The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

“I reckon.”

“Cooper, bullets are just as effective. Were you paying attention back there? If you need to kill somebody, a gun is all it takes. Believe me, I know.” He locked eyes with Michael, who examined the pistol in his lap. “Get your act together. This is serious business.”

“Yeah, dude. Sure.”

Ben didn’t want to explain the complexities and cruelties of Chancellors. Michael knew more than he should have; better that he go home to a simple life and appreciate the ease of it. He wouldn’t understand a universe made of people like the Hugginses, Sheridans, or Bidwells.

“Trust a Chancellor once,” Ignatius told him two years earlier, “you’ll taste your own blood. Trust a Chancellor twice, you’ll be served to his friends with a glass of white wine.”

Ben ordered Michael to the stern. “Huggins, up front. Pronto. Chancellor business.”

Sammie frowned but obeyed. Ben pulled back on the throttle.

“I got two issues,” he told her. “I expect you to be straight with me on both. The last time I saw your father, he said there was ‘help on the way.’ He said he made sure Jamie would be protected until the end. What did he mean by that?”

Sammie stumbled over her words. “Daddy didn’t fill me in on all his plans. I thought we were going to hold Jamie until an hour beforehand, give him a sedative, then wait for the rebirth. That’s all he ever told me.”

“And your mother?”

“Daddy made many decisions without us.”

“And you wouldn’t be buying time for him, now would you?”

She looked away. “Whatever else you think about me, I love Jamie. I made my choice.”

“Fair enough. For now. The other matter is that we need a place to hide for a while. An empty cabin would be perfect.”

Sammie winced. “How would I know about …?”

Ben groaned. “I thought the act was over, Sammie.” He remembered the story Walt told him in the SUV. “You finished Dacha in these woods.”

Sammie’s cheeks turned red, and she glanced at the boys, both of whom appeared interested albeit confused. She turned her attention to the land, surveying the topography.

“We’re close. The landing is farther up, a quarter of a mile.”

Sammie led them to a hidden landing with a steep rise and the trunks of many water trees twisting over the creek. They pushed the boat under the protective cover of long, low branches. Ben’s left leg couldn’t handle the climb, so he allowed the boys to give him a lift. Once on firm ground, Ben limped the rest of the way.

Although the woods appeared pristine and thick, occasional signs of human presence intervened in the form of a rusted bucket, the ashen remains of a campfire created months ago, and a path that appeared to have been hacked clear, as one might in a jungle. Sammie recognized the path and told the others to follow.

Ben’s mind was a track meet of strategies, memories, guilt, and suspicion. This was his final chance at making things right with Jamie, and he yet sensed something would get in the way – again. He knew he should’ve been grateful for what Sammie did, but he couldn’t escape the reality: She was a sleeper no more. She was a full-fledged Chancellor, her training as a UG peacekeeper informal but effective. Ben couldn’t escape the possibility that she was formulating a scheme of her own.

Ben tried to keep his focus on the impending task. Crisp golden sunlight cut through the trees in precise beams like a special effect created on a movie set. The trees swayed and murmured, their voices almost audible. From time to time, he looked behind him to observe Jamie, who was trailing the silent group.

He tried to read Jamie’s mood, but the boy seemed alien. Some protector, he mused. Just another piece of crap, I am. Once, as he glanced back, Ben did catch an unexpected detail. Jamie seemed to have an intense curiosity about the pistol in his right hand. He flipped his gun about and rubbed his fingers along the barrel as if admiring its craftsmanship, the notches and curvature. Ben wasn’t sure what to think.

“Over here.” Sammie pointed through the brush.

They turned off a well-worn path, cut through a stand of tall, wild grass and came upon a shack. It appeared to be little more than a gray collection of rotting planks holding up a tin roof. A few clumps of untamed wild grass prospered around the foundation. Thick shade kept weeds and vines at bay.

“A regular Holiday Inn,” Michael muttered as he shook his head.

Ben told Jamie and Michael to lag behind as he and Sammie surrounded the shack, rifles high. Ben removed a wooden latch and flung the door open before nodding Sammie through the entrance. She raced inside with cool efficiency. Ben limped in as her backup. Seconds later, they emerged with guns bowed and motioned to the boys to join them.

Jamie asked, “How did you know about this place?”

“Hiking. Daddy used to bring us back here.”

Ben applauded the cover story. After all, that’s what Chancellors did: Covered themselves. Just as he and Ignatius Horne once did.

Two years earlier, on an empty service road many miles from town, Ignatius did not apologize for his actions.

Ben screamed. “Damn you, Iggy, they were my parents.”

“And they were going to make you disappear.” Ignatius maintained composure and warned Ben to get hold of his own. “What else did you expect would happen when you asked me to fix the situation?”

 “I didn’t want this.”

“You’re a Chancellor. Of course you did. Go home to Jamie.”

Ben did as he was told and tried to be as strong as his parents would have been. Unfortunately, Ignatius didn’t warn Ben that the guilt would never end, that the ability to look Jamie