by D. L. Denham
She fixed her eyes on Kibo. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a difficult day. We would like to conclude our business this afternoon, if possible.”
“Your business is already done,” Kibo said, surprising everyone. “Your leader has been paid and has already met with me. Is that what you thought you were doing here?”
“We thought the payment would be made here,” Thursday said.
“Business here?” Kibo sounded insulted. “This is my residence. You are my guests. I never handle business, especially of this nature, here at my home where my wife and daughters roam freely.”
“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Sola replied.
“You are my guests. You may stay as long as you wish. You’re welcome to anything in my home. Except my wife and my daughters, that is.” He guffawed, quite amused at himself, and slapped his hands on his knees.
He stood to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Our annual festival begins tonight. You should really experience this. Our kingdom has already begun preparing. This is a great opportunity for everyone to experience life in my kingdom. We are celebrating our Liberation Day. We will be entering into our seventieth year of independence from all foreign rule.”
With that, Kibo swept from the room, his bodyguards in tow.
“Kibo invites you to stay in his home,” Zen said. “Your rooms are already prepared. There will be a parade tomorrow at sunset. You have been asked to stay at least until the festivities end, three days from now. To leave any earlier would be insulting to the people of Jaro.”
“It would be our utmost honor to stay and enjoy these festivities,” Thursday said, catching a quick glance from Sola. Reho could read her expression: You don’t speak for the crew.
“Thank you,” Sola said.
***
The residence was a picture-book palace, rivaling anything Reho had seen illustrated in children’s stories. The number of artifacts tucked away in every nook and cranny had impressed him. Paintings wallpapered every wall they’d passed. These images had survived the Blasts. They weren’t like the lightweight posters and pictures that littered the walls in forgotten homes and shops back in Usona. These were stocky and hung in heavy frames. The images varied and appeared to follow no consistent theme. Masterpieces from centuries of artists before the Blast now hung in one man’s home.
They’d each been escorted to their own private rooms on the second floor. If the other rooms were like his, it would be hard to leave in a few days. From the balcony, Reho could see the city. The people of Jaro were the opposite of those he had seen in Darksteam. Their skin was blacker. A cluster of women walked the street, their dresses similar to that of the girl he had seen in the piano room. The dresses were loosely-fitted, the fabric fanning out as they moved. They resembled the pleated paper fans girls made on hot summer days when he was in school. The men wore shorts and button-down, short-sleeved shirts. There was brightness and vivid color everywhere as people bustled to their destinations. No pipes connected the city to a monstrous industrial boiler, but there was power here. Generated by machines running on what? It was a question Reho would have to ask later.
The room was packed with furniture, making it hard to traverse to the bed. Its frame was massive with balusters with intricately carved flowers and vines—a bed fit for a king. He sat on its edge, then stretched out across it. The noises coming from the street mingled with the fresh mountain breeze, forcing him to close his eyes and take in the moment. His thoughts drifted to Ends. He had handled business away from his crew.
Then his thoughts traveled to the city of light, with its voice calling out to him through the phone. How may I help you?
“Reho!”
Reho startled. He had been on the verge of sleep when Gibson brought him back to the Kingdom of Jaro. Reho opened the door and found Gibson wearing a brightly colored hat resembling a disk-shaped yellow flower.
“Don’t worry,” Gibson said. “There are plenty to choose from.” He handed Reho a glass of purple liquid.
Reho held the glass skyward and examined its contents. “And this is . . . ?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s a bowl of it downstairs,” Gibson replied, finishing off his glass. “It’s definitely spiked, though.”
“Did Ends arrive?” Reho asked as he followed Gibson down the hall.
“Yes. One of the house doctors is sewing him up now. Thursday went out to see the city. We have to meet everyone downstairs in a few hours, but there’s something I want to show you before it gets dark.”
***
The sky above them was a soft, cloudless blue. The stars would look amazing out here.
“It's a freaking pool in the mountains!” Gibson said. He charged toward the pool, dropped his drink, and stripped down to nothing before hitting the water.
Reho couldn't help but laugh. He walked closer to the water but had no desire to swim. Something else caught his eye. The piano girl disappeared behind a counter near the pool. Reho sat down at one of the stools, his drink still untouched in his hand. He took a sip and immediately understood why Gibson was in such a good mood.
She rose from behind the counter and dropped the bottled drink she was holding. Reho reached behind the counter and snagged it before it could hit the floor.
“Sorry,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t know you were there. I can be so clumsy.”
“It was my fault,” Reho said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.”
She pointed to his drink. “We have some of the best citrus drinks. They’re carbonated. Just like before the Blasts. Is that the one from the house?”
“Yes. There’s more than just juice in it, though.”
She laughed again. “My mother makes it. She ferments some of the fruit to give it that effect.”
She was unlike anyone he had met since Jena, yet was nothing like her. Her words flowed off her tongue, reminding him of 4E’s bookkeeper. As a child, he would go weekly to borrow books just to hear her speak. He couldn’t recall her name, but he remembered how she’d sounded. Her words had always been so exotic and mellifluous.
She smiled. “My father said your crew was brave enough to smuggle in some important devices for our community. On behalf of the people of Jaro, I thank you.”
“You’re Kibo’s daughter?” Reho asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Yes. My name is Rainne.” She walked back toward the pool. “Do you swim?” She dropped her covering and dove into the water.
Gibson was on the opposite end of the pool, taking notice of Reho and the beautiful piano girl. Her body was thin, fragile even, but she appeared strong, her muscles flexing as she shot off the pool’s edge. Rainne.
“Yes,” Reho replied once she emerged from the water. “But I am meeting my companions.”
“Swim!” Gibson said from across the pool. He raised another glass of something. This time it was honey-colored.
Reho stripped down to his undershorts and dove into the water, the scars on his body hidden beneath the water’s surface. He ran his fingers over his shoulder wound; it had already healed. New Afrika was a place where people could heal, a place with a future, unlike Usona and the Eastern Blocs, which would still be contaminated a thousand years from now.
Reho closed his eyes, pushing his body through the water, submerging to the bottom. He ran his hands across its surface; it was stone. He opened his eyes and saw it was blue, the color of the sky.
“You swim fast,” Rainne said as Reho resurfaced, his hair matted against his face.
“I haven’t been in a pool since I was a teenager,” Reho replied. It was true. In the Blastlands, bodies of water were toxic, and only the oceans offered safe swimming.
“I am the best swimmer in Jaro,” Rainne said. “That is except for my sister. I have never been able to break her record. She taught me to swim and swam with me everyday as a child.”
“Your sister is out here as well?” Reho asked, suggesting
perhaps one of the other girls near the pool might be her.
“Oh, no,” Rainne replied and swam farther out. “She doesn’t swim anymore, can’t swim anymore actually.” Reho wanted to ask what she meant.
“I have to go in,” she said. “Tonight is a big night for my family.” She pulled herself out of the water.
“My family will see you and your companions tonight at the celebration,” she said, her words soft and body peppered with goose bumps.
***
Everyone was waiting in the lobby when Reho and Gibson arrived. Reho had returned to his room after his swim and drifted off to sleep. He woke an hour later and found his clothes cleaned and spread out on the bed. He was impressed. The blood was completely gone, and the tears had been mended. What alarmed him was that someone had come into his room unnoticed. For the first time since leaving Usona, he slept without dreaming.
“Its about time,” Thursday said, greeting them with his usual impatient attitude.
Ends and Sola sat at a table drinking what smelled to be coffee.
Reho walked over to the steaming pot. “Where are we going?”
“We are invited to a private celebration for the Kibo family,” Ends replied.
Sola glanced at Reho. “Apparently one of us made quite an impression on one of the family members. Foreigners don’t get invited to these sorts of things.”
The resplendent double doors swung open as Zen entered, dressed in white with the same reflective sequences he had seen on Rainne’s dress. He shimmered as he moved toward them. An OldWorld pistol was attached to his hip; the handle was ceremonial and looked to be gold.
He motioned to them to head toward the door. “Ah yes. I am glad to see that everyone is ready. I am sorry to keep you waiting, but there were a few final preparations to finish before I could leave and retrieve you.”
It was night. Large electric lamps lit the walkway leading down the street from the leader’s residence. They walked, following Zen to the private celebration. Through the windows, Reho spotted men and women hanging decorations in their homes and stringing lights on their balconies. The colors varied, but most were blues, greens, yellows, and reds. “Those are our people’s colors,” Zen explained as they strolled along.
Only Ends was armed with something more than a knife. Reho had strapped his blade along his lower back. Ends’ OldWorld pistol was strapped to his leg and visible, similar to how Zen wore his.
The lighted path led to a mega building far more imposing than the residence they had left. Its entrance was wide enough to drive a Humvee through, the doors made of solid wood, artifacts from before the Blasts. Inside, a chandelier hung low, light flickering from its candles and thousands of tiny, mirrored teardrop crystals. Zen led them to an ample banquet room. Its table could easily seat forty people.
“You may wait in the room to your left,” Zen said. “Guests will be seated shortly.” He disappeared the way they had come.
Dozens of guests, dressed in bright national colors, waited in a room filled with antique sofas and chairs. Colorful drinks lined a long countertop against the far wall. Gibson and Thursday made a beeline there.
***
The dinner lasted over two hours. Reho sampled the sumptuous fruits, salads, and meats, listening as Kibo told the history of his kingdom. Rainne spoke a few times, elaborating on certain events. Her sister, Mar, was given ample time as well, telling of her glory days as the supreme swimming champ in all of New Afrika and how her handsome husband had served well in the army. After seeing Mar, Reho understood what Rainne meant when she said she no longer swam. Mar was the figure he had seen back at the Kibo’s residence. Her weight was immense but a product of the stories she told. She had lost her husband to war and her infant son to an accident soon after. The grief was still more than she could handle.
Kibo III’s recap of their history enthralled Gibson, too. Kibo I founded the Kingdom of Jaro soon after the Blasts. When the Hegemon first landed, Killa-jaro had joined forces with several nations to battle the invaders. The Japanese, before they fell at the end of the war, had been the most well-equipped fighters. What remained of the Russia and the United States had fought with Britain and other European countries.
By the time the war was over, humankind faced defeat. Jaro, Japan, the United States, and Russia decided to surrender on their own terms. Once they did so, the Hegemon pulled out of their conquered territories and retreated to OldWorld South Africa. Japan had nothing left to go back to. The Hegemon gave them Neopan, a city built with technology and materials from their own home world. They installed a government program, an artificial intelligence system called Log. Kibo had spoken of Neopan with disgust. To him, the idea of an alien-controlled A.I. that governed humans was equal to slavery. He spoke at length about the decades of freedom experienced in his kingdom. Usona and the Eastern Bloc had been left wastelands, but New Afrika was healthy. Kibo spoke about a future where civilization would rebuild and how it would have its origins right here, in his kingdom.
Kibo spoke about the reign of Kibo I and his failed attempts to engineer soldiers to fight the Hegemon, how the monstrous creations—half-animal, half-human—were a blight on their otherwise bright past. The crew exchanged glances, Reho wondering how many of the creatures had reproduced out there in the jungle.
The guests whispered amongst themselves, each adding to the stories Kibo had shared. None were allowed to leave the table, though. Zen had explained that the meal would conclude at midnight. Reho had caught glimpses of Rainne at the far end of the table.
***
It was a few minutes before midnight when the first noise brought everyone to their feet, some rushing to the window near the far end of the table. The royal family stood, their bodyguards shielding them. The room illuminated as an explosion shook the room. The quake that followed was similar to the ones they’d experienced near the train tracks.
A second quake followed, sending the dangling lights on the ceiling crashing to the table. A woman screamed, both hands covering her face as blood poured through her fingers, a piece of glass protruding from an eye. More screams followed as a third explosion erupted, this time closer. And then Reho saw it: Kibo’s residence engulfed in flames.
Everyone gaped at the sight of the flames. No one knew to run. Where would they run?
“We must get you to the tunnels, sir,” one of the bodyguards said to Kibo. “It is too dangerous to stay in the city.” Seven soldiers entered the room. They didn’t possess the ceremonial weapons like Zen, instead each packed an OldWorld machine gun and a katana. Through the window, Reho watched something sprint up the street toward them. Behind the creature, Reho could see others like it, scattering. Kibo’s worst nightmare had come to life. The stone fortress had been attacked, and death approached at full speed.
Reho unsheathed his knife. “Everyone needs to get out!” He walked closer to the window.
Before anyone could react, another explosion deafened the room. Shards fired across the room, sending a choir of new screams from the guests. Reho pulled a shredded piece of wood from his arm and coughed a cloud of dust from his lungs. Reho could see figures moving about, most crawling on the ground. Then Reho saw something emerge from the inferno. Flames flickered behind the seven-foot, bulky humanoid. A silver helmet that reflected everything in the room like a ball-shaped mirror topped its massive, black body. The invader was coming straight toward them.
The warbeast, having entered the room through the shattered window, landed where the table had once stood, now lying on its side, shielding a dozen people from both the warbeast and the invader.
Screams continued as the warbeast tore through the crowd. Reho had lost his knife during the explosion. He watched as the warbeast tore through a guest’s chest with its blade-like claws. The other invader raised a pulse rifle. Reho dove across the room, grabbing one of the guns that belonged to a fallen bodyguard. Reho caught a glimpse of the dead man, a fragment of wood protruding from his neck. Gunfire echoed
as bullets tore through the air into the humanoid intruder. The bullets bounced off its body as though it were made of metal. Reho had never seen armor that advanced. A shrilled howl from the warbeast took Reho away from the intruder.
Reho spotted the warbeast as it lifted a woman with round-rimmed glasses adorned with colorful feathers off the floor with its tail, poised as though it were a spear, then flung her mangled body out the window. Reho fired several shots into the creature, ignoring the bulletproof killer. Its deafening scream brought back nightmarish memories of being caged in an arena with a similar monster. The beast launched at him.
Reho emptied the clip as the warbeast flew through the dining room. Injured but still able to fight, it pinned Reho and gnashed its teeth at him. Reho bellowed in agony as he pinched its mouth shut, his muscles tearing and burning from the strain. The beast released a deathly grunt as Reho lifted it. Its tail wrapped around Reho’s legs and brought him to the floor. From the corner of his eye, Reho spotted his knife.
The beast loosened its grip on him as its head thrashed to the side. The handle of a katana, which had been driven into the beast’s back, stuck out. Reho seized the opportunity.
Using his knife, Reho turned his arm into a spear and punctured the creature as he had the one in Red Denver. He pushed farther into its chest until he hit its heart.
The humanoid had taken out the rest of the bodyguards. Reho saw Kibo across the room coughing blood, his wife next to him, her face torn open. Rainne!
Reho grabbed a rifle and knelt next to the dying leader.
“Save her,” Kibo said, blood filling his lungs.
“I will,” Reho replied, unsure of what else to say to the dying man’s request.
“She must not die, she must follow—” His eyes stilled as blood poured from his gaping mouth.
Shots were fired somewhere outside the building. Reho followed the hallway that he presumed some had used to escape the assault.
The intruder sat crouched behind a low stone wall near the alley. The wall looked as though it had been built to serve as a barrier to keep cars from entering the dead-end street. Ends and the crew had escorted a group out the building. Reho had seen several bodies as he moved through the hall. What remained was pinned down at the far end of the alley. Reho noticed a drainage lid between them and the gunman. It wouldn’t take long for them to run out of ammunition.