“It’s happening.” Vihn flicked on an ancient television monitor. The Federation of America’s News Broadcast blared across the screen amidst its traditional upbeat tone.

  A dozen other individuals huddled around the machine. Its purple light mixed in with the ceiling’s florescent bulb. The apartment walls stood with little more than three body lengths between them, where deep cracks exposed insulation and wooden braces. A musky odor masked it all.

  “There’s no way they’d go through with it,” a thin man said, who leaned against the tattered walls at the other end of the room. Kale was his name. His words were somewhat muffled as he covered his nostrils. “We’re not even dangerous, they already rounded up all the people with real power.”

  “You’re a fool,” Walsha spat. She sat at the foot of a couch. It bowed under the weight of several others; it’s faded green linen nearly overshadowed by the quivering bodies upon it. Those who did not sit loomed over the back of the couch almost pressed against a chipping beige exit door and a cubicle of a kitchen. “All of our people are gathered together like chickens in coups, and the Federation’s hungry. Watch, you’ll see. No one will care what happens here tonight.”

  There were a few others in the apartment that Vihn barely knew. There was Susan and her daughter Carol, Robert and his wife Tasha, Caleb and his brother Nolan, and a guy named Markus. Or maybe it was Mark.

  Then there was his sister Nadia and her baby, Colton. They were the reason he was here, to protect them. But he had a duty to all these people, even if he hadn’t had much time to get to know them.

  Vihn swore. Where was Farfa?

  She said she’d be there to extract Vihn and his family. But she was a meant to be here an hour ago. He had brought them here; he’d promised them safety. Farfa had promised them safety. She’d warned him the Federation was making their move on the ghettos. He hadn’t believed her… not fully. But she assured him, when the president’s speech aired, that would be it. She said she’d send a ship to take them away before that happened.

  Vihn was no leader, never had been. Farfa had given the order, and Vihn knew not what to do next except wait.

  She was late.

  “Shh! He’s about to talk,” Nadia said. She on the couch and bounced her baby in her arms.

  “It is official, the Purifier Initiative will be implemented, starting immediately.” A stiff-backed news anchor juried from within the crackling screen, his tight collar in perfect alignment with his jaw. “President Sevren Drake has the following announcement.”

  The refugees in the room gasped, even Kale who had denied the possibilities.

  It was really happening. It couldn’t be. Not now. Not while they were trapped in this apartment.

  The television flashed to show a densely populated terrace. Several broad steps led to the front of a monolithic governmental structure, with pillars stretching thousands of feet past low clouds. At the top of the steps stood a glass cage, and within it shimmered a three-dimensional image of the President. His hair was stiff and black. A single metal pin clasped to his coat, a flag made of a blue sphere at the center of a black crescent, upon a white background. Dark eyes peered from his angular visage towards the thousands of onlookers gathered before him. He inhaled sharply, “today marks the age of unification. The decades of war are finally over.”

  Vihn ran to one of the apartment windows and pinched its cheap blinds, his sleek rifle rattling against his shoulder. He twisted his neck so he could see the news while observing the outside. A thick fog rolled over the jet-black road. Other buildings flanked the street, but only the light of multiple neon advertisement signs and other apartment televisions were visible through the darkness.

  “We have been plagued and ripped apart by arrogance.” As the president spoke, several disturbances came from the fog, starting with a deep hum.

  “Today, we will become a whole nation”

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  Hydraulic hissing drummed the air.

  Footsteps clapped against the wet pavement on either side of the road, while faint radio static masked low voices.

  No one in the apartment moved, the horror gripping them. Vihn cursed himself for being restrained by this fear – as if any sudden movement might entice the attention of whatever was coming.

  “The disease will be eradicated, our differences will be resolved, and wounds healed.”

  A shriek of agony came from another apartment down the street.

  The group jolted. They set their eyes towards the noises outside.

  Vihn unslung his rifle. They were out of time. He snapped his fingers at Nadia. Her eyes watered, Vihn’s promises toppling. She ran from the couch, her arms clutched around her bundled child, and ducked into the kitchen. The others within the room scrambled. They slid the couch against the door and turned off the hanging light and the television. Yet the President’s speech continued, pulsing from the fog.

  “We cannot be so selfish, as individuals, to ignore the suffering we have endured as a people.”

  “They’re playing the broadcast from an airship,” Kale said, who’s thin hands shook.

  Shouting erupted from outside. Crashes riddled from the surrounding apartments: glass, furniture, and uncertain sounds. The noises swelled together as a horrid symphony.

  “This is the Federation; we have rebuilt from the ashes before…”

  Fire burst out of a window from the closest apartment on the left, followed by a pop.

  “Today we will finally rebuild again and undo the curse.”

  While the others in the room huddled close together, Vihn couldn’t turn away from the window, petrified by hundreds of dark shadows that emerged from the fog in uniform progression. They marched in rapid pace down the road. Clad in shiny blue armor, that reflected purple, orange, and red hues from the neon lights. Each one gripped long black guns.

  “We will undo separation.”

  The figures halted and raised their guns towards the apartment windows.

  “We will undo, the Titan Project.”

  Radio buzz rumbled from the formation of figures on the street. Their guns faced the apartment windows.

  Vihn’s arms weakened. His eyes burned with tears, and he shouted, “Run!”

  Bursts of bullet fire cascaded from each of the soldiers.

  The windows shattered. The walls crumbled. The television sparked. The baby wailed. Blood spurt across the stained couch.

  Then, there was silence.

  *****

  Vihn gasped. Life filled his lungs as he woke from darkness. He lay in a pool of blood. With each breath, the crimson liquid moved like waves on a beach. A burning sensation consumed his right side. His neck stiffened as he rolled over to see. A deep hole perforated his side, which leaked into the pool beneath him. He stretched his left hand to the wound. He grimaced as he applied pressure to it. His sight cleared. The apartment had been turned into a graveyard. The puddle of blood was more of a pond, his mixed in with that of several other people’s. Their bodies were sprawled across the faded green couch, and propped up against the walls, or crushed by fallen cabinets, and face down upon the cold wooden floor.

  Every window above Vihn was shattered, and the walls and furniture were riddled with bullet holes. The television was busted, emanating an orange glow from a fire that had sparked within it. A shattered overhanging light dangled from a stucco roof.

  On the floor, two women lay dead in each other’s embrace. One was much older than the other, in her sixties, Susan, and her daughter Carol. Vihn remembered them as grandmother and granddaughter. His heart pumped faster. He could feel the pressure of his pulse from his wound. He slid back up against the wall behind him, just below one of the window frames, the television on his right. He scanned the room. His breath quickened. In front of the couch lay a man, his hands clutched at an opening in his stomach, Robert. Studying further, Vihn could make out the people in the back. There was Robert’s wife, Tasha, also Caleb and his brother Nolan. Kale’s arms drooped over the couch cushions; he had tried pulling it away to get out. Walsha lay next to him. Vihn couldn’t make out who was crushed under the cabinet. The thickness of their shoes hinted it to be Markus, or Mark, or whatever name he went by that Vihn regretted not figuring out.

  He'd been closest to the window and had been the first to be shot. By some twisted fate, it seemed that he’d been spared as an airship had lowered and fired directly into the room after he’d fallen.

  Vihn crawled forward, his body sloshing in the red as he dragged himself. He had promised to protect the people in this room and failed. However, he realized his sister and nephew were not in the room. He was conscious to stay low beneath the view from the window, lest soldiers still be outside. He worked towards the kitchen, which was divided from the living room by a counter. His mind raced through images of his worst fear. Did his sister and nephew meet the same fate as everyone else?

  Moonlight seeped through several holes in the right wall.

  His vision panned low, starting from the corner, then more blood, feet, torn skirt, arms clutching; his heart sank. His sister lay still, baby in arms. A single wound passing between them. A single bullet. Nadia’s lips lay on Colton’s head, who’s eyelids were closed peacefully. Both dead.

  Vihn’s eyes swelled. He crawled to his knees. He lashed his arms around them. Tears ran down his cheeks, disappearing into the blood as they fell. He stroked her black hair and brushed her pale, olive face. His muscles gave way, dropping his body unto them, Nadia and her baby. He hugged them, coughing with tears and blood.

  Then rage found him. A fiery drive that pulsed through his body.

  I will kill them all.

  REMINDER - These chapters were written a long time ago, but never fit into the main story.

  Interlude release schedule:

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