Liberation: A Post-apocalyptic Novel

by Peter Okafor

  Runner gazed at his wristwatch again. “Oh my god!” His face puckered to a frown.

  “What is it?” Troy shifted closer.

  The words could not leave Runner’s tongue. There were only five minutes to the next sweep of the storm and only one hideout to find shelter. But the problem was that the man hunters would also go for the nearest shelter.

  Now he was caught between Scylla and Charybdis.

  Chapter Four

  Seven Laws of an Outlaw

  He couldn’t stop staring at his wristwatch. He couldn’t control the woeful thoughts that sieged his mind. He knew, for a slum dweller, his death would come one of these days, but it never crossed his mind that it should be in the wasteland where the love and fellowship of friends had been replaced by the cruel embrace of ash and rubbles.

  The storm was approaching fast. Runner watched it, and Troy too could not help but gaze at the massive gale that swept with death. They watched it for a moment—the way the storm curled around ruined remnants of building structures before swallowing them whole into total obscurity like some magic trick of disappearance. Runner knew he had to choose between two monsters: one which was fast approaching and the other which lied in wait in the form of Ishmael’s gang of man hunters.

  After witnessing what they did to Gunner, he couldn’t help but give a little compliment to the government of MegaCityOne. The world was one big pit of shit—everyone knew that—but somehow, there was a little bit of order in the domed city thanks to the ever vigilance of Section 5.

  Ishmael! Oh, crazy Ishmael. He was once called the bully of Bug Town. Three years ago, the rangers of Section 5 put down a rebellion caused by the gang leader, crazy man he was. To prove the firmness of his cause, he torched twenty trucks transporting food supplies to the big city, causing an uprising that was crushed by the supreme councillor. For a moment, he had almost done what many could not—tumble the dictatorial leadership of MegaCityOne. Well, the enormous amount invested in Section 5 proved useful when the elite sector routed his hideout and massacred a good quarter of his followers.

  Things were different now. Beyond the comforts of the domed city, it was only survival that mattered, and here, the only thing Ishmael rebelled against was the virtues of sanity.

  “What are we going to do?” Troy glanced at his friend.

  “I thought you were the smart one. Figure something out,” Runner answered furiously.

  He gazed at his wristwatch again. “Damn it! Eleven minutes till the storm hits.”

  “You’re not helping.” Troy’s voice was shaky.

  Something struck Runner’s mind—something he had always considered stupid. They were not outlaws, but Old Max always said that every slum dweller was an outlaw. Perhaps he was right, and thus, he set seven rules to guide every man beyond the comforts of home.

  “To survive is to blend,” Runner uttered.

  Troy stared at him. “What?”

  “Remember, Old Max made seven rules to survive the wasteland. The first says to survive is to blend.” A victorious grin grew on Runner’s face.

  “I thought you said Old Max’s theories are detrimental to sanity.”

  Runner moved along the walls and spied on the gang of man hunters. “Look around you, Troy. This is insanity. We have been living in madness since we breathed the cruel air of this world. Come over here.”

  Troy moved along the walls, careful not to be seen.

  Runner rose up gently, just enough to have a vivid view of the gang. He estimated fifteen to twenty men in all, dressed in greasy clothing that had not touched the warm waters of a laundry for long. They carried cruel weapons forged by the merging of several dangerous tools together.

  He caught two men stealing out for a smoke, his perfect opportunity to test Old Max’s rules and pray he doesn’t get pounded to death.

  “Let’s take them out and put on their outfit. No one will notice since there is a lot of gang members holed up in the hideout.”

  “Are you crazy?” Troy chimed in. “They would kill us both, and I…I…I have never killed a man before.”

  Runner grabbed Troy by the neck of his jacket. “You see that?” He pointed at the storm that was now closer than ever. “It will melt our skin and turn our bones to ash. Imagine handling all the pain. Do you want that?”

  Troy shook his head.

  “Then we have to do this. No one is killing anyone; we just have to knock them out and leave the storm to do the rest.”

  Runner released him. He undid his makeshift axe from the belt where he had tied it to his waist and crept out slowly. He stopped and looked back to see if Troy was following him and was satisfied to see his friend behind him.

  Now, he felt a cold wind on his skin, much to his surprise. It came from the storm that was drawing closer but didn’t seem right. Everyone knew that the first thing you felt was a hot sensation when the storm was approaching, but this was different—cold, unusual, and something no tongue has ever spoken of.

  “Did you feel that?” he whispered to Troy.

  “Yes.” The boy nodded quickly. “It is…cold, real icy.”

  “I don’t know what this is, but we need to get out of here.” Runner continued.

  He sneaked to another broken wall right next to the men enjoying a smoke and ducked in the protection of its cover. The wind wafted an acrid stench of the smoke towards his nose. Troy joined him, and they rested their backs on the wall. Runner was ready—ready to do what he must to survive—and so held his axe close to his chest. Breath escaped his lungs, and he signaled Troy for a joint attack.

  “Hey, boss wants everyone in before the storm hits.” A man approached the smoking duo.

  Troy was about to pounce for an attack when Runner dragged him down. “There are three of them now,” he said.

  “What do we do?” Troy asked.

  Runner pondered for a moment, his face bearing his disappointment. “We stick to the plan,” he said finally.

  “What…How do you intend…”

  The words had barely left Troy’s tongue when Runner sprang from his cover. He swung hard, using the blunt side of his makeshift axe to strike a man on his head. The man dropped down flat and unconscious. Troy jabbed at the second man’s foot, and as the man hit the ground, he unleashed another blow on his head.

  “For Gunner, motherf**cker.” He cursed angrily and unleashed another blow to the unconscious man.

  “Dude, he has passed out,” Runner said.

  Troy stepped back with his weapon. “Look.” He pointed at the third man. “He is getting away.”

  Runner saw the man putting more distance away from them. He looked to Troy’s pneumatic nail gun, but the man was too far a target for the nails. There was only one thing left to do: putting his throwing skill that he had used to win a dart throwing competition to a live test.

  He held his axe tight and threw his hand back. His target was adding more distance, but it did not deter him. One true swing and the axe left Runner’s grip, swirled through the air, and struck the target at his shoulder. He saw the man slump like a deer brought down by an arrow.

  Both boys ran to the man. The blade of the makeshift axe was stuck on the man’s shoulder, and Runner had never seen so much blood escape the human body. The man gasped desperately for breath until he couldn’t anymore, and life fled. Runner felt bad.

  “I only meant to injure him.” His eyes narrowed in distress.

  “It was either him or us.” Troy put a hand on his shoulder.

  “We can’t use his clothing. It has been soiled by blood. Let’s take from the others.”

  They undid the cloths from the other two and threw them over their own clothing. Luckily, the baseball caps the marauders wore was able to further secure the boys’ identities. Runner grabbed the men’s weapon and passed one to Troy.

  “We have to really look like them,” he said and smiled.

  A gust of wind forcefully blew the cap from his head, and he ran to catch it. He picked it up
and saw a ruined car flung towards him by the storm. He moved away quickly, and it slammed on the ground, scattering stones and bricks. He watched the storm engulf everything, a white violent hot fog creeping upon anything on its path and swallowing it whole. For a moment there, it seemed almost supernatural, and fear gripped him like a nut stuck in his throat.

  “Run!” Runner screamed.

  He took the lead with Troy following behind and with great strides made for a small shelter that served as a hideout to Ishmael’s gang. Like a surge of sea waves, they crashed into the small room and blended in with the gang.

  Runner took deep breaths to recuperate. He stood to his feet and watched the storm pass through. There was literally nothing to see within it, as everything was white and hazy. After a few minutes, the storm passed completely. The vagueness was gone, and everything seemed clear.

  He stepped outside and saw something he had never seen before. One of the gang members was still and unmoving as a tree stump. He looked like a statue, petrified while making for safety. Many others came out and joined Runner as he stared at it. They too had never seen such a thing.

  It seemed the poor fellow was reaching for the hideout when he got caught by the storm. But usually, the storm melts the human skin like an acid would, not petrify it. Runner poked a finger at it, and the frozen man came crashing down like the stones of a demolished building.

  “The storm must be changing with different seasons.” He glanced at Troy. “But no one has recorded anything like this. Perhaps this might be a step to understanding nature.”

  “Whatever, man,” Troy said. “We need to leave this place now. I don’t feel comfortable with all these creepy dudes carrying knives and broken pipes.”

  “Come on.” Runner beckoned.

  They walked past several gang members without any hindrance. Even so, the fear that took root in Runner’s mind was not so easily discarded. He held on, walking a fine line between being discovered and getting through successfully. The last they passed were two men fighting over an unequal share of loot.

  Finally, they went through without been discovered. Troy took a sigh of relief, and Runner smiled to his fortune.

  Troy lifted his hands in the air. “The god of luck must have smiled on us.”

  “Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it.” Runner countered. “Old Max’s seven rules really wasn’t a hoax. For once, he had done something right.”

  “So, remind me again. What is the second law of an outlaw?” Troy asked.

  “Who cares,” Runner said and then paused as he stared at the distance. “An outlaw in need is an outlaw indeed. To survive, four hands are better than two.”

  The factory was right before them, and at the foot was a truck, half buried in rubbles.

  “Troy,” he called. “I think we are going to need four hands.”

  He began to walk towards it with quick steps, and it seemed like if he looked away for a moment, the truck would disappear. No one could seek out copper wires better than Runner. He could sense it from afar. He could smell it, and he could hear it calling to him, for it has been something he had looted all his life.

  He knew, without doubt, that there were copper wires in the truck and loads of it. Nothing could have brought him such unimaginable joy for it was worth every risk he had taken. He reached the rusty truck and forced the door open.

  There they were—shiny copper wires.

  Troy fell on his knees and opened his arm wide with joy. “Oh god! Oh god! These are blessings in abundance.”

  Chapter Five

  Like Dog and Bone

  The journey back home did not seem as tiring as he had expected. His blood coursed with so much energy. Perhaps he felt so alive because he had found enough copper wire that could feed half the population of Rat Town for days.

  Troy pushed the cart behind Runner. They looked like happy huntsmen who had hit the largest game in the wild. Runner hung his axe to rest on his shoulder and marched towards the little gate like the soldiers of old returning from war.

  Troy stopped suddenly. “My legs hurt.”

  He bent down slightly, touching his knees with both hands.

  “What? Do you want me to carry you?” Runner laughed. “Stop being a milksop and pull the damn cart. We are almost there.”

  Runner ran and climbed atop a pile of metal and bricks that had been melted together by the storm to form a hill. He curved his hand over his brow and stared at the small gate in the distance.

  “What’s the first thing you would do when we get home?” Troy gazed at him with a smile sitting on his face.

  Runner looked down at his black boots and frowned as a toe popped through a hole on the sole. “Get a new shoe to start with. I know we live in dark days, but damn it! A guy needs some reps. I mean…come on, look at my shoes. No wonder I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “You should be glad you don’t have a girlfriend. Look at Gus, the plumb-man. He hit a major jackpot and apparently…fell in love with a redhead. Old fool didn’t know love was a transaction in Rat Town. Now, he cleans sewers in the slums.”

  Troy pushed the cart forward and then stopped suddenly.

  “But Rhiannon, I don’t think she is like that.”

  “Here we go again,” Runner said, “Rhiannon. If you like her that much, why don’t you tell her how you feel?”

  Troy shook his head and smiled.

  They pushed further until the small gate was near. Runner ran towards it to make way for Troy and the cart. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it was shut tight. He took a few steps backwards and ran with speed, slamming his shoulder on the door to force it open, but it would not budge.

  “Rhiannon was supposed to leave this open for us,” he said to Troy who had caught up with him.

  “Let me try.”

  Troy left the cart and pushed the door to no avail.

  Something must have gone wrong. Runner knew this but didn’t want to think much to it. He hoped that Rhiannon was safe, yet that would seem unlikely as she would never leave them stranded no matter what.

  There was only one thing to do now, and that meant taking the greatest risk he could imagine.

  “We take the main gate,” Runner said.

  “What?” Troy bellowed. “We might as well strip ourselves naked and stand in the radioactive storm because Section 5 will have our heads for sneaking into the wasteland.”

  “Not if we bribe our way through.”

  Troy nodded. “That could work,” he said.

  Runner took the lead to act as a scout. It would be better to try to get around without being seen than to bribe a ranger of Section 5—that would be his plan B. He wasn’t new to the art of stealth and thus, crept along the walls.

  He gazed at his wristwatch. The storm would not hit any time soon, giving him ample time to do what needed to be done. One more step and he jerked to halt, urging Troy to do the same.

  “What is it?” His friend poked a finger at his shoulder.

  Runner peeped from the corner and saw a group of boys and girls dressed in the black and grey camouflage jackets of Section 5. They wielded no real or stun guns but carried makeshift weapons. Immediately, everything made sense.

  “Dope,” Runner whispered.

  “Why would Dope’s gang be guarding the gates?” Troy asked.

  Runner shook his head. “He must have found out that we went to loot scrap metal.”

  “What do we do, Runner…What do we do?” Troy’s voice trembled. “We…we can’t lose everything we risked our lives for.”

  Runner stood up and held his axe on his right hand. “Let me handle this,” he said.

  He walked out and stepped in front of the gang. Immediately, they saw him. They rallied themselves and stood in a long line. They stood before him, twenty in all, stretching from one watchtower at the end of the large gate to the other.

  “Skittish!” Runner shouted.

  Dope descended the stairs of the large watchtower, carrying a lo
ng, broken pipe on his hand. He wore a brown military vest upon a sleeveless cloth, and his arms hung out, revealing his biceps.

  “It is forbidden to sneak into the wasteland without authorization, Runner. You know this very well.”

  “I only went to retrieve the cargo I lost so that I can finally get my pay.” Runner lied. “I wouldn’t want to incur the chief enforcer’s wrath now, would I?”

  Dope laughed hard and long. “Come on, Runner. We both know that’s not the case. My little birds whispered to me a rather familiar song. They said that you went to loot a large stash of copper wires.”

  Runner stared at him. Who told him that? Surely, it wasn’t Rhiannon. She would never betray him and wouldn’t even waste her breath on a foolish fellow like Dope. If not her, then who?

  “You caught me, Dope. Yes, I went on a chase of foolish rumours, but as you can see, I came back with nothing.”

  “Nothing.” Dope laughed again and waved his hand.

  Two boys from his gang dragged Troy who struggled to get free from them, while another pushed the cart behind them. Runner charged with such great rage and used his foot to lunge at the boy pushing the cart. The poor boy was sent flying until he slammed on the wall.

  Five more came at Runner. He buried his axe on the shoulder of another boy, and the rest fell him to the ground and restrained him. Dust found its way into Runner’s mouth, and he spat it out, fuming.

  “Skittish, you coward.” Runner spat his words. “You hide behind this bunch of thugs. Why don’t you challenge me? Man to man. If you win, you take the whole loot.”

  Dope’s gang paused and stared at their leader who sat on the stairs. Runner knew he had hit Dope where it would hurt the most—his pride.