He referred to it as a true eye-opening experience in his life, his very own coming-to-Jesus moment. Chris balked, calling Duane soft and emotional. The Revolution had long been carved out for unchecked masculinity, and Chris tolerated nothing less.
“I have nothing but respect for you, Chris,” Duane said, eyes gloomy as they locked on the Keeper of Time. “And that’s why I’m telling you—just like when my mom got sick—that my heart isn’t in this right now. Out of my love to the Revolution, I owe it to inform you of this. We need a strong, synchronized leadership, and I can’t commit to that right now.”
Chris had sensed the doom, but would never admit it. The pillars of the Revolution had cracked and collapsed one at a time, Duane’s departure perhaps the final, fatal blow.
“I can’t say I recall the sensation of having such human feelings,” Chris said. “But if I may, you sound like you only want to quit because of our predicament. You’re jumping ship.”
“No. It’s the classic tale of ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I want the Road Runners executed—I just can’t be a part of that moment. If my head’s not in it, then my heart’s not in it, and that’s just as destructive.”
“I’ve been betrayed so many times during my reign,” Chris said. “Every bone in my body knows I can trust you with anything, but there’s a chance this is a ploy. It’s always a shock, and never from someone I’d expect. I suppose those most loyal to you have the most to gain from witnessing—or enabling—your downfall.”
“You know better than that,” Duane said in his usual calm tone. “I love this organization and would never betray it.”
Chris leaned back and nodded. “I’m not in a position to find a new number two right now, especially because you want to go dancing on the beach somewhere—it’s not a good reason.”
“My reason doesn’t matter—I’m being upfront and honest with you. I can’t commit to the organization right now. That’s not to say I’m leaving forever – I guess you could call this an indefinite leave of absence.”
Chris shook his head. “I can’t do this without you. You think of the things I don’t, make the detailed plans for so many things on a daily basis.”
“You’ve never needed me. Anyone can do the things I do, except for presenting you with different perspectives. But that’s also why I feel like now is the time for me to step away—there are no more decisions to make. All roads point to a showdown between you and Martin, and nothing is going to change that fate. You can plan all the attacks you want on the Road Runners; it’s only going to speed up that process. You should be throwing everything to the wind and focusing solely on how you plan to counter Martin when he shows up for you.”
“Oh, please, I’m not afraid of Martin Briar. He has a mere fraction of my abilities, a dance with him only ends in his death.”
“We both know that’s a lie. You may not be afraid, per se, but you’re worried. No attacks have been authorized, recruiting efforts have been ramped up. You’re playing defense, and I know that, but that doesn’t mean the Road Runners do.”
“The war doesn’t feel like it’s moving toward an end. No one has attacked in two weeks. What do you suppose that means?” He knew Duane was leaving tonight, and needed to milk the last bits of information he could from his lifelong confidant.
“They’re plotting. We watch their newsfeed. They used to have a weekly segment where the commander addresses the organization and fields questions—that hasn’t happened in two weeks. The regular news broadcast usually discusses the happenings of the leadership team once or twice a day—that hasn’t happened in two weeks, either. They’re planning something, and will come out swinging.”
“I fear no man, but I’ll admit I regret recruiting Briar. We don’t look into the future for all of our recruits, but maybe we should. Briar inspired a movement with his zero to hero story, and that’s my fault for ever letting it reach this point. We should have stayed in his house after killing his mom, and taken him. They would have picked an established Road Runner to run for commander, and all would be the same today.”
“It’s impossible to do a thorough deep-dive into all recruits. Less than one percent of new recruits come through your office; it’s all so widespread. We grew without ever implementing a consistent recruitment process or standards.”
Duane had mentioned this several times, but Chris didn’t care. He just wanted as many bodies in his organization as possible, happy to deal with any troublemakers along the way.
“There’s something else you should know before I leave,” Duane said.
“That you were kidding, right? This is a big joke?”
“No, Chris, this is serious, and I had held off on telling you with hopes of the news fizzling away. You don’t have time to deal with this, but I suppose no one else can.”
“Spit it out.”
“I’m in many meetings and hear lots of things. It’s been mentioned that the Liberation is making plans of their own to overthrow you.”
Chris threw his head back and laughed. “That’s precious—they have no means of pulling off such a feat. I like Thaddeus, and he likes me. I think he’d be the natural fit to replace you.”
Duane shook his head harshly. “Under no circumstances should you do that. It’s time to cut your ties with the Liberation and consider them an enemy just as dangerous as the Road Runners.”
“But they hate the Road Runners.”
“Well, they hate you too.”
“I’ve never had so much as a disagreement with Thad since we started
