The Fable of Marcus

by Sajjad Tameez

  Chapter 8

  The Rise and Fall of the First Politician

  The town, although it had been deprived of any powerful electricity or bright lighting

  for some time, had never seemed so gloomy and cold. Everyone was silenced in fear

  and anyone who dared to speak against the new tyrant ruler was locked up or even

  killed, either way, their voice disappeared like water evaporating from a puddle. The

  signs of their struggle remained but their voice or their truthful words, against their

  new and oppressive dictator, were lost.

  The last to speak was old Alfred. He knew that a slow and painful death would be his

  fate, but he couldn’t help but to speak, ‘you are a monster! Just to sit in that seat, a

  seat that you could never be deserving of, you would kill your own people and

  Richard... you animal. I hope you rot in hell!’

  ‘You are a fool just like him and thus you will feel what he felt and die like he did!

  Take him out of my sight!’ He ordered his men, who like helpless sheep did what he

  said to the letter.

  ‘Don’t you get it? This thing that’s inside us all will ultimately control us. The system

  will eventually come back online and that will be it! You really are a fool! You are,

  what, a hundred odd years old. That’s not natural, you are already dead. When the

  system comes back online it will continue to preserve you but you will be a slave to

  it.’

  ‘And so it should, I don’t want to die! It is you that is the fool and doesn’t get it; this

  thing can make us immortal...’

  ‘I would rather die than be a slave, especially to something that has no cause!’

  ‘And so you shall!’ The First Politician nodded at the men and they forcefully

  dragged him away.

  The Fist Politician sat silently at the front of the hall, on the large grey chair that

  Richard sat on and taught people how to live freely, showing and guiding them to rebuild

  their lives – how to hunt, grow crops, find water and how to fight. But the cruel

  man that sat there now was far from that, he was envious of Richard’s fame and the

  love that they all had for him and especially the love his own father had for him. He

  sat remembering the amount of time his farther would spend with Richard, neglecting

  his young son, leaving to learn for himself, fend for himself. It was no wonder that as

  he grew older he began to resent his farther and on one cold and clear night, where the

  stars flaunted their beauty easily and in a deadly silence, he slithered like a venomous

  snake, he snuck into his father’s bedroom with a long metal rod and struck with all his

  might, blow after blow until his father, who he loved and hated, breathed no more.

  This was the first time that the First Politician rehearsed what he had done, in his

  head, in a very long time. And still, not one tear rolled, not one shred of remorse, in

  fact, he began convincing himself that he had actually achieved something and this

  was to prove to his dead father and that dreadful man Richard that he, the First

  Politician, was on top. He beat everyone and no one could stop him. He smiled to

  himself as he stared out of the window.

  Magical...just magical.

  The Dark-Tec Towers

  Fredrick gently knocked on the large metal door and tip-toed in. He looked towards

  his master’s chair.

  ‘Master...’ he spoke in a low and frightened voice. But he received no response nor

  could he see his master’s creepy hand. The room was empty with the exception of the

  large chair. Fredrick walked with silent footsteps to the side of the chair. With one eye

  still closed, he peered around the front, and sighed when noticing that it was empty

  and his tightened body began to relax. But he jumped out of his body and screamed as

  the large heavy door slammed shut behind him, he turned around and stumbled to the

  ground as he saw a man towering him, wearing a black robe. His skin texture was

  colourless and looked like something you would find in a morgue. Strands of blue

  veins ran underneath his, tracing-paper type, skin, knotted together as if they were

  holding him up. His thin lips looked darker than his black beady pupils and his

  nostrils flared wide when he inhaled. Everything about him looked cold, dry and ill

  yet he was far from ugly.

  Although this wasn’t the first time Fredrick had seen his master, he couldn’t speak of

  his features because he never held his gaze for more than a second. Fredrick’s eyes

  were fixated on the ground and he stuttered quietly, ‘master... you called for me...’

  ‘Ah Fredrick... my little friend. As you seem to be so good at observation, you will

  use the eyes and will locate the boy! I have the strangest feeling that they will be

  making their way to me.’ His eyes, although completely dry, managed to sparkle and

  he smiled wickedly. This was the first time Fredrick had seen his master smile – it

  was like the face of someone who had been injected torturously by a Botox injection

  and his facial muscles now defied his intended expressions.

  ‘Yes... of course master.’ Fredrick replied, melting to the ground at the thought of

  such responsibility and the reprimand for almost inevitable failure.

  The ghostly man’s cloak was so wide and long that it was impossible to see his legs

  moving. It appeared like he was floating as he drifted to his chair.

  ‘Go Fredrick... go!’ He said slowly but loudly. Fredrick, startled, ran off out of the

  room.

  The frightening man sat silently, looking fixedly at the ring on his finger.

  ‘Maxwell!’ He shouted.

  ‘You called...’ Maxwell replied as he instantly appeared in his usual but mysterious

  manner, only a little faster than what the man in the chair was used to.

  ‘Ah, Maxwell, it’s about time you upped your game,’ he said, surprised that he

  responded so fast, ‘but why do you always say: you called? What’s wrong with like...

  I don’t know... hello or anything less formal?’

  ‘Ok, if you would like, I could say hello.’

  The man in the chair stood up in rage and stared penetratingly at Maxwell, ‘if I would

  like... if I would like... I will tell you what I would like... no I will tell you what I

  would love... I would love to smile and wave at you as I pull your plug you imbecile

  but unfortunately I can’t do that – yet!’

  ‘I sense sarcasm in your...’

  ‘Shut up!’ The man interrupted, the echo of his bloodcurdling voice sprung off the

  walls like a bouncing ball. ‘I want the boy! Dead or alive. I have sent Hex and his

  friends to find them manually, I want you bring the system back online.’

  ‘But it is not ready and Hex and friends will not help this situation.’

  ‘Maxwell... as valued as your opinions and somewhat questionable predications are, I

  will not require them right now.

  ‘Master, I would like to remind of the ring that is secured around your finger...’

  ‘I know Maxwell, I am not an idiot!’

  ‘So why take the risk?’

  ‘Because I have a strange feeling about this boy. Yes Maxwell, a feeling... you

  couldn’t understand that.’

  ‘Actually, it is down to your feelings that...’

  ‘Silence! Do as you are told!’

  High Wycombe

  ‘Like a fla
mboyant rainbow after miserable, stormy rain, I have risen to give you hope

  and like the light of the moon, I will guide you out of the darkness that had oppressed

  you for so long. Sure, the methods I adopted may not, right now, seem right and they

  certainly were not pleasant, even for me, but let me assure you, it was necessary. And

  as you all have witnessed, any resistance will not be tolerated and any treachery will

  be punishable by death! But you all know that I am doing this for us all. And I will

  not stop until we are safe.’ The First Politician’s words were almost like poetry,

  especially to his loyal listeners – but were like venomous poison to the others. And

  just like a snake he slithered around the front of his audience.

  ‘What do you suppose that we do now?’ A man said from the crowd huddled together

  in the gathering outside. This was the first time that everyone gathered outside the

  town hall for a meeting and the first time that it was made a compulsion for everyone

  to attend, with the strict condition that failing to attend would be considered as

  treason. The impression that this was a permanent move was given when the First

  Politician had the bolts Richard’s chair torn out of the ground and fixed outside.

  ‘My dear people, my friends... there is no need for war or for us to run. I will show the

  underestimated power of negotiation – when they come... and they will come, thanks

  to our maniac of a, so called, leader – we will tell them of the boy and the company

  that he has, in return for them to spare our lives.’

  The First Politician’s sight went completely black and then saw a huge flash of white

  followed by the feeling of an intense pain. He could feel the warm sensation of blood

  trickling down his face. He regained his senses to find that a young boy had thrown a

  stone at his head, with enough force to almost give him a concussion.

  ‘Grab that boy! And bring him to me!’ He ordered his men in anger. The boy who

  looked no older than ten, kicked and screamed as they handled him and few adults

  from the crowd got hit when trying to stop them from taking him. One was woman

  was struck so hard that lay unconscious on the ground with blood seeping out of her

  ear.

  ‘You stupid little boy! You must really be sick and tired of life!’ The First Politician

  said quietly, ‘I will have you gutted like a fish, burned and have your ashes sprinkled

  over your parent’s food like seasoning!’ he continued, careful that no one from the

  crowd could hear.

  ‘You killed my parents and I will kill you!’ The boy screamed with tears flooding out

  of his eyes. Although the two strong men were holding him tightly, he managed to

  free his leg and kick the First Politician on the shin, and the First Politician doing well

  in pretending that it didn’t hurt, smiled gently. ‘Take him away.’ He ordered the men.

  ‘Silence!’ He shouted as people started shouting from the crowd.

  ‘Now, as I was saying...’ but before he could continue his devious speech, he icedover

  as the town hall, shockingly, exploded. The back-draft of the huge blast sent the

  First Politician’s men, that were standing close by, soaring into the air. The First

  Politician fell off the chair and the sky was roofed with a shadow of rubble and smoke

  as the building collapsed. Like a weasel, the First Politician crawled behind the chair

  and hid as glowing balls of fire cut through the smoke like a sharp knife. Explosion

  after explosion, the town was being destroyed. The ground began to shake vigorously

  as huge tank-type vehicles came storming in. After a few moments, the explosions

  stopped and the scattered people sneakily looked out from their hiding places. And as

  the smoke cleared, they could see Hex and his platoon step out of the vehicles.

  Stomping the ground, they approached the chair, ‘Get up!’ Hex shouted. The First

  Politician did not hesitate and like a dog, he crawled out from his hiding place. ‘You

  must be...’ The First Politician stuttered but was interrupted with a hard blow in the

  head by Hex.

  ‘The boy! Where is the boy?’ The First Politician, trying to click his jaw back into

  place, stood back up. ‘I will tell you... but you have to promise to let me live!’

  Hex gripped him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, the First Politician began

  going blue in the face, and his eyes began closing with the lack of oxygen. The

  woman from Hex’s platoon walked closer and touched Hex’s shoulder before

  whispered in his hear, almost seductively, ‘perhaps we should find the boy’s location

  before...’ After a couple of seconds, when her gentle words sunk in, he let go,

  dropping him onto the ground, helplessly and desperately gasping for air.

  ‘You are in no position to negotiate! The boy! Now!’

  ‘Please... listen to me, Richard found him...’ But Hex interrupted.

  ‘Richard! What? Here? This is where he has been hiding! Where is he?’ Hex shouted

  in anger and kicked the First Politician in the ribs as he tried to get up.

  ‘Wait...’ The First Politician groaned in pain, ‘He is dead... I killed him!’

  ‘You... you killed Richard. Don’t mock me. Ten of you wimps couldn’t kill Richard!’

  And he kicked him again.

  ‘Please his body is buried over there... dig him up if you want!’ Hex nodded at one of

  the men in his group who walked to the area that he was pointing at. The soil had

  been thrown on recently and was easy for him to dig up and the spade that they had

  used to bury him was laying close by.

  After a moment, the man looked over at Hex and nodded. Hex could not believe what

  he was hearing, this weak and pathetic man who was drooling in his own blood killed

  the infamous, the great, Richard. He shook his head and laughed to himself.

  ‘The boy! Where is the boy? If I have to ask you again, I promise, I will be speaking

  to a corpse!’

  ‘The boy left from here, they left heading east nearly two days ago...’ The First

  Politician squealed.

  ‘Who are ‘they’ that you are referring to?’ And the First Politician suffered another

  stiff blow.

  ‘He went with some kids and a man named Arthur!’ The First Politician said really

  fast, so he would stop getting hit. Hex froze, not a single movement – he looked like a

  hideous statue, a statue of a man with an ink polluted body and who was dressed like

  he had escaped from hell. His group of freaky friends looked at one another and

  stepped back in fear as Hex began to fill red, he clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth

  nearly sounded like they were about to break. He screwed-up his forehead as a sudden

  rage possessed him – but yet remained completely silent.

  ‘Arthur!’ He whispered to himself, gazing into the distance and gently stroked a long

  scar that ran down his forehead and continued under his left eye. He then clenched his

  fist tightly and the loud sound of crackling made the First Politician tremble.

  ‘Look... I told you everything that...’ But before the scandalous Fist Politician could

  finish his sentence, his head hit the ground and life left, leaving only his bloody shell

  to drown in his own blood. No one had ever survived a full-powered blow from Hex,

  except his old nemesis, Arthur. Not only did Arthur survive the blow,
many would

  debate that on their last encounter, and if Hex’s group of weirdoes did not lend a

  hand, Arthur would have defeated him.

  ‘Kill everyone! Burn everything! And then we go hunting!’ Before the echo of his last

  word had finished a long silver arrow cut through the air, just missing Hex and

  wedged perfectly in between the eyes of the dead First Politician. Hex looked around

  in shock and then to his complete shock, Arthur emerged from behind the rubble of a

  destroyed building.

  ‘How about I save you some time!’ Arthur said walking towards him briskly. Hex’s

  gang rushed forward, but froze when they heard Hex’s terrifying voice, ‘stop! Anyone

  who touches him is dead!’ They both stared at each other and with not one of them

  blinking; their eyes had already begun slugging it out.

  ‘I want you to die knowing that I defeated you! But this time I brought friends of my

  own!’ The army of robots marched in from behind the rubble and flames. Hex’s gang

  suddenly fell off their high horses and crawled back like mice. Hex noticed them

  stepping back and shook his head, ‘I will deal with you later...’ he looked back into

  Arthurs eyes, growlingly. ‘I have waited many years to taste your blood!’ Hex sizzled,

  unable to speak properly, burning from the anger and rage that had boiled up.

  ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up sparky, you may be waiting another lifetime!’

  ‘Let’s find out shall we...’ Hex ran and leapt in the air, kicking Arthur in the chest and

  sending him in the air and skidding across the ground. Arthur would have been a liar

  if he said that didn’t hurt, but he got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his clothes

  pretending it didn’t.

  ‘Is that all you got?’

  ‘No!’ Hex went for the same move but Arthur was ready this time and moved out of

  the way quickly, making Hex lose his balance. With this, Arthur spun his leg around

  and connected his heel firmly on the back of Hex’s head, forcing him to stumble

  forward and fall to the ground. But soon as Hex hit the ground, he sprung back off, as

  if he deflected rather than fell and stormed back towards Arthur who grabbed Hex by

  the shoulders and fell on his back and making full use of Hex’s momentum and a little

  help from his legs, he launched him over his head, forcefully into hard rubble. Arthur

  sprung up to his feet and noticed Hex running back towards him, fuelled with rage.

  Although his scar had re-opened, the blood oozing from his head was obscuring his

  vision, his stubbornness kept him coming back. Arthur’s stamina didn’t sway in

  keeping up with Hex’s frenzied attacks and it was only when Hex could not carry on

  that the pace of the fight began to slow. Hex soon fell to the ground, battered and

  bruised and Arthur was almost exactly how he was when the fight began, with the

  exception of a sore footprint running across his chest and torn clothes.

  He walked up to Hex slowly and looked over him, ‘I told how this would end!’ Arthur

  smiled and walked away.

  ‘What are you doing? Finish me! You coward!’ Hex shouted, his speech funny from

  gargling the mouthful of blood.

  ‘No! I would only be a coward if I kill you. I want you to live and know that I could

  have killed you and that I’m not scared of you... I will never be scared of you – you

  can bring this fight over and over but you will be laying there on your back,

  helplessly, drinking your disgusting blood, every single time! Now take your circus

  and get the hell out of here before I change my mind.’

  Hex lay on his back baffled, an enemy that he had longed, dreamt maybe even needed

  to kill, not only just defeated him but humiliated him by sparing his life. Hex knew, if

  the tables were turned, he wouldn’t have entertained sparing Arthur’s life for a

  second.

  Hex’s gang crowded around him, lifting him, they carried him into one of their

  vehicles and sped off, all the while hoping that this wasn’t a cruel trick, scared that the

  robots would destroy them before they left. But to their relief they made a clean

  break.

  Ryan ran up to Arthur with a perplexed look, ‘ah, why?’

  ‘I came here for the First Politician and he did me a favour – call it an eye for an eye.’

  ‘But what if he comes back?’

  ‘You scared?’

  ‘No! Course not!’ Ryan frowned and followed Arthur as he walked towards the

  remains of his leader, father-figure, and best friend who lay dead – a martyr,

  butchered by the ones he would have gladly died to save. Arthur imagined Richard

  being killed in many battles, killed by missiles launched from the sky or murdered by

  merciless robots whilst asleep, but never like this... never by the people he valiantly

  fought for, bled endlessly for – dedicated his entire life for – never!

  Arthur fell to his knees, lost for words. He couldn’t believe what had happened and

  began questioning why he should even bother trying to fight for the human race when

  it was capable of something so disgraceful. The ground and the sky felt like they were

  closing in and sandwiching him. He began wishing the world would just stop spinning

  so he could just jump off. For that moment, he hated everything and everyone. He

  couldn’t look up for the fear of seeing anyone, he despised the world, life, everything.

  When he finally opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his reflection from a broken

  sword close by and realised he hated himself. Hated himself for leaving the town,

  leaving Richard on his own and mostly for not killing the First Politician when he had

  the chance. The thought of reaching over, lifting the broken sword and stabbing

  himself in the heart played over and over on his mind, but Arthur was no coward. And

  Amy, watching carefully as he eyed up the sword kicked it away, but dared not

  approach him.

  The First Politician’s men and followers ran away, knowing what would happen if

  they stayed and the rest of the people saw to the injured, but Arthur remained in the

  same position for hours, motionless – day fell into night, cold turned colder, mild

  winds turned ferocious, yet Arthur did not move a muscle. Pearl white flakes began

  floating down from the dark sky and covering the ground with a soft white carpet. The

  remaining people in the town crowded into the few standing buildings to keep warm

  but no one could sleep. Amy, although still sceptical about approaching Arthur, could

  not bear to see him freeze to death. She stormed out of the building and stood in front

  of him.

  ‘Arthur...’ she whispered. Arthur remained still and completely silent. His nose was

  like a tomato, his eyes were like glowing strawberries and his lips had become dark

  blue. Amy leaned forward and touched his ice-cold shoulder, ‘Arthur... you are going

  to freeze. Come inside, please...’

  Arthur struggled to his feet, still keeping his eyes glued to the ground, his neck and

  back were arched and it was as if the death of Richard had finally kicked – completely

  shattering Arthur’s powerful persona. A side of Arthur that no one had ever seen

  before surfaced, and a gentle tear burned down his iced face. His hands had become

  so numb from the cold that it felt like a slab of ice sticks was wiping the tear. He

>   walked with Amy back to the building where Nicole, Marcus and the rest were

  huddled together around a small fire – cold, but they all felt safe with the army of

  robots that were now wearing bright white coats and hats made from snow and stood

  guard outside.

  ‘Everyone... go to sleep.’ Arthur ordered, desperately hoping that no one would ask

  him if he’s ok. But everyone was sensible enough to remain silent.

  In the morning, the ash-like snow had completely halted, leaving a few inches of

  milky sponge, the painful cold, however, continued to terrorise everyone. The small

  fire extinguishing itself, allowed the morning chill to wake everyone, with the

  exception of Louise and Ryan, who could sleep though anything. Arthur awoke from

  his nightmare and realised he was actually living it. His neck, back and legs crackled

  as he rose to his feet. His body was stiff and sore.

  ‘Get everyone up and meet outside...’ Arthur ordered Amy. Amy looked colourless,

  her puffy and dark eye circles were nearly as big as her eyes and she sneezed and

  snivelled repeatedly. She nodded and then stumbled to wake everyone. Marcus had

  not slept more than an hour, a combination of the aching, bitter cold and the simple

  fact that the world was now resting on his shoulders, stopped his eyes from closing

  and mind from resting. Although, some things from his past, bounced around in his

  head, everything was still jumbled up and nothing made real sense. But he had an idea

  of what he had to do... something impossible.

  When everyone finally gathered outside, it was clear that less than half of the town’s

  people had disappeared some killed but most had run shamefully. Some of the braver

  children stood at the back and had started to fight with snow balls, but this didn’t

  seem to bother Arthur. Everyone else stared contently at Arthur, waiting eagerly for

  him to speak with wisdom, guiding them and leading them to brighter future.

  ‘You have witnessed the loss of a man, a legend that dedicated his entire life for all of

  you. Nothing can bring him back – nothing!’ His anger and sorrow clearly no milder

  than yesterday, ‘but he had a vision, a vision that will live on forever – he saw a day, a

  glorious day when every human walked free. Wrists free from shackles and hearts

  free from fear. So you all look for a leader, a leader who is courageous, strong and

  honourable, sharing that same great vision. So look to this boy!’ He pointed at

  Marcus, who sort of had an idea that this may have been coming. By the now, and

  especially with the fierce looking robots being tamed, they had already pledged

  elegance, silently. ‘I don’t know why this boy was chosen exactly... but I know he is

  here to do great things. He has a pure and just heart and with this alone, I believe that

  he will lead us to victory.’ The entire crowd, including Nicole and her group of

  friends, looked like they were in agreement. There were a few cheers from the crowd

  in excitement, which made Marcus uneasy and a little nauseous.

  Arthur approached Marcus, who felt like hiding behind Nicole, and said, ‘what now?’

  ‘I... I...’ but he knew that, I don’t have a clue, would not be an acceptable answer.

  Marcus reluctantly stepped forward and faced the hopeful crowd, ‘if we are to stop

  this whole Dark-Tec thing, we are going to need as much help as we can get. We will

  go London and gather as many people and resources as we can. And when the time is

  right, we will use all our spirit and might and take the fight to the Towers. And we

  will watch the towers, along with its evil regime, crumble.’ Most of the people in the

  crowd cheered in excitement. And Marcus subtly stepped back closer to Nicole who

  had her eyebrows raised in surprise from his speech. ‘Wow... I didn’t know you had it

  in you...hero.’ Marcus, however, was not really convinced with his own words and

  nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

  ‘You heard him... those of you that wish to follow us, we will leave in an hour, those

  of you that wish to stay, stay but those of you that will betray us, shall taste my

  sword!’ Arthur spoke inspirationally but furiously.

  At this point, and at a perfect moment, the sun made a unexpected appearance – its

  enchanting rays melting the thin bed of snow, and as the dampness raised from the

  ground to the sky, so did the spirit of the people and a cloud of optimism hovered for

  hours.

  In exactly an hour, everyone had gathered with what belongings that could salvage

  and prepared themselves for the long journey. Some of the young woman and all the

  children hitched a ride on the robots, a large group horses catered for most of the

  people and the strong, including Arthur, walked swiftly alongside. Arthur walked

  alongside the strong golden-brown horse that galloped steadily, carrying Marcus and

  Nicole. Unlike most of the other horses, its legs were longer and significantly more

  muscular. With its eyes like huge, black golf balls, it stared ahead fiercely. Marcus

  hadn’t ever seen a real horse, or if he did, he had absolutely no recollection of it; he

  found it extraordinary to see such a striking creature, painted with the most lavish

  colours and with the most elegant features, look so incredibly menacing – a true

  contrast between beauty and beast. This was Arthur’s horse and bore an explainable

  resemblance to him. He found the horse young, injured and abandoned. And although

  Arthur wasn’t particularly keen on horses, he grew fond him, as did the horse to

  Arthur. He grew to mimic Arthur’s courageousness and honour and because of the

  many battles they fought together, most of them at night, Arthur decided to name him

  Dark Knight, calling him DK for short.

  ‘It will take us days to get to London at this pace!’ Nicole said, thinking ahead.

  ‘I know, but we have no other choice.’ Arthur said, hoping that they might find a

  faster way of getting there. He knew if he wanted he could have galloped there on DK

  and got there much faster, but he couldn’t leave everyone behind. He made the

  mistake of leaving Richard and paid the ultimate price.