“And what’s the reality, Kimberley?”
“The reality is that the world isn’t ready for this. We need to drag them kicking and screaming. If we don’t, then everything we’ve worked for is gone.”
“This is crazy,” said Inselheim, placing his hands on the back his neck and shaking his head.
“We’re a weapons manufacturer,” said Brunswick. “We make money off products that kill people. Face it. Deep down you wanted to build the Neutralaser so you could feed your ego. It was your reputation you cared about, not the future of mankind. It was all about legacy for you. Don’t be such a hypocrite.”
Brunswick had delivered her last lines like a knockout punch, with such spite in her voice that Inselheim could not bring himself to hear any more. Her voice was like sandpaper tearing his insides to shreds, a corrosive liquid eating into his soul. He grew suddenly desperate to escape her laser-sharp stare. He stormed off, and fled to a corner behind the containers.
There he sat alone, dizzy with doubt and confusion. He stayed crouched on the ground for what felt like hours. Nobody came to check on him. After a short silence, the warehouse had broken into chatter again and the team seemed to get back to work. When Inselheim realised nobody was coming, he felt helpless and alone. What had just happened? Only this morning he had been filled with hope. Now his closest friend had turned his world upside-down. Being eviscerated like that by Brunswick was too much. Inselheim started sweating and shaking, as a new wave of panic attacks hit him, leaving him wondering when this nightmare was ever going to end.
24
Gerricks rubbed his eyes and turned from the screen, trying to blink away the soreness. The stream of information coming through was merciless. His shoulders and back were stiff like rock, his usually unwavering focus was failing him. A nap would have been a smart idea, but there was no time for that. The news was in a frenzy about the attacks, and rightfully so. There was no ignoring what had occurred in such a short time and on that kind of scale. The social media wheel was spinning like a jet engine. It was The Worldwide Horror all over again, and League Intel had long given up trying to control the narrative.
Gerricks reached over and grabbed his bottle of caffeine pills and shook two into his hand, tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of energy drink. He managed to force his attention back to the screen, which showed #armageddon, #murder and #nowheretohide as the most trending hashtags in the world. Existential fear was collectively boiling up to the surface, uniting all people under the banner of impending doom. Web servers were dropping one-by-one from the sheer volume of users scampering to find ways to unload their angst via the web. Gerricks marvelled from his computer terminal at the reactions. A movement had begun planning for a migration north beyond the Nordic countries before ‘World War III broke out.’ Iceland was also mentioned in the discussion. Countless frightened citizens had crowded government offices all over the world. Sporadic incidents of looting had broken out. Supermarkets were quickly selling out of survival food. Protests were being planned in every nation to demand answers. Good luck with that.
Global stability might as well have been propped up with toothpicks, but Gerricks had his mind on something else. He sat ruminating about it until the caffeine pills kicked in, where his heart began pounding like a jackhammer and an involuntary shaking had taken over his legs. His neck cracked all over as he stretched it from side to side while trying to roll the tension out of his shoulders.
“I’m going for a walk,” he told the team when his restlessness grew unbearable.
They acknowledged his comment with disinterested grunts without moving their eyes from the screens. Gerricks walked the length of the bunker and emerged out into the forest. He strode up the ramp then leaned against a tree and lit a cigarette, oblivious to the various signs of life in the woods. He had been with The League for eight years and had never experienced anything like this. There had been minor crises, such as the recession which led to a sharp increase in unemployment. There was also the ‘Tech Mutiny’ in Silicon Valley, where the CEOs of the most influential technology companies had hired mercenaries to resist The League. There were other minor situations peppered in between as well, but not once did doubt seep into Gerricks’ mind. Kalakia took care of those situations as though he had been expecting them. Where was Kalakia’s genius move now? What the hell was he waiting for? Gerricks hated even to think it, but if he had to guess, he would say that Kalakia had no idea what he was doing. The man was likely biding his time, hoping his opponent would shoot himself in the foot or something. The League had its chance already, and it had blown it.
Gerricks finished his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the concrete before returning inside. When he approached the surveillance room, a head popped out of the doorway.
“There you are. Where the hell did you go?” said Xavier before his head disappeared back inside.
Gerricks entered and found the screens had been synchronised to display a single paused video, which showed the Seal of the President of the United States.
“What’s this?” said Gerricks.
“The White House just released this,” said Xavier. “It’s doing the rounds on all the cable news networks and social media.”
Xavier pressed play, and the rest of the surveillance team stopped what they were doing and watched. The president walked toward the
