"Get away from me!" Christopher barked as he scrambled away from the crazy man.
Christopher bumped into a tree behind him. Acorns and dislodged leaves fell down around him, and he batted them away. He didn't know what was going on. One minute he was running, the next, everything went black. He couldn't remember why he was running, but he was certain it was something to do with a cyborg.
Or maybe a horse. He pressed his hands against his forehead and groaned. He couldn't remember anything.
The weird man took a few steps closer, feet crunching against the dead leaves, and Christopher pressed himself against the tree.
"Easy, easy," the man was saying. "Sorry I scared you like that. It was really dramatic."
Christopher looked up at him. "Who are you?" he asked.
The man thought for a moment,. "You could say I'm a friend."
Christopher narrowed his eyes on him. "Are you really?"
The man turned around in a tight circle. He was wearing a black coat and pants, and was built quite lean. When he next came to face Christopher he said, "I'm the closest thing you're going to get."
"Very reassuring," Christopher said. "What happened? Why did you come at me like that?"
"Some very strange things are happening," the man said, suddenly becoming very animated. "I think the world's ending."
Christopher's eyes widened in surprise. "Excuse me?"
The man nodded. "I didn't want to believe it either, but then the attacks started happening…"
Christopher thought again of the cyborg, and the horse.
"Attacks?" Christopher asked. "What do you mean, attacks?"
The man knelt down in front of Christopher and looked him in the eyes. He was pale with fright, and he barely blinked.
"A few days ago," the man said, "somebody let loose a bunch of jacked-up super humans in Baltimore. It only got worse from there. Just the other night, there was a huge explosion, took out most of lower Baltimore." He leaned in, looking confused. Don't you remember? It was all over the news before the world started ending."
Christopher looked around. The evening sky was dark, but only from the time of day. The night air was crisp and smelled of forest, not smoke and fire. He looked at the man.
"You're lying!" Christopher barked.
The man flushed slightly at the accusation. He shook his head and got to his feet.
"Fine," he said. "Don't believe me." He rooted around in one of his pockets and dug out a phone. "I guess I must be lying, that's why the explosion's been all over the news." He tapped the phone a few times, then handed it to Christopher. "Watch this, and tell me I'm lying."
Christopher stared at the phone skeptically, then took it.
The man had brought up a video of a news reporter wearing a long coat, standing several miles outside of a massive smoking hole. A heavy black fog hung in the air as ash and smoke settled around them. The news reporter was wearing some kind of gas mask to prevent him from inhaling smoke.
"I am reporting live," the reporter was saying, "two days after a Baltimore pharmacy was attacked. The attack set off a series of explosions, plunging deep into the earth, killing hundreds in the process. So far, no survivors have been found."
Christopher paused the video and handed the phone back to the man.
"See what I mean?" the man asked, solemnly. "The world went nuts after that. People looting and stealing. It started with the super soldiers. A couple of attacks, wiping out their inferiors. We barely managed to stop them. Then, they just kept coming. Some of us retreated into the woods because it was safe, but it won't be for long."
"You're right," Christopher said. "The world's falling apart."
"I'm heading to a safe house," the man said. "A guy whose lawn I used to mow said I was a good kid, I deserve a place in his bunker. And I can bring people if I want to."
Christopher made eye contact with him, and the man grinned.
"Come with me," the man said. "You're as good as dead out here. I saw the fall you took. Could have left you, but I'm not leaving an innocent man out here to feed whatever monster comes next."
Christopher thought about it for a moment. "What's your name?"
"Mark," the man said. "You?"
"Christopher," said Christopher, pushing himself up to his feet. His head swam as he stood up. Mark helped him get steady.
"You okay?" Mark asked.
"Yeah," Christopher said weakly. "I will be. Is it safe to walk? I don't think I can run."
Mark lightly clapped him on the back. "It's safe enough."
********
Mark breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief as they approached the bunker. It was a large, boxy construction that poked out above ground. Lincoln had gone through great pains to make it look like an abandoned shed in the middle of the forest.
"This is it," he said, running up to the door. "The old man gave me the code."
Christopher stopped a couple of feet behind him, looking up with wonder at the shed.
"Are you sure this is it?" Christopher asked.
"Yeah," Mark said. "The old man brought me here after the first super soldier attack."
"Okay," Christopher said. "That makes sense."
Mark punched the code into the keypad. The keypad flashes green, and it starts to ring.
[SFX: telephone ringing]
Lincoln's deep, refined voice answered.
"Hey," Mark said, "it's me. Remember? The kid who used to mow your lawn? Old Man Lincoln? You told me I could bring survivors to the bunker with me. Well, I found one!"
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the slight crackle of the speaker attached to the keypad.
"Marky boy," Lincoln said in his best old man voice. "Why, I wasn't sure you'd be coming back!"
Mark smiled, thinking of Lincoln playing at the old man for Christopher's sake.
"Hang on just a minute," Lincoln said. "I'll let you in."
[SFX: buzz]
The two of them went in, and down a flight of curving metal stairs which creaked and shook as they descended.
Mark led Christopher into the main part of the bunker, where he found Lincoln leaning against one of the plush velvet chairs. A fake fireplace had been set up, casting an eerie light over the place. Lincoln had taken off his jacket and thrown it over the chair he leaned on.
The second he saw Christopher, he changed the way he presented himself. Lincoln adapted his posture so he looked more bent, and more like an old man.
"Marky boy," he said in his old man voice as he shuffled over to them. "Is this your friend? Let me take a look at him."
Lincoln went over to Christopher and started poking him, checking his muscles for strength, and his skin for any sign of blemish.
"He's a good one," Lincoln said, pleased. "What's your name, my boy?"
"Christopher," said Christopher. "Thanks for taking me in. It's really nice to meet you."
"Chris-to-pher," said Lincoln, thoughtfully. "A good name, for a good boy. Take a seat. Both of you, you must be exhausted."
Mark and Christopher settled down on a couple of the velvet chairs. They were not as comfortable as they looked, but Mark was pleased to have the pressure taken off his legs for some time. Lincoln shuffled off into another part of the bunker. Mark heard the clinking of mugs and the gurgle of a coffee machine. The smell of brewing coffee poured into the room.
"What's he doing?" Christopher whispered.
"Making coffee?" Mark said. "Look, Old Man Lincoln is a sweetheart. I know you probably feel like you're taking advantage of him, but fact is he's filled this place with state-of-the-art survival tech. Coffee being one of them. Just take it, and enjoy it."
A moment later, Lincoln appeared, carrying a tray with three steaming cups of coffee. He set one down in front of each of them, and he took a seat in the velvet chair between Mark and Christopher. Lincoln sipped his coffee, and Christopher followed suit, and he found himself relaxing. It was the best coffee he had ever had in his life.
"I suppose you want to know what happened," Lincoln said, staring into his coffee mug.
"Mark filled me in," Christopher said. "A bunch of attacks, hundreds of deaths. I can't remember it, to be honest. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. I must have been running so hard I exhausted myself and tripped. It'll come to me."
Lincoln looked at Mark for a moment, then nodded as if to say, "Well done." Then, he turned to Christopher.
"You know what happened," Lincoln said, "but not who is behind it. Marky boy, would you mind setting up the television?"
Mark hopped up onto his feet, grabbed a remote control from the mantle of the fake fireplace, and pressed a button. A large television screen lowered from the ceiling and touched gently on the floor.
Lincoln looked at Christopher.
"The man responsible for all the world's present suffering is Alex Ambrose, and I am about to show you what he has been up to, Be warned," Lincoln said, "The things I'm about to show you are quite disturbing. Even for stronger stomachs."
Christopher gripped his coffee cup, and the room filled with light as the television burst into life.
The videos showed this man, Alex Ambrose, engage in a variety of activities. He walked among lab professionals all dressed in white lab coats, consulting with them. In another video, he stood at a whiteboard with the title "Super Soldier Formulation" written across it. Another video showed him fighting another young man. Two of the last videos showed him kissing two completely different women. At that, Christopher found himself feeling a spike of betrayal, but he wasn't sure why.
When the videos were over, Lincoln turned to Christopher.
"Alex Ambrose must be put to a halt," he said. "Once we eliminate him, all this madness will stop. Marky boy and I have a plan to help. We need an extra hand, however. Are you willing, able, to assist us?"
Mark and Lincoln gathered around Christopher, expecting an answer.
******
When Alex walked into the blown-out living room, having just finished a morning run, he wasn't sure what he expected. He certainly wasn't expecting to find Ken Stokes and his entire news crew, taking production shots of the entire space.
He saw Ken talking to Debbie and Louis, who both looked a little too excited. Yvonne was sitting on the stairs, looking through color swatches.
Alex stumbled around the living room, dodging cables and lights as cameras were being set up. He made for Ken, Debbie, and Louis.
"We'll do it live," Ken was saying. "The reveal, that is. We're going to pre-film the designers coming in, interviewing you all, and fixing up the house. And then-"
"Excuse me?" Alex asked, interrupting Ken in the middle of his speech.
Ken sputtered to a stop, then looked over his shoulder at Alex. There was a twinkle in his eyes.
"Alex!" he said cheerfully. "My dear boy, do we ever have a surprise for you!" He wrapped an arm around Alex's shoulders and took him on a short tour of his blown-out living room, pointing out all the cameras.
"Louis and Debbie had the most marvelous idea," Ken explained. He took his arm off of Alex's shoulders and Alex turned to face Ken as he spoke. "Alex, my boy, this living room is unlivable."
Alex's eyes went wide. "What?"
"Debbie made a very clear case," Ken said. "You can't live in a house that has a living room that looks like this." He gestured to the living room. "It was agreed that a HGTV special would boost morale, get your image out there, make you more personable and help the public ease back into everyday life after, well, everything."
Alex stared at Ken.
"Not the living room. It's a testament to everything we've been through," Alex said. "We lived through hell. This living room is like a damn trophy."
Ken clasped his hands in front of his chest and said, "Your friends disagree."
Alex turned on his heel and marched toward Debbie. She had picked up a magazine and was leafing through it.
"What is the meaning of this?" Alex asked, tugging on the string of his running jacket. "I thought we reached an agreement."
Debbie looked up at him. "I'm not having this argument, Alex. Don't give me that nonsense about this living room being some kind of badge of honor for you. You're not the only one who had to live here."
"She's right," Louis piped up. He was sitting on a wooden chair a couple of feet away. Alex hadn't noticed him.
"You're taking her side?" Alex asked.
"Alex, I thought you came around on the idea. If we get a free home reno out of it," Louis said, shrugging. "We need this, Alex. Not just the public who are going to be watching this, but all of us. You, me, Yvonne, Debbie, Christopher. A fresh coat of paint helps a lot."
Alex ran a hand through his hair and looked around the living room, thinking of all the memories he would lose. Then, he noticed something. He counted the people in the room a few times, and always came up one short.
He turned back to the others. "Where's Christopher?"
Louis and Debbie looked at each other.
"I thought he was in bed," said Louis.
"I thought he came back and went to bed," said Debbie.
Louis and Alex looked at her.
"Came back?" Alex asked. "What do you mean, 'came back'?"
Debbie put down the magazine and ran past Alex, going for the stairs. Alex pursued her, his legs still aching from the morning run. He followed her up the stairs and into Christpher's room. The unmade bed was empty.
"Oh god," Debbie gasped, then she pushed past Alex and checked every other room in the house with Alex on her tail. Together, they searched every room they could find, even the basement where SCOT confirmed that Christopher was not there. As SCOT was saying something, the two raced back upstairs, breathing heavily.
Alex ran into the garden and through the forest, screaming Christopher's name for the better part of a half hour until his lungs and throat hurt. Only then did he return to the house, his face red from effort.
Debbie was pacing in the middle of the living room, eyes to the floor. Alex approached her.
"Debbie," he said. "What the hell happened to Christopher?"