Joniver admired the dealers and had at one time, thought he might be a dealer. They had freedom, and freedom in life was appealing. Freedom would give him more time to read and spend time with Olinar, maybe even Emily. He envisioned himself helping Nana out as well.
The thought of Nana pulled him back. That, and the sound of someone nearby passing bodily gases. The smell wafted by Joniver in a few seconds, and it was awful.
Joniver focused on how he was helping Nana, but standing in the stupid line was not how he wanted to help! He felt guilty when he thought about how Nana was helping Emily, and he couldn’t stand in a stupid line. But honestly, he thought, I would rather be helping Emily and let Nana be here. He pictured himself planning a memorial service and smiled. He would be totally worthless trying to help Emily right now.
Nana is the right person to plan a service, Joniver thought. He didn’t know why it took so long to obtain a permit for a funeral and memorial service, but he remembered he would need to attend Naomi’s.
He did not know why Emily had been so distant of late, but he knew how he would feel if he had lost Nana in the fire. He would act like Emily was acting; he would not talk either.
Joniver shrugged, and another smell broke his daydreaming. The room stank with the putrid, pungent odor of unwashed humans, urine, and sweat. The room temperature was hot, although the outside temperature was nice, maybe even a bit cool.
Why was it so hot, and why was it always so uncomfortable in company buildings? They were the ones with all the stuff. Why didn’t they do something about these lousy buildings!
Just then an old man fell against Joniver, and with breath soaked in beer, apologized with slurred and uneven words. Joniver pushed him away in disgust.
They need to do something about these lousy people as well Joniver thought.
“What a sick way to spend an afternoon,” Joniver muttered.
About twenty minutes after they were scheduled to open, the three windows, located on what had been a stage, opened and the crowds formed. Joniver thought they looked like drowned rats trying to squeeze into a tube.
The company workers yelled and cursed the people to get back and line up before someone was shot.
This is hell, Joniver thought, and I am a captured demon.
“I will never agree to do this again, no matter who Nana is helping.”
***
Olinar stood in the shadows of what had been a balcony. No one was allowed in the balcony, and it was easy to see why. Holes pot marked the floor like Swiss cheese, which was closer to being penicillin than edible. What remained of a rail would not stop anyone from falling. Olinar was safe enough, however. He stood against a wall where he could not be seen.
As he watched his subject, who had become his best friend, he could almost read his mind. He laughed quietly.
If he only knew, Olinar thought.
Chapter 7
Jacob awoke and stretched his tall frame first one way then the other. Today was going to be like any other day. He rolled his legs over the side of the bunk and stood up, hit the head, and completed a three kilometer run. When he returned, he shaved his face and showered before leaving for the mess hall at 0600 hours.
Everything pointed to a good day. He would have his normal six kilometer run after breakfast, then PT, followed by morning classroom work. In the afternoon and into the evening, he would patrol with his team. Today would be a good day.
Jacob had not had headaches or nightmares for several weeks.
What had he dreamed about? Why had it bothered him so much?
He didn’t know, but he did not want it to happen again, and he believed he had the answer. He approached each day with positive thoughts, and insured he got as much exercise as his body and schedule would permit. He ran extra legs of the obstacle course if necessary, to wear himself down, and he took extra shifts of patrol whenever possible.
His mind slipped back to the incident several months ago when he had taken an extra patrol. He witnessed a most unusual thing. A street guy took a worthless sword from a dying man.
He chuckled to himself, “Only an idiot takes a knife to a gunfight! No one fights with swords any more. That sword is useless."
Yes, it is illegal for anyone to own a weapon of any kind, but the sword is a plaything! Who would mistake it for a weapon?
Jacob had chosen, for whatever reason to let the young man go, and he had not mentioned the incident to his company-mates.
In any case, it had been a good patrol. Jacob stood for the company and destroyed a household that harbored terrorists. Destroying a terrorist threat is always a good thing. We stop terrorists and the harm they inflict on society.
There has to be a way to get those groups hiding out at the poles, Jacob told himself. There was no way now, but the time will come when someone will figure something out.
“When they do,” Jacob muttered. “I’ll volunteer first to go eliminate them."
Terrorists have no place in a civilized society.
Everyone knows this.
His thoughts distracted him, and he stumbled across the threshold of the mess hall. Several looked and chuckled at him.
Jacob smiled and said, “Who put this threshold here! I’m busy thinking!”
There was more laughter.
“Why don’t you come on in and get some food in your stomach and those things off your mind!” someone said.
The laughter continued.
This is going to be a good day, Jacob thought.
Then from nowhere, a cloud of doubt swept over him. This was a semi-routine day. He had patrol today, and he hated patrol. He would rather be on the obstacle course or training in martial arts or with weapons. Jacob thought about how exceptionally well he was doing on the obstacle course, and barring an injury he would finish with record scores. This all hinged on his performance on Friday at the final competition, of course.
“Patrol is fine,” he said. “Patrol is great.” Jacob needed to keep telling himself it would be a good day, or he would get cynical. Being cynical leads to a lack of attention, and a lack of attention gets a Guardsman killed.
This will be a good day.
He would be patrolling midtown. He preferred patrolling the surrounding countryside, because the country is where resistors - and terrorists - are most often found.
People in the city tended to be docile, most never having even seen a weapon. The idiot guy with the sword was different, of course.
Jacob went into the mess and sat with his company. Upon sitting, he noticed an empty chair and looked around. “Where’s Thompson?”
Jacob saw heads hung and eyes fixed on the table. The sound of utensils hitting plastic trays and muffled conversation in other parts of the room were the only answers he received.
“What is it?” Jacob asked.
A sergeant was walking by and heard the question. He bent low and whispered in Jacob’s ear. “They came for him last night. Now, you know not to ask questions.”
“But why?” Jacob said.
The sergeant looked exasperated and stared sideways at Jacob. He bent down again. “You know why.”
Jacob shook his head.
“Nightmares,” the sergeant said. “He was having nightmares.”
When he heard the word, Jacob wanted nothing more than to get out on patrol. His emotions suddenly felt uncontrollable, and fear came from somewhere inside him. He felt it would burst through his chest and turn to swallow him whole.
His hands trembled. Jacob stuck them under the table, looking around.
“You ok?” the sergeant asked. “You look pale.”
“Yeah...sure, fine.” He glanced at his watch to see how much longer until his patrol left.
Jacob did not care where they went, just so it was away from here. An overnight camping trip somewhere suited him just fine.
“I just didn’t hydrate enough after my run this morning, that’s all,” he said.
***
“Joniver, if you a
sk me one more time, I will scream and report you to the authorities as a sexual predator!” she said. Emily’s cool demeanor rippled with a pained expression and her eyes pleaded with Joniver to back off.
“Sexual pervert? Really? You think I’m a sexual pervert? I have not even mentioned sex!” Joniver said. He paused and smiled. “Would you like me to mention sex?" Joniver looked sideways at the beautiful Emily. His eyes twinkled.
She was dusty and dirty from working all day, cleaning her new apartment after being relocated from the fire. Through it all however, Joniver saw she was still as gorgeous as ever.
Lovely, like she always is, Joniver thought.
“Joniver!” She stood up straight, tightened her arms at the elbows and held them straight by her side. She leaned slightly forward. Her gaze said it all.
He was playing with her and she knew it, and he knew she knew it. Joniver smiled back. “Emily, just tell me where the books are, because I DO want to read them!”
“You don’t. We’ve been through this, and I am going to ask you to leave now.”
“Emily, look, you know how much I like books…”
“Not these books, Joniver.”
“Yes, these books. I don’t know what you’re hiding but I want to read.”
“I’m not hiding anything. Not really, I’m...uh…” She busied herself with some arrangements.
”Truthfully, I’m protecting you." She said this without enthusiasm, part whispering, part under her breath.
“Why would you protect me?” Joniver asked with his face scrunched up on one side.
“Joniver, you are such a dingle…” She walked into the other room.
Joniver strode after her, and she looked back over her shoulder.
“Joniver, can I have a minute, please?”
This was not a request, and Joniver at least knew that much. He wandered around the few boxes in the floor. This flat was even smaller than the one she had before with her aunt, he thought. Joniver stood in the middle of the room and stretched. He could almost touch opposite walls with his outstretched hands.
She lived so close for so long, and I didn’t take advantage of it. He shook his head.
Her new flat is nice though, he thought. She has a good view of Centennial Park, at least the part that’s still there. Nana said there was a fountain in Centennial Park which shot water in the air. There had been enough water on hot days for the children to run through and play in.
One side of what had been the fountain, he saw where the bricks had not fallen into the ravine created by the bomb blast so many years ago. The company said they stopped the big one, but with the results he could see now, the one the company didn’t catch was more than big enough.
More than 130 people died and many were injured and even maimed, he recalled with a sense of sympathy. Joniver thought for a minute, imagining the scene as it must have been. He thought of all those people suffering and the waste of it all and a tear formed in his left eye. He wiped it with his right index finger.
“You ok?” It was Emily’s voice as she reentered the room.
“Yeah…fine, why?"
“You’re crying,” she said. Then she paused, gazed out the window and said, “Thinking about the stories we’ve heard about Centennial Park?”
“No, I’m not crying...I mean, yes...I mean, yes, I was remembering what Nana told me.”
“Joniver, I don’t want you to read the books, because of what it might mean.”
He looked at her, clueless.
She sighed and hung her head.
“I don’t understand, Emily.”
“I know you don’t and that is exactly why you should not read the books. Look Joniver, I...I don’t want to involve you. I cannot put it anymore plainly than that.”
“Emily, are you involved with someone who is a terrorist?”
A pause.
“Because if you are, it will not change anything as far as I’m concerned.”
She looked at him quizzically. For the first time, a sense of hope seeped into her heart and spread like a drop of dye in a pitcher of water.
“Friend-wise I mean,” he said and looked away.
She could not see in the apartment’s light, with the fading rays of the afternoon sun, but his face flushed and his palms were sweating. His heart beat hard in his chest, and he could focus neither his eyes nor his thoughts.
Emily just sighed once more and shook her head. What a dingle-doofus, she thought. Was she actually falling in love with this guy?
He’s going to break my heart, but I can’t help it.
What an idiot he is, and what an idiot I am for knowing he’s an idiot and still loving him.
Wait, loving him?
Oh, great, she thought, now I am ADMITTING IT! She screamed in her thoughts. I can’t stand this. Denial is much better. I don’t love him. She smiled to herself.
As she shook her head, Joniver looked on. He did not understand.
“All right,” she said, “but you can only read them here and you can only discuss them with me. You must promise me, Joniver; not anyone, not Olinar, not Nana.”
“You mean Ms. Ruth?” Joniver said. A crooked smile creased his lips.
She slapped him hard on the arm with a mock look of anger on her face.
She is so incredibly beautiful, Joniver thought. Why does she turn me to pudding when I am around her? I just want to touch her, talk to her, just be in the same room with her.
And most of all smell her. The lilacs, they were back now. They had gone for a short time after the fire. He was not sure why.
After he returned from his arrest the night of the fire, Emily had been very distant. She would not talk with him or even wave when he and Olinar saw her on Market Day. Nana went by to check on her several times since the fire, but at first, Emily would not invite them in if Joniver was along.
In time, about three weeks, Emily would look up at Joniver when he and Nana went by her flat. Emily looked in his eyes one day, to the point it was almost embarrassing. Nana even turned to look at Joniver as she followed Emily’s fixed stare. He did not break his gaze on her nor she on him. That was the day Emily invited them in and he and Emily had talked more and more since.
Joniver quickly fell into the habit of going by Emily’s flat after his work was done for the day. He showed up on errands for Nana at first, but soon was going because he wanted to. Emily even made dinner for him one evening, which was awful he recalled, but he told her it was great.
The time he was able to be with her really was great. He could eat dirt if it meant he got to eat with her each day.
Nana asked Emily to come to their flat on more than one occasion to enjoy the evening meal. Joniver felt this was the better arrangement; there was good food - from Nana’s hand - and time with Emily.
His Nana smiled when she said Emily’s name, and she looked at him in a knowing way. Although there was something profound and magical and sacred happening in Joniver, he still did not quite get it. Nana knew he was in love however, and she also knew she would need to help her grandson. So she did, with invitations for Emily to come to dinner and invitations for Joniver to take her to market where they would see Emily.
Many things changed for Joniver after he returned from the eventful night at The Station. People looked at him in a different way, and he even felt different. He felt more confident, but also more afraid.
He felt confident because the Guardsmen had not kept him, even though they knew about the sword. But he did not know why they had not kept him, and this made him afraid.
Olinar kept telling Joniver, he was the only person to go into The Station and come back out. Joniver was not sure this was true, but he played it up to his greatest advantage. When he saw people on the street, they seemed to look at him with respect, and he would nod knowingly at them. Olinar seemed to love being the best friend of the man who survived the Station.
What also changed was Joniver recognized he had deeper feelings for Emily. He did
not know how to express what he felt, but he knew he had the emotions.
Emily reentered the room and in her hands were three books. She handed them to Joniver.
“Would you like to read these? I know you read fast,” she said, “so find a corner or a chair and knock yourself out. Remember, only here Joniver, only here." She commanded Joniver with a straight index finger pointed down, and the look of a trainer beckoning a dog.
“You got it!” he said. He looked like a six year old getting his first bicycle.
Books! Three books! He looked at them carefully. They were three separate books, but a quick inspection revealed they clearly belonged together. He saw something of their relationship from the writing on the covers. He looked quizzical.
“The three books form a trilogy,” Emily said. “They are three separate books, but it is one work. This was written almost 200 years ago. I think you’ll like it.”
“Is it about revolution?”
“Oh, it’s a revolution all right,” Emily said. Her voice trailed off as she went back to her boxes. “There is definitely a revolution.”
Joniver sat down in the nearest corner and read a banned author he had heard of but knew nothing about. With indescribable excitement, he opened to the first page of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
The world was as it should be, he thought.
***
Joniver read. In just two days plus seven-and-a-half hours later, he finished all three of the books in Tolkien’s trilogy. Emily thought this more than a little amazing.
Joniver’s time included a reading of the first book twice, which he found necessary because of the language. He was unaccustomed to this kind of writing. The books Joniver typically had the chance to read were either books published by the company or history books, and even the history books had been severely edited.
Joniver sought both depth of meaning and breadth of vocabulary. He longed for stories that rose above the simple plots of fairy tales and provided the challenge of language, which only advanced publications could provide.
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