The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

“Maybe the creek dried up?” I suggested unsure of where we were anymore.

  “No,” Billy believed. “Hello,” he called into the open air.

  “Why are you yelling?” May shouted back. “There’s no one here.”

  “What’s that?” I pointed to a collection of bundled rags by the base of a full-grown tree.

  “Looks like some clothes.” Billy walked over and kicked the bundled clothes. “They’re tied together by barbwire. What filth.”

  “Do you mind?” a deep-toned voice shot out from the dense foliage of the trees.

  “Who said that?” May shrieked at the surprising voice.

  “If things aren’t yours, don’t touch them,” the stiff voice answered back with a genuine anger.

  I scanned the leafy trees above trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. The deep voice was of a male and he was hiding somewhere among the upper branches of the trees.

  “Where are you?” Billy demanded.

  The trees meshed with leafy green on more green. Whoever was up there was doing an excellent job at disguising himself. There was the sense that he could see us, free to observe without being observed.

  “Come down or we’ll torch your stuff,” Billy threatened harshly, although I would not doubt that he would.

  “Leave my stuff alone and leave,” the voice echoed still concealed among the lush vegetation.

  “We just want to talk.” May beseeched. “Please.”

  Checking on the bundled clothing, Billy examined the pile of rags with the tip of his shoe. Then he pulled out a spotless white t-shirt and held it between his index finger and his thumb. He waved it about as if taunting the voice. “Is this your cleanest shirt?”

  Branches and leaves fluttered downward, localized near the centre of the tree, as someone was climbing down. The branches above Billy’s head were moving and approaching him.

  “Careful Billy,” I warned him. “He’s coming your way.”

  Billy jumped back, still clasping the t-shirt as a rag to be tossed. “Hey, we know you live here and unless you come down we aren’t leavink.”

  “Is that the infamous Billy Dangal who went to Toronto High?” the voice discovered bluntly.

  “You know me?” Billy shouted back in shock. “Who are you?” He spiked the t-shirt to the ground and clinched his fists.

  Branch by branch flopped down and up until a thin man barely a hundred and forty pounds stood by the base of the tree next to the pile of clothes. He was tall, taller than Billy and wore military fatigues, matching the green leaves to a tee. Like a Green Beret dressed not to be seen. He looked military in nature judging by his fatigues and yet unable to fill in his clothes due to his thin frame. He was well groomed for a tree dweller.

  The Green Beret man pointed to Billy. “I know you Billy Dangal.”

  “Yeah, how so tree hugger?” Billy was troubled by the proclamation of his full name by a complete stranger.

  The Green Beret man then faced Billy. “What, my face doesn’t ring a bell? Is your memory failing at the age of twenty-five?” he mocked to get a reaction.

  Billy walked up to the Green Beret man and flexed his shoulder muscles in anticipation of a physical match up. They stood face-to-face—the bill of Billy’s baseball cap maintained the distance between the two pit bulls. The Green Beret man did not flinch and held his ground.

  “I want to know how you know me,” Billy demanded.

  “Like I said, I know you from Toronto High.” The Green Beret man stared hard into Billy’s eyes. “We’ve had our battles there.”

  With mean eyes, Billy returned the stare. “Are you that wimpy kid who kept comink back for a whopping? Always wantink a new lesson?” He made baby talk with pouty lips to demean his opponent.

  “You want to duke it out in my arena?” the Green Beret man invited, patting his chest with a provoking fist thump.

  “Boys, please. Enough with the high school reunion,” May pleaded. She turned to the Green Beret man. “We’re actually looking for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” The Green Beret man was rightfully mystified.

  “This guy is a waste of time,” Billy assessed.

  “What’s your name?” May enquired.

  The Green Beret man remained in Billy’s face. “Do you remember my name?”

  Unsure, Billy did not speak up. It was not that he was being careful; he appeared to have nothing else to say.

  “Then you can call me Cadet till you remember my name.” The military label seemed more to drop Billy’s big ego a notch down then serve as an identifier. The Green Beret man was aware of the advantage he had for stumping the rocker Billy Coax Dangal.

  Billy snapped too. “I’ll remember, don’t worry. You know what, I don’t need to remember trashy name.” He pointed to a pile of garbage.

  “Cadet is a great name.” May accepted without any hesitations. “What do you do for a living?” She moved so inconspicuously towards Cadet’s background—a typical reporter on the sleuth.

  Cadet checked on his raggedy clothes by the tree. He refolded the clothes and gathered them up into a single pile caring for a tidy area.

  May looked to me. “I think he’s a bit messed.” She twirled a finger near her temple.

  Billy stepped in between May and me. “I know him but I can’t remember his name. Remind me to check my high school yearbook when I get back.”

  “What exactly do you know about this guy?” I asked, not expecting much of an answer.

  “Toronto High, yes he disappeared after the first year. No wait. He disappeared in the middle of the first year. I remember kickink the crap out of him.” Billy scratched his chin, nodding that a beating had been administered more than once.

  “Well, I don’t remember him.” May was at the same grade level as Billy and thus may have seen Cadet in school. “But I think he’s the one Aerial was talking about.”

  “That psychic doesn’t know her hand from her foot.” Billy remained unconvinced by the prediction.

  “So you traumatized the guy and he quits school,” I summarized Billy’s effort to ruin a man’s life.

  “You can leave now.” Not trying to be subtle in any way, Cadet folded his clothes like he was over and done with talking with us.

  “Hi, I’m May Eva Chao. I also attended to Toronto High school. We’re on a quest to look for you.” May was too free with personal details.

  “Quest?” Cadet looked to me for clarification. “And you?”

  “My name is Joel Daniel Taw. I went Toronto High too. We’re here because someone told us we would find you here.” I might as well explain how we got here to Cadet so not to scare him away. “Sort of a hunch.”

  “Who told you this?” Cadet’s voice rose cautiously.

  “We’re not stalking you. We’re just looking for answers,” May defended.

  “Her friend told us.” Billy pointed to May, referring to Aerial.

  Cadet mumbled a few incomprehensible words. He spun one hundred and eighty degrees around and leaned up against a tree for support. “Leave me alone. I don’t need this.”

  “Why should we leave?” I questioned, confronting the tree dweller.

  “If you don’t leave then I will.” Retrieving his bundle of clothes, Cadet made the effort to pack up for an early departure. He portrayed the stereotypical, unruly hermit, guided by an absolute dislike for human interactions and a deep mistrust towards any law-abiding creature.

  “Were you in the army?” May jumped on a more personal detail.

  “Are you spies? Or you got nothing better else to do than harass a poor person?” Cadet was aggravated as much as a disturbed nest of hornets.

  “If we were spies would we carry around a celebrity to spy on you? Think about it.” May was hard hitting and made a valid point.

  “I got a degree while in the army,” Cadet submitted. “I guess that makes me an army guy.”

  May perked up onto her toes, pleased by the progress. “My last dream was about a flag pol
e situated in a forest,” she recounted a strange dream. “The pole waved a camouflage green flag but it seemed to waving at me if that’s possible. It was like some sort of signal or invitation.” Exposing a personal moment, she stopped talking to allow Cadet to address the matter.

  Cadet shrugged it off as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

  “What? When?” I asked confused and yet intrigued. May never recounted this nightmare before. Did we not share all our nightmares?

  “Six years ago,” May recalled. “I think this flag symbolized you. You would show us the way.” She bore a cutesy smile to indicate Cadet.

  “Show what way?” Cadet was not catching on.

  “I don’t know. So you were in the army.” May switched topics. “What rank?”

  Cadet stood idly by not knowing where May was going with her line of interrogation. He had distrust written all over his face. How could a reclusive man trust anyone, let alone three complete strangers? His detachment from society left him unconcerned with any fellow being. Maybe we were a bit overzealous in our approach? It was possible we were meant to be somewhere else, looking for someone else?

  “Okay, forget that question. Are you from around here?” May posed as if arbitrarily choosing her words.

  “Yes, Toronto High school, remember?” Defiant Cadet gazed over at May, bored perhaps or possibly annoyed by the intrusion. “Get out of here before I—” He lifted his t-shirt revealing the handle of a handgun stowed under his belt.

  May raised her hands in distress. “Please we don’t want any trouble. We’re just curious, that’s all. So sorry.” Her renowned information extraction techniques were a far cry from what I expected.

  Fearful, Billy and I stepped back too. There was no need to tango with a gun-carrying hermit, at any cost.

  “Please, may I ask just a few more questions?” Apprehensive by the situation, May’s voice cracked under the pressure.

  Cadet eased his left hand over the exposed handle of the handgun. With that extra gesture, the moment was tenser than any courtroom drama.

  “Have you ever had persuasive, vivid nightmares as a child?” I questioned, hoping for reason to win out over violence.

  Partly withdrawing the handgun, Cadet paused as if in mid-thought. “What kind of nightmares?”

  Wow, I made a connection. Cadet was aware of the series of nightmares. He would know because he was the one Aerial spoke of. I reached out and succeeded in building a trusting relationship. I felt useful.

  Seeing I was on the right track and in part expecting me to continue my line of questioning, May and Billy looked to me to lead. “These nightmares are fused into your brain like the colours of the rainbow. Every painful image, every agonizing detail is fused inside the core of my mind so you never forget them.”

  Taking in all the verbal disclosure, Cadet contemplated our fates. “You live around here?” he demanded with a vigour set by the intrusion on his domain.

  “I did as a child. Back when the nightmares started. Like the school bus accident, the narrow bridge, the steamboat.” I scanned the clustered junkyard unsure what else to disclose.

  Small drips of sweat lined the edges of my forehead and my hairline; it was tough business to plead for your life while a hermit held a weapon of death. Cadet could very well kill us and dump our bodies where nobody would be able to find them again.

  Lowering his t-shirt, Cadet covered the frightful weapon. “Did all of you have the same nightmares?”

  “Yes,” May shrieked with hope.

  I nodded, as too did Billy. Cadet knew. He knew we were linked. How so? How did he know this? Either case, he knew something. Was he who was behind the nightmares? Did he perpetrate it? No, he could not have. He was too young. He was in grade nine with Billy so he must be the same age. But still he knew what was going on. He knew where the root lay. He understood because he was the key. Aerial was right. She led us to him. If Cadet would open up, he could serve us well.

  “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?” Cadet cringed at the thought of his connection to us—three outsiders who sought his council, his information.

  “You’re the key to uncovering the answers to nightmares,” I addressed Cadet’s question.

  “Key? No way. Not me,” Cadet rejected, backing down from helping us out. “I know nothing. You guys are nuts.”

  “No, you know somethink,” Billy interjected. “And you’re goink to help us.”

  “I said I know nothing.” As if angered for showing a sign of weakness, Cadet looked around as if seeking an escape.

  “Without a doubt, you’re our guide,” May believed.

  “These nightmares are so bad that they keep you awake all night.” I pounded my thoughts out loud hoping to bombard Cadet into submission.

  As if caught in his own web, Cadet stumbled back fed up by the unwelcome run-in. Disregarding our pleas, he just seemed he wanted out of this imposed inquest. His facial expressions told a different story; he had a mystifying look mixed with resentment.

  “Help us, please,” I pleaded in desperation, more so for the sake of my mental well-being. My eyes teared-up from the emotional drain. All my years of pain and anguish spilled out like I had nothing to lose.

  Standoffish Cadet crossed his arms. “I live alone and alone I must be.”

  “Tell him more.” Billy shoved me forward.

  “An orange school bus crashes with a compact car.” I paused expecting Cadet to volunteer his information. “The obese bus driver is squished. Fat becomes thin. Ring a bell?”

  “The first dream about the steamboat and the five people under a lamppost and one on top.” May had to have her turn.

  No reaction. Cadet remained fixed on his stubborn stance.

  “The mountainous quest for the elusive treasure chest, the evil vampires in black, the crossing of a narrow bridge with sandals? Come on you know this stuff.” I was getting temperamental with Cadet’s lack of response.

  A professional poker player of the highest calibre, Cadet seemed unaffected by our dramatic words. Maybe he was trying to protect himself? But then again, we were an extraordinary group of people comprised of a famous rock star, a criminal journalist and a low-level computer packager out on a hunt for a single individual. Would this not demonstrate our trustworthiness?

  “Prove to me I can trust you.” A crack in the thick armour, Cadet was finally opening up—suspicious but responsive at least.

  “We just did,” Billy replied as if stuffing an insult in Cadet’s face. He wanted answers just as bad as Cadet sought our worth.

  Shaking his head in disapproval, Cadet stepped back. “I don’t need this.” He was turned off and the moment was lost.

  Cadet had exclusive knowledge but Billy had to add his two cents to the situation. If only we could bribe Cadet, maybe even force him to spill his guts.

  “No, don’t do this!” May yelled at Billy or possibly at Cadet too. “We need you. If we come back tomorrow and prove our worth will you at least listen to our stories?”

  With the subtlest nod, Cadet appeared to have agreed. The effort was there, he moved his head and I was satisfied. May looked pleased. Billy hesitated from opening his mouth—in part from invoking May’s wrath and in part from losing the cause to get Cadet on our side.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow morning and talk more,” I committed hoping Cadet would acknowledge my statement. Whether he liked it or not, he had to acknowledge it otherwise we would never leave.

  As if sneering my way, Cadet had the look like he bitten into a sour lemon. “Alright,” he motioned the word, barely audible for me pick up. He grunted then waved us off.

  “You won’t be disappointed,” I replied. In times of desperation, any offer to lend a hand was better than nothing. I wanted the destructive nightmares to end.

  Billy and May watched on as I made more headway then they could have ever hoped for. Despite the lyrical talent of a world-famous musician or the investigative skills of a major newspaper
journalist, my words resonated further because Cadet promised to reconvene tomorrow. Granted the opportunity, we would have to plead our case in hopes of getting something out of him. What exactly he knew was anyone’s guess.

  With a swift side jerk of my head, I silently appealed to May and Billy to depart from where we came from and leave the matter for tomorrow. Without a word they understood and we were off without checking back on Cadet.

  35

  The hard part was walking away from a tense encounter with an armed hermit who eluded to having inside information on the recurring nightmares. He did not deny knowing about them and so he must know something. But how could he trust us enough to divulge any details he may be keeping?

  The path out of the junkyard was easy to remember. I followed the bright, orange glow from the sunset. The piles of neglected junk were poor markers as everything stacked the same way.

  The rusty fence, in the distance, was a good thirty paces away. I kicked up some dirt sprinting to the enclosure like it was a finish line. Feeling the wind in my face made me realize that despite the outcome I was comfortable with the strides we made so far. I, alone, led us to a small victorious battle. My moment, my glory. More proof could be here.

  Still on solid ground, I turned around and checked on the two companions Billy and May. They were taking their time discussing a private matter. Still standing on the outside of the chain-link fence, Wolfgang paced in a circular fashion, his arms linked behind his back and his bearded chin tucked down. Was he exercising or in a pensive state? I clambered over the chain-link fence treating it as a playpen barrier that could easily be hurdled.

  Hearing a rattling commotion, Wolfgang spun around while stuffing the paper away. “I guess there’s nothing there,” he greeted me with a sense of pessimism.

  I shook my head in disagreement. “I think we found him just as Aerial had predicted.”

  At the base of the barrier, Billy graciously aided May up and over the rusty enclosure. We both watched her as she swooped over with one leg followed by the other and then scampered down with an awkward thud. Billy waited for May to touch down before attempting it himself. In an acrobatic leaping manoeuvre over the fence, Billy was the last to leave the junkyard.