seymoure

Capers - More Dangerous Than Plants

"In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity."

-Hunter S. Thompson

They had no need to pick the lock of the second door, since it wasn’t locked. They jumped through it and closed the door.

Inside the lab they looked for a place to hide or escape.

That was all the time it took for the three sentries to come through the door and confront them.

The first of the three was on a walkie-talkie and we knew that the entirety of the force would be there in seconds.

We would have to rescue them, but it would be better to let them all converge. If we could flip some firearms to Hugo and Len, we might put those guards in a kill box.

At least enough of one to change the odds.

We stood long enough to take a breath, as one would hesitate slightly before leaping into a known-to-be- chilly pool.

We didn’t get a chance to get wet.

The clicking of gun hammers stopped us. All around us were at least 30 armed people aiming guns at our tiny party. Almost ten to one is not the worst odds I’ve ever faced, but even then they didn’t have a hunger to kill to match the eyes of this group.

Not one of these people would hesitate for a fraction of a second before ripping us to shreds. That’s the religious fervor. They would do so for God.

They knew nothing of mercy.

Then the sea of death-bringers parted, displaying an awe that one might have reserved for the second coming, for that is what they were beholding by their eyes.

Simonson strolled through them, a benevolent messiah deigning to walk among them.

His hands were extended, almost touching the heads of the closest dozen of his followers, bestowing a touch that would heal all ills, raise them instantly up to heaven.

He smiled at us in a way that made me weigh the risk benefit analysis of shooting him anyway.

“Oh, please, my friends,” he said in professorial tones, “Let us not have firearms.”

It was obvious that he meant us, because none of his people even hinted that they might change their attitude an ounce. But the slightest movement of his hands said that he wanted us to lower ours.

This is that point in films. Why do they give up their guns, powerless in the grasp of the evil enemies? Why do they do it? Don’t they know they don’t have a chance? They are signing their own death certificate.

In this case it was the fact that they had our friends. Together there was the slightest chance we could think of something. They would already have killed us if that was what they wanted. They wanted to know how much we had found out and how much we had told anyone.

Our only chance was to surrender and hold out. If we didn’t let them know anything, we might have a few hours. I trusted these men to clam up as long as I asked them too.

I lowered my gun to the ground. The others did so slowly and they seethed with the same amount of loathing as I.

I also felt a true fear. I saw the eyes of this mob. That anyone would be part of this hate group, so bathed in righteousness and blood lust.

We would have to balance how much we told them with how much we could get them to tell us.

We knew a lot, but not about the end game. They were going to kill thousands and more. What were their plans for after the slaughter? What would Simonson and his church do after the massacre?

How highly placed were they? In the military? In government? Industry?

How many of these people were there? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? How fast were they growing?

How many were they poised to kill?

Would the ratio between the two groups change so fantastically that these monsters could take over?

I am not a man to pray. I often have discussions with the Universe instead. Right now I was having a rather spirited talk.

I realized that a lot of it might match up to the five stages of grief. Just as introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Rossin her 1969 book “On Death and Dying.” As you know, these consist of denial; anger; bargaining; depression; and, acceptance. As much as I truly believed I was going to win, because in those books I loved so much as a boy, good always survived and thrived, I am human. I have doubts.

A church bell rang in the distance.

Wait, was that the Universe telling me to “buck up! You will win!” or was it saying “Hey, I’m on the side of the religions. If you believed, you would know.”

As we were led into the building I wished to hell that the Universe came with a translation.

Back to the Beginning

Continue on to Chapter 42