CONTROL HQ - RUSHM
AD 3999/AE 1999
A thump signaled their arrival at wherever it was they were headed. Adam had said their destination was Virginia, but John didn’t really expect to see the place he knew from travel books and TV shows as Virginia, with the rolling hills and mountains and signs pointing out the historic sights.
He wasn’t disappointed. The view that greeted him upon arrival was nothing he was prepared for. It was utterly alien, and that sense of displacement was only heightened by Adam calling it Virginia.
The door cracked open and once again Adam gestured for John to go first. He didn’t resist this time, stepping out with Fran still in his arms. He entered what appeared to be some kind of hangar, but it was like no other hangar he’d ever seen or heard of. It was bathed in a strange red light that poured through the hangar opening like a liquid rose. Several other craft like the ones he’d flown in on hung in the air nearby, and several carlike contraptions squatted at their sides. The vehicles were short and boxy, and looked like dune-buggies with tank treads instead of wheels.
He had barely had a moment to take it all in when five men scrambled toward him. They were large, muscles straining against the strange fabric of their shirts, and John realized that they meant to take Fran from him.
A sudden rage gripped him. Adam had betrayed them, the good feelings nothing but a front and a lie. John resisted the groping hands of the men, but there were too many of them, and he was encumbered by Fran’s still unmoving form. He managed to take two of them out with swift kicks to the knees and inner thighs that left them curled on the steel floor of the hangar in various stages of hurt.
Then he realized - vaguely, as all his thoughts floated in a cottony haze of confusion, fear, fatigue, and anger - that not only were the three remaining men still coming at him, but the people who had come with Adam were doing their best to peel Fran away from him.
"No!" he screamed, and redoubled his efforts to escape. But he couldn’t. It was impossible.
He kicked another person, one of the women who had come with Adam, and then turned to see one of the burly men club at him with a rifle. The butt of the weapon smashed John in the face, point blank, and all went dark.
He faded into blackness, and the last thing he remembered was Adam’s voice.
"Dammit, you killed him."
FAN HQ
AD 3999/AE 1999
Malachi knelt on the central floor, his followers around him. There were only about three hundred of them, far fewer than the number of Controllers, but he did not fear. He knew that their faith would make them strong, and he would fear no evil.
They all prayed, holding weapons in front of their chests like exotic prayer beads, mumbling words to God and all asking for the same thing:
Let today be the day.
Malachi finished his prayer, wiped his eyes, and stood.
"It’s time."