Page 1 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

CHAPTER ONE - THOMAS

Someone died early this morning.

I know this because I have his memories, and let me tell you, there are some fucked-up people in this world—people you should never know anything about—and he was one of them.

I sigh as I gaze out the tall window. The view is looking down at Cathedral City. From where I am, I can see three of the towers I built on the edge of the city boundaries. They are all pushed up against mountains, just waiting for their instructions. The whole city is surrounded by mountains.

I can’t see the northern tower because it’s behind me somewhere, but I don’t need to see it to know what it’s doing.

Even though it’s spring, there’s still snow on every peak higher than the foothills. There will be snow on them well into summer. That’s just the way of things up here. Cathedral City is a microcosm of industry, people, and society the world over. But it’s a secluded microcosm and that’s what makes it the perfect place for Lincoln, Case, and me to enact our plan. It’s almost like fate has put us here for this purpose.

“Are we going to talk?” Yasmine asks from behind me. “Or are you just going to stand there in front of the window all morning?”

I can see the inner-city towers too. Just the peaks of them because they mark the compass points of City Park in the middle of downtown and are mostly hidden by buildings. But again, I don’t need to see them to know what they’re doing.

“Someone died this morning?” I say. It’s a question, just to keep Yasmine occupied while I enjoy the view.

“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter,” she replies.

Must be nice to think like that.

Unfortunately, I can’t afford to be so… laissez-faire about things. Capturing the memories of dead people is a side effect of my superpower. I had it one hundred percent under control until Case fucking shot me with that drug a few months ago. Since then… well, things have gone a little wacky in my head. That’s another way of saying… crazy. I had all this shit figured out until he did that. I had a drug that would last months and didn’t need to be taken daily to keep my mind in working order, but that won’t fix things anymore. Even the old version is useless. I’ve made several dozen batches of new drugs trying to get things under control again, but with no success.

At least it was still working when we killed the Blue Boar. I can’t even imagine what was rolling around in that asshole’s head when he died.

Your father’s head, my inner voice amends.

Right. My father.

The point is, I say to myself—chastising the inner voice—I’m lucky it was working. I have no idea what it would be like to capture his memories, and I don’t ever want to know.

This guy who died this morning is bad enough and he’s just your run-of-the-mill crazy. But there will be more. So many more.

I feel sick just thinking about it.

“Thomas,” Yasmine says, losing patience with me. “Can you please turn around and look at me?”

Nope. Not gonna do it.

My hand goes to my throat to loosen my tie a little. The shirt is new and scratchy. I hate it, but appreciate it at the same time.

Kind of like my inhibitor.

Growing up in Prodigy School wasn’t fun either, but I knew how to appreciate the little things back then too.

“Eventually,” Yasmine says, raising her voice, “you will have to talk to me.”

Nope. I really don’t think so.

“We can’t just pretend none of this is happening.”

She underestimates me.

“I need answers, Thomas. We can work through this.”

There’s nothing to work through. I was fine, then Case went crazy and shot me with some weird drug. And ever since then dead memories have been flooding into my head.

It’s been so long since I had to deal with the effects of what they did to me, I’d forgotten how awful it was. But you don’t shoot yourself up with the kind of drugs I’ve been taking for thirty years and not understand why.