World War IV: Empires Read online

  Chapter 2

  Alvy Hughes sat with his knees to his chest and both arms wrapped around his legs. His limbs still felt bony and thin despite the increase of meals and calories over the past week. He imagined it’d be some time before he was back to his former health, though he wasn’t sure if he would live long enough to see it.

  The quiet hadn’t changed. And despite being freed, it seemed that one cell had just been traded for another, although the new accommodations were much nicer than their previous ones. Here there were three meals a day, a straw bed, and windows. They had space too, and nearly free rein of the ship, so long as their escort went with them. The only time they were allowed to leave the cells where Ruiz had put them was to be transitioned into another cell while their previous one was washed down to dispense of their own waste that rotted on the floor. Ruiz didn’t want his precious minds to contract any diseases, so he kept the cells sterile.

  The people that took him, he had no idea of what to expect from them. He knew they would eventually come and ask something of him. Generals and presidents always did. They wanted to know how to control something or how to kill something. And once they knew how to do both, they wanted ways in which they could control more and kill quicker. It was a never-ending cycle, a loop that he’d found himself trapped in ever since his first days as an apprentice.

  Even at an early age, Alvy found himself able to build things that even his father, an accomplished blacksmith, didn’t understand. When he was twelve, he built an engine. It was crude, leaked oil everywhere, and couldn’t even churn the small wheel he’d attached to it, but it started, and it caught the attention of the guild of engineers in Brazil who scoured the country and the world for talent.

  There wasn’t a teacher Alvy came into contact with that wasn’t amazed by his mind. It was a question he always had trouble explaining growing up, of how he managed to see things and connect dots in his mind that others couldn’t. But the older he became, he found that saying he was “blessed” proved answer enough to his divine gifts.

  Gifts. A sour pit bubbled in Alvy’s stomach, and he pulled his legs tighter then fell to his side on the packed straw, the sunlight from the window shining down on his hands, while the rest of him was cast into darkness.

  While Alvy’s nutritional intake had improved, his sleeping had not. Most nights he lay awake, and the nights when he did drift off to sleep were tormented with the creations of death he’d designed for Ruiz. All of the lives he helped destroy, killed by the instruments of his mind, played over and over in his nightmares.

  Ruiz. The name still made him shudder. The man was nothing more than a dictator in a castle, surrounded by money and guns, both of which he used to get whatever he wanted. Ruiz dangled Alvy’s life, his parents’ lives, his siblings’ lives in front of him, threatening him to do whatever he wanted. All he wanted to do was see them again, to know they were okay. But these governors and these rebels, they took him, threw him on a boat, and hadn’t said a word. For all he knew, Ruiz had killed his family, and these people would soon send him to join them.

  The door to his cabin swung open, and two men stepped inside, neither of whom Alvy recognized. However, they shared the same face, and he found his eyes drifting to their waists to check for what weapons they brought, but they entered unarmed.

  “Mr. Hughes,” the shorter man said, taking a seat on a crate across from the bed where Alvy lay. “My name is Dean Mars, and this is my brother Jason. We’re the governors from North America.”

  Mars. He’d heard that name before when he was younger. The name was whispered down dark alleys and in rooms where men spoke in secret. Whenever the name was muttered, it was as if people were talking about ghosts.

  “Mr. Hughes, do you speak English?” Dean asked.

  Alvy searched for his voice, but it had been so long since he’d said anything that on the first try, nothing but gasped air escaped his lips. He cleared his throat then tried again. “Yes. I do.” The words were cracked and dry, like a riverbed that had seen drought for years and finally felt the first few drops of rain seep into its hard, dead earth.

  “Mr. Hughes, do—”

  “You don’t have to call me that.” No one had ever called him that. He was Alvy. He had graduated from three separate apprenticeships from the best physicists, blacksmiths, and chemists in the world. He’d built wonderful things, monstrous things, to help better the lives of the people around him. He never did it for fame or fortune, just simply because he enjoyed the challenge.

  “Alvy.” Dean Mars’s words were soft as he spoke. They lacked the harsh sting like that of Ruiz’s guards, but that didn’t mean the man was without violence. Those whispers Alvy had heard as a boy spoke of these men as monsters, with fangs and claws. Although so far, the rumors seemed to be false. “I need your help.”

  There it is. The desperate plea for weapons was to follow. They wanted to kill, they wanted to control, they wanted more than what their eyes and minds could comprehend. “Everyone needs my help. But not in the way you think it needs to be done.”

  “I know what Ruiz made you build,” Dean answered. “And I know what those weapons will do. You of all people know that we can’t let him win.”

  “We?” Alvy sat up from the straw, his joints and bones popping and creaking from the sudden movement. “In all my time as a prisoner, I never considered myself a we. I was asked to work, and then when I refused, I was tortured, and then when I refused once more, my family was tortured. Is that what you will do, Governor? Is my family in the next room in chains? A blade to their throats, beaten and bloody? There is no we. There is you, and there is me.” Alvy hadn’t expected the defiance in his voice, and it wasn’t until the second governor’s hand rested on his shoulder that he realized he’d stood and was towering over Dean, who remained seated on the crate. Alvy backed to his bed and sat on the edge.

  “I am not Ruiz, Alvy,” Dean replied. “But I am a master of war. I have fought many battles, and I have killed many men. More blood has been spilt by my family than could breathe life into an entire generation. It will never be something I am proud of, but it will also never be something I am ashamed of. All men give their reasons for war, and mine have always been to protect my people, provide a better life for them and my family. Brazil is a powerful ally of trade, and diplomacy should always be, and will be, my first attempt and resolution. But not all men share that belief, as you well know.”

  “All you give is words, Governor,” Alvy said. “Ruiz gave me words as well.” Alvy lifted his shirt, exposing the bruising on his stomach and chest. “He also gave me these.” He rolled up his pant legs and revealed the welts and cuts along his thighs and calves. “And these.” He turned his back to them and lifted his shirt once more, showing them the mix of old scars and fresh lashes still healing on his back. He lowered his shirt then turned to face them again. “I wonder what else you will give me?”

  Dean remained silent and motionless for quite some time then finally nodded to his brother, who left. Perhaps he’s going to kill me? No, that would be too quick, easy. He knew men like these would try other methods to get what they wanted. It was just as the governor said himself: when diplomacy fails, other actions must be taken, for the good of his people.

  “Alvy?”

  Alvy’s heart leapt from his chest, and his arms and legs went tingly and numb. The voice was frightened and tired, but he would have recognized it in whatever form it came. “Mother.” He jumped from the hay on the bed and rushed to her, embracing her in his arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling the outline of her skeleton. She felt thin, but she was alive.

  His mother pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, taking a good look, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “My boy. My sweet boy.” She brought his forehead down to her lips and kissed him just as she did when he was a child.

  Alvy looked her over, it all seemed too unreal. “Did they hurt you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine
.” She offered a shaky smile. “Your sisters are here as well. These people have taken good care of us, although they hadn’t told us much other than you were alive.”

  Hot tears burst from Alvy’s eyes, and he felt his body shake as they rolled down his cheeks. He shook his head, and his mother held him in her arms. She rocked him back and forth, rubbing his back, telling him that it was going to be all right.

  “Mrs. Hughes?” Dean asked, stepping Alvy aside. “I know how important this is, but I need to continue a conversation with your son. I’ll only be a minute, and he’ll be back with you shortly.”

  His mother nodded, and Jason led her out of the room, her fingers intertwined with Alvy’s until the very last moment. The door closed behind her as she left, and Alvy collapsed back on the bed, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “So now what?” He sniffled, clearing his nose, which had forced him to breathe through his mouth. “Now you threaten me? Threaten them? Do what you want to me, but please, let them go.”

  “I’ll let all of you go,” Dean replied.

  Alvy lifted his head at the words, unsure of what angle the governor was playing at. “And what will that cost?”

  “It will cost nothing.” Dean took a seat next to Alvy on the edge of the bed. The governor shifted slightly back and forth. “It’s funny how burdensome gifts can be. My family has birthed more killers than any should. And just as I have been burdened with my hands, you have been burdened with your mind.”

  “It’s only a burden when someone turns your gifts against you.”

  “And it’s a burden that spreads to your family.” Dean sighed, looking around for some answer that seemed to elude him. “No matter what you try and do, that weight always falls on shoulders other than your own.” Dean got up, walked to the door, then stopped and turned back before he left. “I’m not here to threaten you or your family. If you choose to leave, then one of my ships will take you back to your home in Rio. You are a free man, Alvy, and your family is now safe. But I will tell you this: there is more evil than just Ruiz, and it will come to your doorstep again unless I can stop it. And it would be much easier to stop it if you chose to help me. I’ve given the same option to your colleagues. Take some time to think it over. I think we would both benefit from your meditating.”

  Alvy sat there on the bed, just as Dean had found him down in the cells where Ruiz kept him, alone. There was a large portion of him that wanted to take his family, return to Rio, and leave all of this war behind. They could move to the countryside; his mother still had uncles in the farmlands. It would be peaceful there, quiet, and give him time to think, his family a chance to rebuild.

  But the nagging voice crawling from the depths of his consciousness came in the form of the governor’s words. He knew the man was right. Given the chance, evil would always spread, and while Alvy had never been the one to fight, he understood that his gifts could help defeat the evil trying to kill him.

  ***

  The moment news of Fung’s arrival reached Delun’s ears, he ordered his schedule to be cleared. The admirals and generals knew the battle plans, and Delun knew they would be pleased to hear that their emperor trusted them in handling such matters. The prospect of seeing the prototypes that Fung brought back with him couldn’t wait.

  The dock had been completely emptied per Delun’s instructions for Fung’s arrival. He didn’t want to run the risk of exposing potential military strategies to anyone who didn’t need to know them.

  “Emperor.” Fung bowed deeply, and Delun waited longer than necessary before he allowed Fung to rise. The ambassador had been gone for quite some time, and Delun wanted to make sure he remembered who held the power. When Fung finally rose, his face was red from the blood rushing to his head.

  “I hope the trip went smoothly?” Delun asked.

  “We ran into some Australian scouts in the Pacific, but as soon as we took a more northern route to the islands, we didn’t have any incidents. All of the weaponry I managed to confiscate made the trip without harm.”

  “And the engineers?”

  “Regrettably, we lost one of them in the skirmish with the Australians. A cannon blast penetrated the cabin where we held them. The others escaped with a few minor injuries, but I can assure you their minds are still intact.”

  “Then we have what we need. Show them to me.” Delun’s eye caught the massive crates being unloaded from the ships, containing the prototypes the engineers had designed. Some of them took a dozen men and the pull of horses to get them off the deck and down the docks.

  “Here they are, Emperor.” Fung gestured to four bodies huddled on the floor. They were covered in filth and smelled worse than they looked. Their skin wrapped around their bones tightly, their cheeks hollow, with dirty bandages over their wounds. “You will rise when your emperor enters!” Fung kicked one of the engineers in the leg, and the man winced.

  “Enough, Ambassador.” Delun eyed him harshly, and Fung bowed out lightly. Delun knelt down to greet one of the engineers at eye level. “What is your name?” He kept his words soft, encouraging. He knew how delicate the mind could become when the body had been stressed beyond its capacity.

  “M-Manuel.” The engineer’s entire body shook as the words left his mouth.

  “Manuel, my name is Delun Ren. I am emperor here in the east.” He waited for the man to say something, anything, but Delun’s only answer was more shakes and spasms, the engineer refusing to look him in the eye. “I am not President Ruiz, Manuel. There is no need to fear me.”

  Manuel looked up, his eyes bloodshot, underlined by dark circles. The sleep deprivation looked more akin to abuse than lack of rest. “M-my f-family. What h-happened to them?”

  Delun glanced over to Fung, who answered on cue. “We managed to bring some of their families with us. However, not everyone was as cooperative on the journey.”

  The engineers perked up, the first signs of life welling up in their eyes. They crawled on their hands and knees toward Fung, who shooed them away, then to Delun’s feet, where they bowed their heads. “Please, Emperor, please, let us see our families. We will do whatever you ask of us. Whatever you want.”

  Delun forced back a smile, retaining the stoic expression he’d mastered. “I know that you have suffered.” He reached down his hand and placed it gently at the top of Manuel’s head. “But know that your sacrifices have not been in vain. Unlike Ruiz, I do not treat those with such cruelty who serve me. But”—Delun removed his hand, and Manuel lifted his head—“I do demand willful acceptance.”

  Delun stepped away, and the engineers crawled forward a bit then stopped when Delun’s guard intercepted them and brought them to their feet. One of the crates that contained a prototype of the weaponry the engineers worked on rested nearby. Delun ran his hands over the cargo, the rough wood catching in the grooves of his palms. “What you have created will change the landscape of this earth. We can make it safer, better than the world we inherited. But to do that, others must understand the consequences of opposing us. Every man that fights for me, works for me, serves me, does so of their own will. I do not tolerate slaves. So, here and now I will give you a choice. Help me finish what you have built here, teach my men how to use this equipment, and you shall live like kings, and your families will become royalty. Choose not to serve me, and I will put you on a boat and return you to your homes in Brazil.”

  The engineers looked to each other, unsure of what type of tricks Delun was playing. They squirmed with uncertainty. “You will let us and our families go?”

  “I will.” Delun watched their expressions and the quiet murmurs they whispered to each other in their native tongue, deliberating on whether or not they could trust him. “If you need time to—”

  “No,” Manuel said, rising from his knees, his malnourished body struggling with the simple task. “I wish for me and my family to return home.”

  Delun nodded. “Very well, and the rest?”

  Slowly, one by one, the engineers stood then walked
over to Delun and bowed. “We pledge you our service, Emperor.” Each of them took their turns bowing, offering their allegiance, and stepping aside.

  “A wise choice,” Delun said then turned to Manuel. “For all of you. Fung will take care of the necessary details for each of your wants and needs. I thank each of you for your honesty.”

  Fung led away those that had chosen to stay with Delun, leaving Manuel isolated. Delun dismissed the guards watching them, which left Delun and Manuel alone. The emperor walked over to the engineer and wrapped his fingers around Manuel’s thin arm, barely anything there but skin and bone. “You are married, Manuel?”

  “Yes,” Manuel answered, following Delun down the docks. “My wife was pregnant when Ruiz took me. It’s been nearly a year, and I have never seen my child.” A tear cut its way through the grime on his cheek. “A child should know their father.”

  “Yes, they should.” Delun nodded, agreeing. “It’s a hard life, never knowing the man that helped create you. It was a burden in my own young life. But then again, it gave me the drive to become the man I am now.”

  They reached the end of the docks. Waves rolled in, lapping lightly against the wooden pillars. Delun glanced out at the vastness of the horizon, a few of the islands rising up in the distance. “We are but a small speck of dirt in the time of the world.”

  “When do I get to see my family?” Manuel asked, his eyes squinting from the sunlight.

  “You are a brilliant man, Manuel. What you’ve been able to accomplish will propel us forward decades, and we will continue to build upon what you’ve given us.” Delun turned to the engineer and grabbed the back of his neck firmly. “But I cannot risk your mind falling into the hands of anyone other than me.”

  “But you said—”

  Delun brought his other hand around and in one quick jerk snapped Manuel’s neck like a toothpick. Manuel’s body collapsed on the dock, his head rocking awkwardly in the position where his body fell. “I will take care of your family though. Your child will know me as their father, and your wife will know me in her bed. I promise you that.” Delun kicked the corpse into the water, and it splashed into the waves, where it was carried out to sea.