I, Immortal

Chapter Eighteen

The door slammed shut behind Brynn and the guards, but silence had no time to fall. Seconds later, the courtroom windows rattled violently and the floor quaked beneath my feet. The sound was like an invisible train running through the room, crashing and clanging. The people around me screamed and grabbed at their chairs for support as I scrambled to the window. Terror struck me when I saw what was happening. No more than five blocks away, smoke was rising in a gray mass above the buildings. Another explosion boomed, shooting up fire and more dusty smoke. My heart pounded inside my chest as I watched a wave of gray cloud rush through the streets toward the courthouse, concealing everything in its wake. Gravel spattered against the window pane; I ducked away and shuddered as the glass crunched and cracked.

In one frantic motion, I pulled my gameglass from my pocket and put it on. News updates flooded the screen, broadcasting what was happening down the street. "Breaking news: the Protonet D.O.M.E. has exploded just moments after superhuman Brynn Allete was sentenced for killing a young boy." The newscaster stared into the camera, uncannily calm as she reported this grim, frightening news. "The building is in ruins and no survivors have been spotted as of yet. Authorities are already looking into this as a terrorist threat, though some suspect superhuman violence. The smoke is slowly clearing and...hold on, there appears to be writing on the street. Take a look."

The camera switched to an overhead view of the smoking ruins of the D.O.M.E., one of the five smaller Protonet buildings used for scientific research. Indeed there was something written on the cracked street, foreign and written in white paint: В будущем не существует. I froze the live feed and ordered the gameglass to translate the words. The device complied and within seconds, the translation appeared on the screen: The future does not exist.

"Hurry! Everyone out!" A voice shouted. I tore away the gameglass, shoved it into my pocket, and stumbled toward the door. Everyone shoved past each other in an effort to escape first. I looked over my shoulder just as another explosion sounded and more debris-filled dust spattered against the window behind me. The wooden window frame creaked and groaned; the dust threatened to crush the glass pane and fill the room. I turned away and weaved into the frantic crowd rushing to the door, deciding to take my chances on the streets.

Once outside, I stumbled blindly from the dust which clouded the streets. I could barely make out the forms of the people frantically rushing about mere feet away from me. The dust filled my nose and mouth, and I choked on every breath. In the blinding cloud, I tripped over something and fell forward onto the street. The pavement scraped against my hands, and the dust and debris caked my palms like wet flour. Strong hands grabbed my arms from behind and pulled me to my feet. I turned and squinted with stinging eyes at the yellow-clad form of a firefighter.

"Come on!" She shouted, her mask muffling her voice. She grabbed my arm and tugged me further into the darkening dust cloud. "You need to get out of here. There's an engine right over there. It'll protect you from the dust."

The minutes seemed like hours as we followed her safety tether to the fire truck, whose red exterior had turned gray from the heavy dust in the air. The firefighter banged her fist against one of the doors, which quickly slid open, and two uniform-clad men reached out and helped me inside. They slid the door shut just before another wave of dust and debris clattered against the side of the engine. I sat on the floor of the truck, facing a huddled group of civilians who had been rescued before myself. Judging from the dirt and debris coating their skin and clothes, I guessed I was a sight as well. One look at my own clothes confirmed my guess. My blue jeans and black shirt had turned to an ashen gray, dust covering every inch of the true colors. I coughed and turned my attention to the particles of dust which had been swept in from outside, quietly watching as the transparent clouds glinted in the dim light and settled on the floor around me.

We sat there in that truck for a long, long time, not saying much and mostly ignoring each other's coughing and the shouting outside. The door was opened a few times again to let in more dust-caked people, then one of the firefighters declared the truck was full enough to leave. He crawled into the driver's seat and started the Interface. The truck rumbled and slowly rolled away down the clouded street. A loud buzz vibrated from the gameglass in my back jeans pocket, awkwardly breaking the silence. I fished the device from my pocket, surprised to discover the D.O.M.E. dust had even found its way into my pockets. With grimy fingers, I managed to wipe some of the grit from the lens before placing the gameglass over my eyes. A notification blinked in the upper corner of the screen, indicating a message had just been sent to me. I opened it, and a numb cold shivered up my spine as I read the words.

We are the firsts. We have been abandoned. We have no future; therefore, they will have no future.

- дима

The gameglass translated the last word, each letter scrolling into its English equivalent. That last word confirmed the nagging suspicion in my mind. Dima. He had begun the fight against Protonet, the fight that would purge the path to future Protonet superhumans. He was playing high-stakes. Only, unlike in poker, I knew there would be no folding, no backing out. Just winning at all costs. No surrender, only total destruction. To him, the end would justify the means, and the reason would justify the end.

Even after I was out of the dusty streets and in the safety of my home, I continued to mull over the devastating events. Brynn was safe from the ruins, still captive to the police. News of the leveled building was being broadcasted from every channel in the nation. Construction workers had inspected the rubble and discovered the D.O.M.E. had been imploded, razed with strategically-placed explosives. This type of detonation, they informed, could only be achieved through meticulous planning, with the intent of leveling only the one building and leaving the others around it intact. And so had only the D.O.M.E. fallen while the surrounding buildings had sustained little to no damage.

I kept quiet about Dima's responsibility for the destruction of the Protonet D.O.M.E., mostly out of not knowing what was the right thing to do. I looked down upon President Lund for refusing to help Brynn. Yet out of revenge for Aegis and Brynn, Dima had killed more than three hundred people in the explosion. Who was right? Protonet had nothing to lose by forgetting Brynn, but once the investigators found the name behind the terror, Dima would have a death sentence on his head. But he probably knew that already. He knew the risks. He knew what he had to do, but nothing mattered most to him than to destroy Protonet and its future. I could only wonder how far he would go to achieve his objective.