by Ben Woollard
“Not prepared for how?” she asked.
“Portlock told me today he thinks the Gov is stocking up for something; they’ve been buying more scraps than ever, and at prices way higher than usual. I think they might be planning something against the people Shiloh’s been hanging around.”
“Well Portlock’s opinion is worth considering, but he’s always been a bit paranoid. How do you know that’s the reason for it?” I hesitated.
“I don’t know,” I said at last. “What other reason could it be? What if the Gov starts rounding them up? Sending them off to prison somewhere? I just have a bad feeling, is all.” Momma stirred her tea and looked at me through the rising cloud of steam. She sighed, and I could tell how tired she was. The bags under her eyes had grown thick and were sprouting red veins that branched out like roots.
“I think you’re right to, Sam. Shiloh hadn’t told me about it, but everyone’s heard the rumors, and he didn’t hide it from me the first time he went. He’s always been so idealistic, always wanted the world to be what it could be rather than what it is, ever since he was little. Whenever I would tell him stories about giants or gnomes that lived in the forest he would always ask, ‘why don’t we go live with them?’ I told him it was a human’s lot in life to live and die with their own, that we can’t hide in other worlds, but have to make the best of the one we’ve got. He was such a starry-eyed child, still is.”
“What can we do?” I asked. “Will you talk to him? Try to make him see sense, see the danger he’s walking into.”
“I’ll speak to him,” she said, and I felt relief wash over me. Momma will talk sense into him, and if she couldn’t, no one could.
When Shiloh came home that night I heard him and Momma talk about it through the crack of the bedroom door. She had stayed up, forsaking her already few precious hours of sleep. I heard her say that she knew where he’d been, that she was worried he might be caught up in something bigger than he was prepared for. He got really mad at that, argued up and down with vehemence I’d rarely heard from him. He said the things they offered could save the world, would make the Gov completely obsolete, that anyone could see that, that they would see, in time. He seemed confused when Momma suggested the danger the Gov might pose if they heard what he was saying, that they might not take their own dethronement lightly, might want to harm people who said things like that. Shiloh paused, then said it didn’t matter, he believed in what the Singulars were doing, he knew a new era of light and unity was dawning, and he wouldn’t sacrifice that no matter what the danger. That was the end of it, he wouldn’t be talked away from unification, from his belief that the world could be whole, free from all the misunderstandings and the horrors that they cause. I pretended to be asleep when he came into the room and lay down. I looked over at him once I heard him breathing slow. What will become of this world? I wondered. How can anything be maintained as long as people like Shiloh refuse to be broken down by the necessities of living? But even at the same time I thought he was wrong I envied him; he had a cause and determination I’d never felt.
Chapter 5
Time started to take on a grotesque quality. The Gov installed speakers, which before were only in the busiest of public places, everywhere around the city: in front of houses, shops, everywhere. They were all wired through new electrical infrastructure, all running along to various headquarters that had been covertly set up in the past couple months. They blared the Daily News three times a day, shoving their words down our throats. There was nowhere left in the city where you could escape the drone of Gov voices and the fears they endlessly rattled out. The speakers spread like netting, long root systems hoping to hold the city together under a single banner, constricting everyone. Each day was more of the same; the news had become a paranoid condemnation of radicalism. Their allusions to the Singulars were getting less veiled, and even became direct from time to time. They said things against religion, against the destabilizing power of false hope. They told everyone the only path forward was through the strong hand of the United Central Government. Most the regular citizens could feel the paranoia, and people were afraid, looking over their shoulder. We heard that Gov troops had been taking people away in the night, conducting interrogations. Momma tried to talk to Shilo again when things started getting worse, but he wouldn’t hear it. Armed patrols began walking the streets, carrying batons, some with rifles on their backs or pistols on their hips.
Me and Shiloh still weren’t on good terms, but we had at least given up not speaking to each other, had even begun foraging together now and then, neither of us really wanting to let our relationship stay splintered as it was.
***
I woke up to find Grandpa sitting in the kitchen with Tolka. They had stopped going to Café Noir a while ago, instead choosing to spend their time around our small table sipping tea and reminiscing like usual.
“Morning” I said.
“Morning darling” Tolka responds, with her drawling “o”. Grandpa grunted. Right then the drone of the announcements began emanating from the speaker on the corner outside. Tolka jumped; a lot of us still hadn’t gotten use to these early morning interruptions.
“This is the daily news,” said the monotone voice. “Today we will speak on an issue of utmost important. As most of you are aware, there has been a growing presence within Columbia of a certain radical religious organization known as the Singulars. We had hoped that the good people of this city would expel these intruders of their own accord, but we now realize the situation has only progressed. We wish to inform everybody that these people are liars, and that the stories they claim are false; their real motive is power. We cannot stress the importance of this enough. Their claims are all false. These degenerates have come to sow rebellion and propaganda among us. We must stand together now more than ever. These types will not be tolerated within our borders, and anyone found to have a connection to them will be taken in for questioning. If you know anyone involved with this group, it is your duty to report them to the nearest UCG headquarters. Remember, without a strong relationship between the people and the law there is only chaos, only disorder, only ruin and the threat of another collapse.” The sirens again began their manic whirling as a sign that the announcement was complete.
“Bastards,” Grandpa spouted as soon as the speakers went silent. “It’s fascist.”
“Now, now, Tyrone,” Tolka said, trying to ease him. “The Gov is just a little paranoid, is all, what can happen?”
“What can happen? What can happen? This is how it all starts! Soon they’ll be issuing curfews and giving everyone numbers, building camps out in the wilderness to send people who disagree with them to do forced labor! What can happen? Chains can be slung around our necks like dogs, is what can happen!”
“How do you know?” I asked him.
“I know history, boy. My father taught me much about the old world. He taught me to recognize the patterns that lead to manacles, to the type of walls that keep people in instead of out. This won’t end well. And all in the name of the people.” I thought he was being overdramatic, but I didn’t know anything about history, and everything that was going on just seemed another day to me. Grandpa’d tried to teach me about the events of the old world, but there was little time between foraging, and I never had much interest in it, short of the music. Still, I’d rarely seen Grandpa so upset, and it unsettled me.
“Where’s Shiloh?” I asked.
“He said he wanted to go get some early foraging started, out southeast,” Tolka told me.
“I should go find him,” I said, already heading out the door. I didn’t give much credence to things Grandpa’d said but I didn’t think for one second that the threats made through those announcements had been idle. I knew what fear could do to a person, and didn’t have any reason to doubt it was any different with a collective. When I got to the edges I couldn’t find Shiloh anywhere. I looked all around, checking all of our regular spots, but he wasn’t there. The outskir
ts looked more desolate and empty than usual, fluttering plastic remnants sprawled across a bland landscape, boulders of previously cohesive structures eroding down to nothing.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around outside the city, checking through rubble and empty buildings. Shiloh had to be there somewhere, I thought, but I couldn’t find a trace of him. I checked Portlock’s, and the cafés we always went to, with no luck. I decided to spend the day foraging on my own, and when I came home it was evening. I found Momma and Grandpa sitting at the table eating thin slices of bread. When I came in Momma jumped up and hugged me.
“Thank God your okay!” she said. “We didn’t know where you were! We thought… where’s Shiloh?”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked.
“You didn’t hear?” Granpa said to me. “God damn I thought the whole city would’ve heard a sound like that! Fucking explosions it must’ve been. The Gov raided some Singular gathering a few hours ago. Sounds like things got violent.”
“Do you know where your brother is?” Momma asked me again. I stood with the blood draining from my face, iron-laden waterfalls running down my body and pooling in my feet. Without saying anything I ran out the door and started sprinting towards the place me and Shiloh had gone to that first meeting, Momma yelling after me as I ran. You’re damn stupid Shiloh! I thought, my mind racing panic as I ran through the muddy streets.
When I got to the block where the meeting had been I saw a line of Gov troops, all armed with batons and iron clubs, and some with guns. They were barricading the alleyway that lead to the basement the Singulars were using, and my heart dropped at the confirmation that it had been the target of a raid. They eyed me suspiciously, and I did all I could not to look like I was up to something, trying to make my breath seem even. I knew that Shiloh’d been there. Alive or dead, he’d been there. I decided I should be nonchalant, and approached one of the men standing by the barricade.
“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, raising my voice to a girlish pitch. He looked at me with blank Gov eyes, the clear marks of Academy training. “Could you tell me what happened here?” I asked. He looked me over with boredom.
“UCG business, can’t say. Any information we release will be done so over the community announcement system.” Of course, I thought, why even bother? I was about to leave when I saw two men come out of the basement where the meetings were held carrying a stretcher. Thin fabric covered the bulging human form beneath. A hand hung down below the sheet, nearly scraping at the dirt. I watched them take the makeshift stretchers and put them onto a cart, then start rolling the bodies out through the other end of the alleyway.
“Thanks,” I said to the guard, who stood stock-still without acknowledging my gratitude. I started walking the other direction, but veered left down the first alley I found and hid to watch the cart cut its path along the street. I followed it all the way to a Gov base, and spied as it rolled through the guarded gates and disappeared into an old brick warehouse on the other side. I stood outside crouching behind a half fallen wall looking at the gates, waiting for something to happen that would give me some idea of what had become of my brother. I was about ready to lay down right there and cry, to pray, even, pray to all those invisible spirits floating around that Momma and Shiloh believed in. Even to that long-dead notion of the man up in the clouds who loved us all, the one Grandpa’d said got killed by somebody named Friedrich before the collapse, but that couldn’t literally be killed because he was an ideal, and not really a man, whatever that meant.
Just then I heard some rustling behind me and turned around to see a Singular, his ratty robes all caked in half-dried blood and dirt. He was looking at me like I was gonna kill him. We stared at each other for a moment, then he turned and tried to run. I chased after him, and before he could make it out the other end of the alley I tackled him, dragging him down onto the street.
“Hold on!” I yelled, desperate, “I don’t want to hurt you!” He wriggled and groaned under me, and I could tell most of his energy must’ve already been gone. He was bleeding pretty bad from his head and didn’t put up much of a fight before he lay still under me, breathing heavy. “I just want to ask you some questions.”
“About what?” came his gritted reply, chocked through his dried out throat.
“My brother, he’s one of you. I just want to know what happened to him. I’ll let you up if you promise not to run.” The Singular, who looked even younger than Shiloh, probably about sixteen, stayed silent. It was clear he wasn’t an initiate, and probably he’d only just agreed to make the commitment and was given the robes he wore.
“Ok,” he said after a moment. I let him up and he tried to take off again right away, but I grabbed him before he could get anywhere, and pulled him back down.
“That’s not what I said!” I yelled at the bleeding kid panting in front of me.
“Alright, alright!” he said, eyes wide with fear. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but I don’t think I’m gonna be much help to you.”
“Let me decide that. Tell me what happened at the raid. You were there, right?” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Well, what happened?” He hesitated, and I could see the memory of it was something he didn’t want to look at.
“It was awful,” he said eyes flashing all around. “They just burst in out of nowhere, screaming at everybody and waving their guns around. We freaked and tried to run, but they had the doorway blocked and started beating people back. Some of us who’d been sworn in were prepared for it, we had pipes and hammers and other scavenged shit, just in case something like this happened, but it didn’t matter. We started swinging at them and they started shooting at us, throwing fucking grenades into the crowd. Grenades! In that tiny basement! There was blood everywhere.” The kid stopped and held his head in his hands. I could see he was shaken from the whole thing, and I felt bad for him, but I needed to hear it.
“ My brother, his name’s Shiloh. Do you know him? Was he there?” I asked, with stinging claws beating in my chest.
“Shiloh? Yeah. Yeah, I think so, one of the regulars. Not sworn in yet, but close. Yeah, he was there. I remember ‘cause he was front row, right in front of where I stood next to the speaker.”
“Is he alive?” I asked, barely managing to ask the question. The last syllable of the words came out a full octave higher than the rest.
“I- I don’t know. I think so. He was with Jomine, an initiate. You should’ve seen how the initiates fought man. No fear; knew they couldn’t be killed by their bodies getting destroyed. Not like the rest of us, scattering like birds.” The kid’s eyes had a real sense of wonder in them as he said this, like he’d been witness to some miracle. “Anyone who got out owes it to them. They cut through those Gov bastards. I saw Sherah get shot twice, and she was still charging them, all the time with that calm look on her. I’m telling you man, that’s real power. They cut a way out and some of us managed to escape, but only some. Everyone was so scared we just sprinted when we got out into the street. The initiates who made it tried to keep everyone together, to get them to head out of the city. They were yelling at all of us but nobody’s heads were in a place to follow directions. We scattered. That’s how I ended up here. I don’t even know where here is.”
“Where were they heading? Where did they want you to go?” The kid shook his head; he didn’t want to tell me. I really started to lose it then, the whole situation was just too much for me. I needed him to tell me and it seemed like my body moved against my will. I grabbed the poor kid and pushed him up against the alley wall. I still remember the brick’s shade of russet, like the earth beneath the topsoil. “Tell me or I’ll kill you myself,” I screamed at him, making more tears run streaming from his eyes, mixing with the blood and dirt drying on his robes and leaving salt trails on his cheeks.
“East,” the kid said through his sobs, “some place called Alexei’s Grove. The Singulars have a base there
or something. That’s all I know, I swear. I swear, don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me,” he said, slouching drained against the wall.
“You should get out of those clothes, clean yourself up, get out of the city,” I told him, and gave him all the money I had in my pocket, not much, but I hoped it would help. He looked at me with shocked gratitude, and I left him there, half standing against the wall, colored with all the mixing hues of pain and violence that had streaked their way across his skin and tattered clothes.
***
I walked home slow, staring at the snarled scenery of Columbia and feeling empty. Shiloh was gone, left with them, the promise of unification pulled him away from us and everything he knew. I thought about the land outside the city, filled with outer settlements and ruins. I imagined everything out there as being like the outskirts, only overgrown with vines. What could I do? He’d made his decision, he’d chose them over us, decided to merge with that uniformity rather than live his life in the dirt with his family. I felt relieved at knowing he’d escaped the meeting, at least, even if he now wandered along with those initiates, the hollow shells of what were once their own people.
When I got home, Momma and Grandpa were sitting at the table. Momma stood up when I entered and I saw her face was full of worry. They both started at me without saying anything, waiting for me to speak.
“He’s alive,” I said to them, and watched as relief flooded their expressions, releasing the tension in their shared look.
“Where is he?” Momma asked, frowning at the dejectedness I showed despite the news.
“Gone with the Singulars to some place called Alexei’s Grove, to the East. I got it out of some Singular kid I found wandering around all bloody.”
“Gone?” Momma said, going pale. I nodded and sat down, pouring myself a cup of tea from the steaming pot that sat in the center of the table. Momma sat down too and none of us said anything for a long time, nothing but the sounds of our cups knocking against the table, smacking against our lips as we took sips. I tried to be calm, but in my mind all I could see was Shiloh, walking along with those uncaring monks that had brought violence to my home and shattered the stability of our lives. I tried to imagine the future of living here without Shiloh, of scavenging the outskirts for the rest of my life without him, or even the knowledge that he was somewhere present, out there with them, nearby and existing in a new way. The thoughts spun inside me until I couldn’t contain them anymore. I couldn’t sit and let Shiloh throw himself into the hands of lunatics, into the destroying teeth of the emptiness I’d seen in the eyes of the initiated Singulars.