“Looks to me,” said the Old Man, smiling in a mean way, “like not all o’ yer citizens were all that contented, pal. Ya see, that’s the whole problem with bein’ a dictator, isn’t it? Sooner or later, everybody hates ya! And ya know what? I’ve seen assholes like you my whole life. Shit, history is full of ‘em. Prob’ly what’s caused most of humanity’s troubles, matter of fact. But even beyond that, even in the business world, in everyday life, there were always assholes like you.”
“Like me?” echoed the Governor. “And what am I like, exactly?’
“You want power,” said the Old Man. “Like any other asshole. Whether it’s through money or sex or political clout or fame or whatever, you wanna control other people. Power, plain and simple, power over others. And for its own sake, far as I can tell! I mean, what is it? Does it make ya feel good, to boss people around? Or is it a feeling that power makes you better or bigger somehow? Apart from the crowd, some kinda VIP? Honestly, I’m curious!”
The Governor smiled again. “Someone has to lead,” he said. “Someone has to take responsibility for the hard decisions. Perhaps, for men like me, it is simply destiny.”
“You actually think that, don’tcha?” said Lampert, shaking his head. “You actually buy your own line of shit. But if there’s one thing we’ve learned, as a race, it’s that anybody who wants power shouldn’t be allowed to have it. It’s like a what-cha-call-it, axiom, you know? A basic truth. And now, what with the Fall, maybe there’s a chance that we can get rid o’ assholes like you. Or at least make sure they don’t get power. Just start from the ground up and keep an eye on people like you like a hawk and get the smartest and wisest people to do the leading, to make the hard decisions.”
He paused for breath and to shake his head. “Aw, hell, I dunno. Maybe assholes like you are like cockroaches and Keith Richards. Maybe it’s just the human condition to get lazy and let assholes take over. All I know is, this New America of yours is done for. I don’t know what these folks are gonna do with ya, but I’d say they got every right to do whatever they want. Hell, remember what happened to Mussolini? That’d be a start.”
Justin now stepped in. “I think that we have wasted enough time with this.” He looked down at the Governor. “You have something we need,” he said, his voice stronger and harder than Teresa had ever heard. “The security chip for the plane, the one in the hanger outside. Please hand it over, at once.”
The Governor seemed to think this over for a minute, but something, probably the look on Justin’s face and his tone of voice, made him finally shrug and nod. He reached for something at waist level in the desk in front of him but Shipman leapt forward and, quick as anything, had his assault rifle up under the Governor’s chin.
“Uh uh,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp and hard. “No tricks there, dude. Now. You jus’ move nice an’ slow, and reach into that drawer and get the chip.”
Moving slowly, the Governor did just that, his hands shaking only a little, and laid a bright green plastic thing, a little computer dingus with some wires running through it, on the desk in front of him.
“Take it,” he said, like he didn’t care. “Take it and go.”
Justin snagged the chip from the desk and, looking like he felt a little more confident, turned away from the Governor and made to leave. They all moved to do the same, even Lumler lowering his gun, when suddenly several things happened, all running together, and Teresa felt like time had slowed down, like in the old vids, all slow-motion and sharp, as she watched.
First there was a click, just a small noise, and they all whirled back to see what it was. The Governor, still seated at his desk, grinned in a very nasty way, like a dead man. Then, before anyone could move, Justin dove forward, putting himself between the desk and Mr. Lampert.
Something puffed out from the front of the desk, some weapon hidden in the big wooden beams and panels. It didn’t make a bang or anything, just a pfft! kind of noise, but whatever it was that came shooting out hit Justin square in the chest and he went down to the thick rug with a grunt.
Then, with everything still in slow motion, about to leap to Justin’s side, she saw the Governor suddenly jolt upright in his chair, like he was very surprised, and his mouth and eyes went wide open and then he flopped, face-down, onto the desk. Suddenly starting up from behind his victim, eyes like glowing coals, was the Kid. He’d stabbed the Governor in the back with a great big knife, right through the back of the fancy chair. Even now, the man was coughing blood and rasping for air.
But Teresa gave him not a single thought. As time snapped back to its normal rate, she gave a cry, threw aside her gun, and dove to Justin. Rolling him over, she saw that there was a dart or something, a nasty big dart with a scary-looking green bulb on one end, stuck deeply in his chest. With a snarl, she ripped it out and threw it aside.
“S’okay, Case,” she said, scared beyond belief, frantic and angry. “You gonna be alright, you gonna be OK!”
But he looked up at her and smiled and something in his eyes said otherwise. Already, he didn’t look so good. Pale and sweaty and he was breathing hard.
“No,” he said, his eyes sad and calm. “Not this time. I’m afraid this time I’ve run out of luck. Whatever that dart was…” he shuddered from head to foot, grimacing in pain. Then it passed some and he looked at her again and smiled. “Goodbye, Teresa,” he said. “Get Mr. Lampert to San Francisco. And always remember that I love you.”
Then he shuddered again, much worse this time, and some white foamy stuff came from his mouth and nose and she screamed and hugged him, crushing him in her arms, but it was no good. With one more shudder, he groaned, took one last breath and then blew it out, and died, right in her arms.
Something inside of her broke, like a taut wire snipped, and she let out a keening wail from deep in her gut that felt like molten metal erupting from her belly. Around her, she could vaguely sense the others, moving around her and saying things, but she clamped her eyes shut and wailed again. Nothing in her life, nothing even of the Fall or her years with the Bloodclaws, had caused pain like this. This was a pain that killed.
For a while, she just sat there and hugged his body and wailed. Nothing else seemed worth doing. Then, like he was far away, she heard the voice of the Old Man. Her wails dwindling to wracking sobs, she tried to listen.
“Teresa?” came the cracked, high voice. “Teresa, I’m sorry… he’s gone.”
Throwing back her head, she let out an animal scream of anger and pain that echoed around the big room like a scared bird. It took every last breath, and she slumped afterward and released her grip on his body some, sobbing and shaking her head.
“No, no, no!” she spat bitterly, the words like bullets. “Not him! Not Case. No.”
“Teresa, dear,” said the Old Man, and his voice kind of reached into her, like a shot of hard stupidwater. “You have to listen to me. For your sake, for his sake, you have to listen, alright?”
Staring at Justin’s rapidly-paling face, she nodded slightly and the Old Man went on.
“These people tell me that there are lots more of these guards, the men in the black uniforms, and they’re on their way. Hear me? If we stay, we’re gonna get caught all over again, or killed, and that won’t do much for his mission, now will it? He’s gone, dear. I’m sorry, but he’s gone. And so is the asshole that did it. But we’re not, OK? We’re still here and we still got his mission. We still have things to do, if we’re gonna do what he wanted. What he most wanted, out of everything. What he gave up everything for.”