Fall, Rise, Repeat Read online

  Fall

  Rise

  Repeat

  Matthew Schneider

  Copyright PAGE

  Copyright © MATTHEW SCHNEIDER 2019

  Supervising Editors: L. Austen Johnson, Morissa Schwartz

  Associate Editors: Elizabeth McKinney

  Internal Formatting: Amanda Gruninger

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to publisher at [email protected].

  GenZPublishing.org

  Aberdeen, NJ

  ISBN: ###

  [1]

  Fall

  Rise

  Repeat

  Space for dedication page

  [2][3]

  Prologue[4][5]

  “And so, it is on this warm summer day that I announce the following provisions have been decided by the United Communist States Congress. On your government-issued radio you may have heard the update that Congress and the states have ratified the following amendments to rid our country of old practices that only hinder us,” stated the President in a monotone, yet wildly powerful voice.

  “Amendment 28 repeals the first amendment. As any citizen should know, a free voice is one that will put the lives of others at risk. Why have such nonsense and cause such hate in this country, when we could focus on more important topics, concepts, and ideas? We must put aside the opinion of the individual and focus on the greater good of the country.”

  The President folded his hands and rested his arms on his mahogany lectern, causing his deep red suit and black tie to crinkle ever so slightly. He took a breath in and exhaled, staring at the crowd of cameras in front of him.

  “Amendment 29 will repeal the second. As one of the United States Communist Party’s promises to eliminate gun violence and crime, owning any weapon will be a serious crime. This will allow us to identify the criminals in our society. Our new law and order system will prove effective almost immediately. As the leader of this great country, I can promise you that.”

  He reached for the glass of water on the corner of his lectern. As he gulped from it, a flurry of camera flashes caused him to choke, and he coughed into his fist.

  “Amendment 30 will repeal the tenth. All power not delegated by the states or Constitution shall be ours regardless. It is our sworn duty to protect every American, and this will require great sacrifice.”

  He rubbed the corners of his mouth with his fingers and looked directly into the camera in front of him. “For a progressive America, a futura sine deo.”

  The President cleared his throat and saluted, signaling that his speech was complete. The cameras swiveled as their crew worked to turn them off.

  A tall, burly, bald man with dark sunglasses stepped up from behind a flag – a yellow hammer and sickle in the left corner on a blue square with red and white stripes covering the rest – and whispered into the President’s ear.

  He stood up straight, alarmed by the information, and gave a short wave to the cameras. The bald man placed his hands on the President’s shoulders and ushered him out of the room. A reporter emerged from behind a camera and trotted after the two men, hoping to report on what had suddenly happened.

  “There’s no possible way the protests could be getting out of control. The police state has never been more powerful. I’ve granted them whatever power they want – protests should not be a—” he turned around as the reporter rushed between them and interrupted:

  “Mr. President, Tim Markles here from the USCP Times, I just overheard that the riots in the cities have become uncontrolled. Is this a sign that your presidency has been unsuccessful?” Tim asked, clicking his pen and flipping open his notepad.

  “Oh, no, no. There wouldn’t be anything of the sort. The regime is as strong as ever and my leadership has proven effective. There is absolutely no uncontrolled resistance.” Tim wrote all of this down but persevered with questions.

  “So the rioting is not on the increase as third-party sources and yourself have said? Is this another attempt to cover the muddy footsteps of your failure?” Tim swung his notepad around as he talked, coming inches from the President’s face.

  “I feel that you are threatening me and I will have you thrown out—that’s what I’ll do. Take care of our little mouse.” The bald man stepped in front of the president and manhandled Tim, forcing the thin reporter’s arms behind his back.

  The bald man held Tim in place in the uncomfortable position. The President looked Tim in the eyes. “Quite the audacity to approach me, Timothy.”

  The bald man forced Tim’s head down with a heavy hand and dragged him to the set of heavy doors they had originally come through. With a kick at the door and a swift movement of the hands, Tim was tossed, inappropriately but not violently, through the doors, and he landed with an echoing grunt at the side of the lectern.

  A mass of reporters stood gawking at the scene. The bald man stepped back, pulled the doors closed, and locked them.

  The President and the bald man marched down the corridor and burst through the decorative metal doors at the end, marching into the Center Hall. They turned and entered the Oval Office, and the President seated himself slowly into the chair behind his desk.

  “We cannot let any person, common folk or elites, know what’s happening behind our red curtain. I’ll act the part till the day I die. If we trick the people into thinking the chaos is controllable, they will not escalate out of control, and no more people will participate. We must withhold this information at all costs, even if it means we have to shoot every goddamn person who challenges us.”

  The bald man nodded his head. “Meanwhile, there has been a slight change in plans...several secret service agents are on their way. You will be escorted to your vehicle, and the local police and other service members will assist in getting you to Chicago.”

  “What happened to traveling to New York to meet with the Governor?”

  “Threatening and violent rioters have gathered at the capitol to protest you repealing the First Amendment, after hearing it on a news outlet. But we need you to travel to Chicago and meet with the corporate executives – Williams, Halliburton, Johnson...you know the rest. Rest assured, it will be a complete lockdown, so the safety of everyone is guaranteed.”

  “So I’ll get some rest, and then we’re going to Chicago. I will meet with these men and discuss how they can begin the process of merging their businesses with our government, ensuring us total power. They will agree. Those who don’t will die. We control America. We will become the most powerful Communist country the world will ever see.”

  Part 1[6][7]

  Chapter 1

  Ivan glanced around to his peers. He studied their faces closely and looked for weakness. He was a master of psychology, could see past lies, and knew exactly when to strike.

  There was a humid, uncomfortable tension in the air. The table shook lightly as someone tapped his foot; his knee hit the table leg.

  Ivan knew whoever was tapping his foot must have been anxious – fearful even, that he was the one to be eliminated. Someone was going to go home a king – another with nothing.

  It was almost a matter of life and death. He looked for sweat on their faces, twitching in their eyes, fidgeting fingers…

  Ivan turned over his cards – a Royal Flush.

  “Oh! How the hell does he do it?! He wins every blasted time!” shouted Xavier, Ivan’s roommate. He stood up and slammed his hand against the table. “I swear, one day your arrogance will get the best of you and you’ll lose it all.”
<
br />   Ivan smiled bleakly. “But that not today,” replied Ivan in his slightly Russian accent. “It is all about the eyes!”

  Xavier shook his head and slid his chips forward. He chugged the rest of his ale and slid on his coat, which was loosely hanging on the wooden chair.

  “Zav, don’t be a sore loser, my friend,” Ivan said cheerfully, and pat Xavier on the shoulder. “One day I will teach you all of my secrets.”

  The two began to shuffle through the busy bar towards the exit. Ivan glanced up at the television as he was passing and came to a sudden stop.

  His sharp cheekbones stuck out as he clenched his jaw, and his eyes stared at the TV.

  Xavier spun around and saw Ivan. He looked towards the TV to see what was holding his attention so firmly.

  They were not the only two staring. Several other people moved closer to read the text across the screen. The warm chatter in the bar came to a halt as everyone began to watch the televisions. There was a deathly silence in the room. Beyond that, there was silence in every home with a television tuned into the local news.

  Ivan lifted his hand to his mouth and bit his palm to make sure he was not dreaming. The blue of the screen reflected in his eyes, and he reread the white text sprawled across the TV.

  The bartender pushed open the swinging door between his workspace and the restaurant. He pushed past the mob that had gathered and viewed the message for himself.

  His face scrunched into a nasty expression and his mouth hung open. He cupped his hand over his forehead to block the reflective light. Breathing in, he read aloud: “Emergency broadcast. This is not a test. As ordered by the United Communist States Congress, a nuclear war has been declared against the Russian Empire and its allies. It is advised all persons seek a fallout shelter immediately.”

  Ivan let out a gasp and shoved Xavier to the side. He sprinted towards the exit, then skidded to a halt. He looked at Zav and shouted, “What are you waiting for? We’re all going to die!”

  Zav began to run after Ivan, who was already running down the sidewalk.

  “There’s nothing we can do Ivan! How do we even know it’s real?”

  Ivan stopped and faced Xavier. He took a breath in and puffed out his chest, then yelled, “We must gather our family and leave!”

  Zav jogged towards Ivan shaking his head. “Don’t you see? We should just spend our last minutes with our family. And who knows? If Congress declared war, we’ll probably attack first. We have nothing to be worried about.”

  Ivan shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his hand. His eyes stared downward, then towards the sky. “We can’t stand passively.”

  Zav lifted his hands and placed them on Ivan shoulders. “My friend, please, we can’t fight every battle,” he stated condescendingly, but gave a slight smile for reassurance.

  “Maybe if I was a bitch.” And with that, Ivan began to trot down the sidewalk again.

  After a dozen seconds he came to his car, which was parked against the curb. He glanced at his windshield and noticed a parking ticket. With his hand flying as if he were dealing cards, he swiped the paper and tore it to shreds. “Won’t be needing this soon,” he said to himself.

  He started his engine and rolled down his window. Zav, who had finally caught up, stuck his head in the window. “Do you want me to get in?”

  Ivan nodded his head and rolled up the window as Zav climbed in. Neither spoke and Ivan felt an uncanny awkwardness. He reluctantly turned on the radio—bad news would be better than silence. But to his satisfaction, it was only static.

  Ivan’s car still had the traditional gas-powered engine, and the engine revved as it pulled out of its parking spot. After several turns they approached the edge of Boswell and entered the rural area of the county.

  “Why don’t we try the news again?” asked Zav.

  Ivan pressed buttons on his steering wheel to shift through the channels until he found the local news station.

  “An average temperature of 64 tomorrow, with low temperatures of 57 in the morning and 66 in the evening—”

  “And the heat of an atomic bomb in your backyard,” Ivan moaned blatantly, and Zav gave him a disappointed stare.

  “And now, to our lead reporter for foreign news and events, Maxwell Stimworth. Max, we have several reports of locals becoming upset at the increased tensions overseas. We have had numerous complaints that Russians are seeking to undermine our society. What is the latest take on this information?”

  Zav looked at Ivan, knowing his Russian background.

  “The tremors of the tensions between the UCS and Russia have been felt around the world. Since the airstrikes in the Middle East halted, both countries have been focusing on economic growth both in their own countries and around the world. However, recently, both have seen each other as a threat thanks to the sharp beginning of the declared third Cold War, circa 2056. New warnings of nuclear war have been surfacing.”

  There was a second of silence before the news anchor asked her question. “What do we know about these strikes?”

  They could hear the discomfort in Michael’s voice. “Based on past events, if the UCS sent a missile bound for Russia, it is only suspected they would attack back. It is suspected that D.C. would be targeted, along with New York, Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles, and other highly-populated areas.”

  Ivan eased his foot off the gas pedal as his breathing became unsteady. He pressed the brakes to allow himself to focus and close his eyes. There were no cars on the road except for theirs. It was not unusual for the roads to be this dead, especially since it was a half hour past midnight.

  “Let’s just keep listening,” Zav suggested and gave Ivan a slight punch in the arm.

  The voice on the radio started to fill with static. It was becoming difficult to differentiate between the two reporters. “What would the effects of such a bomb be?”

  “That’s a—most likely 160 to 250 miles—immediate damage in the vicinity, and contaminated drinking water—travel away from these cities…” The radio cutting out hindered their ability to hear the message clearly.

  Ivan hit his fist against the dashboard in a fit of anger and desperation. Zav lifted a hand, but Ivan silenced him with a finger.

  “Nearest fighting—01110010—nine hours—01110101,” the radio chirped.

  Zav shifted in his seat and looked at Ivan. “That’s binary code. Did you hear it—”

  “01110011-01110011-01101001,” the radio continued. The voice of the reporters faded. Zav lifted his chin and listened to the numbers.

  They became slower. A second, maybe, between each number. It was rather difficult to hear between each zero and one as the pitch became deeper.

  “01100…” The numbers were then spoken slowly and enunciated thoroughly, sounding more like an odd conversation rather than sporadic number sequences: “zero-zero-one, zero-zero-zero-one-zero-one-zero.”

  The radio shut itself off. Ivan jumped at the sudden silence and stared out of the car, onto the unlit road ahead. The headlights flickered softly.

  Zav began muttering to himself. “Zero...one-one…”

  “Do you think you understand it?” Ivan asked, while scanning the empty street ahead.

  “R-U-S-S-I...russi? Russia? I can’t remember all the numbers. I think that’s what it said. But there’s not much we can do with that.” Ivan turned off the lights and pressed on the brake to bring the car to a halt. They sat in the pitch black, with not even the moonlight showing.

  Ivan tried to let his eyes adjust but could not even see the lights of the city. Everything seemed to be still – even Zav.

  There was no noise, and the hum of the car had stopped when it floated to the ground. His foot eased off the pedal and he turned off the car, swaying his head in contemplation.

  He wriggled his nose as he sniffed the interior of his college car. All of his senses seemed suddenly heightened.

  And in an instant there was fire in the sky: a
painting on a black canvas, and the first stroke of sunset orange went right up the middle.

  A mushroom of red, fire, and smoke stretched across the sky. A miniscule sound, at first, of thunder grew into a speeding train. Ivan brought the car to life, but closed his eyes to focus his senses elsewhere. He could hear a low, consistent rumbling coming from the ground, like a stampede of a thousand animals. He could feel in his hands, which gripped the steering wheel tightly, the vibration of the car as it began to shake slightly off the ground.

  He slammed his foot down on the pedal, and the car began to rumble as it picked up speed.

  “There’s no way in hell you can escape that!” Zav cried out, and looked in the mirror, trembling in fear.

  “Then must we try, because I’m not ready to die.”

  The car accelerated faster, until they were traveling almost 200 miles per hour. The odds of them escaping the monster in the sky seemed completely unlikely. They had already driven through the deserted city and were now heading further into the countryside.

  Zav was squealing in his seat as the shockwave continued to follow them. It was traveling unbelievably fast and it was difficult for them to tell if they were outrunning it.

  Ivan rolled down his window and adjusted the side mirror. Maintaining his speed, he attempted to determine if they had escaped. “You see that? It’s not growing anymore. It’s almost getting smaller,” he noted, and Zav agreed.

  “What does this mean? Where do we go if we can’t go back?”

  Ivan bit his lip and rolled his window up. “If we’re heading southeast, we’ll probably make it to Indianapolis in an hour assuming we keep this speed.”

  They drove for a little less than two hours before more cars began appearing. Many were parked on the side of the road. A faint orange glow could still be seen in the sky where the missiles had struck.

  “I’m not sure what opposition to expect entering here. If anything, people are evacuating – bigger cities are threats,” Ivan said.