Book One in The Saga of the Radicals
Matti MClean
Illustrations by Davyd Oram
An Imprint Of Brighter Books Publishing House
Text Copyright Š 2011 Matti McLean All rights reserved. Catalyst first published in Canada by Brighter Books Publishing House. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Solar Storm, an Imprint of Brighter Books Publishing House Visit our website at: www.brighterbooks.com First Published: July, 2011 The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. ISBN 978-0-9865555-8-9 - Trade Paperback Edition Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication - pending
Illustrations Š 2011 Davyd Oram Many thanks to our awesome Editor Kelly Berthelot And a big thanks to Dennis Martin for all your help
Printed and bound in the USA on acid-free paper that contains no material from old-growth forests, using ink that is safe for children.
To everyone who said I could...
Contents Frozen Night Associates Track Heavens Escalating Realization Danger Electric Anon Rage Empty Safety Troubles Jericho Assistance Caught Obstinate Burn Epilogue
1 19 41 48 61 82 94 108 117 122 138 147 158 168 183 199 216 224 234
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Frozen Night
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he night was cold, chilling Micah to the bone as he walked through the dark city streets. He gripped his thin, brown jacket in an attempt to keep warm, but the worn fabric did little to protect him from the wind’s biting chill. Micah sighed, causing a long, snake-like vapor to escape from his lips and disperse into the night sky. In a desperate attempt to retain heat, he buried his red, frozen hands in his pockets. Above him, the moon hung like a giant eye, monitoring his every move. He felt like he could run to the edge of the world and never escape its eerie presence. Behind him, the big, black walls of Jericho loomed high in the sky, casting a long, dark shadow over the smaller concrete buildings. His normally familiar surroundings now seemed dark and forbidding, as though he was an alien walking through a strange, surreal landscape. Turning back for a second, Micah caught a glimpse of the large, concrete building where he worked. In his mind he could still see his computer screen in screen-saver mode, waiting for him to return the next day. This Tuesday was just like every other Tuesday, and Micah hated them all. On Tuesdays he was required to work past curfew. It wasn’t the extra work that bothered him; it was the walk back home. With every step there was a danger he could be caught, and if he was the ramifications could be deadly. Even though his excuse was valid, the idea of actually being
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stopped by an officer was terrifying enough to propel each foot forward with increasing momentum. Behind him, his brown scarf fluttered wickedly, pulling ever tighter around his neck as he walked. The speed made his boots clunk on the dilapidated pavement, echoing throughout the empty streets. An unexpected gust ripped through Micah’s clothes and sent a shiver down his spine. He began to shake; he was unsure whether it was due to the weather or his nerves. The cold wind stung his ears, and he ducked his head into his collar to make it easier to walk through the bitter night. He kept his eyes on the ground and squinted, as if it would make him more invisible in the dark. As Micah turned around a corner, absorbed in his own worries, he stopped dead in his tracks. Before him stood the stocky frame and vicious face of his worst nightmare. He stared at the man’s large black boots, and eyed his way up his large frame, taking in the black and red uniform with dread. Micah’s heart began to beat furiously and he could feel himself starting to sweat.The man had cold blue eyes, eager to see right through him; his large, flat hat capped off his head and made him look rigid and menacing. Pulling his coat even closer against his body, Micah straightened up to his full height, which brought his head to around the officer’s nose level, and clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. Although Micah was not short, he suddenly felt very small.
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“G-good evening, officer.” Micah managed to say through a stutter. He tried his hardest to sound brave, but his voice barely came out as a squeak. He’d never been caught by an officer before; he’d always managed to make it home unseen. Tonight was most definitely not a good night, and he could feel his cold legs shaking. “Why are you out past curfew?” The officer asked with a frown plastered on his unpleasant face. “I’m coming home from work.” Micah stammered as the man peered down at him. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to find a safe place to look. “My house is not far from here … I work at Jericho,” Micah managed to say. Mentioning where he worked was perhaps his best opportunity to get out of this ordeal intact. One wrong move and he could find himself jailed, or even worse. It wasn’t uncommon for people to just disappear in the middle of the night. Terrified, he watched the man’s expression for any sign of pity or empathy. The cop didn’t move a muscle, which only served to fuel Micah’s paranoia. “You know the rules of curfew.” “Of course I do, officer.” “Then you know the penalty for breaking curfew.” “Sir, my home is right up the street. Can’t we just pretend …?” Micah asked, but the officer was steadfast and gripped him by the shoulder.The gesture made Micah’s stomach tie into a knot.
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“You’ll have to come with me,” the officer said, closing in on Micah. Intimidated by the man’s brick-like build, Micah found himself backing up.Within a matter of seconds Micah was trapped, pinned to the wall by the cop’s crushing grip. “Please, officer! There must be something I can do to …” “Two thousand,” the officer said. “What?” Micah asked, looking up at the man with a confused expression. A sneer spread across the officer’s vicious face. “Give me two thousand credits, and I will let you go.” “Two thousand? You must be kidding! I don’t have two thousand! I have hardly enough to live. Please, there must be something else …” “It’s two thousand or nothing,” the cop said. Desperate, Micah fumbled as he searched his pockets, his hands still shaky and clumsy, and finally got out his small brown wallet. Quickly he reached inside and produced his gold card. Looking fearfully at the measly amount on it, he offered the card to the cop. “This is all I have,” Micah said. There was almost nothing left on it; at that moment he had seventeen credits to his name. The number was displayed prominently on the electroluminescent display located on the card’s metallic surface. The man reached for it, but upon seeing the number, his expression soured and he shook his head.
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“Keep your money,” the officer said, his face turning into a disappointed frown as he knocked Micah’s hand down. “Thank you, sir,” Micah said, breathing a sigh of relief. He felt as if a tremendous weight had been taken from his shoulders. “I’ll just be on my way.” Micah tried to sidestep the behemoth, but before he could get by, the officer threw a punch, barely missing Micah’s cheek and solidly connecting with the wall.The man’s blow was so strong it caused the bricks to crater underneath the sheer force of his fist. “I never said I’d let you go,” the man said. Micah’s heart froze as he recognized the bloodlust in the man’s eyes and came to a realization: this policeman was a clone. Micah could tell by the way his eyes seemed to reflect the light unnaturally like a machine, and by the way his mouth started to foam a blue substance at the corners. Clones were notorious for their brutality; knowing he had been caught by one terrified him all the more. Micah could see the cop’s temple twitch as a streetlight briefly passed over them, right before the street plunged into darkness once again. With a hand that now behaved more like a claw than a real human appendage, the clone grabbed Micah’s scarf and began to pull. With the other hand he gripped Micah’s throat and effortlessly lifted him from the ground. Micah clutched at the clone’s forearms, desperately trying to get him to loosen his grip, but to no avail.
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“So, this is how I die,” Micah thought to himself as he stared at the clone through blurred and teary eyes. The clone was draining him with such ease that Micah felt completely helpless. He wanted to fight back, but couldn’t. He kicked madly, his toes dangling inches above the pavement as his back was forcefully pressed into the wall behind him. Feeling his mind slipping away, he grabbed the clone’s hands and gripped them tightly in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. Micah’s struggle seemed hopeless; after a few seconds, his grip weakened, his kicks became feebler, and a sudden weariness overtook him. He was as good as dead, and he knew it. Suddenly a streetlight passed over them again, and Micah could feel the light on his skin. Feeling an abrupt burst of energy, he opened his eyes to see the deranged face of the clone looking straight at him. Acting quickly, Micah pushed against the clone who retaliated by slamming Micah back into the wall. Micah pressed his feet against the wall and pushed off with all his might. With his left foot planted firmly against the wall, he kicked his right foot out and hit the clone in the groin as hard as he could. The clone stumbled, and his grip on Micah loosened instantly. The massive creature fell into a fetal position, and Micah wasted no time in making his getaway. He only had two blocks to go, but the streets were long and heavily monitored. Keeping his eyes peeled, he ran as fast as he could, but found it incredibly difficult. His breathing was shallow and he could hardly see through the tears that were
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streaming down his face. His whole body was still reeling from the officer’s attack. Despite stumbling a few times, somehow he managed to remain standing. After running a block Micah thought he was in the clear, but just then, a series of red and blue lights reflected on the walls in front of him. Cursing under his breath, he looked around and saw the opening of an alley. With a leap, he dashed in just as the car rounded the corner. The headlights missed him by mere inches as the police car made its way down the alley. Micah pressed himself against the grey brick wall and tried to catch his breath. Unsure of how far he’d have to go before he’d be safe, Micah began to make his way down the alley. There was less chance of him running into an officer in the back alleys, although it would take longer for him to get home. Thinking about what could happen made his stomach churn, but he couldn’t stop himself. Breaking curfew was bad enough, but now he had this to worry about too. He just wanted to get home, crawl into his bed, and forget that this whole night had ever happened. With a deep breath, Micah made his way down the alley, trying to remain as calm as possible. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could, being careful to keep his breathing shallow and his thoughts under control. He tried to convince himself that soon he would be at his house, safe and sound, away from the nightmare that enveloped him. But despite his best efforts to stay positive, he could feel a deep, primal fear pressing in on him.
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He felt trapped and desperate, like a rat in a giant maze with no cheese at the end and a cat around every corner. As he made his way to the next alley, Micah heard the sound of footsteps on the loose gravel. He stopped, held his breath and pressed himself against the wall. Peering around the edge of the wall, he saw to his dismay that another policeman was also in the alley. The uniformed man was scanning the walls with his flashlight, moving slowly and deliberately, as if he was looking for something. Was this man looking for him? If so, how many people were after him? Perhaps they were out to punish him for what he’d done to the other officer ‌ Could that be the reason there were so many policemen around? He had never even seen a cop after his Tuesday night shift before, and tonight there were two of them. It made no sense. Micah watched the man carefully, ducking his head down low as the flashlight scanned the edge of the building he was hiding behind. The light missed him, but the officer continued to search the alley, inching closer every second. Micah had to find an escape, and quickly. He turned to go back the way he came, but was frozen solid as another flashlight began to scan the walls behind him. He realized that his time was running out, and any moment now he would be caught. Luckily, just as he was about to shine his light directly on Micah, the man checked his watch and let out a yawn. He dropped his flashlight for only a second, but it was all Micah
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needed; with a bolt, he ran across the gap. Even though Micah was wearing heavy boots, by the time the man had whipped his flashlight at him, Micah was already out of his reach. “Stop! You! Stop now,” the man yelled awkwardly. It became immediately apparent that he had no idea that Micah had even been there. “Stop! In the name of the law!” “Not a viable option right now,” Micah thought to himself as he ran. He listened to the sound his clunky boots made on the pavement and the way they echoed loudly off the buildings. If there was anyone else around he would surely be caught within a matter of moments. “Just my luck, the one day I don’t wear my sneakers …” As predicted, within seconds, there was someone hot on his trail, presumably the officer. Micah gulped as he heard a click, which he assumed came from the man’s weapon. Micah felt a shiver of fear shoot down his spine. He had to get home and he had to do it now. His life depended on it. Just as Micah passed a dark corner, a hand reached out of the shadow. It gripped him by his shoulder and pulled him into the darkness. Micah tried to yell, but before he could make a sound, another hand covered his mouth. Whoever caught him was much too strong to resist, and within a matter of seconds Micah was in a headlock. “Be quiet or they’ll kill you,” a voice said in a whisper. Micah struggled for a moment, but then went quiet and instantly stopped resisting as the policeman ran past them.
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“Stay here,” the voice said, barely audible. The pressure on Micah’s mouth eased and Micah knew he could talk again, although he didn’t dare try. He didn’t want the cop to see him, and though this stranger hadn’t hurt him, it didn’t mean he wasn’t planning something later on. The man stepped into the light, tracking the policeman like a panther. He was wearing a black trench coat that danced in the night air, and his hands were covered with thin, black, fingerless gloves. A black hat was pulled purposely low, hiding his face in shadows.There was something very strange and powerful about this man. By the time the policeman realized he was being followed, the man in black was practically standing behind him. After a moment, the policeman turned on his light, flooding the man with a bright white light. Micah grimaced; he wanted to help, but was frozen in a mixture of fear and curiosity. Who was this man? What was he doing? Surely he would be killed if he tried to face the policeman alone. Wondering what to do next, Micah watched and scanned the alley for any way he could get out in case he was spotted. For several moments the policeman stared at the man in black, seemingly as shocked as Micah at the stranger’s boldness. “Who do you think you are?” the policeman asked. His voice sounded shocked and disgusted. He scanned every inch of the man in black with his flashlight as if searching for something, but the man simply stood there.This stranger was unlike anyone
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else Micah had never seen. His clothes were unusual, and his entire attitude seemed defiant and strong. “Who do you say that I am?” the man in black asked. “I don’t answer to street punks,” the officer snarled, a touch of rage breaking into his voice. “It was a rhetorical question,” the man said. “Even if you knew who I was, you wouldn’t recognize me.” The stranger stood with his knees slightly bent and his hands opened to his sides, like a cat just waiting to pounce. “I don’t have time for this.You’re breaking curfew. Come with me,” said the cop as he reached out and tried to grab the man in black by the coat. The man sidestepped and deflected the officer’s reach. “No.” He said this with such authority that Micah’s knees felt weakened. Talking back to the officers was another thing punishable by death, and yet this man did it with such certainty that it almost seemed casual to him. Had he done this before? Who was this man? “You dare talk back to me?” the officer demanded, his face contorting as his voice escalated to an animalistic growl. “You come with me now, or I’ll see to it that you don’t go anywhere ever again,” he said, clutching the weapon at his side. Upon seeing this, Micah’s fear made him creep back against the wall. He longed to yell and warn the man in black of the danger, but the fear kept him paralyzed. Micah could hardly move, hardly breathe … He felt like the exact opposite of the
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man who stood there, biding his time, exuding confidence and displaying a quiet comfort that somehow made Micah think everything was going to be okay. The cop lifted his weapon, which looked like an antenna charged with electricity. Typically used like a baton, one slug from that weapon, known as a stinger, would render a man incapacitated. Without warning and with tremendous force, the cop brought the stinger down, aiming at the stranger’s head. The man in black, however, was too quick. With reflexes unlike anything Micah had ever seen, he evaded the stinger, jumped behind the officer and slammed his hand against the back of his neck. With a loud cracking sound, the officer dropped to his knees. The officer howled and swung his arm back, hoping to connect his stinger with the leg of the man in black. The man jumped, and with a speed Micah could hardly follow, he kicked the officer. The kick connected with his hand, which snapped, causing the man to release his grip on the stinger as he let out a quick sharp yelp. Landing hard on the cop’s hand, the man in black raised his other leg and unleashed another kick which connected with the officer’s shoulder.The officer’s head instantly hung, and he collapsed on the ground. “They never listen,” the man in black said. Casually, almost nonchalantly, he bent over and wiped off his trench coat. He grabbed the stinger, which had fallen from the policeman’s hand, and threw it at Micah. “Catch.”
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Micah obliged, catching the cold, steel weapon in his hand. He was surprised by how light it was. This weapon was lethal and weighed less than a pen. How could it be so easy to hold? “You should go home,” the stranger said, turning his back. Micah looked up to see that he was turning around and preparing to go, and immediately leapt in front of the man who had saved him from the officer. “Wait!” Micah said. “Who are you?” “That depends on who you ask,” the man said. “Do you mind moving?” “I’ve never seen anyone …” “I have to go.” The man raised his hand, effectively cutting him off as he brushed past Micah. “Wait, please!” Micah said, gripping his shoulder. “That officer could have killed you … But you stopped him. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that!” A part of Micah was very excited. He had just witnessed someone doing something that he never even thought was possible. The man looked at Micah curiously. He smiled, seeming amused by the way Micah had gripped him. “He wouldn’t have been able to hurt me,” the stranger said calmly. “But he …” “Trust me. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt me,” the man repeated. “What’s your name?”
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“Micah … What’s yours?” The man looked intrigued for a second, but the shift in emotion was quickly suppressed as the man turned to leave. “I really must be going.” Micah watched as the man disappeared into the shadows. “No! Please, just one more minute. I have questions …” “They shall be answered in time,” the man said as he walked into the shadows of one of the alleyways. Micah didn’t notice where he went; his attention had been drawn up to the rooftops. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like there were people on the roof. “You’ll be hearing from us soon, Micah,” the man said, although Micah couldn’t see him anymore. Instead, a small, black card flung out of the shadows and landed at his feet. Almost instinctually he bent down and picked it up, examining the front and back. The card was black with one silver question mark symbol on one side that seemed to glitter in the darkness. Stepping into the shadow of the building in an attempt to follow the man, Micah noticed that the figures on the roof had disappeared and quickly brushed it off as consequences of his over-excited imagination. The man had also vanished into thin air. Micah looked up, but the building was much too tall to jump over. He scanned the wall for a door or some way the man could have escaped, but he didn’t find any. It wasn’t until he heard the whirling sound of a floating camera that Micah was slapped back into reality. Its large, aluminum body floated as it carried a streetlight along its pre-set path.
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He held his breath and backed up until he was against the wall. If this camera caught even the slightest piece of him it would be disastrous, especially after he had narrowly escaped death at least once tonight. As luck would have it, the camera didn’t notice him and proceeded on its predetermined path. Once the buzzing piece of metal was out of range, Micah exhaled and almost collapsed from relief. Gripping his chest, he began to run. He had to get home, and soon. He was much closer now. Using the back alleys he easily negotiated his way to his house, which, thankfully, had a back door. Micah pressed his thumb against the touch pad on the door and entered the large, dark house. He closed the door and rested his back against it, hoping the terror of the night would melt away. He waited a moment before moving, allowing the silence to penetrate his thoughts and help him think about everything that had happened. Micah could finally breathe; if only he could remember how. His head felt as if it was spinning out of control, even while he was standing still. Moving to the kitchen, his hands still trembling, he clung to the sink, trying to steady his breath as the lights flickered on. He tried to calm himself down, but his body felt wired. Why was he still so afraid? His heart felt as if would burst from his chest at any moment. Looking at his reflection in the sink, Micah almost couldn’t recognize himself. He looked frazzled. His black hair was disheveled; his grey eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. He
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had always been average in height and weight, but tonight he felt very small. Biting his lip, he splashed some water onto his pallid, angular face in an attempt to regain some color. Climbing up the stairs to his room took a long time despite the fact that his house was not large. The new housing regulations dictated that houses be two stories, with rooms seldom big enough to fit three people in at a time. This was meant to prevent socializing after curfew. That was when the terrorists and Radicals met. Micah paused as he sat on his bed. Could that man be a Radical? If so, who was he? What did he want? Why had he helped in the alleyway? Feeling his wallet jab him through the fabric of his pants, he quickly removed it and watched a card fall out. It was the mysterious black card, which had practically jumped out of Micah’s pocket. He brought it up to his face and examined it. It seemed blank except for the logo, until he tilted it back in the light and caught a flicker of what looked like writing. He fiddled around with it, tilting it back and forth like a hologram; finally, he found the right position and was able to read it. “Under Our Protection.” “Curious,” Micah thought to himself. He flipped it over and, after examining it from many other angles, put the card down. “Why me?” he asked himself. He wasn’t anything special. He had no family since his mother had died. He had no real friends to speak of; his job was
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unremarkable. He certainly had no money ‌ His life was a picture of adequacy. He hated it, but what choice did he have? He had to work to live, and the job he had been assigned to offered hardly enough to survive.What would happen if he was stopped again? He got lucky tonight, there could be no doubt about that, but what could he do now? Micah looked at his hands as if deep inside them he would find the answers he was looking for, but unsurprisingly there were none to be found. He took a deep breath and at long last managed to calm himself down before falling asleep.