Tallos - Episode One (Season One) Page 6

  Jim motioned for him to back away before picking up the wallet and taking a closer look. It was him. Heavier, and without the matted hair and beard. But it was definitely him.

  “All this proves is that you were a State Trooper,” he said. “Not that Mark here has anything to do with this Slade guy you're talking about.”

  “Just look in his coat pocket then,” Peter said. “That’ll give you all the proof you need.”

  Frowning, Jim looked across at Mark, then back at the former State Trooper.

  “Show him,” Peter said.

  “I’m not showing anyone shit,” Mark growled. He glared at Jim. “And before you go believing this asshole, don’t forget that I saved your fucking life. Who are you going to believe? Me, or some nut job?”

  He was right. Mark had saved his life, Jim conceded. But Peter didn’t seem to him like a nut job. Afraid? Yes. Paranoid? Sure. But who wasn’t these days?

  “And if he empties his pockets and there’s nothing there?” he asked Peter.

  He shot Mark a wicked grin. “In that case, shoot me. In fact, let him do it.”

  Once again, Mark began reaching inside his coat. “I’ll do it right now, motherfucker.”

  Jim swung the .44 around to point in his direction. “Don’t!”

  Mark froze, a furious look on his face. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Just empty your pockets and let's get this over with.”

  Jim's heart was roaring in his ears as his eyes darted between the two men. But Peter was now looking thoroughly relaxed, smiling and leaning back on his elbows.

  Mark reached into his right pocket, then paused. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Jim nodded sharply. “No choice.”

  With a loud sigh, Mark removed his hand. He was holding a grenade. Before a stunned Jim could react, Mark’s finger was inside the pin. “This could have been so much easier,” he said.

  “What the hell is this?” demanded Jim.

  “Peter was right, of course – though not about me knowing who he is. I am here for you. So why don’t you save us both a lot of trouble and surrender.”

  Peter scrambled to his feet. “Shoot the son-of-a-bitch,” he barked.

  “You really don’t want to do that, Jim.” Mark’s voice was calm and even. “And before you get any stupid ideas…”

  He left the grenade dangling on his finger while he reached into his other pocket. “You might be able to run far enough before this thing goes off. But if you kill me, it's damn sure you’ll never find Laura…or Meagan.”

  Hearing the names of his wife and child spoken so casually sent a red hot fury surging through him. “What the fuck are you talking about? This is bullshit!”

  With exaggerated nonchalance, Mark removed his hand from his pocket and flipped a photograph on the ground at Jim’s feet. It landed face down. “Go ahead. Take it,” he said. He stepped back a few feet. “Then tell me if I'm bullshitting.”

  Jim’s eyes never left Mark. “Peter - pick it up,” he ordered.

  After a brief hesitation, the other man did as instructed. He looked at the picture for a moment, then held it up so Jim could see it for himself. “It’s you.”

  Jim could hardly believe his eyes. It was indeed him. He was in his dress uniform, sitting on the pier with Laura. They were both smiling as they held their infant daughter.

  “I can see that you're remembering this touching moment,” Mark said. “So if you would now be so kind as to put the gun down and come with me, we’ll see what we can do about reuniting you with your family.”

  Jim’s head was reeling. This was impossible. Absolutely fucking impossible! How could he have this picture? Laura had put it in a frame back at their old house and placed it on their bedside. He even remembered noticing it gone when he returned home and found them missing.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Peter shouted. “He’s lying. Can't you see that?”

  Mark gave a scornful laugh. “Lying? Of course I’m not. And Jim knows it. Somewhere in that fucked up head of his, he knows he should come with me.”

  Jim was struggling with all his might to stay focused. “Tell me what’s going on here, or I swear I’ll blow your goddamn head off.” But he knew it was an empty threat.

  “You see, Peter,” Mark continued. “He knows. He knows there’s only one thing he can do now. He knows that if he wants to see his family again, I’m the only one who can help him.”

  The gun in Jim’s hand was growing heavier by the second as the raging storm of emotions threatened to break his will. He wanted so much for this to be true. Mark had been right. He could remember the very moment the picture was taken with total clarity. And the joy he had felt. But now he could feel his sanity slipping away.

  Don’t listen to him,” Peter repeated. “If you go with him, he’ll kill you.”

  “Kill him?” laughed Mark. “He’s far too important for that.”

  Dizzy and aware that he might be on the point of hyperventilating, Jim forced his breathing to slow. “Tell me how you know me,” he demanded.

  Mark shrugged. “That’s not important. What is important is that I do. In fact, I know you better than you know yourself.”

  Jim looked across to Peter. “So how do you fit into all of this?”

  “Once we’re out of here,” he replied. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “Which all adds up to a big fat nothing,” Mark mocked. “Choose, Jim. Come with me and find answers…and your wife and child. Or go with him and lose it all.” The sound of an engine echoed through the tunnel. “And choose quickly.”

  Jim could see the vehicle's headlights approaching. He looked at the smug expression on Mark’s face, then at the sheer desperation on Peter’s.

  He took a step back and beckoned to Peter. “Come on then. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Peter did not need a second invitation. The pair of them set off like Olympic sprinters toward the tunnel exit.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” Mark called after them. “Very soon.”

  * * *

  Pausing only for an instant to snatch up Jim's gear, they continued for more than two miles along the bridge before stopping to rest. By now, every muscle in Jim’s body was screaming out in protest. He looked back the way they had come. From what he could see, no one was following them.

  Peter was in equally ragged condition from the exertion. “I need water,” he gasped.

  Jim slung off his pack and threw it over. Peter found a bottle and gulped the contents down in seconds.

  They both sat there for several minutes in silence, all the while Jim feeling as if his mind was liable to fly apart at any moment. It was Peter who spoke first.

  “You better take this,” he said, holding out the photograph.

  Jim was able to look at it closer now. Within moments, tears were soaking his cheeks.

  “He was lying,” Peter told him.

  Jim wiped his face with his sleeve. “How do you know that?”

  Impulsively, he pulled out Peter's .44 and pointed it at his head. “You had better convince me that I haven't just blown my only chance of seeing my family again.”

  Peter's hands jumped up into the air. “Take it easy. I’m not the one who lied about who I was and what I wanted. And if you had gone with Slade, there’s no telling what they would have done to you.”

  “They? Who the fuck are they?”

  “They. You know. The ones who caused all this shit.”

  Jim’s confusion and anguish was turning to cold rage. He pulled back the hammer. “One more chance to start making sense.”

  There was no fear in Peter's eyes. Not even a hint. “Killing me isn’t going to help you,” he said. “I promised to tell you what I know, and I will.”

  Jim lowered the gun a little. “So go ahead then.”

  He cast an anxious glance back up the bridge. “Looks like they’ve decided not to follow us for a while. But we should still...”

  �
�Now!”

  Peter sighed. “Okay, have it your way.” He leaned back on the car behind him. “You already know that I was a State Trooper. Two years ago, just after the power failed, we were ordered to assist the Army with preparations. But preparations for what, they didn’t say. Just that we were to report to Atlanta and give them whatever help they asked for. At that point no one knew what the hell was going on. Most of the people in charge were either dead or missing. Hell, even my own commanders were gone.”

  “Then who gave you the order?”

  “No one knew for sure. We were all so damned confused, we just did as we were told. When I got to Atlanta it was a mess. Looting. Killing. People were just going nuts. I figured that’s why they brought us in. The Army had already set up shop at Turner Field. When we got there, we were told to set up check points on all the main roads into the city and direct people to a large industrial complex on the east side. I couldn’t believe it. We could hear the shots from people getting killed just outside the stadium, and they didn’t seem to give a shit.”

  Jim frowned. “Didn’t you ask what was happening?”

  “Of course I did. We all did. But no one would tell us anything. And if you asked too much, they’d threaten to lock you up. It's kind of hard to argue with a bunch of guys carrying M-16s. Anyway, I carried on doing what they told me to do for a few days. By that time cars had stopped working – all except for ours and the Army’s, of course. But people kept arriving on foot. Night and day. Non-stop. I knew there was no way in hell that many people could fit into the complex, so me and a friend decided to go take a look.”

  He paused and lowered his head. “Ever seen old pictures of those Nazi concentration camps?”

  Jim nodded.

  “Imagine something like that. We snuck through the fence they had put up and managed to get close enough to see what was going on. Bodies were piled up so high they were toppling over and crushing people who were standing next to them. Row after row after row. They were literally marching folks off to their deaths."

  “And people just…went?”

  “They had no choice. Those that ran were shot down before they even made it a couple of yards.”

  Harrowing memories of all the people from his town who had fled to Atlanta crowded in on Jim.

  “We decided to run for it,” Peter continued. “But they must have seen us and were waiting back at our post. I got away. My friend, Chris, didn’t. I managed to stay hidden for a while. But when they started cleaning out the city, I knew it was just a matter of time before I was caught. So I ambushed a soldier and stole his uniform. Until a few weeks ago, that’s where I’ve been.”

  Jim eyed him suspiciously. “You’re telling me that you’ve been impersonating a soldier for two years and got away with it all that time? That's bullshit.”

  “I’m telling you,” Peter assured him. “They couldn’t tell the difference. At first I thought I’d just got lucky, then I realized something. The other soldiers. There was something not right about them.”

  “You mean aside from the fact that they were okay with slaughtering God knows how many innocent Americans?” Jim’s suspicions were getting stronger. None of this could possibly be true.

  “I swear to you. It was like they weren’t really people at all. One second we’d be talking in the mess hall, and the next they would be all glassy eyed and silent. It was like their minds had just switched off. I had to learn quick how to do the same thing. Pretend to switch off too, or they’d know I was an imposter. After a while it got to be like second nature.”

  “So, after two years, did you find out who’s behind this?”

  Peter shook his head. “All I know is that it’s everywhere. All over the world. Assholes like Slade run things for the most part. But there are definitely people above him. Near as I can tell, the whole thing is being controlled from somewhere out west.”

  “What about the clones?”

  “Don’t know much about them. Only that whatever they are, they’re not human. Not in the way you and I are. Soldiers aren’t really told much. Hell, it took six months for me to find out that Slade was in charge of Atlanta.”

  “So how did you end up here?”

  “I was part of the detail sent to wipe out Spanish Grove. On the way, I overheard Slade talking to someone about an important mission – his boss I suppose. He said he needed Slade to find a man named James Tallos who lived in Fairview. He gave him that picture you've got and ordered him to take you alive.”

  Jim leaned forward. “Anything else?”

  “Only that it was vital you were taken,” he replied. “When Slade left, I began following him. He led me to you, and since then I've been waiting for the right time to make a move.”

  “Why now? Why suddenly get it into your head to do something after hiding out all this time?”

  Peter shifted his eyes away from Jim's hard stare. “I watched helplessly as hundreds of thousands of people were killed. And if you’re wondering - yes, of course I feel guilty about that. But there was nothing I could do except try to stay alive and learn what I could. Why did I choose now? Because now I have the chance to actually do something for a change. I can stop being a coward.”

  Jim wanted to be angry with him. But the pain carved into the man’s face produced mostly pity instead. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “Just that whoever is behind all this is far more powerful than anyone can imagine. Think about it. This was a world take over. And it was done in a single week.”

  Jim considered what he'd heard in silence for several minutes. Eventually, he heaved himself to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Peter asked.

  “Home,” Jim told him. His eyes were now determined: all traces of indecision gone. “I need to warn the others. I have a bad feeling that our platform isn’t safe anymore.”

  Driven by Jim's dread, they made it back to Fairview in half the time the outward journey had taken. The only time they slowed down even slightly was when passing close to areas that the wranglers normally patrolled, though Jim imagined that right now they would still be reeling from the attack he and Mark had staged.

  “Mark...Slade…whoever he is, told me that there are other groups of cannibals roaming about,” Jim said as they passed through the downtown district.

  “That much is true,” Peter confirmed. “I don’t know why, or if it has anything to do with the collapse. But they’re definitely out there. We never paid much attention to them though. After people stopped coming on their own, we were ordered mostly to take out large settlements. Some would come on their own. If they refused…well…you saw Spanish Grove.”

  Peter was basically admitting to aiding in a massacre. Jim tried not to become angry over this. He tried to remember that the man had simply been doing his best to survive. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel his sense of dislike rising. His earlier feelings of pity for Peter largely faded, and he decided that they should talk as little as possible from now on.

  When they finally reached the wall, he immediately noticed that the guard had been doubled. The men there were visibly relieved to see him, though they all cast suspicious glances at Peter.

  “The boy you sent is staying with the Baldwin’s,” Bill said. “Is what he told us true? Did the Army really kill everyone at Spanish Grove?”

  Jim nodded solemnly. “Yeah. It’s true. You should gather everyone together over by my boat for a meeting. There’s more to tell.”

  The moment Jim stepped on the platform he was assailed by a barrage of friendly greetings and relieved smiles. Red jumped from his boat to lift him right up off the deck in an enormous bear hug of welcome that seemed to linger on forever.

  “I guess you must have missed me,” Jim coughed after finally being put down and released. “How’s Liam?”

  “Still sore all over, but getting better,” Red replied. “Though he's pretty pissed about having his broken arm in a splint.”

  He scrutinized Jim for a mo
ment longer, then regarded Peter. “It looks to me like things didn’t go as planned.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Jim responded. “I’ll tell you all about it after everyone gets here.”

  “The story the boy told us already has everyone frightened,” Red told him.

  Jim nodded. “They should be.”

  He led Peter to his boat and gave him some carrots and fish to eat while he changed his clothes. Soon after that, once Jim figured that everyone was gathered on the platform, they headed up onto the deck.

  The worried murmurs and shifting of feet told him that Red was right. They all looked afraid. All apart from young Danny. He was standing close to Mrs. Baldwin, expressionless and silent. On catching sight of Jim, the crowd erupted into hopeful cheers – as if his presence could somehow make everything all right again. Jim could feel his own anxiety growing. He was about to rip their lives apart. Lives that were clinging by threads. Most still had nightmares about the first time their world vanished before their eyes. And here he was, ready to tell them it wasn’t over. That there was more hardship on the way.

  He hopped up by the center mast so that everyone could see and hear him, while Peter took a seat near to the boat's stern. He held up his hands. “I need everyone to listen.” All talk in the crowd instantly ceased. “I’m sure by now everyone here has heard about what happened to Spanish Grove.”

  This was met by a wave of fearful nods.

  Henry spoke up. “The kid said it was the Army. Is that true?”

  Jim looked down at Peter, trying to hide his disgust. “It’s true all right. And now they might be coming here.”

  His words sent fresh waves of panic through everyone. Quickly, he tried to calm things.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he reassured them. He was lying of course, but what good would the truth do? “But we need to leave here as soon as possible.”

  This final statement drew a mixed reaction.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” stated Will Burns, one of the younger men on the platform. “They've no right to take away what we have. No right at all.”