A Depraved Blessing

by D. C. Clemens

  It was more instinctive than anything, since I could not be sure if Yitro would involve himself, or if he did, what he would do exactly. The uncertainties I held were vanquished when I saw the gun toting man soar upwards through the air in the blink of an eye. I had time to recall as he fell backwards that a fist-sized piece of the ground had ardently shot upwards and impacted directly under his chin. He landed on the ground already out cold. I glanced behind me to see Yitro casually standing amid the crowd. No one seemed to have noticed that he was the cause of this and they might have assumed I was the spirit warrior. Everyone, including the second brute, remained motionless and silent, either watching me or the fallen man before them. The lone sound came from the woman’s sobs as she scrambled to the boy, who had subsided his convulses, but was unconscious. I also went toward the youth. After giving the woman a look of sympathy, I was allowed to pick up the boy and carried him to the cot in his tent. I next asked an older gentleman standing near the entrance to find a doctor. He left straightaway, looking a little ashamed as he did so. As I went back to rejoin those outside, I saw the conscious man in the process of lifting his insensible compatriot off the ground.

  Before he could complete the task, I asked him, “Do you think he’ll be saner when he wakes up?”

  He stared at me for a moment, but it wasn’t one of contempt, but of remorse. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he weakly replied. “Maybe the hit will do him some good.”

  “Keep the gun away from him until you’re sure,” I said in my most commanding tone.

  He timidly nodded, possibly expecting the ground to get its vengeance on him next if he did not comply. He proceeded to lift his friend and carry him toward their tent a dozen yards away.

  “That was pretty ballsy, old-timer,” said Yitro, now standing next to me as the rest of the crowd dispersed.

  “It’s a sad day when somebody standing up for a kid with epilepsy is considered ballsy,” I replied.

  “Well, actually, I mean you could’ve just stood back the whole time,” he said, giving me a coy smile. “I would’ve knocked him out anyway.”

  “I guess I didn’t really think it through. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  Later in the day, after the boy had awoken and had been seen and treated by a doctor, I again checked to see whether our proposal was any closer to being fulfilled. The answer was in the negative. I was told the military was already stretched too thin, and as we were already in a refugee camp, we were no longer deemed a priority. I was also informed that the Injectors were actively targeting aircraft of all types, quickly reducing their already low availability. I could tell most of soldiers were beginning to get annoyed with our pestering. With the hope of rejoining my family becoming lower and lower, I needed to think of some way to reach them, so I asked a soldier if he could at least let my family know we were safe. The soldier responded by saying he would talk to his superior. It was the following day when the military jotted down the names of the men to update the Arora camp of our arrival. It wasn’t until we were telling them our names was I aware that this would be the way Liz and everyone would discover a brother, a son, an uncle, a father, and a husband were no longer in the dominion of the living. It felt wrong notifying them in this impersonal way, to let them speculate on how it all transpired. In the end, it was necessary and unavoidable.

  Neves remained a shell of a man on each day and night I visited him during those early days in Meltmore. He was close to making me believe his spirit had already left his body. He drank little, ate less, and spoke not at all, nor did I attempt to converse with him at length. Only time held any promise to mend his mind. Nevertheless, an opportunity came forth to me one morning to lift his inflicted outlook. In the glare of coming daylight, I saw some kids playing shockball. I always correlated Neves and his happiest mood when playing or watching the sport that had given him his previously blessed life, so I asked Bervin to persuade him to accompany him on a walk, hoping that seeing the jubilant children playing his life sport would salvage some heartening memories and help bring him back from total misery. As Neves didn’t have the inclination to struggle, he readily yielded to the proposal of his friend. I was sitting outside my tent in the meantime, trying to watch his every move for any sign of revitalized life.

  When they first passed by the lively bustle of the laughing children, I was already beginning to think my scheme would be in vain. Neves did not seem to pay any attention to them, almost as if they were ghosts only I could see. A few moments afterwards, however, I was shown that not all hope was lost. Neves took a short glance back at them. As Neves walked back to his tent, after some minutes strolling the area, he could not resist going up to the amateur players and begin giving them pointers. The children seemed to eagerly listen to their elder’s instruction when it became apparent the stranger knew what he was talking about. He looked like his old self again, the one I remembered watching when he was first teaching me the finer points of the game over a decade ago. He had zero difficulty adapting to the youngster’s innocent competition and I had just about forgotten the depression he had held moments before. Even I was uplifted when Bervin integrated himself with the group and proceeded to clumsily stumble about and generally act as the comic relief, to the youngsters’ delight.

  An hour had gone by when Neves returned to his tent, with, I’d say, a lightened heart. As soon as he walked through, I heard the weeping of a wounded man dripping out the heavy, swelled heart that had been caged the instant he walked away from his son. Venting sadness in a tent was not something new in this place, but it was something new in his.

  That coming evening, for the first time since our arrival, all four of us ate and talked together in Neves’ tent.

  “They still won’t move us, eh?” Bervin asked once he had finished his meal.

  “No,” I answered, halfway through my own stringy soup. “I checked again today. From the sound of it, we’re going to be here a while.”

  “What if we just say Yitro was ordered to go to Arora?” he suggested. I could tell this wasn’t the first time the idea had crossed his mind. “They won’t know he’s unregistered.”

  I glanced at Yitro, but he was still looking down at his food and did not appear to notice that his name was mentioned.

  I answered, “I doubt they’ll believe that. And even if they did, they might just ‘change’ his orders and send him somewhere else.”

  “That’s something I’ve been curious about,” Neves asked, which did catch Yitro’s attention. “Why aren’t you registered with the military? I always thought it was mandatory for anyone blessed with your gift?”

  “It wasn’t up to me,” the recipient of the question replied, in a quiet voice that sounded a bit stiff. “I discovered my ability early on and my father didn’t want me to become part of the so-called ‘complex.’ But he had no problem making me become a part of his.”

  “So who taught you?” asked Bervin.

  “An associate of my father’s.” Yitro looked back down at his food. “He had a lot of connections. None of that helped him in the end, though.”

  “He didn’t make it?” I asked.

  “No,” he said wearily. “A silver lining for me in all this.”

  “Eloram seems like another silver lining,” I said, feeling he wanted the subject changed. “What’s her story?”

  He somewhat perked up, saying, “Sweet girl, isn’t she? If it wasn’t for her… Well, let’s just say I owe her. I’m at least glad she’s with good company. I know she’ll start seeing Dayce like a little brother in no time.”

  “And Liz did always want a daughter,” I said, the remnants of a smile still on my face.

  With the shadows becoming darker and the moons and stars brightening later that night, we received an update informing us that many of the Towers had departed from their cities. The next few days were met with much speculation and consternation on wondering what the next intentions of the Towers would be. It seemed everyone in the refuge wa
s anticipating their strike at any given moment.

  Not long after this news, reports of the most intriguing kind sprung from the working radios in the camp. Valland had taken the action many thought long overdue. The nation decided to take their fate into their own hands by exercising their nuclear option on the infamous mother ship. Each new story that followed became conflicted with the one before it and the one after it. They created more questions than answers at first, but, little by little, the story started to come together. It had been seven hours since a squadron of bombers had left for their imperative assignment, but none had accomplished their mission. In fact, none were able to even reach their target. It was said they crashed, but exactly at what point or by what method was unconfirmed. A second attempt was tried shortly afterwards with a wave of ballistic missiles from ships at sea or by the subs under it. Some of the missiles had unmistakably detonated, but well before hitting the target of their desire. There was a word of a third attempt, but that was all we had, a word, for most of the other statements stated there were only two up to that point. It was plain from all the accounts that the vessel from the void was being protected by an unseen force that prevented our most powerful weapons from giving their shot at a counterpunch. It was now official; nothing conventional would work against them. This insight brought about a deep sense of vulnerability over all our souls, as if we had been caught naked in front of an assembly of gawkers.

  The succeeding days passed uneventfully. Of course, that was suggesting being in a refugee camp was uneventful to begin with. Like most modernized citizens, I never imagined I would be in such a position. This was a place I thought only existed half a world away, across seas, canyons, and assemblies of sandy deserts, off in barbaric, war-torn lands. A TV commercial would come on every now and again to remind you to send some extra change to these dissolute places. They often showed the lamentable grime covered faces of children, who, under the best circumstances, lived in feeble homes you could not be sure would survive a minor accumulation of dead leaves. It was Liz who would often urge me to donate, and as soon as the rush of good feeling washed over me, I would forget their troubles when my own snags arose. Now I was one of those faces in those commercials, walking aimlessly in an ailing land. I was now dependent on uncontrollable events and counted on the goodwill of beings that seemed to have none. Yet I knew I was among the lucky ones. I had cooked food, clean water, and a place to sleep. We had to forget the luxuries of the past to remember the fortunes of the present.

  Most tried making the best of our situation, not only because it was sensible, but because it was necessary for our spirits to endure, given as it was one of the few possessions we still had left. The days sluggishly elapsed under the heat of the sun, which radiated with more intensity with each new sunrise. Many switched their sleep cycles to avoid the star’s burning firelight as much as possible, becoming more active in the evenings and early mornings. Someone somewhere usually had music playing in some form when the temperatures dropped, and people would gather and share food and stories with their new neighbors. Bervin and Neves often seamlessly merged themselves with these get-togethers once Neves rediscovered the need for social interaction, attempting to mend the collateral damage left when Orins was ripped away. It did not take Neves long to find support in others who suffered as he did. Yitro liked to go off on his own and would never really say what he was up to, but I never cared to ask. I was never in the mind to find comfort in the company of others, least of all strangers, so I rarely participated in the gatherings. When I did attend, I seldom stayed long. I understood why others did it, why they needed it, but I could not find solace in it.

  It had been a fortnight since our arrival to the camp when we received distressing information. Arora had been attacked. Details were slow to reach us. All the men whose wellbeing was bound with the events in Arora were diligently and impatiently waiting by the military tents to await the coming of new information. The anticipation of the news and the conjecture as to why the attack occurred was agonizing, to say the least. My heart pounded so robustly that I had to sway back and forth on my feet to make sure no one saw me shaking in my suspense. I could not understand why they were attacked. Arora was supposed to be the safer dwelling in its more isolated location. I was supposed to be the one constantly afraid for my life, the one that couldn’t sleep because even the whistling of the wind was enough to make me think the infected or their creators were finally coming to stake their claim. I needed to be the one who would have to fight to escape death, not them. Could they not even let me have that much?

  Chapter Twenty

  Reunion

  A few hours passed with my pores oozing a heated odor. The best the soldiers could do was inform us that only about half the refugees were accounted for. Some were able to escape with the help of helicopters, but the majority were on vehicles heading for various camps or towns, meaning it would be some time before they could relate who had escaped and where they were relocated to. During the next few days, as communications were reestablished in their respective sites, some names would be announced to reveal the scattered survivors who were privileged enough to have lived another day. On the first light of the fourth day, I heard four names I did not expect to hear: Neves’, Yitro’s, Bervin’s, and my own. We walked up to the soldier who called us with a blend of confusion and nervousness.

  “You the guys?” the soldier asked as he looked up from his clipboard with a scrutinizing eye when we met him under a command tent.

  “Yes,” I answered. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been ordered to take you to our base in Glenfar,” he replied, sounding and looking indifferent to our presence. “Your families are there.” He looked back down at his clipboard. “Delphnia, Siena, Lizeth, Dayce, and Eloram, right?”

  “Yes!” Bervin said spontaneously. “That’s them! Thank the Spirits they’re alive!” He took an eager glance at each of us, then, noticing what the rest of us had already realized, he turned back to the soldier and said, “Hold on! Valssi and Kaya, where are they? What happened to them?”

  He examined his notes once more, but his expression didn’t change when he said, “Sorry, I don’t have their names here.”

  There was sadness for the two names that were abandoned from the soldier’s auspicious list, just as two names were discarded in ours, however, there was more relief on hearing the names of Liz and Dayce. Nothing else mattered, but even so, I could not prevent a gloom from veiling my cheerier sentiments. I couldn’t answer the question as to why we had the honor of a precious reunion while everyone else could only beg for such an opportunity. A peek at Yitro told me he was thinking something similar. We did not ask the question aloud however, as if acknowledging it would suddenly remove the unforeseen privilege. Neves still was not in the best of spirits, but the mention of his family’s names brought a spark of life in his eyes.

  We followed the same soldier to a truck after hastily gathering the few belongings from the tents I was glad to leave behind. After a short drive in a truck, I saw a mid-sized, single rotor helicopter waiting for us on the helipad on top of a small hospital. We used the fire escape to climb the three stories to the roof. The chopper had just enough room for all of us.

  “How long will it take us to get there?” I asked the pilot.

  “Three hours,” he answered, looking a bit perturbed I was asking during the takeoff sequence.

  That was the end of my questioning and I stopped anyone else from asking theirs, since I was sure the soldiers were only following orders and were incapable of answering our inquiries any better than we could. Looking down at the refuge’s layout made me comprehend just how sprawling it really was. My inspection of my former refuge did not last long. I began envisioning everyone staring up to watch the helicopter propelling to a place better than theirs. I kept my vision from drifting to the ground for much of the trip. We were not disturbed by any invaders or their contraptions during our voyage in the air. Nature tossed a min
or sandstorm in our way, but any desert pilot worth their weight learned to maneuver through a sandstorm even before the unsoiled air. The voyage felt neither long nor short, for my mind was too engrossed with questions to bother keeping time.

  While I was still trying to force my head not to question the few favorable things still present in my life, I saw the beginning constructions of a military base below. It was near the edge of a small sea port, allowing us to see the iridescent sapphire ocean reflecting back the harsh rays of the sun and altering them to a softer shade. The base seemed to be exclusively used by the military, with no hint of a civilian camp nearby, bringing the question as to why my family was there back to the forefront of my conscious. We landed in front of a robust, two-story building, which we were led into by a soldier who had been waiting to meet us as soon as the door slid open. I was the first to enter.

  Before any image of the space could reach my eyes, I heard a ringing voice delightfully exclaim, “Daddy!”

  Naturally, I went on my knees when I saw Dayce dashing toward me with his arms wide open and donning the kind of smile I had not seen him display in this era. We must have been only a second into our embrace when I felt my mother join us. I next anticipated feeling, hearing, or seeing Liz at some point, but nothing of the sort entered my reality. I lifted my head to search for her. I saw Delphnia crying in Neves’ arms, with his tears falling not too far behind. I observed Eloram quietly hugging Yitro, with an emotional but still reserved air. Standing a few feet in front of me was Siena. The expression she wore was one I had never before seen from her. Sadness was there, but that’s not what she predominantly conveyed. It was more of a repentance that cut deep into my heart. She knew I was searching in vain and right then I knew my feeling of total relief was premature.