moved back and his chest pushed out. "I will do it." 

"Excellent," Charles exclaimed. "You were right, Captain. The council may not approve this, so this stays between the three of us. How will he contact the mountain rebels?" 

"My agents captured one of them. Officer Anderson will talk to him, let him think he is going to help him escape," Brent said and slapped a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Don't worry; I will be here to help if there are any questions about how to proceed. It is going to take some time to win their trust. I'll call you with the details in a couple days. Good night, Officer Anderson." 

Ben saw his chance to escape and hurried to his car and left. 

"He will be a city hero if this goes well." Charles watched Ben’s car disappear into the night before turning to Brent. "I have been troubled. What do you know about that woman?" 

As the years progressed, Charles repeated the same questions often. Brent wanted to moan in disbelief.  He never remembered the conversations about Lily but he remembered about Ben’s car.  However, he bit his tongue and answered the question. 

"Twenty-one years old, granddaughter of Truck Andrews. She is pretty much a loner, not many friends. She spends her time working and training. Hell of a fighter, but bad temper and a bad attitude." 

Charles navigated the electric chair in a circle around Brent. "Truck was the bane of my leadership. Tried to change the territory's government. He said the territory should be a democracy like what existed before the virus. Fortuitous indeed, when he retired and moved away. I am willing to bet he dispatched her here, to disrupt God's plan.”

Once Charles was behind him, Brent rolled his eyes. Again, with God's plan. It's your plan, you paranoid old coot. 

“I let him establish the Peacekeepers and what did he do? Spouted nonsense about having elected leaders. I rebuilt this city. I was the one who erected the borders to protect these people from the rest of the world. Where would they be if it were not for me? Probably dead!" 

At the end of the rant, he slammed a fist on the wheelchair arm. A coughing fit ensued, sending a surge of spasms through his body. 

There wasn't much time left listening to Charles's ramblings, that night or ever. So, Brent gave him the same answer he always provided. 

"We don't need to change the city." 

Charles slowed to a stop in front of him. "My thoughts exactly. Does the drug not affect her? Doesn't she eat at the mess hall?" 

"No, she doesn't. After we modified the water treatment, she vomited in the mess hall." 

"Too bad. Others may fall ill as well. My staff will work overtime to discover the reason." 

"I've been talking to her since she started at the Police Force. I have been trying to crack her shell, but she is strong-willed." 

"Hmm, just like her grandfather. I believe that is all for tonight." 

Brent started toward his car. 

"I almost forgot!" Charles blurted out. "How is the progress in the outer cities?" 

Brent sighed and turned back around. "Every mayor has dirty secrets and my agents started leaking the rumors. The people start speaking out against them soon." 

"Good," Charles praised. "My grandson Charlie will oversee the Church construction. He told me such an important task should stay within the family and I agree with him. We are counting on you to complete the preparations. Have I ever told you how much you remind me of your father? A good dependable man." 

Brent pressed his lips together and turned away. "No, I can't say that you have." 

Little weasel. Charlie wanted to take over when Charles passed away. Brent would have to contend with Charlie eventually but did not expect it to happen so soon. To make it worse, Charles brought up his father again. His worthless father, the man had no ambition. How could anyone be happy taking orders his whole life? 

The factory door slammed open. The woman hurried out and locked it. Dogs barking resounded in the distance. 

"Good night, Captain. See you for the usual end of the month progress report." 

Brent glanced furtively towards the woods, and then seized the opportunity and broke for his car. 

"Good thing you finished! Or you would be walking home!" Charles bellowed at the woman. 

"Hurry up! We need to leave before the dog handler shows up to feed those mongrels." 

The driver performed his service to the city leader without debate. Brent did not want to be around when the dogs showed up either. The driver could fend for himself. 

Author's Note

I wrote this to give you a view into the antagonists and their motives because the rest of the story is told from first person POV.
What do you think of the characters?

Reviews

[C.R. Fritz]

I really like the prologue of the story so far. The characters seems lively and interesting and it really gives some good depth to their motives. Brent and Charles seem like they have a good chemistry in their dialogue. I'll have to read the rest later!