The Ruling Impulses

by Francesco Portone

  «I'll explain everything», the officer promised, kicking Zakhar Sarkov's body to make sure it was lifeless, «but I warn you it's a long story and we don't have much time.»

  They moved away from the expanse of corpses and reached the building that served as a refuge for many weeks. Anthony Julian Ferronetti then began to speak and his story flowed like a river. First, he confessed that the Guilds, for some years, had started an activity of counter-espionage against Scarlet Militia, since they were not satisfied with their investigative techniques and repressive methods. For that reason he was placed to monitor the main subjects involved in the Minneman case, beginning with William Deveux and people connected to him, like Lucinda Merritt.

  «So it wasn't accidental when you tried to pick me up...», Lucinda asked slyly. Anthony shook his head and confessed that the more he kept an eye on her, the more he fell in love with her, even becoming jealous of William. He also left her a message on a paper note to try to make William look bad and induce her to desist from dating him.

  «I didn't receive any message», Lucinda replied, raising an eyebrow.

  «I should have guessed. I knew I didn't have to trust a gardener from Garmstein Park!»

  «Gerald Malone?»

  «Yeah, that one.»

  If it hadn't been for the horrifying scenario, Lucinda and Anthony Julian Ferronetti would have laughed a lot.

  «As I said, I was a little envious, Deveux, and I admit that I took the job to heart more than I should. For example, I followed you on that rainy night when you slipped into that... dump... The Pilgrim, or something... and then when you came out you were a wreck and dragged yourself home.»

  William Deveux's jaw dropped to the ground «So it was you who followed me! Damn it, I've never been so scared, I almost soiled myself!»

  «And that's not all», Ferronetti cooled him down, «we also met on that afternoon on the Southeastern Road... near the religious goods store...»

  That time not only did his jaw drop, but William turned a fiery red. «You... you got...», he stammered for a few moments, «you got me from behind and nearly beat me to death, you filthy son of...»

  William had an impulse to jump on him, but Lucinda put a hand on his shoulder and persuaded him to give up. «It's water under the bridge, Bill. We cleared things up.» «Indeed, Deveux! Anyway, I made it up to you, don't you think? Don't forget that, at that time, it was you the bad guy.»

  After a few deep breaths, William – with his temples still throbbing and his eyes bloodshot - ordered the officer to go on with the story and explain everything in detail. Ferronetti gave him another smile, not at all intimidated, and obeyed.

  The trial against William Deveux was then at its peak and, in Ferronetti's opinion, there was not much time left until the final judgment. He had too much experience on how Militia reasoned and operated to imagine an acquittal. His investigative work would end with Deveux's incarceration and he would no longer be able to affect events. Moreover - the officer clarified - at the time he had no reason to believe that an injustice had been committed, so he loosened his grip and filed the case.

  «But then I came to know that Alfred DiFraia had tried to help you escape and so I began to have doubts.»

  «Do you know the delegate?»

  Ferronetti nodded. «And very well, by the way.»

  Many years before, a younger Alfred DiFraia, a student at the law school, had asked Mario Ferronetti, lecturer in ancient languages, to help him prepare an exam at university. Anthony Julian did not remember the circumstances that had brought DiFraia in touch with his father. In any case, there was not a great age gap between the two and they had become friends over time. Later on DiFraia was employed by Scarlet Militia and he was soon promoted to officer. His dream was to become Attorney General. Fast forward: at the age of about sixty, Mario Ferronetti found out he had a bone cancer. In order not to throw his family into turmoil, he avoided telling it and tried to self-medicate. He also picked up a habit of secretly smoking pot for therapeutic purposes, and from time to time he met his drug dealers to get it.

  «As we all know, Militia prohibits the use of drugs, without exception. Unfortunately, my father was forced to hang out with bad people to buy it.»

  One day - continued Anthony Julian - his father was involved in a raid and was arrested. When Alfred DiFraia came to know about it, he wanted to meet him immediately. He listened to the painful confession about the disease and the need to get some relief.

  «Alfred DiFraia decided to vouch for him and called for his release. They granted his request but on one condition: he would drop out of the Attorney General's race. After some time, with clipped wings, he proposed himself as a delegate and therefore settled for defending stragglers and human garbage. Present company excluded, I mean.»

  With watery eyes and a lump in his throat, Anthony Julian Ferronetti took a deep and trembling breath, in the general silence.

  «Now you know that if Alfred DiFraia is willing to sacrifice himself again to help strangers...», he paused, reloading the very old lead bullet rifle, «well, nobody better get in his way... and mine either!»

  Lucinda and William did not know what to add and they remained silent, reflecting on the generosity received from complete strangers who put their careers and perhaps their lives at stake to help them. Alfred DiFraia, Walter Kaminsky and then Anthony Julian Ferronetti. They would never forget them, wherever fate led them. Anthony almost had to shake them to warn them it was time to go and they had to hurry. Once again William was forced to leave a dear place and so did Lucinda, who, after so many ups and downs, decided to share her life's path with him. Yes, because inside of them they would not forget the ramshackle room of that industrial complex either, the long chats, the mornings spent reading “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea”, the cold nights in which holding tight was the only way to get relief. Their new family was born on the first floor of the Milian Industries administrative building.

  Just enough time to retrieve their “travel kits” and off to another unknown destination, hoping it was the last. Maybe one day they would return to their usual lives, to the neighborhoods where they grew up or put down roots; and maybe one day there would be no need for “travel kits”. At that moment, however, they had to think of themselves, their safety and above all that of their baby coming.

  No questions: William learned not to ask questions whose answer, on balance, was irrelevant. They would find out where to take refuge when they reached their destination. Just one last thought for those lying on the ground, in the dust, struck by a deadly instrument of death. William wanted to know what kind of weapon was that. «An M16 dated 1980 or so. A relic, yet still very effective, as you have seen. There's no trace of such rifles in Militia records so they will not be able to find their owners.» Anthony Julian Ferronetti noticed the perplexity in William's eyes and extinguished any glimmer of regret. «It was you or them, Deveux. You or them. Better you, right?» «Yeah», confirmed William, resigned. «It was us or them.»

  They left the facility without looking back and without speaking a word. Rain clouds were approaching on the horizon and they would wash men's consciences for the umpteenth time. Hoping not to have to witness the sacrifice of others anymore, of people like Alfred DiFraia, thirsting for justice, or like Zakhar Sarkov, a slave of greed. Good or bad, it wouldn't make any difference.

  Epilogue?

  Little Roselyn ran happily on the shore, under her daddy's watchful eyes. Dad always had a hard time chasing after her, but he was almost happier than her. Whenever she lost her balance and slipped on the wet, sticky sand, she was as happy as a clam. She loved to get dirty with sand from head to toe and browning herself under the hot sun like vegetables gratin. If a little sand got into her swimsuit and itched, she quickly got sad and with incomprehensible words she asked his father to wash her well. A minute later, relieved, she returned to swim in the sand.

  Lucinda smiled and stood on the sidelines, basking in the deckchair to e
njoy the breeze. She knew that moment belonged to the two of them and Roselyn didn't want anyone to bother her when she played with her dad, not even her mom. If by chance her mother approached her to kiss her, the little girl reached out her hand and tried to drag her away.

  Once exhausted and satisfied, William stroked the baby and asked her to sit up for a few minutes; then, all sweaty and smelly, he went to lie over his partner who, in vain, tried to push him away.

  It was about three years that Lucinda and William had been living near the town once known as Corpus Christi, which was then part of the State of Juarez. Their little girl was born surrounded by the love of the locals who, despite the lack of a real hospital, had decades of experience in home births. They gave her the name Roselyn to remember the old woman who had welcomed them into her home and passed it on to them before she died. It was old and rundown, a little more than a shack, but it was the most authentic and welcoming dwelling they could have ever wanted. It did not lack anything, Miss Rosita, during her life, had collected and stored any object that could be useful, not only the classic household items, but also books and even toys. William's favorite object was an old calendar, one of those that people once hung on the wall to count the days. It bore the inscription “Mexico, 1961” and there was a family drawn with the style of the comic strip, which, in each month depicted, carried out a different activity: in January, they stayed around the fireplace in the evening, telling stories and laughing; in April, they gathered and threw vegetables shaped like tomatoes at each other; in August, they dived into the sea, and so on. They seemed really happy.

  In any case, Roselyn was the most obvious name they could give to their baby, regardless of their devotion to the former landlady: the child was beautiful as a rose and above all she was born strong and lively. The weight was surprisingly right, considered the misadventures of her parents. No, they had no doubt about the choice.

  It had also been well over three years since they had started life as nomads, escaping from abuse and from the hegemony of a hopelessly ill system, looking for a place to settle down and to consider their home. Anthony Julian Ferronetti helped them more than enough. He had driven without sparing energy, from village to village, south to the old city of New Orleans, almost to the border of the State of Juarez, to reach a secret outpost of Guild of Transportation. Once there, he had watched over them, sleeping very few hours a night, until his contact had arrived from the other side of the border to pick up the fugitives and help them leave the country. When it was time to say goodbye, the three had exchanged fraternal hugs, wishing each other good luck.

  Fortunately the memory of those bad days faded with time and became just a blurry image in their minds. William also stopped taking Sefinol and not just because he had no idea how to get it, but above all because he no longer felt the need for it. As the months passed the pangs at the temples became less frequent, the heart rate normalized and he finally felt calm. In short, he was fine. And it was precisely what he wrote in a message sent to the dear and never forgotten friend Kate Ramos. The only and last contact he would ever have with his previous life, using the only and obsolete connection to the global network available in the village. “We're fine”. No need to add anything else.

  William learned to fish. Every morning, before dawn, he kissed Roselyn and Lucinda and left with a group of inhabitants off the gulf, returning only late in the morning. He came to consider José, Miguel and Juancho almost friends or, at least, more than just neighbors. When he got back home he was completely satisfied, even though he hadn't caught anything. He took Roselyn in his arms and then had breakfast. Barley porridge with a little honey, beans, fruit and anything else sold at the local market. Lucinda and the little one got up later and, after William returned home, mom took the chance to go jogging and exercise, entrusting her baby to daddy. She had always been careful to keep fit in the past, both because her old job required it and because it was a healthy habit. There was also another reason though: her muscles had to be ready and snappy to counteract any threats. Even if for years no one showed up to look for them, it could still happen. It was better to stay alert.

  They often discussed about Roselyn's education. Before long they would have to send her to school, but there were no schools in the village. Actually, there were no children either, because, apart from their little one, the youngest inhabitant was a twelve-year-old boy who already worked in his father's shop, Tomasito. Tomasito was a sweet and well-mannered boy, when a customer entered the small craft shop, he stood to attention and greeted him with a high, ringing voice, and always received a caress on his forehead in return. From time to time Tomasito's father, with an excuse, told him there was not much work and urged him to go out and play. The boy then used that time off to visit the little Roselyn. He waited in the doorway until someone gave him permission to enter. As soon as the little girl saw him, she ran to him, with a big smile that showed all her little teeth. Tomasito held her close and rocked her a little, whispering to her a little song he had learned as a child. Certainly the most beautiful friendship in the village.

  To guarantee, therefore, an education for little Roselyn they would have to take her to another city. The nearest school was almost forty miles away, it would be hard to commute without own means of transport. They would have to borrow one. Otherwise they would have to move again, but they really did not want to. Tired of struggling to survive and being forced to emigrate, they considered that village on the outskirts of old Corpus Christi as their home. That small and hard-working community was basically their new family. They would win that challenge as well, one way or another. Little Roselyn would have the future she deserved and was entitled to.

  Yes, they were fine. The past was no longer something they frantically needed to carry on. It was no longer a hope that had to be nurtured every day, waiting to dive back into its warm embrace. It turned into nothing but a little wish, good to warm up some cold and solitary evening over a glass of fine wine. A memory that was all the more fascinating as it was far away and forgettable. Like an old photograph that makes your heart beat faster, but which is then put back in a drawer to stay.

  They no longer needed the past but the past still needed them in some way. The past in the form of a middle-aged woman who learned to fight and expect more. A woman whom William and Lucinda saw coming on a Sunday afternoon while they were relaxing by the sea; barefoot, in a tank top and with a beautiful yellow scarf that swayed in the breeze.

  «What's that long beard, Deveux? You know I don't like slovenly men.»

  Kate Ramos had never appreciated the pleasantries and even on that occasion she went straight to the point. William looked at her spellbound, with a childish expression on his face. She looked younger and also a little slimmer. In short, she was in great shape. They hugged in silence very long, like they never did before. Lucinda, behind them, checked her hair and wiped her face with her hands to remove any crumbs. She was unused to having visitors and stopped using make up since she lost her beauty case. «Don't worry, you're very beautiful», Kate assured her. She hugged her too and then it was the turn of little Roselyn. Kate regretted not having brought a present for the baby but - she admitted a little embarrassed - she had no idea that Lucinda and William had children.

  «You got my message», William said.

  «Well, sure, you didn't make an effort, did ya? 'We're fine'. Who, what, where?», Kate joked. «I realized it was you but it took me quite a while to find out where the message came from. I knew you weren't in prison, I was sure of it.»

  Kate justified herself by explaining to them that - to avoid suspicion - she postponed the journey south to look for them to make it coincide with the summer holidays. No one would have been surprised if she had gone on vacation to an exotic location. She was rather astonished by the calm and detachment with which William and Lucinda asked her how things went in East Eden. They evidently removed part of the details of their previous lives, they left the dark period behind them. Kate
was still part of that system and talked about it anxiously.

  After their disappearance she began to search and investigate with more conviction, always taking care not to reveal anything to anyone. She had found out that William Deveux was imprisoned in the maximum security prison, the Zoo, while Lucinda Merritt had been accused of bankruptcy and tax fraud and was untraceable. Perhaps she had found refuge with some thugs - with whom she had done business - in the Eurasian continent. William and Lucinda looked at each other and laughed out loud, especially Lucinda, who was amused by the very imaginative reconstruction elaborated by Militia.

  Kate informed them that she also promoted a secret non-violent movement that had the purpose of unmasking all the lies Militia spread every day in the general apathy and taking advantage of the indifference of College of Guilds. Maybe one day, when things finally calmed down, they would shed light on their case too. Kate asked if she could take a picture of them to circulate it at the right time, but they refused. Nothing had to disturb their peace, earned with so much effort and at a high price.

  William took the chance to ask her for information on what he really cared about: to have some news of Alfred DiFraia, Walter Kaminsky and Anthony Julian Ferronetti. Kate shook her head. Those names meant nothing to her, but she would get information and update them. «No», William warned her, «don't contact us anymore, Kate. I love you like a sister, and we all will always do, but don't come looking for us anymore. If we consider it appropriate, one day we'll take the way back and maybe we'll find out that East Eden is a quiet place again and we'll come to visit you and have a good coffee together. But until then, forget us, my friend.»