by Trevor Zaple
“Exactly”.
Richard looked at her, and then looked down at the tablet. It seemed oddly heavy in his hands, as if borne down with a new weight. He turned everything over in his mind, weighing each position out. It did not take long. When it came right down to it, he realized grimly, the choice between a frightening unknown and starving to death was really no choice at all. He nodded, and began typing into the waiting dialogue box on the screen.
TROY, MY FRIEND he typed. HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW THE LEADERS OF THE ARMY YOU’RE WITH?
FARILY WELL the response came. I KEEP THEM SUPPLIED WITH INFO AND ENTERTAINMENT. MY GEAR IS REALLY THE ONLY REASON I WASN’T CO-OPTED INTO BEING A SOLDIER, YOU KNOW? SO, I KNOW THEM, BUT WE’RE NOT TIGHT FRIENDS, IF THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE ASKING.
WHAT IF WE WANTED TO MAKE A DEAL?
There was a pause, and then: WHO IS WE?
NOT THE LEADERS. THE ORDINARY PEOPLE. THE SLAVES AND THE POOR PEOPLE TRAPPED IN HERE.
I DON’T KNOW. I COULD ASK THEM, I GUESS. WHAT SORT OF DEAL ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?
I DON’T KNOW EITHER. I HAVE TO BRING IT UP WITH THE OTHERS. BUT, IF WE SUGGESTED THAT THE MAJORITY OF THE PEOPLE IN HERE MIGHT STEP ASIDE IF THEY COME THROUGH THE GATES, DO YOU THINK THEY MIGHT TAKE US UP ON THE OFFER?
I DON’T KNOW. LIKE I SAID, I COULD ASK. TELL YOU WHAT. YOU ASK YOUR PEOPLE, I’LL ASK MINE, SEND ME A MESSAGE IN THREE DAYS. SAME PROGRAM. LEAVE IT OPEN WHEN YOU SHUT THE TABLET DOWN. I CAN TELL YOU MORE THEN.
Richard shut the tablet off in a hurry. All of a sudden, he was very nervous about the amount of battery left in the device. He looked at Carolyn, who was waiting expectantly.
“Well?” she asked. Richard shrugged.
“Let’s start talking to the others. He’s going to bring the idea up with the people in charge of that army outside, and we’re going to meet back in three days”.
Carolyn nodded, and ran her hands through his thinning hair.
“Let’s get to work, then,” she said, and walked past him out of the room.
The next three days would remain a blur in Richard’s memory for the rest of his life. Between his normal serving duties and their trips out into the tent city to talk with the others, he was forever after unsure as to whether he had actually slept or not at any point. He could feel himself growing more grizzled by the hour.
The first group they went to speak with was his own. He gathered together what he thought of as his ‘inner circle’ – Sandra, Tyler, Marcus, and John – and laid out the idea of extricating themselves from the situation. As he spoke, he noticed uncomfortably that all of them had lost significant weight since the last time he had seen them. Sandra had lost much of her curves, and Marcus seemed to be down to a slim size now; Tyler was looking gaunt and John appeared emaciated. Their appearance reiterated in his mind the futility of cutting the rations to a quarter of their present level; his friends would simply starve to death before long. He saved this information for last, letting it function as one last shock to their system. Carolyn stood by him, filling in necessary bits of information when needed but remaining largely silent. When he was done, he waited to see who would respond first.
“This is a terrible idea,” Marcus said. “What happens when our army gets here and smashes apart these fools surrounding us? What then? Do you think our master will just forgive us, and let us go about our lives again? No. He will have us all whipped, and probably hung. I cannot stand for this”.
Richard’s heart sunk into his stomach, but before he could plead for reason Sandra stepped up to speak.
“You’re a fool, Marcus,” she spat, with considerable venom. “Do you really think some magical army will arrive here in time to save all of us, like this is a movie or something? We will have starved to death long before anyone can save us. If they can save us. Which I doubt they can. So it’s a choice, then, you dense bastard. You can either starve to death waiting to be saved, or you can say ‘to hell with the masters’, and take up Richard’s idea”. She turned to Richard and offered him a brilliant smile. “I stand with you, Richard. You’ve always had our best interests at heart”.
Tyler nodded his head emphatically. “I’ll second that,” he said, his voice shaking from hunger. “You might get us all killed doing this, but we’re probably going to die anyway. Let’s do this”.
Marcus shook his fist at them. “I can’t believe you would just betray the man who has fed you and clothed you for years. You’re nothing but spoiled children. I’m going to go inform him of this, and you’ll all be put to death within the hour”. He smiled ghoulishly. “Then I will take your rations and live”. He turned and began to walk away. He did not get more than six steps, however, before Sandra ran up behind him and withdrew a long kitchen knife from beneath her clothing. She raised the knife into the sky and then brought it down into Marcus’ back, where his neck and shoulders intersected. He went down with a grunt and a gurgle, and Richard thought that he had died before his head hit the ground. Sandra braced one foot on his thick spine and pulled the knife out of him. She turned around and brandished it at the others, blood dripping noiselessly from the blade.
“Does anyone else wish to inform the master?” she asked, her voice deadly. John took one look at the blade and ran. Tyler sprinted after him.
“I’ll take care of him,” he growled loudly, and disappeared into the tents after him.
Richard looked to Carolyn. He felt nauseous and unsteady, but her expression was neutral. He took it in and sighed heavily; she was right, after all. This was simply how things were, now.
Over the next two days they repeated that scene ad nauseam. The faces were strangers, but the responses were often the same. Their gaunt, hopeless faces drank his words in, and took strength from them. They would agree fiercely, looking around at their starving friends, and grasp at Richard’s arm, proclaiming their allegiance to the plan that he and Carolyn had hatched. If any of their fellows disagreed too vehemently, they were quickly and quietly dispatched. These people were already quite desperate, he came to realize, and all too willing to kill their brethren in order to maintain a chance at living. By the dawn of the third day, he felt sick; he had seen several men and women torn apart at the hands of others, torn apart for opposition to a half-cocked idea that had been concocted out of a similar desperation. In the powerful orange light of that dawn, however, he knew that it would now succeed. The vast majority of those living in the tents around the old city hall were in favour of simply stepping aside and letting the armies outside have their way with the city. He had heard his own thoughts echoed multiple times throughout the groups that he had spoken to: if the worst that happened was that they were sold into slavery afterwards, they were no worse off than they were. He wiped at his face, exhausted; the sun had snuck up on him. He had been up all night pleading and cajoling, and he would have to go about his normal day serving the deluded fools inside the inner keep. His muscles ached, though, and he wanted to do nothing more than crawl into his bed and sleep for a week.
As he thought this, something in the sky caught his eye. There was something streaking over the buildings at the edge of the square in an arc, rapidly falling to the earth. By the time it occurred to him to run for shelter, it struck the ground and exploded, sending up a wave of ripped, burning cloth and human body parts in its wake. He covered his face to shield himself from the rain of debris and used his other hand to scramble for the tablet inside of his shoulder-bag. He powered it on and immediately began typing.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? he typed, cursing that he could not convey the frantic tone to his voice that he wanted to.
WE MAY HAVE A PROBLEM came the response. TIME MAY BE RUNNING VERY SHORT.
NINE
Richard stormed into the city hall, looking furiously for a place to hide in. He found a dusty old storage closet full of cobwebs and ducked inside. Once the door was shut firmly behind him, he began to tap furiously on the tablet.
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? WHY ARE THEY BOMBARDING US?
WHAT ARE THEY BOMBARDING US WITH? He waited with extreme impatience for a reply, and when none was forthcoming he tapped ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT!!! with mind-breaking frustration.
I’M TRYING TO, STOP FOR A SECOND came the response. Then, THE POWERS THAT BE HERE WANT TO GET YOUR FORTIFICATIONS DOWN TO RUBBLE BY THE TIME THE BIG BOSS GETS HERE. APPARENTLY SHE’S NOT PLEASED THAT IT’S TAKEN THIS LONG TO WEAR YOU DOWN AND THE CHIEFS HERE WANT TO MAKE SURE THERE WON’T BE MUCH OF A FIGHT WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT.
SO THEY’RE GOING TO JUST KILL US ALL??
NO, THAT’S NOT THE PLAN. THAT ONE JUST GOT AWAY. THEY’RE USING MORTARS THEY SCAVENGED FROM AN OLD ARMY DEPOT AND CLEANED UP. PROBLEM IS NONE OF THEM REALLY KNOW HOW TO PLAN TRAJECTORY, THEY’RE JUST SORT OF FIRING BY TRIAL AND ERROR.
GET THEM TO STOP! THEY’RE GOING TO KILL A LOT OF PEOPLE THAT WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS! EVERYONE IS ON BOARD WITH THE PLAN, WHAT ABOUT YOUR END?
There was a pause, then: PROBLEM THERE, FRIEND. TURNS OUT NONE OF THESE CHIEFS WANTS TO MAKE A DECISION IF THE BIG BOSS ISN’T HERE. SOME OF THEM SAY IT SOUNDS LIKE AN OK PLAN, BUT THEY HAVE TO CONSULT WITH HER FIRST. THERE ARE A LOT OF OTHERS HERE WHO THINK IT SOUNDS LIKE A TRAP. I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS IS GOING TO TURN OUT.
Richard wanted to weep with frustration. Instead, he typed WHO IS THIS PERSON? HOW LONG UNTIL SHE ARRIVES?
SOME BIG VIP FROM THE NIAGARA CONFEDERATION, SHE’S A BIG DEAL I GUESS. SHE’D HAVE TO BE – ALL OF THE LEADERS OVER THERE ARE WOMEN, AND THESE GUYS FROM THE HORSESHOE ARE JUST SHAKING IN THEIR BOOTS OVER THEM. FROM THE LOOK OF THESE NIAGARA SOLDIERS THAT ARE ALREADY HERE, I DON’T BLAME THEM. IF THE REGULAR ARMY IS ANYTHING LIKE THE SCOUTS, THEY COULD EAT THE ENTIRE CITY FOR BREAKFAST AND STILL GO OUT FOR LUNCH.
HOW LONG????
TWO DAYS, FROM WHAT I HEAR. THEY DON’T LIKE TALKING ABOUT IT AROUND ME MUCH, FOR SOME REASON. PROBABLY DON’T WANT TO GIVE THIS WOMAN CAUSE TO THINK THEY WERE BLABBING WHERE THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN.
Richard bit his finger to keep from screaming. Within two days they might be dead, especially if the army on the other side kept calibrating their explosives by trial and error. He wondered if he would be able to gather everyone inside the city hall, and then dismissed the idea. Even if there was room inside, the idiots upstairs would never authorize it.
OK. HOPEFULLY WE CAN HOLD OUT. TRY TO CONVINCE THEM THAT THERE’S NO NEED TO KEEP SHOOTING, WE’RE ALL PRETTY MUCH DEAD ANYWAY. TRY TO TALK TO THIS WOMAN IN CHARGE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.
I’LL TRY, BROTHER came the response. I CAN’T GUARANTEE THAT SHE’LL EVEN TALK TO ME, BUT WE CAN TRY. I’LL MESSAGE YOU AS SOON AS I CAN.
The battery indicator went red, denoting that there was now less than 20% of battery life remaining in the unit. Richard shut it off quickly and stuffed it back into his shoulder-bag. Two days, he thought sourly. Would they be able to hold out that long? Richard had his doubts.
Carolyn shook with anger when he related this conversation to her. “Those fucking imbeciles!” she raged, using language that Richard had only rarely heard her use before. “They’ll kill us all!”
They were standing by the back entrance to the city hall; Carolyn was staring up into the sky over the barricade of buildings, watching for any more accidents that might come streaking out of the sky. The explosion had driven the leadership inside of the keep into an ecstasy of ineffectuality. They had come out to address the tent people and had waxed eloquent about patriotism, and the need to stand firm in the face of the enemy. Richard had noted that they had not said a thing about the enemy being just on the other side of the building-wall, nor had they mentioned anything about reduced rations. After giving their supposedly rousing speech, they had disappeared back into the old city hall and demanded wine and food to be brought to them. Richard had found himself wishing that those mortars could just be fired at city hall.
“We’re going to die here,” Carolyn said, her voice flat. Richard looked at her with sudden concern. Her expression was composed, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. “We’re never going to leave this place. We’ll either starve to death or get blown to smithereens by those damned mortars”.
“We’re not going to die here,” Richard replied sharply. “Once this woman arrives we’ll be able to negotiate with her, and we’ll be fine. Just fine”.
“Listen to yourself,” she said. “You’re trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me”.
Richard shook his head but didn’t reply. He wasn’t entirely sure that she was wrong. There was another dull thump as the mortars wore away at the line of buildings. A plume of dust rose into the sky over the place where the explosives had struck. Richard watched it float upward towards the sun, drifting over it like wind-blown cobwebs. He snuck his hand over to her and closed it over her warm fingers.
“Whatever happens, we’re together,” he said, and she squeezed his hand in response.
That night Richard was removing the leftover plates and food when he realized that he was not alone in the dining room. He had expected that the important freemen had retired to their private council room for brandy, but when he turned to leave with the dishes Karl was standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was watching Richard work with a dark expression.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Richard asked politely. No matter what he privately thought of the group of freemen as a whole, he still felt respect for Karl Tiegert.
“You can tell me what the hell is going on,” Karl replied sharply. Richard stared at him, nonplussed, but he kept his composure. He had to learn what Karl knew – or what the man thought that he knew.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” he replied carefully.
“If you don’t, then you’re incompetent, and you’ve never been incompetent before. I visited the servants today, Richard. Where are Marcus and John?”
Richard forced a friendly smile onto his face.
“I have no idea, sir. I believe that they ran off shortly after we arrived here”.
“I doubt that. Marcus is too placid to run away and John would never go anywhere without him. I think he’s in love, actually”.
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir, and I don’t know where they are. I know that I’ve seem Marcus get impulsively angry before; who knows what he might have gotten through his head”.
Karl’s eyes narrowed. “Why are the others staring at me with such open hate?”
“I’m sorry?” Richard asked. He was outwardly calm but inside he was seething, raging at the others. Why couldn’t they control themselves, and keep their opinions to themselves?
“You know what I’m talking about!” Karl screamed, and Richard dropped the plates that he was carrying. They dropped to the floor with a resounding crash and several of them shattered into much smaller pieces.
“I’m not discussing this with you,” Richard replied flatly. He didn’t not include the honorific on purpose, and Karl clearly noticed. The man’s eyes went wide and his nostrils flared. He took a step forward with his hands balled into fists at his side.
“You need to be thrashed, Richard,” he grated, “and I’m going to have to do it myself”.
Richard sneered and held his fists up.
“Do it then, you fucking prick, what are you waiting for?”
With a cry of inarticulate rage Karl darted forward, cocking his arm back to deliver a devastating blow. Richard felt himself fall into it; he made a little half-spin around and stuck out his leg. Karl tripped over it at the same time as he swung; the net result of his entire manoeuvre was to drive himself even quicker into the floor. Richard drove his boot into the back of the man’s head and heard something crunch in his face. Karl did not move afterwards, and Richard stared down at his motionless body. It had happened so quickly that Richard wasn’t sure that it had really happened at all. He almost said something: an apology, a pithy one-liner, he would never be sure what. Then his presence of mind reasserted itself and he left the dining room quickly.
His m
ind raced as he leapt down the wide staircase towards the ground floor. Had he really just knocked his master unconscious? If so, there was no turning back from the course he was on. He would be lucky to escape death for what he had just done. It struck him as he exited the heavy main doors that both sides were likely to try to kill him now; he found that far funnier than he should have, and as he darted out into the tent city he was laughing like a loon.
He found his way to his campsite and scrambled into Sandra’s tent. He found Sandra and Tyler discussing something gravely; they both jumped as he dove through the tent flap, startled and suddenly speechless. Richard peeked out of the flap and then zipped it shut. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the tent, and became aware that the other two were staring at him.
“I knocked Karl out,” he said quickly, and began to laugh again. Sandra and Tyler looked at each other with surprised consternation before returning their stares to him. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to laugh in that unsettling, half-crazy way. Their expressions turned to deep concern for him; he could almost hear their thoughts. Is he crazy? they were asking themselves. Has he gone over the deep end? The idea made him laugh even harder, and soon there were tears streaming down his face.
“I’m okay,” he blurted out between fits of laughter, but it didn’t seem to improve their general demeanour. He shook his head, continuing to laugh, and waved his hands as if to dismiss their worries. Their worries seemed to remain undismissed.
“Is he dead?” Sandra asked, revulsion creeping into her tone. Richard shook his head more emphatically.
“No, he’s still alive”. He paused for a moment. “Actually, I’m not really sure. He might be dead. I don’t think so, I think he just knocked himself out. I just tripped him. I didn’t lay a hand on him. He’s still going to have me killed, though”.
Sandra and Tyler both blinked with surprise, and Richard’s laughter began to taper off into calmness.
“He was asking about Marcus and John,” he continued, his breathing returning to normal.