Fredric Shernoff - Atlantic Island

“You have helped me to avenge the deaths of Sam Lucas and so many others who died in the gladiatorial arena, in the prisons, the camp, or here in this Palace. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now, I want you to go. Go out and be my representatives in the world. Let the people know as they awaken that they don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

He pulled Kylee to him and kissed her. When he pulled back, her eyes were full of tears. “I love you,” he said to her.

She hesitated, preparing a plea, then stopped herself. “I love you, too,” she said.

“Listen to Kylee as you have done so far, and as you have done for me,” he said. “Listen to my friends.” He looked at Bill and Ryan and smiled. “Listen to each other. You are the future of this nation.”

“What about you?” someone shouted. “Won’t you lead us?”

“I hope so,” Theo said. “I guess fate will decide. Now I have a dictator to overthrow. Thank you all for everything… Thank you for giving me a purpose.”

With that, before there could be more protests, he turned and opened the door behind him. He looked back one last time, making eye contact with Kylee. Then the door shut, cutting him off from his people.

Kylee took a moment to compose herself. “Alright people,” she said, “It’s time to go. We’re going to retrace our steps down and collect those we’ve lost.”

“What about Theo?” a voice called out. “Will he be back?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We have to move now.”

Theo heard the door close behind him. One flight of stairs separated him from the small lobby that had once divided Tiberius’s and Lucas’s offices. He thought there was a chance that he would be killed as soon as he stepped into the lobby. If that was how it was going to be, so be it. He had come too far to turn back, and he was out of options. This part of the script couldn’t be written in advance. It had to play out in real-time, come what may.

He wasn’t positive he had any ammo in his gun. He’d forgotten to check before he left the others. The firearm was held in his left hand. His right arm was as useless as if it had been amputated. Maybe eventually it would be. He certainly didn’t think it would ever work the way it had.

Black shadows danced in and out of the edges of his vision. Theo knew he was tired, but there was something more than that wrong with him. The shirt wrapped around his wound was drenched with blood. He wondered how long he would be able to stay on his feet.

Theo took the stairs slowly, conserving his energy. He was prepared for the possibility of Tiberius or one of his soldiers bursting out of the door at the top of the stairs and coming after him. If that happened, he’d run straight up, and maybe toss them down to the bottom. It wasn’t much of a plan but his addled brain refused to give him anything else. Conserve your energy , it said. Take your time. All in good time, Theo.

He thought maybe that was Sam Lucas’s voice speaking to him, or at least his own construction of the mayor. It was nice that he still had a friend with him. This made him think of Kylee and the rest. He hoped they were on their way to safety. Even with Bertier defeated, he knew a portion of the surviving Security Force would continue to fight as long as Tiberius remained in control. The rebels were tired and injured. They needed a break. They needed a victory, and Theo wanted more than anything to give it to them.

Three more steps to the top. So nobody was going to attack him here after all. Theo was confused. Tiberius must know he would be coming. Why give him the chance to get situated in the lobby? None of this made any sense, but then again he was dealing with a man whose ego and one-sided sense of right and wrong had driven him insane.

Two more steps remaining. Theo tightened his grip on the gun. Climbing had been so difficult with his right arm throwing him off balance and the gun in the hand that should be gripping the rail. Now, if he didn’t trip and send himself back down the stairwell in a heap, he needed to have his weapon at the ready.

On the final step, Theo took a deep breath. He was ready, as ready as one could be. Doing the best one could do in impossible circumstances. That’s what he had come to believe defined a hero, and it was the code he would continue to live by now, even if he might not live much longer. He let out the air he had been holding. He went to reach for the door with his right hand, and laughed when his arm didn’t move. So much for preparing his gun. He maneuvered the weapon under his left arm, pinning it to his side, and turned the knob with his left hand.

He opened the door and walked out into the small lobby. It looked like he remembered it, though of course he had never been there that late. No receptionist worked at the desk. Nobody was there at all. The door to the mayor’s office was partially open. Well, it was not the mayor’s office anymore, was it? Tiberius’s office.

Theo looked around. He knew these circumstances had been arranged for him, but he didn’t see an alternative. He had become a cow in a chute after all.

“The great and powerful Theo Essex returns to grace us with his presence!” Tiberius’s voice came from behind the open door. Theo felt a chill go through him. He was frozen where he stood, caught between conflicting impulses to move forward and to turn and run.

“Do come in, Mr. Essex,” said Tiberius. “We will talk of many things. Cabbages and kings, am I right?” The voice tittered.

He’s completely mad, Theo thought. Despite his reservations, he took a few cautious steps forward, raising his weapon.

“You have caused me a tremendous amount of trouble, Mr. Essex,” Tiberius said. “The least you can do is sit with me like two gentlemen. We can discuss our differences.”

Theo reached the doorway. He knew he only had one small chance to end the nightmare. He brushed the door against his shoulder and pushed forward, entering the inner office.

“Ah, Mr. Essex.” Tiberius was standing in the center of the room. Theo didn’t see anyone else there. “Come in. Take a seat. Your friend Michelle was using one of them but I believe you’ll find that seat is no longer occupied.”

That was the push Theo needed. “Die!” he yelled. He fired the gun as close to Tiberius’s direction as he could manage in his condition. He discovered there had been three bullets left, and he fired them all. Two struck Mayor Lucas’s large desk on either side of Tiberius, piercing and splintering the expensive wood. The third bullet tore through the side of Tiberius’s left arm and buried itself in the wall.

Tiberius looked at the wound, which was bleeding freely onto the carpet. He frowned. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said. “I really liked this shirt.” He reached up with his right hand, grabbed the torn sleeve and yanked, ripping the shirtsleeve off below the bullet wound.

Theo stood silent, watching Tiberius. His one attempt to win through force had failed him. Now Tiberius studied the wound in his pale flesh. He made a clicking, disapproving sound with his tongue.

“Theo, Theo, Theo,” Tiberius said. He seemed sad. Theo noticed the bullet wound was not bleeding much at all anymore. “You think to stop me with bullets? Poor boy. You are out of your depth.” Theo stared in awe. Tiberius’s wound, deep if not life-threatening, was closing before his very eyes. Within thirty seconds after the gun had fired, the wound was just a scar, and even that was fading.

“I’ll ask you again,” said Tiberius, walking around to the far side of the desk, “won’t you sit and talk with me? Violence won’t get you anywhere with me, you see.”