Hard Reboot Episode 01

Chapter 10

Brita took David back to her house. She walked through the foyer, into the great room, and set the pistol on the kitchen counter. She took a deep breath and started shaking.

"Get a hold of yourself," Brita muttered.

"It's okay," David said coming up behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.

"Don't do that," Brita said through clenched teeth. Her shaking worsened. She held up her right hand. Her whole arm was shaking. She clenched her fist, and banged her arm in the air to still the shakes.

"It's going to be okay," David said, patting her back. "You'll think of something."

Brita sighed, facing him. "And why do I have to be the one to think of something."

David stepped into the kitchen, and grabbed a paper towel from the roll he found there. He pressed it to his nose. "Well," he said with a chuckle, "you've been doing pretty well so far."

"This is not funny," Brita said, slapping his shoulder. "Nothing about this is funny."

She wandered into the great room, flinging her arms towards the ceiling. "I find absolutely nothing funny about any of this." She turned back to him. "Do you?"

David continued chuckling. He shook his head. "No, not really."

Brita found his voice funny as he pinched his nose to stop the bleeding. She chuckled, going to him. "Here, let me help you with that." She reached up, and checked the state of his nose.

"It looks like the bleeding has stopped."

David smiled. "Thank you doctor."

Brita laughed. She nudged his shoulder, and laughed again.

They both sighed, which brought more laughs. Brita stared into his deep brown eyes. She sighed and sat him on the sofa in the great room. She went back to the kitchen, and fetched some sodas from the refrigerator. She popped the top on his, and handed it to him.

"So," Brita sighed. "Chief-Consul Quinn is your father."

David echoed her sigh. "Yeah."

Brita stared at him, arching an eyebrow.

"It's a long story," he said, staring at the soda in his hands. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Brita only nodded.

"Well," David looked up at her, then back at his hands. The silence stretched for a moment. "He's a great guy. Or, he was until he became the Chief-Consul." He took a long swallow of his soda, and set it on the coffee table.

Brita nodded encouragingly.

"It started after my mom died." David shifted position to face her. "Technically, he was Chief-Consul before she died. But," he stopped, and searched her eyes. "It was her death that pushed him over the edge. He really hasn't been the same since."

Brita nodded again, understanding this time. "I can imagine."

"I miss her."

"Me too." At David's look she said, "Mine, I mean."

"He's been so," David seemed to struggle for the words. "I don't know - obsessed maybe." He got up, and started pacing. "It's almost like he's trying to prove something. To her. To mom. That he can fix this, the world, everything."

"I doubt one person could fix anything." Brita went to him, grabbed his shoulders, and turned him to face her. "You certainly can't fix him." She stared into his eyes, looking for understanding.

He hung his head, nodding. "Yeah, I know that."

She let go of his shoulders, stepped back, and smiled. "Well," she said, glancing around the room, "what's next?"

They sat around the sofa, strategizing about what their next step should be. David made suggestions; Brita shot them down. Brita made suggestions; David shot them down. Brita felt sure she didn't know enough to make adequate plans.

It wasn't safe to go back to the hospital, but she needed to get Bobbi before it was too late. If it wasn't already too late. Bobbi didn't seem interested in leaving the hospital. Brita didn't know how to convince her that the Chief-Consul, or the hospital, wasn't on her side.

The room darkened as the sun inched closer to the horizon before Brita and David decided to let things cool before trying anything further. Brita scrounged the refrigerator looking for something to eat. Pulled out some bread, ham and cheese, and made them both sandwiches. It wasn't what mom would consider a real dinner, but it kept her mind busy without adding stress.

They ate at the dining room table in relative quiet. As Brita popped the last bite into her mouth a crashing noise from the foyer interrupted them. She and David jumped from their chairs which clattered on the floor behind them.

Six guards rushed into the room, grabbed them and threw them to the floor. Brita felt the knee of one of the guards pressing into her back. She struggled against her captor, but she failed. She failed mom. She failed Bobbi. Now, she failed David. She should have known better than to come home. It's the first place they should've looked. Probably the first place they did look.

Chief-Consul Quinn stepped into the room once they were restrained. He stood posturing with his fists clenched on his hips, and smiled. "What did you think would happen? Did you think you would get away?"

"I..."

"You what?" His smile deepened. He cocked his head to the right. "You thought you'd ride away into the sunset?" He shook his head. "You should've thought better."

"Yeah," David sighed. "I should've known my father better. I should've known you'd never give up."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I could never let you continue this heresy. You infect everyone around you. You infected your mother."

"You keep her out of this." David laid his head on the floor. "If mom knew what you were doing, I don't know, but she couldn't stand it. She wouldn't have wanted this."

Quinn knelt beside his son, leaned down close to his head and rasped through clenched teeth, "You don't know what your mother would want."

"It's not this." David glared up at his father. "Mom would not want this."

Quinn stepped back, rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his pants and elbows. He glared at his son for a moment, turned to one of the guards and said, "Get them out of here."