Mary Jo, Chapter 4

*copyrighted material*

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    Heat and dark, engine smoke rose from the road behind them, sunlight bending the sight as flares danced on the ground. Surrounded by badlands, Dante’s pick-up gingerly rode off the pavement as they reached the dunes of Bahía Blanca, 432 kilometers from Mar Del Plata. A required seven-hour ride, orders from Red Crows' high officials to investigate irregularities in the sector. The port city of Bahía Blanca had gone through worse fates than Buenos Aires as the unions of its rebels had posed a severe threat to Marshall’s just-initiated conquest years ago, revealing himself to that part of the world—South America—back then for the very first time. A monster leaving his dark lair or wherever the alien program had embedded itself in Buenos Aires. Marshall’s siblings had moved at the very same pace with greedy hands.

    To the people of Bahía Blanca, they would win the fight, but sadly, not the war. The supercomputer’s delivery of hazardous gases onto the entire city one rainy night had changed the course of life in the whole continent. The mix of hazardous chemicals had killed everyone in their sleep and their guard posts in approximately half an hour, and with them, any sort of living organism giving rise to the desert it was today. The attack had left a footprint on that place. No living organism survived, said ‘scar’ even when the concoction had left no traces to take samples of. It had left no survivors or witnesses of what the toxic gases caused. What people of Buenos Aires knew was that autonomous jet planes had crossed the sky on their way to Bahía Blanca and released the deadly, orange fog, visible from miles away. A reminder of the power of their oppressor, if it ever crossed their minds to think like one unit.

    But there was more to why they were here today. The Red Crows feared the worst. Rogelio’s death had merely been the first sign of trouble. Marshall had shown off his new toy that day, a successful prototype, it seemed. He’d shipped his new creation everywhere on the continent in 

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five months. The zapping disco ball, a new kind of sandstorm inducer that released pheromones that attracted seemingly only those under The Adorers label. The purpose was unclear, as Marshall did not need to lure his followers in any way. They were in his absolute control already. Romina had called Elias to a meeting with the boss for him to share his pheromones hypothesis two months after he argued with Mariano, hoping this would redeem him. Romina’s team had provided him with tapes from everywhere in Buenos Aires’s streets to analyze and prepare a presentation based on them if he still thought his assumptions could be true. Elias reviewed at least fifteen tapes in three days before he stopped what he was doing and called Romina to the computer lab. What he’d observe was exactly what he thought it was. The pheromones weren’t used to call The Adorers. They were likely being used to alter or synchronize bodily functions within Marshall’s followers. Possibly, to grow the population of his army.

    Under these assessments, the Red Crows decided to take custody of whichever Adorers they found to initiate new studies on them.

   Elias, Stevee, Vicencio, and Gael, plus the new addition to the team, Amir Quiroga—Romina’s son—had been tasked with patrolling around the darkest corners of Buenos Aires, while they captured as many test subjects as they could. The party and three other groups explored the historic, hidden rivers and underground tunnels of the city for weeks. The Adorers, cloistered—half naked and back to the Stone Age—pale, blind, and having lost all linguistic skills, were lured upstairs into outdoor cages to the sound of gunshots as the Red Crows tried to control the situation. Just a handful of test subjects was fine, but there were no signs of disco balls beneath the city. More operations had to take place across the city with healthier prospects.

    The Adorers’ evolution varied depending on cultures, climate, ambiance, and regions, as those who were sheltered and gathered in civilization did not regress to obscure times. However, their human brains, distinguished from other animals, had gone through a spectacular amount of pressure, and disturbingly enough, gratification and amusement, and had been polished to smooth, useless stones.

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   The test results on the subjects had thrown alarming discoveries as the hormones had silicon particles thrown into the air, the disco balls were bio weapons with the sole purpose of attaching themselves to human bodies to create hybrids. Creations that would be man and machine. Scientists had discovered that for now, these silicon particles would only attach to The Adorer’s as the supercomputer had imprinted them genetically, while any other regular person’s body didn’t seem affected by them at the moment. It was believed that this had to be a simultaneous practice amongst all supercomputers. The news would not come out just yet to the public, but during discussions with other rebel groups across the globe, it seemed Oberon in Europe, Zofia in Africa, and Nadine in Asia were the first three supercomputers to have deployed the hormones at an accelerated rate. The American continent, occupied by Ikarus, Ivy, and Marshall, would be under observation for the next two months while they collected concrete data about their numbers. Oceania, occupied by Calliope, would also begin a census despite no traces of these new machines inland, at least.

    Was this discussed with any governments? The lines were blurry. Rebel groups were called ‘rebels’ for a reason. It should have been expected to rebel against the machines, but that wasn’t the case when the enemy knew how to pin both sides against each other due to the lack of resources, healthcare, and access to safe sectors while fighting an army of mind fucked people. For other countries such as Argentina, the government had collapsed, and there was no administration to lead the people. There were nations all over the globe with these two versions of chaos. Meanwhile, a slight minority was able to manage the situation better than the others, and yet lost the majority of their territory in the process.

    Elias hung an arm off the driver’s window, showed two fingers for the caravan behind him, and gestured for them to pull up and turn off the engines. To his orders responded two other pick-up trucks packed with men from cabin to cargo bed and three Range Rovers from that decade that were also full of rebels. Now, it had been years since Mariano had put him to the test, but here they were with a new loyalty exercise, and he could not afford to fail. Leading an entire platoon successfully was an apparent path to redemption. But Elias’ and Forest’s eyes 

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were set on the larger prize. Hidden in Elias’ EM backpack—that was a must in platoon operations such as this one—Forest meticulously processed his surroundings with echo location equipment from his new body. An egg-shaped casing that used to belong to Tobey’s good, old baby monitor. 

-----------------------------------UPDATE STARTS HERE

   The Japanese trademarked children’s device, model pengG00D, designed to resemble a penguin, was a good fit for a chassis. What seemed an adorable memento, now could hover and move to Forest’s will with the technology that had brought the Destine system alive, on a micro scale. Without any impediments, Forest functioned with eagerness in his new body. 

   The robot bounced around inside the backpack as Elias put it on and began to translate the conversation for his operators in the U.S.

    “Ok, boys.” The leader began, adjusting his bulletproof vest and checking his gear too. Stevee loaded his gun right beside him, as everyone gathered around them. “There have been irregularities here lately seen from our satellites. What do I mean by that? It might not look like it, but there’s life here amongst the rubble, lots of life apparently. Foreigners crossed our posts somewhere, who knows fucking how, and settled here. Although it doesn’t seem to be anything that has to do with The Adorers, the timing of it all is off-putting. Here’s what we are gonna do: we remap the place, every nook and cranny, and talk to Noah and his animals. The premise is, they can’t be here for long. They refuse? We put a bullet through their heads. Is everything clear?”

    “YES, SIR!” His men roared.

    “Good, groups of five, please! Now get going, and use your radios wisely, folks!!” He said. Gael, Vicencio, Stevee, and Amir waited for his orders, as every group leader knew all the details of the area they were assigned to already. “Squad, we go West. The map includes a motel, a mini-mall, a function room, and more. Let’s go!”

    The cultists scattered along the roads searching for the nomads, sand crunching beneath their boots. A breezy day, electricity posts that had sunk as the earth had turned to delicate layers of dust. Bahia Blanca didn’t hold any value anymore, as even the simplest of objects, 

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such as wooden doors, had been yanked out to light fires in alloy steel barrels by the sidewalks at chilling sundown. Only evidence of that remained.

    “How are you holding up?” Elias turned to Amir as they kept a steady pace. 

    His massive, black circles showed up more clearly as he readjusted his star-shaped pink horizon-tinted glasses and turned to his skinny, trembling hands holding a rifle. A shiny, naked scalp by choice. “Well, you tell me.” He scoffed. “I hate it, every time.”

    “Three and a half weeks of withdrawal is pretty solid, think about it.”

    “This is the farthest I’ve come.” The bald man winced, then sighed.

    “There you go! That should be enough.”

   Amir Quiroga, the superstar surgeon of Buenos Aires who’d lost a life of luxury and constant attention. He wasn’t foreign to drugs before the world collapsed due to the psychic attack, but Marshall’s rampage broke him in ways human brains could not all survive. And if they did, they did like this, sucked to the bone. A shell left behind at forty-eight years old. Elias had taken him to buy cocaine the weekend right after Marshall’s assault at the beach shack, just as he ‘promised’ to Romina. It was in everyone’s best interest that Mariano forget about that exchange at the headquarters lobby, so getting an agreement on how to plan their weekend had been very straightforward and uncomplicated. Sunday morning, at sunrise, Elias had taken Dante’s pickup truck out of the city with Amir in the passenger seat, giving him directions to a certain location, before telling him to pull up by the side of a lonely road where a gentle stream ran free. The sound of water tapping on pebbles was quite soothing. Then two skinny teenagers showed up strolling down the stream, shoes and jean cuffs wet. His heart sank, and he watched from the driver's seat as Amir approached the boys, and the trade was made before his eyes. Then a little chit-chatting before it was time to part ways. The image of the blond and brunet boys wouldn’t leave him on the way home.

    Stevee trudged before all of them, securing every area for them to enter confidently. The first location to be scanned was the mini-mall. Their guns guided their eyes throughout a dark and empty dental office, one of them accidentally knocked a mouth mirror off a decayed table, and 

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the noise resembled a sharp needle bouncing off the floor. No signs of life in that corner, though. Next were a bridal shop, a toy store, and a bakery. An eerie echo in the halls of the mini-mall kept them on their toes. The ceiling, browned with water leaks, and a pungent scent of damp metal all over the building.

    The motel came right after, the group went over the last motel logs, and turned the lobby upside down before checking all eight rooms that composed the inn. The rooms had little to nothing to observe at first glance due to the knee-high dunes, as the windows had been kept open. Vicencio and Amir stumbled upon human remains under the sand. Femurs, skulls, ribs, and more. Yet, an entire skeleton had been neatly arranged over the sandy mattress in the last room, possibly by some of the scourges that had swept with everything in search of supplies. Elias was going through the expired first aid cabinet in the only bathroom of the establishment, on the second floor, when gunshots broke out in the distance, yet still somewhere in town. Their radio picked something up, but it was cutting off and unintelligible.

    The leader poked out his head through the high bathroom window to watch Gael climb the roof hastily in search of a better view with his binoculars despite the dusty air.

    “WHERE!?” Vicencio growled at Gael, who said he wasn’t certain due to the heavy dust screen between them.

    “NORTH, NORTH!!” Stevee hollered as he pointed at a perturbed flock of ravens fleeing from that direction.

    “MAN UP, BOYS! WE NEED AN AMBUSH!” Elias ran out of the motel with his squad joining him soon after. “WE CAN SURPRISE THEM IF WE BOLT NOW TO THE BACK OF THE FUNCTION ROOM!!” 

    As they trotted cautiously two blocks further and the gunshots' noise intensified, Elias pressed the inner side of the tragus of his ear—that poking corner of flesh that aligned perfectly with the ear hole—and Forest chirped a sassy ‘hello’ into his lobe. The engineer had created his own nano version of Jules’ electromagnetic waves deflector and then paired it with his new robot companion out of necessity to hide the earpiece completely from all sight. With 

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the size of a droplet and a stable adhesive that feeds on skin oils. Stevee glanced back at him and nodded, confirming his devices had paired successfully as well. 

    Amir kicked the steel function room’s door open, and they all hurried inside, scurried away, backs hunched, until they found their way to the stainless steel kitchen to find the back door. Forest confirmed to them both that the ambush would be a hundred percent effective, having located the nomads twenty feet adjacent to the function room despite being double the size of their current party. They’d have to work with numbers without even a first glance at these people, or so was the plan. Then more gunshots broke out, which seemed to be another shooting somewhere in town. Elias knew this was an unnegotiable situation. Blood had to be spilled, or it would be his and his son’s.

    But as they got to the alleyway, two unarmed figures came into view as they leaned agitatedly on a wall. Two women, covered in dirt. It sounded like one of them was crying, or maybe both?

    “Let me see it, let me see the wound!” The youngest one sobbed, approximately in her mid-twenties. Black, short hair with bands. Decaying cargo pants, boots, and a black tank top.

    “Jo, that’s enough!” The second woman snapped at her. Blonde with long waves and much older, in mid-forties approximately. Midsection soaked with a gunshot wound, jeans, boots, and an oversized and torn t-shirt. “You need to get out of here!” She insisted when she saw Elias and the party. Everyone froze in place. “Mary Jo!” She scolded as the girl stepped forward with her arms up.

    “Please,” She inhaled between sobs. “Please save my sister.”

    “Jo, don’t be stupid!” Her sister trembled.

    Elias wasn’t feeling like being a good person today. He’d taken this decision many times before. “I . . . cannot help you.” His men brought up their guns. For a second, he remembered the two teenagers by the side of the road, as the young woman stumbled upon her words.

    “P—please! We do not have any guns!” She gulped, “My sister and I come from Santiago, we—we haven’t killed or robbed anyone, we are mentally stable, we are agricultors—”

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    “JO!!! LISTE—”

    “FLORENCE, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Jo pleaded to her sister Florence, while Elias suddenly felt as if the mere mention of her name had instantly narcotized the fuck out of him.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .