The voice of the governor echoed in the depths of the canalization. Frank and Alf jumped out of their hiding place in the shadows like predators, placing the bomb at the previously selected position. Above them, they heard the murmur of the crowd which listened to Wechsler`s speech. Alf adjusted the time fuse and when a faint “beep” sounded, it was like the starting shot to a sprint for the two rebels.
“The band begins to play!”, said Alf and nodded at Frank.
The clock of death had been put on and was ticking its vicious song until the bloody finale. Frank Kohlhaas and Alfred Bäumer ran like fleeing rabbits into the tunnel from which they had come. In ten minutes, the NDC-23, this deadly explosive, would tear a huge hole into the ground in front of the “Temple of Tolerance”.
The way back appeared hostile and doubts grew in the brains of the two men. Would their plan really be successful?
They scurried through the fetid sewer corridors and the rooms with the reservoirs, with the cones of light in front of them. Meanwhile, the dark path through the underworld had burned itself into their minds and both men rushed forward, as if they were hounded by a demon. Above them, fate took its course and the Red Moon, the bloody moon, looked down at the “Avenue of Humanity” with a grim face...
“Humaneness! What is the sense of this magnificent word?”, called Wechsler into the microphone. “It means benevolence! The uppermost principle of our new world. Equality, freedom and benevolence for everyone! We have brought it to the people. A better world under the sign of peace. And this is the reason, why we may celebrate today. It has been successful - the attempt, to make this world a better place. When I became governor of the sector “Central Europe”, there was always only one slogan for me: We can do it!
Of course, it was not always easy to give the people these holy ideals, but today we are united and happy. We love each other and we are free!
And whom do we have to owe that? Our faith in the power of huma...
BOOM!!!
A loud blast cut off Wechsler`s next word and tore the lies out of his throat. It was like the ground had opened to drag the devil himself down to hell. The explosion was devastating and ripped a large hole into the square in front of the “Temple of Tolerance”.
The forefront of the building was torn up by the shock wave like a piece of paper. Several dozens of security men and politicians were torn to pieces, among them also Leon-Jack Wechsler. Asphalt pieces, concrete, splinters of wood and body parts rained down.
Where the governor had spoken a few seconds ago, a smoking abyss had been torn into the ground. Mangled corpses and wreckage covered the place.
Frank and Alf ran still faster. The deafening blast of the explosion had shaken the tunnel system of Paris to the last corner. For both men, it was the second starting shot and they were close to loose their nerves.
“Victory! I can`t believe it! We have really done it!”, gasped Frank and sped forward. He had almost slipped to the ground, but Alf could still hold him. “Run!”
The people were quiet for a short moment, when they perceived the end of the governor on the video screens. Policemen and soldiers were shocked and looked around, full of horror and confusion.
A swarm of journalists and cameramen, that had stood in front of the stage had also been shredded by the explosion. Some had immediately been dead, others had been hurled away several meters and were lying on the ground, with torn limbs, screaming and bleeding.
Their colleagues who were filming the event from the distance, suddenly pointed their cameras at the bloody scenario. The terror had come over the square in front of the “Temple of the Tolerance”, paralyzing the gawking crowd for a while.
Nevertheless, the brains of the people slowly processed the new situation and, above all, the security forces tried to react quickly on the unexpected bomb strike. Radiograms reached the policemen and soldiers, hastily and nervously yelled commands and orders. Some officers were sent to the canalization to look what had happened.
Shortly afterwards, a dozen men climbed into the hole. Others were called to the nearby gully covers. The fact that so many manhole covers around the square had been weld shut by the policemen, made them problems now. They all had to be levered up, what caused a long delay.
After a while, some of the officers entered the tangle of sewer corridors and tried to find suspicious persons. Their calls and the sound of their heavy boots echoed through the tunnels.
The two bombers were already far away now and passed the dug hole, which led to the abandoned metro tunnel. Despite the red signs on the walls, they selected the wrong corridor and lost a few minutes of precious time. Dozens of police officers already followed them, but they were still far away. The panicky rebels cursed and became even more nervous now.
“I...I just pushed over the edge! Sorry, Alf! That was the wrong way!”, said Frank, gasping for breath and sweating.
“Yes, all right. I had sprayed these crosses on the walls, exactly for that fucking reason, man!”, hissed Alf and waved his friend nearer.
They found one of Alf`s marks and Kohlhaas opened the digital map on his DS-Stick with nervous fingers: “The first storage room we had found is not far!”
They crept forward to the exit, while the inner tension slowly became unbearable. But this they were on the right way. Nevertheless, they still had to traverse a lot of long and dark sewer corridors. They cautiously crept in the direction of the storage room with the basin - it had to be at the end of this passage. Both men just used one single flashlight now, to cause not too much light. Frank did not dare to think, what would happen if suddenly some policemen would stand in front of them.
The two rebels silently scurried forward. Now they could see a strange blaze at the end of the dirty sewer corridor. They paused and tried to recognize something. Frank caught his breath.
Someone had turned on one of the old lamps in the room with the basins. The usual darkness which had always protected them had vanished now. With careful movements, they stalked through the tunnel. Frank crept to the end of the sewer corridor and cowered there. Then he peered around the corner. There was nobody. The room seemed to be empty. A moment after, the young rebel turned around to Alf and waved him nearer. “We have to pass this room! Then we can hide again in the narrow tunnels”, whispered Frank and felt out his gun.
“But who has turned on that light?”, hissed Alf nervously.
“Damn! You ask the wrong person! Come on now!”, said Kohlhaas.
They crawled forward and entered the daunting room. Behind the pool edge of the water basin, they crept into the dimness. Suddenly the heard voices and the patter of steps with heavy boots. Frank coughed into his breathing mask which was meanwhile wet and dirty. His heart seemed to explode. Alf stared at him with an appalled face and swallowed quietly.
“Come on! Here!”, it resounded out of a sewer tunnel. The light cones of two flashlights danced forth out of the dark hole.
“Maybe here is someone!”, they heard, while the steps came nearer.
Frank tried to calm himself, in these seconds of highest tension.
“If we shoot them, we will just make a lot of noise. That would attract only more of them”, he whispered and Alf regarded him with fear in his eyes.
“We are fucked up, my friend!”, said Bäumer with an almost whining undertone.
“Into the basin! Come on!”, hissed Frank and climbed quietly over the pool edge. Alfred followed him without saying a word. Like two otters, they smoothed into the repulsive pond that seemed to be deep enough to hide. Kohlhaas touched his combat knife and Alf desperatly looked in his direction.
The steps were now in close proximity and both rebels took a deep breath full of stench. Then they disappeared into the brackish water.
Frank closed his eyes and tried to think about nothing. This was really perverse, but it was better than to be dead. Suddenly, a blaze touched the water surface, otherwise it was just dark and Frank tried not to th
ink about all the things that could be in this ugly swill.
“Come on, check this reservoir room!”, it resounded through the brackish water. Now they recognized two policemen. One of the officers walked around the basin and illuminated the dark corners of the room, then he went to the next sewer tunnel.
The time appeared endless and Frank slowy became queasy, he was close to vomit into the stinky water. Alf felt the same. Meanwhile, the policeman muttered some unintelligible fragments of words into his radio. Frank emerged for a second to breathe some air and heard the officer say something.
“I must get out of this shit!”, he thought to himself, but the policeman was still waiting beside the basin. A moment after, he walked through the room, around the basin, and finally leaned against the pool edge.
The two rebels tried to communicate by gestures or looks, but the water was so dirty and dark that this was impossible. Now, Frank decided to act on his own.
The policeman was still standing at the opposite end of the pool, leaning against the basin`s edge and talking with his colleague, who had obviously gone into another sewer corridor. “Did you find something?”
“Only rat shit here!”, it came back with a laughter.
Kohlhaas could not understand anything else. Only God knew, where these two policemen came from. Anyhow, they were no Frenchmen. The officer in front of Frank seemed to be Hispanic or something like that.
Kohlhaas quietly moved below the surface and dived through the dirty water to the edge of the basin like an eel. As long as the officer was in this position, and the other one was somewhere in a tunnel, he had to act. The young man took his combat knife, pulled it out of the sheath and waited for a few seconds, while the officer was mumbling something into his radio. The rucksack on Frank`s back which had been freed of its deadly cargo bugged him now, because it hampered his movements. Kohlhaas felt like a crocodile that had waited for the gazelle all day long. And the gazelle had come to the border of his realm to drink. He pushed himself off the floor of the basin and jumped up to the pool edge.
The sudden sound of splattering water behind him let the policeman turn around with surprise. The officer tried to release the safety catch of his machine gun, but Frank was faster.
Kohlhaas rammed his knife deeply into the cop`s neck and jumped on the ground beside the water basin. His opponent gasped for breath and stumbled back in confusion.
Frank grabbed the man and pressed his hand on the officer`s mouth, so that he could not make too much noise. Meanwhile, Alf had also climbed out of the basin and held his combat knife nervously in his hand.
“Unnnghh!” The injured policeman lurched and Frank rammed his blade again into the neck of his enemy, while he pulled the man to the ground. The cop still fidgeted and tried to shake off his attacker. Suddenly Bäumer came from the front and knifed the officer too.
The policeman finally collapsed and gave up his resistance. Both men pulled his heavy body some meters away and let him lie in a corner. Then they heard the voice of the other cop who called again something out of a sewer tunnel and seemed to return. Frank and Alf rebels had to disappear now, as fast as possible, before he would find his dead colleague.
For their luck, the way out of this room had remained in their minds, although they still were totally confused. They ran into a dark tunnel and made off. Some minutes later they heard a loud scream behind them. Probably the other policeman had now realized that the room with the water basin had not been empty. The two men ran and ran and finally reached the exit. As fast as they could, they left the canalization behind them. Wet, smelly and blood-smeared, they crept to the surface. Frank and Alf hastily put on their jackets to hide the conspicuous bloodstains on their clothes. The two bombers breathed again and enjoyed a fresh breeze of air. They just could not believe it! They had made that bombing and the police did not catch them – so far. Now they only had to reach their car to escape from the metropolis, which slowly fell into chaos.
Shortly afterwards, the two assassins hastened through the streets. They were hardly regarded, because around them Paris became a huge boiler full of rage and confusion.
Groups of people had gathered everywhere, men and women ran across the streets, cars honked and they heard the voice of an excited newscaster out of the window of a house. The bombing had shocked the whole city – just as they had planned it.
Frank and Alf fastly ran forward and nobody paid attention to them. After a while they had reached the side street, in which they had parked their car. It had not been stolen or broken up in the time of their absence – and this was not self-evident in these days.
They finally exchanged their filthy and dirty clothes with some new dresses that had still been in the trunk. Frank threw the dirty clothes into a garbage can, started the engine and drove away. It trip lasted, because many streets were closed off or were clogged with people. It was nerve-racking, but finally they reached one of the streets which led them out of the boiling city.
Paris slowly disappeared behind them, Frank and Alf pausend for breath. Steffen de Vries had already landed in Compiegne at the arranged meeting place and was nervously waiting for their arrival. While time passed, the Belgian felt more and more uncomfortable. But Kohlhaas and Bäumer finally reached the small village near Compiegne. Now they could return to Ivas. Before the take-off, they freed their hire car of its vehicle number and burned it in the forest, hidden from any curious views.
The car was totally destroyed and no one would ever be able to identify the wreck. When they welcomed the Belgian, he was more than impressed with their success, and he was also more than relieved at the same time.
Steffen de Vries shook their hands and was absolutely amazed. The radio had already informed him about the situation in Paris since the bombing. Perfectly exhausted, Frank and Alf climbed into the airplane. Shortly afterwards, they left “Central Europe”.
In the former capital of France, the situation had meanwhile become dramatically acute. After the crowd had seen the end of the governor on the numerous video screens, a strange and confusing silence had ruled the “Avenue of Humanity” for several minutes. Many people had not been able to handle with the unforeseen event.
The security forces admonished the crowd to remain quiet, while tanks threateningly rolled out of the side streets towards the cooking human pulp. After a while, one heard the first spectators approvingly yelling and clapping their hands. The crowd was moved by a tumultuous unrest and more and more people started to laugh and shout.
“Thank God! That pig is dead!”, screamed a group of men somewhere in the giant throng. In that moment, the shouters ignored the fact that they were all filmed by GSA agents.
“This would also be the right end for the World President!”, yelled another man at the top of his lungs.
Then still more people began to shout things like this. Some young men stamped their feet and sang the forbidden national anthem of old France. Many of the persons standing around them joined the singing, although a lot of people no longer knew the correct text, because the song had been forbidden by the new rulers.
“Freedom for France! Down with the World Government!”
A choir came from the rear part of the crowd and the shouts were carried by more and more people. Hundreds joined the furious screaming and soon the “Avenue of Humanity” quaked under the roar of countless Parisians. It was a strange picture, this huge crowd, clogging the streets and slowly getting out of control.
The faces of many people were lined with pain. Millions of Parisians lived a life full of sorrow, poverty and perpetual insecurity. Therefore, it was no wonder that the displeasure had grown inside them in the last years.
Meanwhile, a big part of the population of Paris consisted of badly paid workers and peons. The salaries were usually that small that one just did not starve and was able to pay the high rents for the shabby dwellings.
Many of the people here knew the gnaw feeling of an empty stomach. The food p
rices and the fees for electricity, heating and water had steadily been raised since 2018. Hundreds of thousands of inhabitants of the city had already fallen through the welfare net and had become street people. Sometimes, they just froze to death in the winters. This was the sad truth about the “new world”. There was also no longer a social welfare system, because the World Government had abolished it as a result of the high public debt. All this was a good hotbed for a revolt. But even now, many people did not dare to protest. They were still intimidated and tried to hide somewhere among the others. They frightenedly looked at the surveillance cameras that were situated everywhere. Some of them even sneaked away from the avenue and went to the side streets. So the crowd broke up into a submissive and a rebellious part in the following hours.
Nevertheless, it was astonishing, how many citizens suddenly had the courage to raise their voices. The anonymity of the crowd seemed to fill them with bravery.
“Freedom for France! Down with the World Government!”
“Freedom for France! Down with the World Government!”
“Freedom for France! Down with the World Government!”
The choir of desperate protest increased and became gradually louder. Somewhere in the crowd, Frenchmen and immigrants started to attack each other. The Moslems screamed their own slogans, refering to Islam, which were also hostile against the World Goverment. In the middle of the mass began a riot. The angry people assaulted each other with bottles, knifes and clubs. Even some shots could be heard.
Policemen and GCF soldiers, who had meanwhile encircled the crowd, flanked by tanks, threatened by loudspeakers to immediately stop the antigovernmental shouts. But crowds have their own dynamics. So is the single man mostly cowardly and obsequious, but as a part of a mass he sometimes becomes a hero.
The orders of the officers were ignored, and after a short time, policemen, soldiers, GSA observers and the crowd opposed each other like two warring armies.
Now the GP-squadleaders yelled the order to “catch seditious people in the crowd” into their radios and groups of officers with heavy body armor clubbed their way through the mob to get all those, who had been idenitfied by the GSA agents. Finally, the situation escalated more and more. The policemen were welcomed with bottles, cobblestones or even bare fists, while they uncontrollably beat everyone down who stood in their way. Nevertheless, the screaming of the mass became louder, despite their brutality.
Yes, the more people were cut down by the clubs of the cops, the more people joined the chorus of protest at other places in the giant sea of humans.
On 03.01.2029 at 18.00 o`clock, the first Molotov cocktails towrads policemen and tanks in a side street of the “Avenue of Humanity”. The GP`s immediately returned fire and riddled the attackers with bullets.
In return, some Parisians armed themselves with clubs, knifes, axes and even guns. Now the violence expanded like a plague, seizing thousands of people along the “Avenue of Humanity”.
The warnings, the police officers were shouting, were not noticed anymore by the raging crowd and the mass answered with the old French national anthem.
The forbidden song became a surging wave of emotions and shook the mass from one end to the other. The old ground of the boulevard trembled under the loud sound of the outlawed hymn. Something, the former capital of France had not seen since decades.
The tanks finally came closer and the GCF soldiers and policemen took positions. It lasted only a few minutes until the GCF commander gave the order to shoot the people down. The bloodbath started.
While the mass was singing the strictly forbidden old hymn in perfect harmony, and a surprising great number of people could still remember the text, the first gunshots resounded over the avenue.
“Tac! Tac! Tac! Tac!”
The noise of gunfire increased and hundreds of men and women broke down. Then a terrible hail of bullets swept through the front ranks behind the barriers – all the policemen and soldiers began to fire now. The tanks moved forward and pointed their heavy machine guns at the numerous targets.
“Tac! Tac! Tac! Tac!”, it echoed over the avenue which was allegedly dedicated to humanity. The salvos of assault rifles cut hundreds of people down like a huge scythe. Finally the crowd fell into panic. The old French national anthem lapsed inot silence and was exchanged with the terrified cries of the people.
The soldiers and policemen could hardly miss their countless targets and they did their job, following the orders of their commanders and were killing without mercy.
Most of them were no Frenchmen, and if they were attacked by this crowd in this foreign land, they just had to put down the uprising. And they did it. Hundreds of corpses covered the “Avenue of Humanity” after only a few minutes.
The security forces marched forward in a closed firing line and shot their way through the sea of men, women and children. In particular, the heavy full metal jacket bullets of the tank guns were devastating. Soon the screaming crowd fled in all directions. Fences were ripped down, cars were overturned and the Parisians trampled each other to death. Behind them, the soldiers and policeman marched over countless dead bodies like a slowly moving wall of death.
Then the security forces got a new command. The unruly, but unarmed crowd, had been driven back by them and looked like the giant Persian army at the battle of Gaugamela which had been defeated by the phalanx of Alexander the Great. The policemen, soldiers and tanks stopped.
“The Skydragons are coming! Stop!”, shouted one of the squad leaders into his radio and wiped off the sweat from his brow. The killing work had been exhausting.
Orders were given and the dreaded helicopters, coming from a nearby military base in the west of Paris, came from the sky. Shortly afterwards, the pilots of the Skydragons saw nothing but a swarm of frightened ants, fleeing through the streets.
Finally, the helicopters reduced their altitude and made their gatling machine guns and their grenade launchers ready to fire.
“Okay! We just wait for your orders!”, said the commander of the Skydragon squadron to his higher officer.
“What are you waiting for? Fire!”, screamed the superior.
The pilot of the helicopter hesitated for some seconds, as if he would think about that, what he should do now. In the end, he simply said to himself that this was his “job” which had to be done.
He was from Uzbekistan, with Russian ancestors, and his name was Alexander. Meanhwile, the young man was a soldier of the GFC since three years, and this was the first time he had got the order to kill unarmed civilians. Alexander tried to ignore it.
“If I wouldn`t do it, another man would...”, he excused his acting in front of himself.
Nevertheless, the payment for GCF soldiers was good – and he had to feed a wife and three children. Apart from that, every job had its dark sides. This was just the way of the world. Now the automated target aquisition showed him a great number of people. He stopped thinking and started to fire. It became a massacre. The heavy bullets of the Skydragons smashed flesh and bones. Countless hit people collapsed below the helicopters, screaming, crying, dying, tumbling on the asphalt. Skulls were shredded and bodies were mangled by this murderous blaze of gunfire. The slaughter almost lasted one hour.
There was no escape for those who were caught by the automated target aquisiation. Where the Skydragons had raged, a cruel picture remained. Innumerable bodies were covering the blood-soaked streets of Paris.
Alexander, the family father, recognized a man in the corner of his eye. His head was torn, while he still tried to creep forward, pulling a bloody trace over the street. It was horrible. The Russian was shaken by doubts again, but he finally suppressed them. It had to be done, it was an order, and his only choice was to kill. Then he kept on shooting at the ants, down there on the ground.
While policemen, soldiers and tanks were called to other parts of Paris, in order to eliminate insurgents, the day came to an end.
But the riots st
ill lasted for two further weeks. Many discontented Parisians attacked the local police stations in their districts or assaulted local politicians. The head administrator of Paris, Richard de la Croix, was shot in the open street by an unknown man. Burning cars and houses, firing tanks and policemen, ruled the street picture in many parts of the furious metropolis for days.
But in the end the order was restored. This time, the Lodge Brothers who frequently used the lie as a their weapon, had consulted its brother: the terror. And he was successful. Even the bravest man was powerless against the unlimited inconsiderateness of the security forces in the long term. About 40000 people died in the riots and street fights on 01.03.2029, and in the following weeks. Moreover, several hundred policemen and GCF soldiers were killed. Paris had been drowned in blood. Now it was over...
With him