by Peter Okafor
Olivia and James stood motionless, staring at Troy.
“Dude, easy,” James said.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I’m just…” Troy touched his forehead with his hand.
A woman came in through the doorway. She was clad in a military jacket and a skirt belted at her waist. A boat-shaped cap sat on her head, and she clasped her hands at her back.
“Olivia Patterson.”
“Yes,” Olivia answered.
“I’m here to escort you to the council’s court,” she spoke boldly.
She stepped sideways, standing with her chest raised up as if she inhaled and held her breath. Olivia thought she looked more masculine than most men she had encountered.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Spectre 451, ma’am,” the woman bellowed.
“Well, Spectre 451 or whatever, do you know where they’re keeping my brother?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I cannot say,” she replied.
Olivia heaved.
“Lead the way then,” she said, staring back at James and Troy. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You have to try at least. There are so many women and children in the slums. You must help them.” Troy urged.
The spectre walked Olivia down a long hallway. They descended a staircase, and two guards opened a door that led them outside. The night was unusually cold, or was she feeling the chill of her own fears? Everything was crazy outside.
Citizens had gathered with banners that bore the words FREE OUR KNIGHT, and another that was written YOU CANNOT KILL A LEGEND; DEATH THROE LIVES ON.
Their chants were a racket that consumed the atmosphere. She raised her gaze to the sky were thousands of white sky lamps propelled upwards by hot-air balloons, each painted with the symbol of a skull mask. It gave her hope and warmed her heart. Perhaps the council would recognize the symbolic gestures and free her brother.
Spectres from Section 5 began to beat the protesters with batons and drive them backwards. The woman led Olivia to the front of the council’s Hall of Truth. Just as they passed a pool at the front of the building, she caught sight of a great statue depicting a bearded man that held a scale on his hands.
It was the sculpted figure of Peter Patterson, the tyrant she called her father. From her perspective, he was no different than Reinhardt Reddit, the man they were told was responsible for turning the earth to a nuclear wasteland.
They walked up the stairs to the court’s façade and went past its pillars that were the colour of bone. The main door looked like an awfully large gate. It was wide open with spectres at each side, vigilant as a hawk. Spectre 451 escorted Olivia into the room and then stepped away.
There were so many men and women gathered at the court, separated in rows by descending staircases. She walked through the middle of the gathering, her steps muffled by the long red carpet that lay beneath her feet.
She approached a podium at the centre, flanked by six councillors at the left, another six at the right and then a large screen that projected the image of her father, the Supreme Councillor Peter Patterson.
The councillors were seated on a higher ground that overlooked her. Each had a microphone set at the front and two spectres standing guard behind.
An orator walked to the front of the gathering. “Olivia Patterson, as the city’s ambassador, you’ve been brought before the council to appeal on behalf of your brother, the traitor masking as the rebel Death Throe.”
“Speak,” a councillor said.
Olivia felt her hands trembling. She had spoken before a large congregation, time and time again. But now, she read into every contemptuous gaze cast upon her. She felt them snuffing all the confidence away from her. Her heart throbbed faster. Her blood boiled in her veins, and her skin grew prickly.
She closed her eyes to remind herself why she was doing this and then opened them as she ascended the podium.
“As a first citizen of MegaCityOne, it is my right as much as it is that of my brother to be given an advantage in matters of justice. Our fathers before us believed in equality amongst humans, something that has been missing from our society…”
“Do not speak to us of our ancestors!” a councillor snarled. “They were not here to see the world become a vault of madness. We built this city—this dome—with our blood and sweat, and by God, we shall protect our legacy.”
“But…but…” Olivia stammered.
“But, but what?” another councillor bellowed. “The punishment for treason is death. Your brother was responsible for sabotaging our water reserves and thus, indirectly triggered a water riot in all zones of MegaCityOne. My son died in that riot. My only child!”
“Listen to me, you fools!” Olivia shouted. “An army of outlaws are heading this way, led by a delusional man called Pope LongJaw. This piece of paper was given to a Remnant of Men by a Sand Sister requesting with her dying breath for it to be delivered to Bob Davies, the chief enforcer of Section 5.”
She raised the paper for them to see. Her mother, Dr. Lysander, acting on authority as a councillor to the Citadel of Healing gestured at the chief enforcer. The man went down to Olivia and took to the piece of paper.
“It’s genuine. I had dispatched the ranger a few months ago to a colony in the wasteland,” the man said.
Everyone began to throw gazes at each other, seemingly restless, but trying not to panic.
A man she recognized as Councillor Gaius Capricorn stood to his feet.
“How can it be? Our surveillance proves that the Remnants of Men are dead or have abandoned their fight for freedom and embraced the wastelands. We have no hope to restore our water supply, but we must kill any thoughts of uprising by answering treason with blood and then teach the savage LongJaw why his kind is destined to be waste dwellers.”
“Glorious Councillors”—Olivia began—“I pray you give my brother a chance to pay for his misdeeds. Let him serve at the frontlines against the outlaws and then live out the rest of his days in the wastelands.”
“A considerable option well stated,” Dr. Lysander added with a smile.
Olivia felt a warm relief to see her mother back her up. She might be a single councillor amongst many, but no mother would want to watch her son die. In a way, everything seemed to be settled despite the outcome of the court’s judgement.
Peter Patterson cleared his throat on-screen. “We shall put it to a vote.”
There was a long uncomfortable silence, and then the orator came to the front. “We have six votes from Councillors Lysander, Flavius, Wednesday, Slim, Felix, and Goldfinger, all in favour of an exile.”
He paused for a moment. “Another six votes from Councillors Capricorn, Bells, Whitestone, Gallywater, Rose, and Claudius, all in favour of an execution. So, at an impasse, we await a last vote from the Supreme Councillor Peter Patterson.”
All eyes turned to the image of the supreme councillor displayed on the large screen. Olivia couldn’t be any happier that the last vote fell to her father. He might seem the cold man at times or so distant from his children, but surely, he wouldn’t sacrifice his only son to maintain his firm authority.
A silence descended on the large hall. The supreme councillor was taking his sweet time to come to a decision.
The man cleared his throat again. “As the head of this great city, a father to all, not just my children, a keeper of peace, and an acolyte of justice, I vote…execution.”
“Nooo!” Olivia screamed and fell on both knees.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rat Town Blues
The darkness was absolute. His arms were opened sideways, and the air rushed past them. Ironically, he had always wanted to try skydiving, and now he got his wish. The swoosh sound of fast-flowing air filled his ears. He shut his eyes and counted as he plunged into unfathomable depths.
With every depth covered, a scream rose like a whisper, low but sharp. Someone was falling above him—someone who could never keep his mouth shut, even when in the
company of nothing but darkness and wind.
Death awaited him at the bottom of the chasm. He knew that. As much as he tried to block every thought or image that simulated his collision with rocks at the chasm’s end, they came anyway and tortured him with fear.
Runner was still falling, and Dope was still screaming. He knew at any moment his head would be crushed upon a rock and his bones grinded to dust. Perhaps he should scream like Dope Davis. That would be a relief.
Images of his home replaced every thought in his mind that bred uneasiness. The slums weren’t the filthy, nasty, pile of zinced buildings people imagined them to be. He remembered when old folks gathered around warm fires and told them stories of the world that had come before. A time when men drank coffee and read newspapers, a time of holidays and great festivals, a time when people carried umbrellas and cursed the sun for its torturous beam, a time when they ignored their mother’s goodbye kisses and jumped into school buses. Oh! They would sigh. How much they regretted taking those things for granted.
The air suddenly grew cooler, and Runner snapped out of his reverie. The bottom was near. He felt it. One quick twist, he pushed his body to dive downwards so that his head would hit the rocks first and give him a quick death.
There was something glowing below. With another depth covered, he saw them clearly. Thousands of glowing plant life, and then he noticed something like a mirage.
“Water!” he screamed.
In a heartbeat, his hands plunged into the cold liquid and his body followed. He held his breath too late and water found its way into his lungs. Runner sunk deeper in the river. He could see almost everything underneath, brightened by the light of numerous glowing aquatic plants. He stretched his arms and legs and pulled a stroke underwater. Slowly, he moved his body to an upwards position and used his arms to propel himself upwards until he pushed his head out of the water.
His mouth went open as he gasped for air, nearly choking himself to death. His body floated on the water, and he recuperated by breathing in and out.
The current of the water was pulling him backwards. Suddenly, something vague sprang to the surface.
“Help me!” a voice cried.
He swam closer to see clearly. Someone was struggling with the current and splashing water all over.
“Dope!” Runner yelled.
He swam with quick strokes of his hands, pushing through the currents to reach Dope, but the boy sank downwards. Runner took a deep breath and dipped himself under the water. He saw Dope plunging downwards with bubbles rushing off his mouth. Runner continued onwards until he reached the boy. He put Dope’s arms around his neck and propelled himself upwards.
Both boys hit the surface and gasped for air. The current of the water plunged them backwards with so much force that within seconds, Runner and Dope found themselves deep in water again.
This time, the water moved rapidly, carrying them along. It forced them into a hollow cave, dark and unsettling. Runner tried to swim against the currents, but it came too strong and pushed him further in. He couldn’t see anything, not Dope, not even what was ahead.
With great force, the water flushed him out of the cave and he found himself going down a waterfall that exited into a large lake.
He sank into the water, going deeper and deeper. In a moment of resolution, he summoned his strength and swam upwards until he reached the surface.
A warm sensation came upon his face. It felt good—really good. Something was odd. The surface of the lake was silvery and beautiful, and green plants resided at its bank. The air was warm, the day was bright…bright? He raised his gaze quickly to the sky and was briefly blinded by a bright light.
He covered his eyes and winced. Slowly, he curved his hands above his brow and looked up again.
“What the hell is that?” he muttered.
The sky was blue with chunks of white clouds scattered all over. Just at the corner of a large cloud, a bright yellow ball of light peeped shyly. Runner’s gaze lingered; he had never seen anything like that before, and it intrigued him.
A flock of birds flew past his gaze, and he watched as they went into a nearby forest of huge green trees. Runner brought his gaze down and saw something floating on the water.
“Dope,” he muttered.
He swam to the boy and pulled him out on the bank. Dope was not breathing.
Runner knelt beside Dope’s body. “Wake up, Dope.” He slapped his cheek, but there was no response.
He put his hands on Dope’s chest and began to push down, forcing pressure on the lungs.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three…”
There was still no response from Dope. He used his fingers to force Dope’s mouth open. “Fuck it. I have to try,” he said.
Runner leaned downwards and used his mouth to force air down Dope’s lungs. He stood up and began to push down on Dope’s chest.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Thr—”
Dope coughed violently, forcing water out of his mouth.
“Easy, man!” Runner said.
Dope lifted his torso. “Get—” Cough…cough…“Get your—” Cough…cough…cough…“Get your hands away from me!” Cough. He panicked.
“I just saved your life, dickhead.” Runner cursed in anger.
He rose to his feet.
“What the hell! Why is everywhere so bright, Runner?” Dope scrambled to his feet.
Runner raised his gaze to the sky. This time he got a good view of the whole firmament. The blue sky only stretched a few miles further and before being bordered by the dull grey sky that hung over the wasteland.
“I think that is the sun,” he said.
Dope’s eyes were upwards. “I have never seen the sun in my life. I can feel it on my skin, Runner. It’s…warm. It feels good—really good.”
“Good for you,” Runner said as he walked to the bank.
His feet sank into pebbles as he scanned the silvery water for any sign of his backpack.
“Hahahaha, hahahahaaaa!” Dope laughed raising his arms in the air. “Water and sunlight. This is good. This is really good. We are heroes, Runner. You and I, we are going to be welcomed back to the big city with drums and trumpets. Our tables would be filled with the healthiest food. We would be given villas and matched to any girl of our liking.”
Runner shook his head as his search came futile. He squatted on the bank and watched Dope fool around. He stood up and reached his hands down to his belt. His fingers felt the knives still sheathed, and he took a sigh of relief.
“You know, Runner.” Dope walked towards him. “I only followed you underground to laugh at you after you fail. I actually thought going down there was the stupidest idea ever. But I got to say, I’m glad I did. We’re partners now, you know.”
He punched Runner lightly on the shoulder. Runner’s gaze narrowed, focused on him.
“Dude, relax,” Dope said. “By the way, how did you learn how to swim? There are no rivers in the wasteland or Rat Town.”
Runner took a step forward with his finger pointed at Dope. “All you did in Rat Town was bully scrap hoarders and take their profits of hard labour away. How would you know of any other thing? Of course, your dad made you his quartermaster in charge of the ranger’s welfare, so why not abuse your status?”
Dope charged forward, using his hands to push Runner, forcing him to stagger backwards. Runner wrapped his hand to a fist and surged forward. Dope tackled him quickly from the waist and grasped him tight. Runner used his elbow and unleashed several blows on Dope’s back. When the burly boy grew weak, Runner forced his knee upwards to knock Dope’s mouth.
The hands around Runner’s waist came loose, and Dope staggered backwards with blood on his lips.
“You can’t beat me!” Runner yelled. “You’ve never been able to.”
“You think you know everything, Runner,” Dope voiced angrily. “You think you endured a hard life, but mine is no
better than yours. You had no family, but everybody loved you in all the slum colonies. You were that boy that fixed their broken machines, did their plumbing, and carried their cargoes safely across the wasteland for no charge.”
Dope paused and took quick breaths.
“As for me, my father despised me. His dream was for me to one day be a councilman, dabbling in politics in one of the great citadels. I had no patience for such things, and when I confronted him, this is what I got.”
Dope pulled his wet shirt off. On the well-built muscles at his back, scars scattered all over, a remnant of injuries sustained from a whip.
“His words exactly were: ‘The repulsive plants survive the harshest conditions. That’s why you find them in deserts and wastelands.’”
Runner turned away. “So, what? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You dropped me into the chasm!”
“And then I followed. Should I bake a pie or cry because I dropped you?” Dope opened his arms in protest.
Something rustled in the forest.
“Quiet,” Runner whispered and bent low.
“What?” Dope said.
“I said quiet. Bend down before it sees you,” Runner said.
“What!” Dope turned from side to side.
Runner focused his sight on a buck that had strayed from the forest. It was large and brown with white spots on its body. The animal nibbled on a green stalk, not knowing that two hungry fellas were about to descend with the fury bred from hunger.
Dope went down, and Runner crept forward slowly. His hand reached for a wrench knife at his belt, and he drew it gently.
He held the knife at the pointy end and aimed at his target.
An arrow came from nowhere he saw and went into the buck’s jugular. The beast fell on the ground, writhing with death throes. Blood gathered around the arrow as the buck gave up on its struggle.
“That was well aimed.” Runner seemed surprised.
“It wasn’t me,” Dope replied from behind.
Men on horses galloped towards him. They halted in front of both boys, the hooves of their horses digging into the pebbles at the bank. The men wore thick black furry coats, and their heads were shaved—all of them.