Primal Gambit

Chapter 6: Outside Marcotte

Packs of civvies shuffled by, moving onwards through congested sidewalks and city streets. No one stopped. Nobody watched and not a soul cared. Darwin roared to the incessant population with such vigor that if Vikhr were in the crowd he would assume it a challenge of dominance. The leader stood atop an old navy blue milk crate on the corner of the street just before the rusted steel gates of Marcotte. The other members of the group stood below, clots in the bustling veins of traffic. They attempted to hand out flyers that depicted bloodied lips and broken souls. Disturbing images revealing rotted teeth and untreated compound fractures would send caring civilians into rile. People kept moving about their business, however, not turning the slightest ear toward Darwin's rant.

"Think about your husbands, your brothers, sisters, lovers! What if you had to watch them have their lips sewn up, unable to talk for the rest of their lives? Unable to say I miss you or I love you. Imagine your children being robbed of the right to learn and speak English because their lips are sewn after the first year in captivity. Is it just?!" The man shouted to empty crowds – groups that seemed to move in unison. Every civvie wore a gasmask, every civvie became dehumanized – part of something greater but no longer great.

People kept about themselves, unwilling to lend time. The stack of flyers were growing heavy in Valerie's gloved hands because no one cared enough to take one. Life around her began to slow down and she looked back at Darwin – still shouting mechanically through his filter. She recalled the very first time they met, at a rally outside one of the most prominent slaughterhouses in the country. In another humming city, the rank air heavy with the stench of blood and metal, crowds of protesters gathered to vandalize and contest the massive brick building. Animals bred for slaughter were some of the last species to share the Earth with man, although they no longer resembled animals. Raised on conveyer belts, these animals breathed through tubes and fed through injection; "Meat with legs," as Darwin put it. This was the slang Valerie first saw Darwin spraying onto the faded red brick. She thought about his fearlessness and intent to succeed, feeling rejoiced in his enthusiasm.

When she came to, she watched the leader kneeling near a small child he invoked from the crowd. From his pocket, he retrieved a piece of pre-expanse candy and held it out to the boy. The child's mother stood impatiently above – Valerie could make out the stern grimace beneath her mask. When the boy reached for the candy, the old plastic wrapper gracing his small fingers, his mother tugged him away. The activist could make out the muffled cries of the child and as he leaned forward to pick the candy bar from the ground a passerby stepped on it. Darwin lifted himself, turning around and approaching Valerie.

"Why would you try and do that – you know how people are now." She began, sighing as she looked down at the gruesome flyers.

"I just wanted to show them that I'm human too." He shook his head and continued:

"Bastards, no one cares. It's as if they forget that they're human." He looked to her and smiled behind the mask, taking solace in himself.

"They'll care soon, though."

From the tone in his voice Valerie knew there was something big that he had yet to tell the rest of the team. She looked to him:

"What makes you say that?"