Chapter Nineteen

The Santa Barbara Sanctuary Council Meeting began precisely at nine a.m. The first item on the agenda was a proposal for the next game night by Annabelle, the director of social events. In addition to the four tables dedicated to poker, a popular tradition, she suggested Twister. A complete Twister set – the large plastic mat and spinner – had been recently discovered in a battered box at a thrift shop. In addition, one of the sanctuary members had come up with an idea for ‘book aisle bowling’ – transforming a long, narrow alley between two rows of bookshelves into a bowling lane, using a soccer ball and ten empty wine bottles filled with sand.

“I’m also fleshing out an idea for a scavenger hunt with clues hidden in books, and each clue takes you to the next book. For instance, ‘Richard was the long name for this big whale.’”

“Moby Dick!” excitedly answered Sylvester, head of budget.

“My husband is missing!” a woman’s voice shrieked. Beatrice Worthington ran into the council meeting room, her hair up in a frazzled bun, wearing a pink nightgown.

The council members looked at her, startled.

“My husband Sam. I can’t find him. I woke up, and he was gone. I figured he was wandering the library, but I’ve been looking, and I can’t find him anywhere.”

“He’s a former chip addict,” Aaron said, stating out loud the first thought that ran through his head.

“He’s got to be here,” said Colette, the manager of sanctuary property and operations. “We secured all the doors after the incident with Flynn Beaman. You can’t leave without requesting a key, otherwise you set off the alarm.”

Jacob, sanctuary council president, said to Beatrice, “You told us your husband hasn’t had a relapse in years. Do you have any reason to believe he might—”

Then the council president halted midsentence. Another interruption arrived. One of the members serving on Sanctuary Watch came running into the room. “We have visitors,” he said breathlessly. “There are jeeps outside. It’s the patrol.”

“Oh, shit,” said Aaron.

“Double shit,” Jacob said.

Everyone jumped from their seats and scattered from the room to activate the emergency plan they had rehearsed in drills.

Aaron ran over to a small opening in a window covering that allowed him to view the street without being seen. He watched several jeeps carrying patrol soldiers in combat fatigues. The soldiers dismounted the vehicles. They were armed.

“It’s a raid!” Aaron shouted, pulling away from the window.

Panic rippled through the library in waves of loud commotion.

Jacob got on the intercom system. He turned the volume all the way up.

“Attention sanctuary residents. Code Red. This is a raid. Repeat. This is a raid. Regulatory patrols are at the front of the building. They are armed. Code Red. We are under attack. Follow the Code Red Emergency Response Plan.”

Sanctuary residents ran in different directions to various destinations. The defense team reported to the sanctuary arsenal. Class A inners ran for the tunnel. Class B outers began evacuating through the rear of the building. In the midst of all the chaos, Aaron called out for Clarissa. He had not seen her since they woke up together that morning and had a light breakfast of microwave waffles in the staff room.

As he was looking one way, she grabbed his arm from behind. “Hey!” she shouted at him. “What are you doing standing there? We have to get our guns.”

Aaron’s heart pounded. He had received general weapons training but not actually fired a gun yet. The forces outside undoubtedly had better firearm skills. But there was no way he would surrender to them and be chipped – at best – or imprisoned for life for federal crimes.

Aaron and Clarissa ran to the American History section of the library and joined the growing line at the Civil War shelves.

The books had been dumped to the floor, revealing the hidden bounty of guns behind them.

Max distributed the weapons with a fierce speed, as if he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“Magnum .44…Colt .45…Remington 700 rifle…PARA USA Black Ops Combat Pistol…Ruger Precision Rifle….”

Aaron was stunned to see skinny, seventy-two-year-old Gertrude Ackerman accept a Smith & Wesson revolver with a firm grip and determined scowl.

Max handed Aaron a Beretta M9A3 black pistol, the gun Aaron was most familiar with from his weapons orientation class with Max.

“Give ’em hell,” Max said enthusiastically.

Max handed Clarissa a much larger gun, a semi-automatic rifle with a sixteen-inch barrel. “Armalite M-15.” He grinned. “Fully loaded,” he said, giving her an extra thirty-round cartridge.

“What the hell?” said Aaron, staring at Clarissa’s big, sleek rifle. “Really?”

“Really,” Clarissa said. “Let’s go. There’s no time for gun envy.”

“Jesus.”

A loud pounding could be heard at the front of the library – they were breaking down the doors. Clarissa shouted, “Follow me!” She hurried forward, advancing past rows of bookshelves. She came to a stop behind a shelving unit of old New Releases near the entrance. She pulled out books to create an opening and shoved the barrel of her rifle through the hole.

With a violent, persistent banging, the invading forces smashed through the double doors. Glass shattered. Clarissa took aim.

Aaron created his own perch, dropping books to the floor to clear a space. He inserted his gun between a celebrity memoir and a vegan cookbook.

The regulation patrol burst into the library. Clarissa almost squeezed off a shot but stopped herself when a group of sanctuary members immediately rushed the soldiers to surrender. It was a young family with kids. “You can chip us, please don’t hurt us!” cried the mother.

They were immediately apprehended. The young children broke out into tears.

A steady stream of armed patrol officers entered the building and their numbers made it obvious that fighting them would be a losing proposition.

One of the patrol officers in particular stood out because he was well over six feet tall and built like a massive football player with stringy red hair. An older sanctuary male ran up to him and hurled a dictionary at his chest. The red-haired giant immediately punched him in the head and knocked him out cold.

Clarissa turned to look at Aaron. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve lost the library. We can’t stop this.”

“Agreed,” said Aaron.

Carefully staying out of view, they moved through the maze of towering bookshelves, retreating deeper into the library. Clarissa shouted instructions: “We’ll go out through the Children’s Room. There’s a side door, it leads to an alley. We’ll get outside and run for it. If they shoot, we shoot back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“I don’t know.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, let’s not bicker right now.”

Suddenly a peppering of gunfire erupted around them. Bullets tore into books and bounced off metal shelving units.

“Hit the floor!” Clarissa said, and she fell hard, with Aaron nearly toppling over her.

As bullets zinged overhead, Aaron scoped out his surroundings as best he could through the open spaces in a bottom bookshelf.

He heard Max shout, “Take this, you bastards!” It was followed by a mad cackle and more shooting.

Aaron glanced at Clarissa, who stared back.

The shooting was getting louder, closer.

“Let’s go,” Clarissa said. “Ready to run?”

“I can run.”

“Meet you in the Children’s Room.”

“Got it.”

Clarissa returned to her feet, rifle in her grip. She took a quick peek, then dashed out of the bookshelves and into an aisle. Aaron followed close behind, clutching his pistol.

The gunfire around them increased. They advanced fifty feet, dodging other scrambling, panicked sanctuary residents, and ducked into another aisle of bookshelves.

For a short moment, Aaron had a good view of Max, who had a gun in each hand and a thick belt of ammunition hugging his waist. He had tossed away his cane.

“Oh my God,” Clarissa said. “He’s like an eighty-year-old Rambo.”

“He’s providing great cover for the rest of us,” Aaron said.

Max pulled a grenade from his belt. He plucked the pin and hurled the explosive at his enemies.

“Cover your ears!” said Aaron. The ensuing blast shook the library so hard that books tumbled off shelves. A ‘Quiet Please’ sign with an illustration of a shushing librarian fell off the wall.

With the momentary distraction of the explosion, Clarissa and Aaron slipped out from between the bookshelves and resumed running toward the Children’s Room.

The library was in smoky chaos, a tangled mix of people fleeing and people joining Max’s crazed assault on the intruders. Bullets crisscrossed in every direction, tearing into everything in their path. Aaron and Clarissa encountered the bullets’ first victim. Beatrice Worthington lay crumpled on the carpet, having taken a shot to the head. The puddle of blood under her cheek was rapidly expanding.

The reality of the violent outbreak struck Aaron hard. Should they have even attempted to fight back with guns? Did they provoke the violence or merely prepare for it? He cursed and continued running.

Aaron and Clarissa passed the Reference Room, where a group of panicked inners pushed into the tunnel that led to the garage where Miles kept the special van. The chipped sanctuary members were the most vulnerable to being identified and located after fleeing the library.

The evacuation plan called for outers to flee in designated vehicles stored in a nearby parking garage. Aaron and Clarissa possessed the keys to an old, battered Nissan sedan that was an eyesore but remained drivable.

Staccato gunfire mingled with shouts and screams throughout the library. Aaron and Clarissa ran a crooked path around the obstacles in the Children’s Room. They slammed hard into an exit door – locked.

“Damn it!” shouted Aaron. He whirled to face a large, nearby picture window. The window was decorated with colorful paper cutouts of animal characters holding books. “We’ll break the window!”

Aaron grabbed a green toadstool chair from a set of children’s furniture. He hurled the toadstool at the glass and it bounced off without making a crack.

“Move out of the way!” Clarissa said. She lifted the semi-automatic rifle and squeezed the trigger, unleashing a spray of bullets.

The picture window shattered to pieces. Shredded animal characters dropped to the ground with tinkling shards of broken glass.

Aaron and Clarissa climbed out of the window. They started running across the grass toward a multilevel parking garage one block away. But then a patrol jeep entered their path up ahead, blocking their escape route, and they had to cut sharply in another direction.

“Stop, you must turn yourself in!” boomed a voice through a loudspeaker.

Aaron and Clarissa slipped into a nearby alley, out of the jeep’s view. They ran along the uneven pavement with the backs of retail stores on either side of them. Many were closed for good, but there was a large pharmacy up ahead with a big truck parked at a loading dock. The delivery entrance was open.

“In here!” Aaron said, leading the way. They circled the truck and dashed into the building. Seconds after they disappeared inside, the jeep trailing them turned into the alley. Aaron and Clarissa tucked themselves out of view, standing near the open door.

“They’re going to figure out we’re in here,” Clarissa said.

“Let’s go out the front. We’ll cut through the store.”

“Carrying these guns?”

Aaron shrugged, then nodded.

“Sure, why not,” muttered Clarissa.

They resumed running. They dashed past confused workers in white smocks in a stock room. They burst into the brightly lit store and ran up the cosmetics aisle, scaring several customers. At the front of the store, a hefty female checkout clerk screamed. She offered all the money in the cash register. Aaron and Clarissa ran past her, pushing away a shopping cart and reaching the front door.

They stopped at the door for a moment and looked out at State Street, a main strip cutting east-west through Santa Barbara.

Blue skies. Empty sidewalks. The scene appeared peaceful and calm.

But only for a moment.

“Wait,” Clarissa said.

They heard a crackle of gunfire. Then the roar of speeding vehicles.

Aaron froze, feeling his chest tighten.

Suddenly the white sanctuary van burst into view, swerving wildly. The tires had been blown out. The sides of the van had been pierced with a scattering of bullet holes.

The vehicle lost all control and jumped a curb across the street, crashing through the storefront of Francis, an upscale women’s clothing store. The back doors of the van split open and people started spilling out and fleeing. Some moved slowly, injured. Two green jeeps quickly pulled up to the van and groups of patrol forces hopped out.

Clarissa lifted her rifle. She wanted to defend the sanctuary freedom fighters but those who hadn’t escaped were quickly corralled. Aaron motioned for her to lower her weapon.

“It’s too late,” he said.

They watched through the window glass as the patrol officers rounded up prisoners. Some sanctuary members had fled inside the clothing shop. The van had obviously been packed very tight and people were still emerging from it, hands held high in surrender. Those who attempted to run were chased. One young man pointed a gun, and he was promptly shot in the chest.

“Oh my God.” Clarissa brought a hand up to her mouth as the man died before her eyes.

“Miles was driving the van,” Aaron said.

“I haven’t seen him come out.”

“Do you think he’s….”

A rapid thumping of footsteps could be heard approaching from inside the pharmacy.

“Shit,” Aaron said.

“They’re over there!” shouted a panicked customer to a pair of patrol officers who hustled up a center aisle of dusty greeting cards.

“Go out and to the right,” Clarissa told Aaron. She stepped on the black mat to trigger the electronic doors to pop open. They advanced to the sidewalk, took a hard right and ran up the street.

The patrol officers swarming the crashed van were preoccupied, but one of them glimpsed the fleeing duo. He shouted to alert the others.

“I don’t like this,” said Aaron, and then bullets began to bite into the pavement around them. He accelerated his pace and Clarissa kept up with him.

After half a block, she said, “Fuck this. I’m not getting shot in the back.” She ducked inside the doorway to a closed pizzeria. Aaron joined her, panting.

Partly shielded by a corner of the building, she lifted the semi-automatic rifle and took aim at two patrol officers coming her way.

She fired a round. One of the men was hit in the leg and went down.

“Oh my God, did you see that?” she said.

Aaron, feeling obligated, took a shot of his own. It went nowhere near the rush of oncoming patrol officers but the sheer act of firing at them slowed their pursuit.

“We can’t stick it out here, we’re going to run out of ammo before they do,” Aaron said.

“Let’s cut through this pizza place,” Clarissa said. “Your turn. Break the glass.”

Aaron fired a bullet into the glass door of the pizzeria. It split into a massive web of cracks but stayed intact.

Clarissa kicked the glass with her boot and it shattered.

“Oh shit, here comes a whole jeep of them,” said Aaron, seeing reinforcements approaching from down the road.

Clarissa and Aaron entered the dark pizzeria, kicking aside chairs. They moved into the kitchen, which smelled awful. Rats scurried across the floor. They hurried through a short maze of angular shadows, made it to a rear exit and spilled out into an alley.

The rumble of jeep engines circling the area created a steady noise in the background.

“We can’t be spotted out here,” Clarissa said. “We have to hide somewhere.”

There was a tall, blank-faced building across the alley. They ran alongside it until they encountered a single windowless door.

“I don’t know where this leads, but let’s give it a shot,” Clarissa said.

She tugged on the door and it opened to pitch darkness. The roar of a jeep engine quickly grew closer. “In we go,” she said.

Aaron and Clarissa jumped into the blackness and shut the door moments before the jeep entered the alley.

For a minute, they stood still in the dark. They heard the jeep rumble past without slowing down.

Aaron felt along the wall for a light switch, found one, and flipped it. Nothing happened. The building had no electricity.

“You still have your old cell phone?” asked Clarissa.

“Yeah, but I’m offline. Nothing connects.”

“For the flashlight.”

“Oh, right.”

He pulled out the phone, turned it on and tapped until the flashlight app set off a beam of light. He pointed it around their surroundings. They were in a narrow passageway that was cluttered with old cleaning supplies – mops, brooms and big plastic garbage buckets on wheels.

“Let’s see where this leads,” Aaron said.

He advanced along a windowless route and took a right turn into a new corridor. This one led to a door with a bar handle. He listened for a moment, heard nothing, and pushed open the door.

“I know where we are,” he said. He aimed the flashlight at a huge white screen and then across deep rows of seating that disappeared into the darkness. “It’s a movie theater. I didn’t recognize it from the back.” They had stepped inside the Santa Barbara Cinema.

“I could really go for some buttered popcorn,” Clarissa said.

“I’m guessing it’s a little stale by now.”

They cautiously walked up one of the aisles, surrounded by long rows of thinly cushioned chairs. “We never knew this place when it was open,” Clarissa said.

“Yeah, mental movies pretty much put it out of business.”

“Turn off your light. Save the battery.”

He tapped it off, plunging them back into darkness. “Want to sit for a moment?”

“Yes.”

Aaron entered a row of seats, feeling his way around. He started to sit down but the seat of the chair broke and he landed on the floor.

“God damn it!”

Clarissa giggled.

Then a door banged loudly somewhere in the building.

Aaron froze. Clarissa whispered, “Somebody’s here.”

They remained very still.

Aaron clutched his pistol. He had fired it twice, hitting inanimate objects. He was fully prepared to shoot a living target next, especially if that living target intended to shoot him first.

A side door into the theater creaked open slowly. Aaron could see two shadowy figures behind a tiny flashlight with a narrow beam.

“Should we shoot?” Clarissa whispered. She aimed her rifle.

“I can’t tell…” Aaron whispered back.

“We can hide in here,” said one of the entrants, a familiar woman’s voice.

The other shadow, skinny and male, said, “Okay.”

“Who’s there?” Clarissa asked.

“Clarissa?”

“Lorraine?”

Aaron aimed his light at them and their faces came into view as they stepped forward. It was the hippie mom and her teenage stoner son, Flynn.

“You escaped,” Aaron said.

The four of them met up in a center aisle. Aaron could see that Lorraine had a bloody gash on her forehead.

“We were in the van,” she said. “It crashed. We were right by the door, so we got out first and ran and ran, but most of the others—” She looked like she was going to start crying any minute. “They were stuck.”

“What happened to Miles?” asked Aaron.

Now the tears flowed. “He died…in the crash.”

“Oh my God.”

“Why does it have to be so violent?” Lorraine said.

“Where’s your gun?” asked Clarissa.

“We don’t have one,” Flynn said.

“We didn’t take the weapons training,” Lorraine said. “We don’t believe in it.”

“Well, believe in it now,” said Clarissa in a hard voice. “Because if they get ahold of you, your chip is going to be programmed for maximum obedience.”

“They’re probably tracking us right now,” Lorraine said, clamping a hand on the back of her neck. “Jesus, I’m a walking GPS!”

Aaron and Clarissa exchanged glances.

Lorraine recognized their concern right away. “You shouldn’t be standing here with me. I’m a magnet. If they come for me, they’ll find you. I can’t have that on my conscience. We’re leaving.”

“Wait,” Clarissa said. “You can’t leave here without some protection. We’ll give you one of our guns. Take the pistol.” She nudged Aaron.

Aaron handed his pistol to Flynn. Flynn took it and stared at it in his hand. Aaron gave him a quick lesson on how to operate it – the hammer, the safety, the magazine. He gave him his extra box of bullets.

“I’ve shot things…in video games,” Flynn said.

“I can’t believe this,” said Lorraine.

“The key for you is to keep moving, since they can track you,” Clarissa said. “Go up into the hills, into the mountains, someplace where you might be able to lose the connection.”

“We’ll do that,” Lorraine said. “We’ll do that now.” She began to step toward the front of the movie theater.

“Wait a minute,” Clarissa said. “We’ll go first and make sure the coast is clear. Don’t go yet.”

Lorraine looked at Flynn. She nodded. “Okay.”

“Thanks,” said Flynn. He held the pistol awkwardly, an unnatural appendage.

Aaron and Clarissa advanced up the long aisle. Clarissa carried the semi-automatic rifle. When they reached the door to the theater lobby, Aaron opened it a crack and peered inside.

The lobby was lit up from the outside glow of daylight piercing the big, dirt-clouded windows. The area was messy with trash and clutter, but void of any people as far as he could see.

“I think we’re safe,” he said softly.

“Let’s make sure.”

Clarissa and Aaron cautiously stepped into the lobby. The carpet was crusty and stained. The candy counter was a shell of empty glass, populated with faded advertisements for forgotten brands. An old soda dispenser with multicolored stains sat on a back counter, alongside a large popcorn machine with a layer of rotten brownish popcorn.

They glanced around the lobby and looked through the windows, seeing no outside activity.

Clarissa turned to face Aaron. “Maybe they should come with us. They can’t protect themselves. We’ll get them someplace safe.”

“Yeah, but where is safe?”

“We need a car.”

“Where will we—” Then Aaron’s words cut off with a sharp gasp as he stared past Clarissa at a large cardboard display promoting the last movie in the Star Wars series. A very big, red-haired man stepped out from behind a life-size standee of the character Chewbacca. He placed a gun to Clarissa’s head.

“Drop it,” he growled.

Clarissa’s mouth fell open and she stiffened. She slowly held out her arm with the rifle, and the giant man took it from her.

Aaron said, “Don’t hurt her.”

The giant said to Clarissa, “Turn around, real slow.” She did. Aaron and Clarissa stared at him. Aaron recognized the stringy-haired giant from the raid on the library – he had been leading the charge.

“My name is Nash. I’m with the Regulation Enforcement Command. You two are under arrest. You will be chipped and placed into government housing for transgressors.”

“You mean jail?” Clarissa said.

“No,” said Nash, and for the first time he smiled, displaying broken, discolored teeth. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

At that moment, Aaron noticed movement behind Nash.

Flynn Beaman had quietly entered the lobby from another door. Aaron watched without changing his expression.

Aaron could sense Clarissa noticing, too. She remained silent and obedient to Nash’s commands.

Flynn stepped slowly and quietly toward them.

“You think I don’t know who you are?” Nash said. “You’re Aaron Holt and Clarissa Harper. Two of the leaders of the underground resistance. Organizers of the anti-government movement, disruptors of the peace.”

Flynn continued to approach, wide-eyed. He lifted the pistol. His face was white with fear.

“You two can say goodbye to the California sunshine,” said Nash. “Because where you’re going, there will be no windows, just four walls, to give you plenty of time to reflect—”

Flynn stepped on a candy wrapper. It made a crinkling sound.

Nash immediately turned around. Clarissa screamed.

Flynn fired a bullet into the giant’s chest.

Nash staggered for a moment from the blow, stunned. But he did not topple. Blood leaked through his shirt. He began to raise his own gun.

Aaron jumped on his back.

Nash roared and spun around with the smaller man clinging to him, his arms around his neck. They crashed into the candy counter, shattering the glass.

As they untangled, Nash punched Aaron hard in the face. Flynn and Clarissa joined the battle, pulling Aaron free from the giant. Nash fought to retrieve his gun. Flynn fired the pistol again, missing Nash, piercing the popcorn butter dispenser and spraying a thick yellow goo.

Clarissa scrambled to grab her rifle, which had landed on the floor. Nash lunged out of the pile of flattened shelving and broken glass, shards embedded in his body. He grabbed her leg, causing her to fall. With his other hand, he regained a grip on his gun. He was preparing to blast Clarissa in the face when Aaron came at him with a metal stanchion post, lifting it like an off-balance baseball bat with the round base high in the air. He slammed it into Nash’s head, crushing a portion of his skull. Nash fell back into the smashed candy counter. His stringy red hair began turning redder. His chest was an expanding sea of blood. He fought to struggle to his feet.

Aaron hit him again in the head.

Then Clarissa pushed Aaron aside and let loose with a spray of bullets, peppering the giant up and down with piercing shockwaves.

When her gun went silent, no one said a word.

Clarissa, Aaron and Flynn stood over the dead giant, a heap of bloody flesh.

“Holy crap,” said Flynn quietly.

His mother came running at him and hugged him. “Oh my God, Flynn. Are you hurt?”

Flynn shook his head, stunned.

“Good work, kid,” Aaron said.

“I used to play Call of Duty a lot when I was younger,” Flynn said.

“Until I made him stop,” said Lorraine.

“So you got those video-game reflexes,” Aaron said.

“This was…a lot more gross.”

“We need to get out of here,” Clarissa said. “There will be others. Let’s take his gun.”

“We’re going to split off from you now,” Lorraine said. “We’re traceable, you’re not. I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“I like the idea of living in the mountains,” Flynn said.

“I do, too, honey,” said his mom. “I do, too.”

The four of them stepped over to the theater’s front entrance and looked outside. For the moment, the coast was clear.

“We’ll go first,” Aaron said. “Watch closely. If no one attacks us, you’re probably safe.”

Clarissa handed Lorraine a car key. “You need this more than we do. You have to get out of Santa Barbara fast. There’s a silver Nissan Altima on the third level of the parking garage one block over, plates ZK 1124. Level three, silver Nissan, got it?”

She took the key. “Thank you. But what about you?”

“We can hide, if we need to,” Aaron said. “You just need to run.”

Aaron and Clarissa cautiously exited the movie theater and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

For the moment, the immediate surroundings appeared silent and empty.

Aaron turned toward the windows and signaled thumbs up.

Then he and Clarissa began walking east, away from downtown Santa Barbara.

Lorraine and Flynn slipped out of the cinema and headed west, toward the parking garage.

As Clarissa strolled down the sidewalk, she saw a smattering of pedestrians up ahead. “This rifle is pretty conspicuous.”

“Just act casual.”

“Right, like nothing’s—”

Suddenly a huge explosion shook the pavement. Aaron and Clarissa whirled round to see a fireball reaching up into the sky, just a few blocks away, followed by a belch of black smoke.

“Holy shit. Is that the—?”

“It’s the library!”

“Oh my God, they blew it up.”

“We better start running.”

Aaron and Clarissa began to race farther away from the scene. As they reached the next block, they could hear the roar of an oncoming vehicle.

“God damn it,” Aaron said.

“Run, just run,” said Clarissa.

Then there was the sound of squealing tires coming closer.

“Oh God, now what!” Clarissa shouted.

Aaron kept running as fast as he could, crossing another street, but he was losing steam. He quickly surveyed the scene around him. He faced a series of closed shops. “Let’s keep going.”

They crossed another block.

“Should we stop and shoot?” Clarissa asked.

“I can’t run any further.”

They slowed down and turned to face the vehicle bearing down on them, fully expecting to see a patrol jeep loaded with officers.

But it was a red pickup truck.

“Who the—?”

“It’s Max!”

The pickup truck pulled up to the curb. Max stuck his face out of the driver’s window. “Hop in!”

There was an old woman with silver hair in the front passenger seat. She held a Smith & Wesson revolver. It was Gertrude Ackerman from the sanctuary.

Aaron and Clarissa scrambled into the open back of the truck. Max accelerated the vehicle with a jolt.

“Yeeehah!” he whooped in elation.

Gertrude cackled with excitement alongside him.

Aaron and Clarissa glanced at one another, still breathing hard from the long run.

Max reached an intersection and took a hard right. Aaron slid into Clarissa.

“We’ll lose them jeeps in the hills!” Max shouted. “We’ll have lots of cover up there.”

“I can’t believe it, they blew up the library,” Clarissa said.

“This really is war,” said Aaron.

Clarissa noticed a shard of broken glass still stuck in his arm. She gently pulled it out and rubbed the bleeding wound.

“I don’t think it’s going to get any better,” she said.

* * *

Sam sat alone in the bleak, secured interrogation room, staring at blank walls, too tired to think straight and too anxious to sleep. After he provided the compliance agency with the information they wanted, Sam’s inquisitors had immediately cleared out, locking the door to keep him contained.

Many hours had passed, and in those hours his brain tormented him with heavy guilt. He had confessed everything they wanted to hear, a pathetic stoolie. Because of his weak, selfish addiction, the secrecy of the sanctuary was over, and he had endangered his wife.

When the door abruptly opened in a sudden bang, Sam nearly jumped out of his skin.

Bruckner entered the room. “Stay seated,” he ordered. He shut the door behind him.

“What happened? What’s going on? Can I go? I gave you what you wanted.”

“Yes, you did. Your information was accurate. You have done a great service to your country.”

“What about – what about my wife, Beatrice? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Your wife is fine,” Bruckner said. “Everyone is fine. They were just…ticketed for unauthorized disconnection from the signal feed. We enrolled them back into society.”

“So…where is she?”

“Your wife? First things first. We haven’t discussed your reward.”

Sam stared at Bruckner, and his heart accelerated. “My reward? What…now?”

“Cloud 11, the most fantastic mental and physical experience ever created. The powerhouse sequel to Cloud 10 that will send you higher than you’ve ever dreamed was possible. Oh, it’s good stuff. Would you like to go there now?”

Sam thought about his wife, but then the urge for Cloud 11 overtook all other interests. He felt the itch. He needed to scratch.

“Yes…yes…. I would love to try some Cloud 11. It’s really good?”

“It’s wonderful.”

Bruckner reached inside his suit jacket. He began circling the table where Sam sat. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Sam shut his eyes and rested his hands on his knees. He awaited heavenly delights.

He heard Bruckner’s soothing voice move around him. “You are going on a journey…. I’m sending you to that special place…. Are you ready, Sam? Are you ready to lift off and float on Cloud 11?”

“Yes, yes. I’m ready.”

“All right then,” said Bruckner, and his voice was directly behind Sam now. “Here you go….”

Very briefly, Sam felt something cold and metal press against the back of his head. There was a moment of surprise and then a split second of realization—

—before Bruckner pulled the trigger and blew Sam’s brains out.