Keeping Luna Read online

  “Profits. Earnings. Revenues,” Lamar began again. “Words like these had dug deep roots into our government. Groups representing specific lines of business would donate tons of money to politicians to help them to get elected and to stay in office. These were the same politicians that were voted into office on promises that they would be faithful to the needs of their constituents, the needs of the commonest man. And these politicians would instead help these special interest groups in any way they could. Subsidies. Tax breaks. Favorable votes in Congress. They would even find ways to restrict the growth of the competition and levy sanctions.

  “The oil industry spent a great deal of money hindering the efforts of those who sought to replace oil products with renewable, cleaner sources of energy.

  “The mass-producers of alcohol,” he raised his glass in a mock cheer, “worked to influence the State to keep other drugs illegal. Marijuana, for example. Competition.

  “Similarly, the automotive giants whose vehicles relied heavily on fossil fuel products did as much as they could to sway politicians to take a hard line on the producers of electric cars.

  “Everywhere you looked you could see humanity not only ignoring its own best interests, but actively working against them.

  “The very highest levels of office in our government were often held by men with clear, strong ties to oil. And as it was ultimately the government that controlled the actions of the armed forces, we found ourselves engaging in wars with countries that were rich in oil, only to serve the personal interests of this relatively small group of men.

  “At home in America we had millions of poor people working themselves to death, to support an extravagant standard of life for a very small percentage of the population. And overseas, we had millions of our own, often poor, killing and being killed to support an extravagant standard of life for this same very small chunk of the population.

  “We called it democracy.”

  Gabriel’s left eyebrow lifted out of curiosity as he spoke, in the same manner that a hound might tilt its head while studying something of intrigue. “Is this the same speech the General made when he recruited you?”

  The left corner of Lamar’s mouth rose up in a half-smile. But a sadness lingered, some residual effect.

  “I’m paraphrasing. I wasn’t blessed with the memory that you possess, Gabriel, but the concepts still remain in here.” His finger was pressed up against his temple.

  “Money and its sinister economy, as the General made clear, were humanity’s greatest hindrances… the largest obstacles for us to clear. We strove instead to create a resource-based economy, and a global community in which every citizen could enjoy the same privileges and the same reasonable standard of life. Every body should be kept warm, and every belly kept full.

  “From the architect who draws a building to the hands that lay the concrete of its foundation, each job is an equally integral part of a much larger picture. With no small jobs, there would be no big jobs.

  “We sought to eliminate the extremes, to pull people out of poverty with one hand and with the other to eliminate the ridiculous tendencies of self indulgence that were symptomatic of affluence…”

  Lamar’s hands swept out in front of him, over the immaculate feast laid out before the two of them, and beyond it to the seemingly limitless view of land and water and sky. Over the distant reaches of the sea, spears of light pierced the clouds in thin beams.

  Lamar bellowed with sarcastic laughter.

  “…and behold! What a complete and excellent job we did!” He rose and walked over to the giant window, his face mere centimeters from its cold surface.

  “This was the end of a phase for you and me, Gabriel. There will be no more whiskey, or champagne, or plush feasts. I didn’t grow this old by drinking and eating everything I desired. With any luck, I still have enough time to finish getting you ready.”

  Gabriel set his plate and his glass down on the table and walked over next to Lamar. “Ready?” he asked, looking at Lamar, who continued to stare out at the horizon. “Ready for what?”

  Lamar smirked. “What did you think was happening here, Gabriel? Did you think I just wanted someone to talk to? Someone to eat brunch with? You are being groomed. In a little over a month, you will join me inside the Big Room for the Autumn Quarterly Summit.”

  “Are you…”

  “You are still quite soft though, Gabriel. And it is a hard room to survive in, and I mean that quite literally.” Lamar looked down at his wristwatch. “He should be here by now. Come.”

  Lamar made for the door, although he was slow getting there. Gabriel followed behind him, his mind once more creating a fresh stack of problematic questions and imagining the most fearsome, half-plausible scenarios.

  “But… Who should be here? What… wha…”

  “You are to have one more mentor, Gabriel. As I said, you are soft. He will fix that. I had him assigned to this city just for you, and have now relieved him of all other duties. He is all yours. Or rather, you are all his.”

  They had now walked the length of the hallway to the entry. Lamar placed his thumb over the scanner. The lock made a clicking sound as it turned over, and he pulled the door slowly open.

  There was Owen in the hallway, standing at attention.

  Chapter Nine

  It was good to get out of the September rain.

  Kale kicked his boots together in the entryway of the highrise, trying to free them of the wet grass and bits of maple leaves that clung to them. He pinched the sleeves of his light rain jacket and shook away the beads of water that were resting on them.

  These civilian threads aren’t too bad, I suppose, he thought. They’re not nearly as thick as our army issues, but they keep the rain from getting in.

  He pulled the thin jacket hood back and free of his head. His short blonde hair was about a centimeter longer than would have been allowed in the service, and, although there were no rules regarding hair length in his new line of work, he felt that he was well overdue for a clipping.

  So then, let’s see. He pulled a small electronic pad out of his front pant pocket and unlocked the screen. The picture of a young man with dirty blonde hair looked back up at him. Here we are, he thought, Eiric Aalborg. Resides in room 408. Well, not now, he doesn’t. I know what I’ll find if I go to his flat now. Just two meathead idiots holding their swollen heads and telling me they’re not sure what happened. That it all happened so fast. That they don’t know exactly which direction he took off in.

  None of our surveillance cameras have him leaving the building, and I don’t think he would try holing up at a neighbor’s. I don’t imagine anyone would be stupid enough to let him in if he did. It’s gotta be the roof.

  Kale returned the pad to his pocket and started up the stairs, opting not to take the elevator just in case young Eiric decided to try for the exit. The stairs would also warm his legs up in the event that he might need them, and if nothing else the climb offered a marginal bit of exercise, something that Kale felt had been too infrequent since he transferred here last month.

  His pace was brisk but unhurried, and as he ascended he allowed his mind to wander just slightly from this immediate task.

  Chasing. They pulled me out of action to be a goddamned chaser. I knew that things were going to change, that they had some new and creative detail for me… I just didn’t know it would be something so… boring. I don’t even get to kill anybody. Rough ‘em up a little, maybe, but that’s really just a tease. No guns. No blades. I don’t give a shit if I’m back there in the desert or over here in the rain, or out on a snowy fucking mountain somewhere, but just let me do the thing I do.

  As he reached the top of the flight, he stopped to feel his pulse throbbing just a little more than usual in his neck. After a minute of focused, deep breathing, his heart had nearly returned to its resting rate. He reached for the handle in front of him and pushed open the door to the rooftop.

  And there he is, sitting in the rain
like an idiot, working over his options. That’s a short list.

  Eiric sat facing him, about twenty meters away, with his back pressed against the wall of the elevator machinery room. He was soaked from the rain, and his hair looked much darker than it was in the photo Kale had just been studying.

  “You must be Eiric,” Kale said as he stepped out from the cover of the stairwell.

  The young man rose to his feet, sliding his back up the wall. He then took a few steps forward into open space and stopped with his left foot out ahead of his right, both of his knees slightly bent, and his trailing foot angled out about sixty degrees from the leading left. His hands had pulled up slightly in front of him without him noticing.

  “So how does this work, then?” His voice was shaky as he tried to suppress the horrid thoughts and ugly scenarios that ran through his mind. “I mean, I know I’m in trouble now, for what happened with those two guys in my flat, but… but what happens now?”

  Kale studied Eiric’s feet for a moment and then let his grey-green eyes work past Eiric’s hands and up to his face. He smiled and let out a little chuckle. “Ah. You’re a boxer. Those two thugs downstairs didn’t respect that, did they?”

  Eiric looked down at his own feet and then back up at Kale. He was visibly nervous.

  Kale laughed again. “You can calm down. We can take our time.” He reached into the cargo pocket on the side of his right pant leg and came up with a small, tightly wrapped bar. It was roughly the size of a harmonica. He peeled off the wrapper and stuffed it back into the same pocket, and was left holding a hard, light brown mass. He took a bite and talked as he chewed it up.

  “Army ration bars. Condensed protein, vitamins, minerals… all that. They tell you that one is enough for an entire day, but I‘ve made ‘em last three times that long out in the sandbox. I’ve got another, if you want it.”

  “No. No thanks.”

  “The roof, huh? That was your choice? You know it’s a shitty day, right? The rain, I mean.” Kale closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards to catch the moisture on his face. “I thought it was a nice change at first, the rain, but I’m getting over it now.”

  Eiric didn’t say a word. He just stood there in his half-ready stance.

  Kale bit off another chunk of his ration bar and then bent down to gingerly place the rest of it on the rough black rooftop beside his foot. He took a few steps towards Eiric, halted at a distance of five meters, and then began in a slow circle.

  “You’re gonna want to get those hands up a little higher.” Kale’s tone was serious but not void of warmth. He came off as neighborly, seeming to genuinely care about the form and technique of his would-be contender. “And keep those fists tight. You can’t get away with loose hands here like you can with gloves on. You ready?”

  His own hands came up level with his shoulders and he mirrored Eiric’s stance, with his right foot out front. “You ever fight a southpaw?” He started into a sort of bouncing rhythm, his weight well off of his heels as he shifted from foot to foot. The distance between them grew smaller as he continued to circle.

  Kale tossed a few lazy jabs into Eiric’s hands and began talking as he moved.

  “How does this work? I believe that was your question, no? What happens from here?”

  He continued to jab at the young man, and each strike became a little snappier than the last. A little less playful.

  “Well, I can start by guessing how things went downstairs.”

  Jab.

  “Two men arrived at your door to inform you that you were being Reassigned and Relocated.”

  Right jab.

  “They told you to pack a change of clothes for the journey, as well as any personal possessions you might want to take with you, but only those that you could fit into a small backpack.”

  Right. Right.

  “You became defensive, and they told you that there was no need to worry, that you would just be moving to a new city and starting a new, better job.”

  Right. Left. The left cross came up over Eiric’s guard and caught him on his right cheekbone at three-quarter strength. Kale stepped back, just out of range, and continued his bouncing while Eiric recovered from the surprise and brought his hands back up level with his chin.

  “Eiric, this only works if you throw a few back at me. Otherwise you are just a sparring partner, a punching bag. I need you to be a boxer.” Kale returned slowly to striking distance and threw another jab into Eiric’s hands. He continued talking.

  “So then one of these men tried to put a hand on you…”

  Eiric shot out a rapid left jab and followed it with a tight right hook. Kale kept right on talking as he deflected the first and ducked the second.

  “…and you put him on the ground. You’ve got it trained into you. I see that. Reflexes.”

  Jab. Block. Jab.

  “Then the second man came at you and the result was pretty much the same. How’m I doing?”

  Eiric’s feet were beginning to shift beneath him as they were meant to, quickly transferring the weight of his moderate frame from side to side as he threw a few more shots at Kale.

  “Sounds about right,” he replied. “And now I’m fucked, right?”

  “Well, to be honest, you were fucked already. Your instincts were right in regards to those men, but not so much in regards to your escape. Nowhere to go from up here. But I don’t think you’d get too far on the ground, either.”

  Eiric threw a stiff jab, which Kale’s right hand slapped up and over him as he fired his left into Eiric’s ribs. As he landed the blow, he switched his leading foot to his left, swung his right fist out in a haymaker and smashed it into the left side of Eiric’s jaw. Eiric staggered back but did not fall. His lips were red with blood. He spit out a tooth in a mouthful of crimson, and a wild fear filled his eyes as he fully realized that this was all very real, and all very serious.

  Kale did not pursue him just yet. He just stood back and kept bouncing, pulsating, although now with his left side facing Eiric.

  “I’m not actually a lefty, although I imagine you figured that out. I’m ready when you are.”

  Eiric pumped himself up and down a few times and shook his arms out at his sides before pulling them tightly in front of him again. He came in fast at Kale, working viciously from side to side. Left jab. Right cross. Left hook. And then his right shin swung in and slammed hard into Kale’s left side, cracking his two lowest ribs.

  Kale deflected the fists and shins that followed, which would certainly have been the goodnight kiss. He pulled back to about two arm-lengths from his combatant and smiled wide. He looked proud, if anything.

  “Well, well. Things have gotten interesting! And I was afraid this was going to be another boring day!” He laughed and the pain shot through the whole left half of him, and he was glad to have it. “You’re no one-trick-pony, Eiric. That’s good. That’s good.” He drew his shoulders backwards and then heaved them forwards a few times, rolling his neck back and to the left, then to the right. Once more, he balanced all of his mass upon his forefeet, bobbing up and down, only now with his shoulders and legs squared off and facing his adversary.

  “You’ve opened a whole new door now, Eiric. What’s the expression? Pandora’s box?”

  Eiric held his tongue again, not out of some sense of calmness or control over the situation, but rather because he felt he needed his focus too much to let any of it slide out of his mouth. He knew that the kick he had delivered should have dropped Kale, that it would have hospitalized any man he’d ever sparred with, his own trainer included. The fact that Kale was not only still on his feet, but talking calmly and jostling up and down and pumping himself up for another round was absolutely terrifying.

  “Ready?” Kale asked, and without waiting for a response he waded back into the fray with his fists thrown back behind him at the ends of his tense, solid arms. It looked as though some invisible cord was pulling him by the chest, hurling him forward into action.


  Eiric had never seen anything like this before, and it only added to his sense of terror. Deciding that it was best to act first instead of waiting and reacting to his opponent, he tried throwing a few jabs into Kale’s chin to keep him at arm’s length. Kale bobbed to the right of the first and underneath the second without losing any of his forward impulse.

  Eiric desperately blasted another right shin towards his previous point of impact, but this time Kale caught his leg around the knee with his left arm, pulled himself forward, and drove his right fist in an uppercut into the spot where Kale’s ribs met. Eiric’s feet lost contact with the rooftop for a split second as the force of the blow pushed upwards and through him. He fell onto his knees and his forearms, his forehead scraping on the gritty black surface beneath him as he struggled to pull air into his body.

  “So ends round two.”

  Kale turned his back to the young man and walked back over towards the stairwell entry. He picked up the ration bar from where he had set it, took another bite, and then threw the remainder off the ledge to his right. He heard some scuffling sounds, and then hurried footstep approaching him from behind.

  As he turned, Eiric was unleashing a massive right hook at his head. He ducked beneath it, but more followed. The left caught him in the nose and then the right came at him once again, grazing the line of his jaw.

  Eiric understood that allowing Kale to recover would be dangerous, so he kept his combination flowing and kept pushing towards the soldier, who was now backing away from him and towards the ledge. Right cross. Left cross. His right foot swept in and struck hard on the inside of Kale’s thigh.

  He swung another high right hook at Kale’s temple, but this time Kale flung his own arm underneath it and clutched him by the wrist. In the same fluid movement, he took one large stride backwards with his right leg, pulled Eiric’s wrist down to knee-height, twisting it so that Eiric’s arm was straight and his elbow facing up, and then he hammered down a savage palm just above the elbow.