The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 08-21-21
Revised 08-22-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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Chapter 14

THE EDGE OF DESTRUCTION

“Excessive sorrow laughs.
Excessive joy weeps.”

William Blake
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"It -- It got outta hand," Tunney was yammering. "She trashed the controls. The thing went wild. The harder she fought, the faster the robot attacked. She was just a kid -- no match for that kind of monster. I tried to kick in my berserker thing and take the pressure off her, but NM-E knocked me head over heels with one swipe. By the time the world stopped spinning, it was too late."

I nodded morosely, emotion having taken my voice away. Lauren had been more than a younger friend; she had loved Mantra in an endearing fannish way. Two nights earlier, she had risked everything to save her. With time and seasoning, she could have been one of the world's greatest ultras.

So why had the girl pitched into an insane fight after I’d told her it wasn’t necessary? Was it just bravado? The thought of Lauren’s parents visiting her graveside sliced through my breast. How could they -- how could any parent -- bear the sudden, violent death of an only child?

And then there was Evie. She would soon be finding out that her friend, the same friend who had rescued her mother, had been killed in a terrible way.

I shook my head. I didn't want to see Evie cry. Not again. Not so soon.

Tunney put his arm around me. I swallowed hard, struggling to get a grip on myself.

"I know. This is bad," he said. "I feel like crying myself."

I looked away from Lauren’s corpse. What was I supposed to do now?

I squared my shoulders and raised my head. What I needed to do was to channel the old Luskasz. I needed his toughness, his calloused acceptance of the world’s brutalities. Though his eyes I'd seen countless people die over the centuries. I had seen many children die, too. The loss of friends, even lovers, was no new experience for Lukasz. I had to accept what life was, a messy and confusing thing whose flip side was death. Here, in a wrecked toy store, I didn't have the luxury of giving in and falling apart -- not with Aladdin standing there looking at me.

I stood up; Tunney backed off a step. My first duty as an Aladdin agent was to make a report to HQ. My emotions were screaming "to hell with headquarters," but I had to follow the plan. I needed to show them that Eden Blake was a strong and steady agent. I wanted to be seen as a dependable operative who could be phased by nothing. I needed to con the leadership into trusting me with more and more crucial projects, so I'd be in a better position to screw them up. Also, being able to help Gus later on might depend on the impression I made with them on this terrible day.

Okay, what next? The perimeter had to be controlled, of course. The girl's body had to be gotten out of sight; as long as it lay out out in the open it would serve to define the narrative. Aladdin wouldn’t like that. They would appreciate a quick thinker who kept their options open. What they most wanted to avoid was being boxed in and facing the music for their own incompetence.

And through it all I had to remember that I was in a personal battle for survival. Sarn and Smekes were soon going to learn who this new Mantra had been. And Lauren Sherwood had been Eden Blake’s babysitter. How could they ever think that such a glaring fact was no big deal? How was I going to wriggle out of such an incredibly incriminating situation? How was I going to stay outside of a prison cell?

But what else? Tunney. He needed medical attention.

I looked up. By now some of the A-Team were barging in. The squad was loaded down with more weaponry than G.I. Joe. I turned and faced them, my chin high, my fists clenched. They were my audience of the moment and I had a role to play. I had to present myself as the kind of leader they expected, a leader who treated death and destruction as part of a good day’s work. Higher ups would soon be questioning them about how I had carried myself while working in the disaster mode. I had to make sure they gave the bosses the right answers.

"Send for an ambulance," I told the squad. "P-Put up a cordon. Keep every one out – police, too -- until a forensic team has taken over. Don't give statements to reporters. Don't add anything to what the public can't already see for themselves. And don’t admit who you really are. Any lie is better than the truth, but be evasive until you know the exact lies that HQ wants you to tell. You’ll be briefed on that soon. Standard procedure."

"Yes, ma'am," one of the faceless agents responded smartly.

#

It was full dark before I got back to HQ. In a crazy coincidence, Aladdin’s embarrassment was already being blotted out by a much bigger crisis. The MSM stations were all going crazy about the destruction of New York City. Usually the media clowns had it easy; they simply read whatever cover story Operation Mockingbird sends them. But New York had hit them out of left field. Television’s propagandist reporters had to fall back on their own resources, a situation which is never easy when one is an empty suit.

At first they put out a garble of pure incoherence. Seven-figure news readers and reporters were losing it right before the eyes of the nation. What made it even harder for them was the fact that so many of their network communications centers had been wiped -- including the New York Times building. They had to had to answer huge questions with no information and so gave the country wild-eyed speculation. The dumbest of them were already babbling about Russia having done it.

The situation, as bad as it was, was perfect for Aladdin. Nobody would be thinking about the fiasco in Canoga Park. The news would be about New York and nothing else except New York. The death of a new and unknown young ultra at a suburban mall would be local news. Only the ultra’s friends and family would notice her empty chair and remember who used to sit in it.

At first I dared to hope that the mass confusion would botch our mission debriefing and make me less of a target. But no such luck. The acting L.A. division boss, Colonel Smekes was, like most A-holes, an anal retentive. He’d hit the ground running, already seeing the greater L.A. district as his own turf and wanting to maximize his control of Aladdin's affairs inside it. Mass death occurring on the other side of the continent wasn’t enough to stop him from crossing every "T" and dotting every "I". All the senior personnel on the A-team, along with the ranking members of its support staff, were ordered to stay over. Smekes had to know what had happened -- so he could cover it up properly.

Wrath was the first agent to be called to the hot seat.

On the other hand, our team’s mission security level had been downgraded and I was finally at leave to call out. Evie would be with her grandma, I knew, and so I dialed Mrs. Freeman’s house.

"Hello, M-Mom," I said when Barbara Freeman answered.

"You sound awful, Eden. Where on earth have you been?"

I took a deep breath and steadied my voice. "I'm at the downtown office. I was able to...to look in on Gus in San Francisco. The authorities had him in sedation, so we couldn't talk. But a work-related crisis came up and I didn't have any choice but to pitch in. The CIA was under a communications shutdown until just now."

"Is your crisis about what happened in New York? Eden, what's going on? Are there going to be more attacks?"

Fortunately, I knew that this was going to be a one-off incident. "No, I don't think so. We don't know much yet. The New York blast came totally without warning."

“CCN is saying that the Russians did it. Is there going to be war?”

“No, there’s no proof that the Russians did anything at all. I don’t think there’s going to be war.”

She switched the topic to Gus, but I fended her off.

"It’s very complex. I’m finding out that a lot of people suffered strange effects on Friday night," I said. "Some unknown energy from outer space seems to be to blame. We've been trying to get the facts. Maybe the blast in New York was some sort of an aftershock to that event, or maybe not. I'll be home soon and tell you everything that the CIA lets me tell you."

"You should have found some way to talk to Evie before this. You know what a fright she's had and this awful stuff isn’t helping. She needs her mother more than ever."

"I'm sorry. I work for the government. Remember all those restrictions that Daddy used to be under? I’ve got to put up with those rules, too."

I doubt that satisfied her, but she changed her tone. "Eden, the A.P. was here yesterday, asking about what happened Friday. You hardly told me anything before rushing off, and Evie can't talk about it without starting to cry. But she did say that you two were separated for most of the night. What happened?"

"I couldn’t help what happened," I evaded. "I’ll give you the full explanation soon." Hopefully, I thought I could get away with telling Mrs. Freeman the same I'd told Tunney -- that I'd lain unconscious in an empty lot until morning. "Is Evie there?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.

Mother summoned the little girl to the phone.

"Mommy!"

It felt good to hear her voice. It had taking me a little while to start thinking and feeling like a real parent, but tonight I was a parent full bore. Evie’s voice was like balm for my frayed nerves. "Darling, I want you to know that I’m all right and that I'm going to see you soon."

"Are you still in San Frisco, Mommy?"

"No, Button. I'm back in the city, at the office downtown. I’m less than an hour away from you. Right now I'm just standing around, waiting to talk to my boss. When that’s done with, I think I’ll be able to get over to Grandma’s house and see you."

"You're really okay?"

"I'm very tired, but I'm perfectly okay."

"Did you get your ---?"

"I thought she wanted to ask about my powers coming back, so I quickly interrupted. "Shhh, honey. No, that didn't happen. But, please, remember that we never talk about important family subjects over the phone."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Mommy. Did you hear how a super bomb landed on New York and killed everybody? That's on the right side of the map, isn't it?"

"Yes, Pumpkin. It's terrible news. Try not to think about it."

"And TV also said that a monster attacked the mall where we always shop. Mommy, what's happening? Is the world coming to an end?"

"No, I don't think so, Evie. I think it’s one of those funny weeks when everything bad seems to happen all at once."

Apparently Aladdin hadn't released public information that "Mantra" was dead, or else Evie would have brought it up. I didn't want to give her the news before I absolutely had to. She'd be needing lots of on-the-scene hugs and kisses to pull her through.

"Did you find out where Gus is?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, I did. The doctors gave him something to make him sleep. I'll have to go back later after he wakes up."

"Are you're going to go away again so soon? It's such a long way!"

"I know, Button. I think we'll both have to go to San Francisco and stay there for a while. Then we'll be able to visit Gus every day."

"Me, too?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet."

“It must be awful to be in jail.”

She didn't know the half of it. "I'll tell you all about Gus when I get home. Just don't watch TV tonight. You’ll get scared and not be able to sleep. If you’re well rested in the morning we'll see if you’re well enough to go to school."

"I had nightmares last night, Mommy. I had to sleep with Grandma ‘cause I was so afraid. My hands shake sometimes, too. When they do, I can't make them stop."

"My poor baby. You were frightened more than any little girl should ever be. I know a good doctor. I'm sure she can fix that nasty shaking. I'll see you soon, Pumpkin. All my kisses. Please put Grandma back on the line."

"Eden?" came Barbara's voice.

"I'm worried about Evie. I’m going to have to take her to a child psychologist."

"I was going to suggest that."

"I know one from college. She's working in Frisco now. She's the best."

"Okay." Mom sounded just about as drained as I felt.

"Just do whatever you can to keep Evie calm," I said. "Turn off the news for the rest of the night. She doesn't need any more bad dreams.” Most of all, I didn't want her to hear about "Mantra" being dead -- not yet. "Play her some cartoon videos until bedtime."

"I will," she said distractedly, and then added, "The news is making it sound like the whole of New York's been destroyed and millions are dead."

"No, it’s not that bad. The main business district was hardest hit. It was the heart of the corporate office district. About a quarter of the metropolitan area was scorched. We'll know more after the search and rescue teams go in. Luckily, there wouldn't have been many people working at their offices late on a Sunday night. The toll is going to be terrible, but not nearly as bad as those guys on television are making it sound."

"If you say so. But do you think L.A. could be next? Somebody on television was saying the ultras did it -- and there's more ultras around here than anywhere else."

"It’s like I said. Nobody knows anything for certain, but I don't think it was the ultras. The way I see it, for the next several days TV news is going to be a mish-mash of rumor reporting. If you want better information, check the alt-right news sites on the net. If anyone knows anything factual, they’ll have it."

"I will, darling. Just get home soon. Evie needs you."

"I'll try. Bye."

"So you don't think that ultras are involved?" broke in the strained but mellow voice that I knew to be Wrath's.

I put down the receiver and turned. He was in civilian attire and had a snowy sling supported his right arm. The man’s expression was tight and consternated.

"Just an opinion," I said with a sigh.

"A couple days ago, I wouldn't have been so quick to agree. Now I'm not so sure."

I forced a smile. "Hey, you you don’t look so bad, now that the blood's been washed off. How do you feel?"

"I'm so high on painkillers that my head's spinning. I got some abrasions and torn ligaments, they say, but over-all I lucked out. Things could’ve been a lot worse."

I knew for a fact that they would have been a lot worse if I hadn't blundered into this timeline.

“Was Colonel Smekes angry?” I asked.

“No. But that gent has ice water in his veins. Watch out.”

"What did he want to know?" I asked.

"He grilled me on everything I saw and everything I did. He's hammering on Coburn now."

I nodded sympathetically and motioned him to a chair. "Is there anything new breaking about New York?"

He shook his head. "Smekes says there's a possible ID on Strike as one of the perpetrators. He and some other ultra-looking types were spotted on the south edge of Central Park. Of what's left of Central Park."

"Is the source reliable?"

The news and pictures came from a National Guard battalion that's been on duty since the Terrordyne attack on the Statue of Liberty. They reached the edge of the destruction zone before anyone else did."

So the Strike shoe had finally been dropped, I thought.

The poor guy. I was at a loss to think how I could possibly say or do anything to help him.

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 15