The Chosen Ones

CHAPTER THREE

The destination that Bruce had in mind was a place he had gone to many times as a child to

visit his grandparents. It was called McElmo Canyon and lay just west and a little south of what had

been Cortez Colorado. Of all the places in the four corners area, it was the most suitable place to

be the base of a new civilization. It was a shallow canyon, more of a small valley really, with the

north side quickly leveling off some two to three hundred feet above the valley floor.

Here there had been low rolling fields of alfalfa, oats, and beans, with large islands of cedar

and sage to shelter the grazing animals when they were not feeding. Most of those fields should still

be producing enough to keep game animals in the area. This was the bottom of a much larger

valley, the Montezuma Valley, that extends to the east and north until it reaches the high alpine

mountains, and is bordered on the south by the Mesa Verde, a high mesa covered with one of the

largest ancient Indian ruins in the southwest. This was a model that Bruce thought might someday

serve his people well.

McElmo Canyon, is a valley within a valley, giving it a most pleasant micro climate of its

own. It has a longer growing season than the rest of the area, most likely due to its south western

exposure and the fact that it is lower in elevation than the surrounding terrain. This also makes for

shorter and milder winters, which would be very important, especially in the beginning. The soil in

McElmo Canyon had been rich and fertile when he was a child, and there should be plenty of

vegetables growing there as leftover remnants of what had been one of the finest organic farm areas

in the southwest. Fond memories of his youth returned with a flourish as Bruce prepared for the

journey. Most of their belongings had to be left behind for lack of a way to transport them.

The tepees had been dismantled and converted into large travois to carry the essentials. The lodge

poles that weren’t cut down to use as travois had to be left behind as excess baggage. It would not

be easy to find enough perfectly straight pine trees of just the right size to replace so many poles,

but it would be a lot easier than carrying them so far. Many things would need to be replaced when

they set up a permanent home, so they took with them only that which was essential for survival.

The medicine man was having an especially difficult time getting ready to travel. He had

taken in a second wife after the death of his old friend Ben the tool maker, but he still had more

things that he considered essential in his duties to the tribe than the three of them could carry. Susan,

his primary wife was a small woman and had not aged as well as the others. She felt that she could

not do her part on the upcoming journey and had insisted on being left behind. Debbie, who had

come to live with them after the death of her husband Ben, some twenty years earlier, would not

hear of it. She was a stout woman, not obese by any sense of the word, just strong and vital, and

appeared much younger than she actually was. Upon hearing Susan’s request, she had thrown down

all of her personal things to help her sister wife travel. Jason, being apprenticed to, and living in the

lodge of the medicine man, had dutifully picked up as much of his two adopted mothers’ supplies

as he could carry. He was young and strong, and to the casual observer would have seemed out of

place with his long blond hair flowing halfway down his back, restrained only by the mysterious

medicine headband that was always present around his forehead. The light freckle-covered skin that

adorned his entire body was a stark contrast to the golden brown skin of the women he referred to

as mother.

He worked feverishly with the packs, but try as he might, the combined bulk of their things,

and that which was essential to his trade, was more than he could handle. As he started to sort

through the bundles to determine the least valuable of the contents, Joshua, one of his closest friends

stepped in to help. He was the oldest son of Cheryl, Bruce and Anna’s first child born in the facility.

Taking their cue from Joshua, others in the group had immediately begun to take small bundles from

all the elders, including the pile that he and Jason were struggling with, leaving them nothing to

carry but themselves. The new distribution of the loads put little extra strain on any individual and

made Bruce just that much more proud of all the children that he had raised. Above all else, they

were family first, and that would serve them well in the coming months and years.

When the preparations were complete, Bruce and David led the way as the group emerged

from the large sliding door. The entire village had been told the story, much the same as David, but

the sheer enormity of seeing it themselves surpassed anything they could imagine from mere words.

The large group of people that could only be described as a herd, stumbled into one another

as they twisted and turned, trying to look at everything around them as they walked into the open

for the first time. How small the terrarium seemed compared to the vast distances they saw

stretched out before them. It took some time, but with Bruce’s help, David was able to get them

organized into a proper traveling mode.

From an observation window in the main control room, John Matries watched their progress

with his son Tim. He had mixed emotions about their leaving. It felt almost anticlimactic after a

lifetime of work, but it was gratifying to know that the project had been so successful.

"Look at them. They're barely outside and they're already lost and confused," Tim said, with

an air of satisfaction in his voice.

"They will be all right, son. Bruce knows the way."

"You may be right, father, but I'm glad to be a controller just the same."

"Why's that? Our job is done here."

"It won't be long until they're back. When cold weather hits, spring at the latest, they'll be

17 The Chosen Ones

begging to get back in."

"You know they can't come back," John said, not liking the tone in his son’s voice. "The

whole purpose of this project is to start over without this kind of technology."

"This technology, as you call it, is what is going to make me the most powerful man on

Earth. When they can't make it on their own and come crawling back, I intend to make slaves of

them all."

"I can't believe the words I hear coming from my own son. You weren't raised this way."

"I was raised to hate this place. From the time I was a little boy, all I ever did was work or

go to school to learn enough to run this place. I never had time to play or enjoy life, like The

Chosen Ones."

"That's telling him, Tim," said a voice inside his head. "Let him know that we're in charge

now."

"We pampered them," Tim said, "and took care of their every need for all those years. And

who pampered me? No one! Well not anymore. Now they'll serve my every need. The men will

do the work, and the women will entertain me."

"You can't be serious, son."

"Oh, I'm serious all right."

"What if they don't have any problems, and don't come back? What then?"

"Then I'll go find them, and make them my slaves wherever they are."

"You can't."

"I can. I have the technology."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Tim produced a small semi automatic pistol, while voices in

the back of his mind urged him on. "Do it!" one voice shouted, causing an echo to go reverberating

through his head to the point of causing a twinge of pain. "This is the chance we have been waiting

for."

"Their bows and arrows, and whatever other primitive weapons they have will be no-match

for the weapons at my disposal."

"You wouldn't risk the entire human population on that."

"Yes, I would. If I can't have it my way, then it will be no way at all, and nobody can stop

me. I've worked a long time for this day."

"Do it!" the voice screamed again, and the shot was deafening in the small control room.

The thick concrete walls contained the sound within, concealing Tim's treachery toward his father.

Slumping to the floor, John Matries, the Chief of Operations looked up into the expressionless face

of his only son.

"Tim, what's happened to you?"

"It's a new world, Dad. There's no room for sniveling weaklings," he said, and another bullet

ripped through the old man's chest. Without emotion, Tim turned and walked out the door locking

it behind him. Later he would figure out what to do with the body. Right now he wanted to keep

an eye on his new slaves.

With two bullets in his chest, John Matries struggled to crawl the short distance to the main

computer to fulfill his last obligation as the Chief Controller. He didn't need a doctor to tell him it

was over. Blood began to fill his lungs even as it ran freely down the front of his chest. No one saw

the tears rolling down his cheeks. No one knew the agony in his mind from the realization of what

his son had become as he reached with fingers that were already numb, to enter the code, (Project

Human Race; Destruct), into the main system. He was sure of only one thing. He had to remove

the last of the operating technology, and more importantly, his only son, from the face of the earth.

He had not intended for things to end this way for his family and friends, but Tim had left him no

choice in the matter. And now that the count down had started, civilization’s only hope was for

Bruce to get them far enough away before the blast.

As Tim neared the still open doorway, he spotted Jack and Joe. Two men who could have

been his friends, but he had never allowed himself to become close to anyone, or to let anyone get

close to him. They were staring at the tree-covered hills where The Chosen Ones had disappeared.

"In here it seemed as though there were so many of them," Joseph said, "but outside it

doesn't seem like a lot to start a new world with."

Jack was sure that he knew what was bothering his friend. "You wanted to go with them,

didn't you?"

"I always did. After you and I were pulled out of the program for not making the health

standards, and I found out what was going to happen, I really felt cheated."

"You're probably better off here anyway. We have everything we need."

"You don't get it, do you Jack? We're prisoners here, trapped by the technology that we were

trained to keep away from them, while they are out there discovering a whole new world. I want to

see what’s out there too."

"We're not prisoners. We're free to come and go as we like, and now that they are gone, we

have four square miles of extra living space."

"Think about it, Jack. The whole purpose of this project was to start a new civilization

without all this. No cars, no guns, no computers, and no knowledge of anything that has happened

in the past. What's going to happen to us, and this place, now that we are no longer a part of that

group? If we continue to stay here and prosper, there will be two different societies competing for

dominance. That wasn't in the plan."

"Quit day dreaming you two," Tim said walking past them and out the door. "We need to

follow them and find out exactly where they're going."

"You know the rules, Tim," Jack said. "Your father said no one is to go outside once The

Chosen Ones leave."

"Rules change. Now he wants me to keep an eye on them to see how they manage. He wants

to be sure that they are ready to be out on their own."

"Ok, let's go," Joseph said stepping through the doorway eager to follow along.

"Don't you think we should get some packs to carry food and water?"

"You can if you want, Jack, but we're just going to be gone a little while. When I'm sure

which direction they're headed, we'll come back and get what we need."

"Come on Jack. Lets go," Joseph said, "I've been dying to get out there and look around."

"Well, if you're sure it's ok with your father."

"Trust me. He’ll never say a word about it. Now let's get going. They already have nearly

an hour head start and I don’t want them getting too far ahead of us."

The three men started off at a good pace covering the level ground easily. They found the

going to be considerably more difficult as they climbed the narrow game trail through the thick

brush that would eventually lead them to the top of the hill that formed the east side of the valley

that housed the facility. The extra effort of the climb had drained their strength rapidly and Tim

19 The Chosen Ones

called a halt to rest at the top. A lifetime of restricted activity had left them with little strength and

no real stamina, while the Chosen Ones had worked hard, and ran for at least two hours every day

as Bruce prepared them for life on the outside.

Joseph was doing fine, though he pretended to be as tired as the others so they wouldn't

notice. For years he had secretly been exercising whenever he was alone in hopes to rejoin the

group. He had overcome the problem with his health, but the Chief Controller had refused to let

him go because the things he had learned while away from the others could possibly jeopardize the

integrity of the project. Now he might have a chance after all.

One of the things Joseph liked most about the Chosen Ones was the fact that they knew

nothing of their different backgrounds and cultures. Until living with the control team, Joseph had

no concept of racial differences or social dysfunctions. Now he wanted only to leave all that behind,

and find some way to rejoin his family.

Joseph knew The Chosen Ones wouldn't think of Roy and Ellen as Black. They just thought

they were different because they were Roy and Ellen. The same as they thought Ricky, Cheryl, and

Tina were different because they were Ricky, Cheryl, and Tina, not because they were Indian.

Joseph had only found out a few years ago that he was of Mexican decent.

It was his first experience with prejudice, and he couldn't understand why the two men were

making comments and insults at him that he couldn't comprehend. Later, when John Matries had

tried to explain it to him, he had become so angry that he had spoken to no one for three days. It

was during that time that he had developed a racial boundary of his own. As much as he didn't want

to admit it, he hated the controllers and everything they stood for. He wasn’t big as men go, only five

foot nine, but his physical strength and agility would have allowed him to take any of the controllers

in a fight. But it wasn’t in his nature to lash out at another human being, so he brooded in solitude,

aching for the day he could go home. He had been an emotional outcast for so long that all he really

knew or cared about were the people involved in the project.

They were strong healthy people who saw no strangeness to the color of ones skin, and

would hopefully evolve into one race of people that knew nothing of prejudice. It would be

something to see. Since the Chief Controller had decided to monitor their progress, there was a

chance that someday he could slip away from the compound and join his family out of their reach.

"Joseph? Joseph, are you coming, or are you going to sit here daydreaming all day?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

It wasn't difficult to follow the trail left by the travelers because there had been no attempt

to hide it. As far as The Chosen Ones knew, there was no one to follow it, and, therefore, no rear

guard had been posted to keep an eye on their back trail.

The three men had been following the trail for a little more than three hours, when the earth

shook under their feet. Seconds later there was a tremendous roar, and they felt the concussion of

the blast even though they were nearly nine miles away. Scrambling to a high vantage point, Tim

saw the mushroom-shaped cloud rising above what had been their home.

"No!" he screamed. "He couldn't do it. I killed him."

"Couldn't do what?" Jack asked, stunned by what he had just heard.

"Somebody detonated the warhead under the facility. There’s nothing left."

"Who?" Joseph was still in shock.

"My father. Who else? He wanted this perfect little society with no interference from

outside."

"Who else knew about it?" Jack asked beginning to get a little nervous about the company

he was keeping.

"I thought I was the only other one to know, but somebody did it."

"You killed your father to keep him from detonating it, didn't you?"

There was a look of insanity in Tim’s eyes as he turned back to face Jack and Joseph. Hatred

for every living creature was etched in Tim’s face and a pistol was in his hand.

"It should have all been mine, the facility, the slaves, everything."

"What slaves?" Jack asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The Chosen Ones, of course. I was going to make slaves of them at the facility, but now

I'll have to do it out here, and you're going to help."

"You're crazy!"

The words had barely left Jack’s mouth as the bullet ripped through his chest tearing out a

chunk of his spine on its way through.

"What about you, Joseph? Are you with me or not?"

"I'm with you," Joseph said, thinking maybe he had answered a little too quickly because the

pistol in Tim's hand was still aimed at his chest.

As Joseph watched, he knew Tim was trying to decide whether or not to kill him. The only

thing in his favor was the fact that Tim would not want to be out here alone. Tim's slender frame

shook noticeably as he clutched the gun hard enough to make his knuckles begin to turn white. His

face flushed to the point of being almost as red as his hair, yet his eyes never wavered.

"Ok then. Let's get going."

"Sure, Tim. Lead the way."

"No. You lead. I want to keep an eye on you for a while."

"Hey, I told you. I'm with you, remember?"

"I don't trust you anymore, but Jack. Him I trust, now."

The eerie chuckle that followed Tim’s words was enough to send chills racing down Joseph's

spine, and made him wish he was anywhere in that vast wilderness other than where he stood right

then. He had known from the first time they met that Tim was unstable, but now something had

finally pushed him over the edge. There was no way of knowing just how far Tim would go to

achieve his goals. He had already killed at least two people and caused the destruction of the facility,

so it seemed pretty safe to assume that Tim would have no qualms about killing anyone who got

in his way. Joseph needed to buy time, to think, to make a reasonable plan before he attempted to

escape. It wouldn’t do him, or The Chosen Ones any good if he was unable to get away without

getting himself shot.