by Peter Okafor
The group looked amongst themselves, perhaps hoping that someone would come out and say something to save them all. They looked so afraid, and the terrorizing laughter from the gang of men guarding them did not help at all.
“He wants me,” Runner muttered. “I’m the one he is looking for,” he said to Dope in a moment of emotion.
Dope suddenly sprang from his cover and shouted, “He is here! He is here! Let them go. He is here.”
Runner couldn’t believe his eyes. He had expected that from Dope but wasn’t prepared for it at that moment. He rolled on the floor, away from the cover the barrel provided and picked a Molotov cocktail. Quickly, he stood up and lighted it from the fire in the barrel and aimed at the gang of men heading towards him.
They were too close to him, but he threw the incendiary and got three men dancing in flames. He couldn’t reach for another as it would result to burning himself alive along with the enemy. Runner stretched his hand quickly and reached for his backpack. He took out his baseball bat stick and sacrificed his backpack by throwing it in the barrel of fire.
He dived as far away as he could, and the inflammables in the backpack exploded with a loud boom!
Half of Ishmael’s gang were cloaked in fire, but more came at Runner. He swung his bat and buried the barbed head on a man’s face. It stuck, and Runner felt it peeling the flesh as he pulled it out. There was so much chaos and screaming that he could barely see who was who.
“Hey,” someone called from behind.
Runner turned and was met with a heavy blow on his head. He fell to the ground. His sight was blurred, but he could make out the familiar Mohawk on a man’s head. A large foot came at his face, and everything went dark.
Chapter Twelve
Death and the Matchmaker
Olivia Patterson sat on a black sofa, which was definitely not one from the office of the city’s ambassador in Capital One. Thick white smoke curled all around her, escaping from the mouths of rich kids clinging to their hookahs. Behind her, a blonde lady in red sang on a stage, dancing and twirling to the thrill of middle-aged men drowned in ecstasy.
She glanced at a group of boys on her left, giggling frequently as call girls imported from the slums, sat on their laps and tickled them. On a normal day, it was her job to round them all up and deport them to the slums, but today was different.
She was stoned again.
A pile of Sense pills littered on her table. They had been her escape from the world of false smiling and unwarranted societal expectations. Club Omega was the only place where she was free from the watchful eyes of her father, the supreme councillor.
A few months ago, she had made a promise to her mother and gave up her addiction. But here she was again, and this time, the pills were more than an escape. The matchmaker of MegacityOne had been summoned again. She was a dreadful woman popular for being every girl’s nightmare. They called her the Lady of Love. But how could that be? When the lady had grown grey hairs and yet remained unmarried.
In a fortnight, the matchmaker would announce the ceremony of the matchmaking ball. Every respectable girl above sixteen from the great families of MegacityOne would be matched to a young man of similar interests. A series of interviews was always done by the matchmaker to determine this, and Olivia mourned her lack of choice.
She swallowed another pill and gulped a glass of wine. Most girls had the mercy of not knowing their match until the dance, but Olivia’s had been signed, sealed, and delivered.
“Hey.” A boy bared his perfect teeth in a smile.
She raised her gaze to see in her stupor. Speak of the devil! It was her very own nightmare, Lucan Capricorn, whose father was Gaius Capricorn, the wealthiest man in MegacityOne.
He was the perfect model of a posh kid with blonde curled hairs and genetically enhanced facial features that made him extremely handsome. Every girl in town loved Lucan Capricorn. They threw their bras and even panties at him as his convoy drove him home from social functions.
“Are you excited about the matchmaking ball?” He sat opposite her, his eyes a glaring sapphire.
She turned her head away to ignore him.
“Look, Olivia. I know this isn’t what you want, but I’m sure you knew it was coming. We have to try to make this work. The ball is in two weeks. After that, there is no going back.”
He tried to reach for her hand on the table, but she withdrew it. She did not speak a single word. Rather, she swallowed the remaining content in her glass in one go.
“Alright, I’m taking you home,” Lucan said.
He stood up and grabbed her arm.
“Go away, Lucan!” Olivia pushed him to stagger backwards and almost fell off her chair too.
She stood up and staggered towards the stage, shoving through tons of sweaty men. She climbed the stage where the lady in red sang to the audience.
“Everyone, Olivia Patterson!” The lady waved her right arm to the crowd.
The chants that followed were exhilarating. Men raised their hands and clamoured, “Sing! Sing! Sing!”
Olivia grabbed the microphone from the lady and began to sway her hips in the golden dress she wore. She put her hand behind her hair and released the pin. Her ponytail went loose and wild, much to the joy of her male audience.
Far at the end of the hall, she noticed a man in black standing by the door. There was something about him that didn’t seem right—something she had observed during her dealings with the rebel, Death Throe.
The man sank his hand in a bag hanging from his shoulder, and as he removed it, she noticed a chemical flask with green content.
“Give us water!” the man yelled.
Boom!
A loud bang went off. It threw her off the stage, and she crashed into the musical instruments.
There was fire everywhere. Men danced cloaked in flames. Boys screamed for their mothers, and girls reached for the boys in confusion. Olivia crawled on the ground to reach the lady in red. She turned the motionless woman to roll on her side and saw that she was dead.
“Olivia! Olivia!” Lucan rushed to reach her.
He lifted her up from the stage and put her arm around his neck. She heard the sirens of ambulance from the Citadel of Healing. One step after another, she made it down with Lucan’s help. As they reached for the door, her sight began to fail, and the last light left her as if a veil was dropped over her face.
She slumped to the ground, and there was just darkness.
***
Olivia opened her eyes. The smell of sanitary disinfectant told her all that she needed to know. Her head was heavy. Everything was dull and blurry. She raised her head and noticed the blue hospital gown she was clothed in.
“How are you, dear?” a voice said.
Olivia turned her head to her side, and with the vagueness fading, she saw her mother smiling at her. Standing beside Dr. Lysander were two familiar faces.
“Indira, Calypso, you guys are here,” she spoke weakly.
Indira, a tall girl of mixed race, sat on the bed beside her friend and wrapped her arms around Olivia in a warm hug. When she was through, Calypso did the same.
“I will give you guys some space,” Dr. Lysander said and walked towards the door.
“Mom,” Olivia called to her, and she paused. “What happened out there?”
“Let’s talk about it later.” Dr. Lysander nodded and walked away.
Olivia felt her heart skip a beat. Let’s talk about it later was another way to say, You are in trouble. A city’s ambassador was not to be anywhere near Club Omega. Despite the bomb, the supreme councillor would punish her for that.
Fathers and their daughters were supposed to have a special relationship filled with love and happiness, but hers was different. Supreme Councillor Peter Patterson had managed to make the whole city believe he was some kind of lovable dictator. He had created a divine personality by projecting a false image of himself on the screens and billboards of digital buildings.
Only t
he heads of the Twelve Citadels of Excellence and his family had seen his true face. Olivia knew her father well, and forgiveness was not one of his virtues.
“Cheer up, Liv.” Indira put her finger beneath Olivia’s chin and tilted it up with a smile. “Everything will be fine.”
“How can everything be fine, Indira, when the matchmaking ball is only a few weeks away. I have a boyfriend, and I’m not willing to give him up for some rich jerk,” Calypso spoke angrily.
“I wonder who the matchmaker has matched to me.” Indira giggled.
Olivia shared her glance between the girls as they kept her company. Indira was olive-skinned, and her long black hair was something many girls envied as it richly grew to touch her buttocks. Oddly, she got along with Calypso, her stepsister, who revelled in lipsticks and overdrawn eyeshadows.
“You shouldn’t be sad, Liv,” Calypso said, “We both know who you would be matched to. Lucan Capricorn. I know your dad will make sure of that.”
She turned to her stepsister, her lips opening to reveal a set of white teeth in a smile.
“Yes, Liv. He is not a horrible match at all.” Indira supported the other girl. “You know he was the one that carried you all the way to the Medical Centre.”
Olivia looked pale as a corpse. Even as her friends giggled and fantasized their perfect match, she did not share their enthusiasm. A few years ago, she would have agreed on a match to Lucan Capricorn in a heartbeat, but things had changed.
The only reason her father would make such demands of her was to ensure he got the support of the Capricorn family, a move to keep his sovereignty over MegaCityOne.
There was something far more important than matchmaking and pretty ball dresses. Many in the MegaCityOne did not know, but there was a storm coming, and when it would sweep, few would survive to tell its tale.
“Olivia! Olivia!”
She snapped from her reverie. “What is it, Indira?”
“Where did you fly to?” Indira waved her hand over Olivia’s sight. “There is someone asking for you at the door.”
Olivia raised her head and saw a red-haired girl in a white lab coat standing at the door with a tablet computer on her hands. She jumped to her feet as she recognized the girl, pulling all the drip tubes connected to her arm.
“You are Angel, right?” Olivia said.
The girl nodded.
“You are in charge of surveillance on the Remnants of Men. Yes, I remember. What is it?” Olivia held her arm.
“It is about Runner,” Angel replied. “The boy from Rat Town who you asked me to keep you informed on his condition.”
“Who is Runner?” Indira and Calypso asked simultaneously.
Olivia ignored them and followed Angel out of the room. “Forgive me. I have been getting a lot of Capricorns lately. So, tell me. How is Runner faring so far?”
Angel raised her computer for Olivia to see. “Take a look at this,” she said.
“I don’t see anything,” Olivia replied.
“Exactly.” Angel stopped and poked her finger on a button to call an elevator. “We kept surveillance on all twelve participants through the wristband given by their sponsors. That way, we could see everything they see. But Runner’s went dark a few hours ago.”
“What?” Olivia was perplexed.
The elevator stopped and opened. Both girls went in, and Angel pushed the button to the last floor. When the doors opened again, she led Olivia to the last room at the end of a long hall. She opened the door, and they went in.
Olivia paused to catch the view. Large screens rested on the walls connected to powerful computers managed by three tech engineers. The screens were divided into several sections, and on each, a different participant of the Remnants of Men was displayed.
“Hey, Angel,” a boy in front of a computer called. “Ratings has dropped since Capricorn went dark. Do you still want to place a bet on him?”
Olivia stared at Angel. “What is he talking about?”
“The entire city has gone crazy about the Remnants of Men. People are gambling on who would survive, die first, or find the lake. Even the Citadel of Entertainment purchased the right to display it as a survivor show.”
“These are human beings, kids who are not so different from us, struggling for their lives,” Olivia yelled. “Show me Runner on the screen.”
“I can’t. Something happened to his wristband. I think he might be…Wait!”
Angel tapped her fingers on a keyboard and brought a section of the screen in full view. “Damn!” She slammed her fist on the table. “I thought it was him. I’m sorry, Olivia, but it is only fair to say he is dead.”
Olivia sat down tiredly on a chair with her face buried in her hands.
“I know why you wanted him to live. He seemed like a good guy,” Angel said. “But why do you want him to live so badly?”
If only they knew, Olivia thought, but her lips remained sealed.
Chapter Thirteen
David and Goliath
Day three
Oh god! The smell, the stench…It was odious, but nothing he hadn’t smelled before. It was definitely familiar—a miasma of a hundred rotting corpses, something that reminded him of the bad kimchi prepared by Granny Woo in Rat Town.
Runner opened his eyes. Something wasn’t right. The world seemed to be upside down, or was he? He looked again. There were hundreds of human carcasses piled on the floor, and it was then that he realised he was hanging from his feet.
Blood dribbled down his arms to his fingertips. A stabbing pain jabbed at the back of his head, but it was nothing compared to fear that gripped him when he saw human bodies in their numbers hanging dead from what used to be an animal processing line.
Every weapon he had had been relieved off him. But there was one he hid for emergencies. Runner pushed his chest up and stretched his right arm to reach for his boot. There, he drew out a penknife hidden in its sole and proceeded to cut loose.
He fell with a hard thud on the ground. Something snapped, and he shrieked, holding his left thumb. Immediately, he pushed the dislocated finger back in place, screaming in agony. Just on the wall, inches to a doorframe, the word slaughterhouse was painted boldly with blood.
“How far have men fallen,” Runner muttered.
He was hungry and thirsty, two of the world’s most powerful enemies in these times. All he saw were butchered corpses like red venison, littering tables and piled in buckets. It seemed like lack of food had made the gangs resort to cannibalism.
Funny how a man can cut through another, forgetting that his own flesh is equally as soft and susceptible as his victim’s.
Runner stood to his feet and limped towards the door. He grabbed tight to the knob, but then he heard a whimper.
“Who is there?” he asked.
Runner flipped his penknife, ready to strike at anything he saw. “You sick creeps! You won’t have me for lunch this day. You hear me! I will gut you like a fish before you touch me.”
Something creaked. He heard it coming from an old kitchen cabinet. Slowly, he moved towards it and then opened it forcefully, followed by a lunge with his knife.
“Stop…stop…please, don’t hurt me.” A young girl curled in fear.
Runner paused and withdrew his knife quickly. He squatted beside her. “What are you doing here?”
The girl gave him an awful stare. Her hair was wet with blood stuck to her skin, and bruises were all over her face. Runner felt a wave of sympathy rush down his heart, and he stretched an arm to help her up.
She caught his hand and bit him hard. He shrieked and withdrew quickly. Heavy footfalls grew behind him. He turned almost too late, missing the blow of a broken pipe swung by a boy. The pipe landed upon the cabinet, smashing the wood to bits.
He couldn’t believe that was meant for his head.
The boy recovered and came with the pipe again. Runner dodged and smashed his elbow on the boy’s nose, leaving him covered in blood. He caught the boy at the back of his
neck and held his arm to restrain him. That moment, he recognized a bronze chain around the boy’s wrist, one of two given to him by his friend, Rhiannon.
“Troy?” Runner called.
The boy seemed startled and then turned around in astonishment. “Runner. Oh god! Runner!” He wrapped his arms around Runner.
“I almost killed you,” he said as they disengaged.
Runner couldn’t believe his eyes. He was struck dumb with joy. The little girl came towards him and wrapped her arms warmly around his torso. Perhaps it was her way of saying she was sorry, or she was just so happy to see someone else on her side. She looked no more than twelve years old, and Runner returned her embrace.
“How did you get here, Troy?” Runner asked.
Troy seemed uneasy. He looked sideways, front, and back at short intervals as if he was expecting something or someone.
“What did you say? Oh…Sorry, the answer to that question is a long story, one I’m willing to share when we are far from this godforsaken place. Right now, Runner, we have bigger problems.”
Runner put both of his hands on Troy’s shoulders. “Calm down, Troy. What do you mean bigger problems?” he asked. “I know Ishmael and his man hunters are searching for us, but I promise, we will all get through this, okay?”
Troy laughed loud and brief. “Ishmael? Can you believe I begged Ishmael, the same man who tried to kill me, to take us with him, but he was too scared to stop for even a second?”
“What do you mean?” Runner asked curiously.
“Ishmael’s gang didn’t do this. At least, not all of them.” Troy pointed at the decomposing corpses piled at different sides of the wall. “The butcher did. He is this man that looks like there is something wrong with him, along with his rabid company. They just went tearing through the gangs after a series of explosions drew them to the camp.”
“You mean the bag of Molotov cocktails I threw into a barrel of fire.” Runner grinned. “That was awesome.”