Actual Reality

Halloran

As I walked into the gatehouse, I saw the five figures that had come to meet me. Backlit, they wore sleek armour.

"This is him," announced the Lieutenant to the armoured men. "Now Mr Schultz, hand me your weapon."

I looked down at my holster and considered refusing. The Patrolmen were relaxed and confident, holding their rifles at ease; I heard the sentries walk the wall above me; the Lieutenant waited with an open palm. If there was going to be a fight, I'd already lost.

"Here," I said, unbuckling the holster, and I slapped the weapon down into the Lieutenant's hand.

The men escorted me inside, holding me fast between them. They took me into the block tower and up a steep flight of stairs. We emerged onto a platform where a tramcar was waiting.

"Get inside," said the Lieutenant, shoving me on, pushing me into a booth while Patrolmen filled the surrounding seats.

The tram left with a shuddering start, rolling over the enclave that had emerged in New Republic Square. Renamed the year I was born, the Square marked our nation's founding, and glittering in a dead city I was amazed to see that it was still the pride of the League of New England.

As we made our way along the line, I watched people scurry across catwalks, caught a glimpse of the waters that surround Manhattan. But there was one monument that demanded every ounce of attention: at the fork of Broadway and 7th was a building that stood like a monument. It was a precipice with the ship wheel sigil at its peak; a bone-white structure that had black-clad letters that spelt "NEW LIFE."

I got to my feet; something triggered in my mind

"Thank you, gentleman," I said, "I really appreciate the company, but I want you to let me off now."

The Patrolmen exchanged glances as I shuffled towards the aisle.

"Sit back down," said the Lieutenant, blocking my way.

I kept pushing.

"Seriously," he ordered.

Something snapped inside me.

"I'M NOT SITTING DOWN. YOU'RE LETTING ME OFF."

The Lieutenant jumped up.

"SIT!"

I lashed out, clawing at his helm. The Lieutenant grabbed me by the scruff of my jacket and flung me against the window. The hard glass quivered from the impact.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" yelled the Lieutenant as I slid into the footwell.

"I'm the Founder," I gasped, settling on the floor.

The other Patrolmen got to their feet, eyes on their commander.

He realised what he'd done.

There was silence.

"Help me up," I grumbled.

The Lieutenant didn't hesitate. He lifted me out of the footwell and back onto the seat.

"Your titles don't matter to me," he said quietly, a discrete tone of hatred in his voice, but he knew he'd gone too far. "We only answer to Governor Halloran."

"Halloran?" I spluttered, "is that where you're taking me?"

The Lieutenant nodded. I grinned, catching my breath.

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

The tram went dark as we passed into the tower. The carriage stopped, the doors swung open, and the Patrolmen got out of their seats. The Lieutenant helped me up, taking me by the arm, holding me until we got to the platform before letting me go. I looked down the length of the line where it passed through the tower. I could see the water on the other side, and the tattered city skyline. The wind blew through my hair; it felt cold and fresh.