by Francis Bate
With a broad smile evident on his face, Jarvis pounded on the steering wheel of his car. The feeling felt new to him; he hasn’t driven a car since the advent of the incident not until that day. Leaving Gainesville, he drove smoothly on the road. He computed the remaining timeframe of his journey, thinking of his family. He couldn’t help but also recall his days during their agony.
It was a long day for him and he couldn’t even be so much prouder.
The wind blew on his face as he sang a song in his mind. It was as though his prayers were slowly being granted. He looked out the window and counted the trees he was passing by. Throughout the previous days, he was used to be with people around them. It was nothing like another energy that has been denounced the same. He took a minute to breathe and clinched the seams.
Jarvis guided the truck up the circuitous, back-hill road in the momentum of the submerging sun. At last, he burst from the small town to a morass forest. Back in the day, it was, the roads were lively. But as he passed by it that time, the dirty roads and trees looked contrasting.
The scent of dryness mixed with the warmth of clear air was eerie. Jarvis looked closely at the road; he is nearing another town in his sight. Moments after, he slowed down as he entered Irvine.
Buildings started appearing at a glance. He drove passed by a school when he heard pebbles being cast on his truck, ignoring it. As he drove along that narrow road, men threw embers, blocks, bricks and logging chains continuously leading him to speed up. The objects were fired like a bullet train in the wind, like the rain from the clouds. He pressed the gas pedal and the truck roared. The objects increasingly floated in the air when he passed over a footbridge that separated the school from the hospital.
Men were lurking in the overpass as they shoved some more into his truck. Without realizing that he has exceeded the speed limit to a hundred and more, Jarvis heard a loud pound on his car. A cracking sound of a glass radiated with the speedy air.
It was fast. It was oblivious. But when he knew he was safe, he slowed down letting the breeze damped over his face. The windshield of his truck has a crack on its right portion. Jarvis shook his head, cursing at the people who threw stones at him.
Driving mutely, he let the world capture him back.
Over the course of the whole event, diversions and realizations came to a point that nimbly affected them. It was difficult in most parts. But realizing that there’s something to compromise, only time will tell how powerful every chance would be.
Jarvis glanced around the area. It was empty. His mind went back to where the new phase has brought him. Although apprehensive, he managed to offer an appreciation for the new masters of life. His eyes that were fixed on the road were full of hope and optimism.
Peering to the unfamiliar view, Stan opened his one eye and familiarized the surrounding. The small room was dark and it has no window. A tiny hole from the far right side of the roof was covered with a ray of a minuscule light. But it was not enough to illuminate the whole place.
Stan sat right up stretching his arms and crawled out of the door. From there, another day slipped through the timetable without him realizing it. Since then, he has lost track of time and dates.
The sun has just gleamed its balmy brilliant light and the dew was still apparent on all the edges of the leaves nearby. Back shadows cast throughout the empty field as it gave a glow of pigment on it. Although sunny, elements of the chilly night were felt from the quiet wind. It was one of the longest sleeps Stan took since that day.
He edged to the truck and unlocked the passenger’s door. Gripping at his bag, he took the radio from the sack and turned it on. That time, he counted back the hours remembering what Chris has told him.
“Chris, do you read me?” Stan spoke while pressing the left button with his finger.
The beep came along at once when he released it.
“Stan, go ahead. Have you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Stan answered. “Have you heard from Jarvis?”
“Nah, I don’t know. You think he’s in trouble?”
“No, man, I don’t wanna think that. Maybe, he has not managed to spare time for an update yet.”
“Okay, then that should be great news but I actually contacted him. His windshield has a crack after people threw stones as he was passing by a footbridge,” he heard his friend say.
“Whoa! Did he manage to escape?” Stan asked, raising the tone of his voice in surprise.
“Yes, that’s what I understood before the line went off,” Chris replied.
Stan became silent, feeling the air on his hair. Looking up, he marched near the truck and heard the man from the other line speak.
“Stan, is that a helicopter I hear in the background?” He asked, worry in his hands.
“I’m afraid yes. I have to keep going, Chris. I need to leave before someone finds me here. Out,” he responded, sliding in the car.
Before starting the engine, he stayed for a moment waiting for the aircraft to leave. But instead of the sound going far to none, it became even louder. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the dust and various particles hover the air. The wind was circulating on that side as if there was a whirlwind causing it. Down on the ground, he saw the aircraft land producing a loud sound of its engine and the rotors.
The door opened as he watched from the inside of his car. He moved his hand to the pocket of his bag keeping his radio in it without losing his gaze from the men approaching. Two armed men walked towards his direction, scrutinizing his vehicle from the outside. One hand was angled on their foreheads as if covering their eyes from the tiny particles in the air. The gallons of diesel were neatly kept and covered at the trunk. The aircraft stayed on the ground, waiting for the men. Marching close to the truck, the man knocked at the metal door examining the truck closely. Stan wasn’t sure if he will smile but he planned to act amicably.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted, earning a smile from the man, but the other maintained his blank face. “Is something wrong here?”
“We were just checking the area. May we request you to step off your car, please,” he said staring at him. He did not move, stunned on his seat. As minutes passed by, he unlocked his seatbelt and moved out.
Standing straight, they frisked him taking his gun and knife away from his well-toned body. He checked the gun pointing the muzzle to its owner. Stan did not step back, he was neutral. He watched as the man put the gun down and looked back at him.
“Tough man, huh, well. Are you running away from something or anything closely related to that?” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
Stan chuckled and placed his hand on his pockets.
“No. That wouldn’t be an easy tool to escape. But I am actually running,” he started pausing for a moment playing with a rock on his shoe. “I’m running home to my family.”
“That must be tough, being away from your family in times like this,” the man responded, turning his gazes around the area. “We were sent to guard every corner of the country, no matter what part it would be. We are actually looking for a person and we received a report that someone has just passed by the town. Since it was not you that we are looking for, I am letting you go and I won’t steal much more of your time, time is precious. Just go home straight to your family because they need a man in the house.”
Stan nodded at him, ignoring the ringing sound in his ear. The man gave him back his weapons and he gladly accepted it. Putting it back in its original place, the man told him to leave after they have left. He opened the door and bent over switching the key on the knob, starting the engine and warming it. The two men marched back to the helicopter as he watched them strode back to their transport. Halting in place, the man turned back, shouting at him.
“One thing more, you must stay away from trouble. And don’t let my comrades catch you on the road. It would be more dangerous; they are brutal than me. You are lucky you just had to deal with me,” he informed him and wave
d his hand.
Stan stayed there for a little longer following the aircraft with his eyes as it flew off the sky. When it disappeared, he glanced back at the shed and saw a pipe he has not seen last night. Stan took a jug and sauntered to where the pipe was. He searched for the valve and groped the grassy ground with his hand. Feeling a soft tiny object on the ground, he picked it up pressing it trying to feel what it was.
Tiny legs were moving. Pressing it with his hand, he felt like a small needle was pricked into his finger. Stan was dumbfounded as he winced in pain shaking his hand off. The creature went flying in the air and landed back to the ground. Looking at his finger, it has gotten reddish and the warmth radiated all over the site. It was painful but it was nothing compared to what he was feeling away from his family. The scorpion sting made his finger to numb and swell, leaving a tingling sensation on the wound site. He found the small scorpion lurking on a spot and thought it was not fatal basing on its color and appearance.
Ignoring the pain it has left him, he moved to another spot and searched for the water valve. It was implanted on the ground enclosed with a metal covering. He groped at the handle and twisted counter clockwise. The caps and plugs were at the far end of the pipe. Placing the jug beneath it, he took the solvent-weld cap off.
Water came out of the pipe when he turned on the valve. Stan walked back to the jug and observed as a milky green color came out of it with the water. It seemed like the tap water has been stagnant for a long time. Until the last drop, Stan gathered all the water left locking the lid and carried it back to the car.
Sliding back to his seat, he looked at his red swollen finger, feeling it with his other hand. The pain was still there. It appeared like the pain won’t subside any time but he remained calm.
Hearing the beeping fuel empty sign of the car, he turned the engine off and went out, untying a gallon of gas. He carried it and strode at the fuel tank side. Uncapping it, he carefully angled the gallon opening onto the gas tank hole, filling it in and emptying the gallon.
Stan placed the cap back in and lifted the gallon to the trunk. Tying back in place, he covered the trunk securely. He walked back to his seat and leaned. After quite some time of wandering, his gaze went out of the windshield. A bright orb of light came out to sight. Its radiance glossed throughout the apparent junction of the vast. It has risen to a degree higher than the mountain steeps releasing its honeycomb-yellow complexion.
Stan sighed letting the twinge feel its core. Bending down a little to the front, he switched the engine on. For the last few days, he lived in a deafening silence of the forest. But at that time, the car engine was an assurance of his adherence.
Deciding to take another long drive, he pulled away from the area and went back to the road forgetting about the tiny pain he was bearing. It wasn’t until he accelerated the car leaving the field that he felt that his journey continued.
Chapter Eight: Exodus
“It is the moral and legal obligation of the government to command a lawful order but it is our rightful duty to disobey unlawful ones,” Malcolm explained, gripping the mug on his hand.
He was seated across Chris and their two other friends, Drew and Nick. The oak round table served as their witness recording every conversation they had. Chris bowed his head, looking at a piece of paper on the table. It was from Ezra telling them about the situation and ordering them to leave.
“That’s something you can’t contend in a realm imposed with the mass military force, Malcolm. We can’t do something against the sec, unless we stand against him. You have nothing to do when it has something to do with politics,” Drew exclaimed, staring at his friends. He angled the mug on his lips and sipped a bitter taste of the black liquid.
“Yes, we should take him down before it gets worse. I can see where this is leading,” Malcolm spoke shaking his head. They knew there was something worse than it.
“It’s too risky,” Drew responded, in an act of defiance.
“But that’s the only way. Sooner or later, the country will fall into the brim of pandemonium. And worse, their plan to take civilians down,” Nick became persistent about his concept.
Chris locked his gaze on the paper, not even sparing a glance at his friends. He repeatedly read the letter making him memorize some parts of it.
“What’s the real score? According to them, the military force is drawn to stabilize the situation in the country but I think they are trying to impose something more revealing and dangerous,” Drew shrugged and took another sip from his cup.
“Besides, that’s beyond the line of work and duty we have pledged. To bring honor to the nation and to its people, our oath is restricted to the welfare of the ones we serve and protect,” Nick reasoned out, leaning back and spreading his arms on the top rail.
“We live to save the lives of our kin and preserve peace in every region and country. We shall condemn the plan to kill people left in every town,” Malcolm hammered his hand on the table creating a loud thump. Deep eyes flashed at him as if questioning his action. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Chris tore the paper into bits and crumpled it. He stood leaving the three in deep conversation. Deep in thoughts, he went to an unoccupied and unfurnished room, the armory. He stood on the door frame and slowly took a step closer to the armaments. There were different weapons hung on the compartments. He stepped out of the room and felt the sun kissing his skin. From his left to his right, he slowly looked around the place. He stopped his gaze at a certain level where he could perfectly see through the side mirror of his truck. An image of the side of the building was on it. With squinty eyes, a tiny image of a shadow was hiding on top of the fence.
The man was wearing an all-black suit with a bonnet on his head. They could not be visualized easily from where they were but Chris could tell someone has sent them over. Looking at his friends, they were still under a heated argument. Turning his gaze back to the mirror, he could see one more men on the same spot. They were wearing the same suit but the other has binoculars on his hand. They looked at each other as if arguing about something he could not hear.
Chris went back to the table with his friends. He sat down next to Drew, facing the men he just saw. From there, it was impossible to spot the spies.
“What are you staring at, Chris? Are you with us?” Chris heard Drew’s voice as he nudged his arm.
Drew followed his gaze but he saw nothing but the tree. Chris saw them hide when they realized they were staring at their spot. Chris glanced at them and shook his head.
“You haven’t spoken for a while. I know it’s a difficult situation for us. But we have to fight for what we believe in,” Malcolm stated, tapping his shoulder.
“Nick, are our supplies enough for fleeing?” Chris asked, turning to look at him. They have been collecting supplies from time to time not to mention the supplies from Ezra.
“Flee? Are you telling us to obey the first sergeant’s order to escape?” Drew asked with his eyes wide.
Chris nodded at them signifying that they had no choice left, averting his gaze from them back to the hiding men.
“Yes, Chris. I think it’s more than enough. You sure we have to abort the mission?” Nick stared at him, his face was serious and so was his voice. His arms rested on the table, leaning forward to him.
Chris looked at him; his eyes were pleading something he could not understand. Nodding his head, he does not need to answer his question. At the back of his mind, he found it a rhetoric one.
“We do not have enough force against the DHS. So we need to do what the typical survivors do – to escape and keep hiding from the world,” he exclaimed in a serious voice. “Ezra’s right. It’s not yet time but when the universe finds the courage to fight with us, the hell will freeze.”
After that confrontation, they went back to their usual chores. He hasn’t seen the men for the rest of the day.
The next day, Chris felt the need to talk to Ezra. “Prepare, we’re going to the headqu
arters,” Chris ordered receiving furrowed eyebrows from them.
After breakfast, he dropped the bomb. It was not the military headquarters that they were actually going but their own administrative hub, the secret place. Without further ado, the three stood and followed him to the truck. Chris was silent throughout the drive. The letter kept him preoccupied and the men whom he assumed was following them. Speeding off, he could see a car from a distance trailing behind. The car was fully tinted but he could see three people through the windshield. He turned the steering wheel to the left making the three slid down from their seats.
“Whoa! What was that all about, Chris? You tend to be a good driver so we let you drive always but until today,” Malcolm exclaimed gripping on the handlebar.
Chris glanced at the rear view mirror watching the car behind. Nick and Drew turned their backs to watch another car following. Although it was far, they could see the hood considering the straight route. They exchanged looks and glanced at the mirror meeting Chris’s eyes.
“Stop at the shed, Chris. Park in front of that building,” Nick insisted feeling the smooth brake of the car.
“I thought we’re heading to the headquarters?” Malcolm asked but no one replied.
Chris followed the suggestion Nick has made and switched the engine off.
The curious Malcolm mutely followed them out of the truck and into the building, throwing daggers to his friends. Chris held the door knob, creaking the door open. They stepped inside as the cold air of rejection followed them. The room was broken and it gave off the sense of suffering. They strode along an empty corridor. Paintings dropped to the floor and broken awards were scattered everywhere.
They saw the car parked on a tree a few meters away from theirs. Three unfamiliar men revealed themselves into the open air. Scanning the area, one man placed his hands on his waist. When they realized where they were, he raised an eyebrow and distorted his face. They marched closer to the entrance, peeping through the broken glass. Although it was dark, he could still see the shadows of broken furniture and trash on the floor.