Liberation: A Post-apocalyptic Novel

by Peter Okafor

  The boy raised his gentle green eyes at Troy. In him, Troy saw a reflection of himself, a kindred spirit. He was no different than Bravo, as both of them just wanted to live peacefully in a shattered world.

  “I have never been in a battle before,” Bravo said weakly. “I don’t want to die.”

  Troy remained silent. Nothing he could say would make a difference now. It was too late. He could hear the roar of LongJaw’s marauders mere paces away.

  “Stand your ground, rangers!” the leader bellowed. “Stand your ground! We must hold on as long as we can.”

  Troy grabbed young Bravo’s crossbow and fitted a bolt in it. He glanced at the boy. “You have to be fast. All the guns are with the rangers at the large gate. Do the best with what you have. A simple slip and you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

  The young ranger nodded and took his crossbow from Troy.

  “Here they come!” the lead ranger shouted.

  The first wave of men came from the corner. Troy used the butt of his crossbow to punch a scrawny man on the stomach. The man did not seem to feel any pain, and his mouth opened in laughter, revealing a set of jagged brown teeth. Troy studied the man quickly. Armour made from a weathered car tyre and metal bracers protected his body.

  On his left hand, the man carried a makeshift shield forged from a wheel’s rim. He jabbed the shield on Troy’s face, and the boy fell to the ground. Blood dripped down his nostrils.

  The man lifted his axe to finish his opponent off. Troy always hoped he would die on his bed at an old age, but as he watched the blunt axe aim for his head, all he could think was how much pain he would endure before he died. Suddenly, an iron rod pushed through the man’s belly, spilling blood on Troy’s face.

  Troy watched the man drop dead like a withered leaf, and behind, young Bravo stared at the bloody rod in his hands.

  “I just killed a man,” Bravo cried.

  “It is okay, Bravo,” Troy said as he stood to his feet. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  He picked up the boy’s crossbow and handed it to him.

  “Come on, let’s help the others.”

  LongJaw’s men were trooping in continuously. Five rangers engaged them in combat as they did their best to defend the door. Troy grabbed the surveillance computer and pushed it to the floor.

  “Help me,” he said.

  Bravo held one end of the table, and together, they pushed it to fall on its side, giving them cover. They both squatted behind the table, and Troy aimed his crossbow at any marauder he saw. He shot them down as they charged like crazy men, bolt after bolt. Young Bravo made sure the crossbow was reloaded after each shot.

  Despite the effort, the marauders were still swarming in. Troy watched them cut down three rangers. The other two retreated and jumped behind his table for cover.

  Troy aimed at a large man charging forward. His fingers pulled back the trigger softly, and the bolt escaped into the man’s head, forcing him down in a pool of blood.

  “We can’t keep this up for long; we will all die!” he shouted at the lead ranger.

  The lead ranger remained silent. Troy noticed the poor ranger’s pale face; he was afraid, and it was obvious as much as he tried to conceal it. The ranger circled his gaze at all his comrades.

  “We have our orders. We must hold them off even if it means our death.”

  Troy grabbed him at the neck of his black trench coat. “Listen, man. We can withdraw and ask for more rangers to support us. Even if we die here, there is no victory, not even pyrrhic. They would walk past our corpses and pillage the slums, do you want that?”

  The ranger’s gaze lingered on Troy’s. For a moment, he looked to be coming to his senses, and then he stood up aggressively.

  “We figh—”

  An axe hacked into his head with so much force, splattering blood upon Troy and his company. Bravo squirmed. “Oh god! Oh god! I don’t wanna die,” he cried.

  Troy peeped from the side of the table and saw the man that threw it leading a group of marauders. They were charging furiously towards them.

  “We are finished,” he muttered.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Ghost and the Darkness

  There was nothing worse than running with no sense of navigation. But Runner ran. His feet plunged into a murky pool of water. He jumped out without so much as a pause and continued to run. Each step he took, the image of Makukku’s daughter grew in his mind. It was as vivid as the trees he ran past, watching Ishmael strangle her with the chain of his necklace, over and over again.

  Hot anger surged in his chest, accompanied by a voice begging him to punish them. His heart, his muscles, every inch of his body screamed to dispense justice, eagerly planning out torturous pain to mete out to Dope and Ishmael. But there was something far more pressing. The tribe’s chief, Makukku, would be on their trail anytime soon.

  Runner stopped and looked to the sky. The orange spread of sunlight upon the evening clouds almost lost him to his gaze. It was the second sunset he had seen in his entire life and probably the last if he didn’t make it out alive.

  Woo-wooo-woooo!

  A horn blast sounded in the distance.

  “Oh god!” Runner looked back.

  Dope and Ishmael caught up with him, and Big Eddy ran lazily towards them.

  “You know what that means right?” Dope said as he supported his hand on his knees, drawing quick breaths.

  “Headhunters,” Ishmael added. “We can’t outrun them, not with the sun setting. This is their home; they know everywhere like the back of their hand.”

  Runner cleaned the sweat on his face. “What do you suggest we do?”

  Dope turned backwards to stare at Big Eddy who hadn’t still made the distance. “We drop dead weight,” he replied with a deceptive smile.

  “Nice one.” Ishmael nodded.

  “No way.” Runner waved his hand to show disapproval. “I promised a friend I will bring back Big Eddy alive. You are not going to use him to distract the hunters.”

  Dope walked towards Runner. He masked his square-shaped face with a stern expression and flexed his muscles to intimidate Runner.

  “There are two of us here, and you are alone. You don’t have a voice here, Runner.”

  Runner walked closer to him. His torso was bare—having lost his jacket in the water—and lined with a long scar across his chest and five claw marks across his stomach.

  “You have finally grown some balls, Skittish,” Runner said.

  Both boys locked their foreheads together, and Runner pushed Dope to stagger backwards.

  “Easy, boys; the enemies are back there. We need to work together.” Ishmael separated them.

  Runner turned away. “We are not using him!” he yelled.

  Big Eddy finally reached them, panting heavily. “Wha…what…is going on…guys?” he fell to the ground with a loud thud, breathing heavily to recuperate.

  Ishmael turned to Runner. “We are using him. It is the only chance we have, and if you don’t like it, then I would have to kill him myself.” He demonstrated with a finger slicing the surface of his throat.

  Runner remained silent. He still remembered what Ishmael did to him, Troy, and especially, Angie. If not for anyone, he must seek justice for Angie. He promised her he would make good memories to replace the horrid ones burnt into her mind. It was about time he kept true to his words.

  The evening was growing dimmer. It presented a problem for the rest of the party, but to him, it was just another day in the wasteland. The darkness never dulled his senses. Rather, it made them sharper.

  “Which way, Runner?” Dope asked.

  Runner looked to his left. He remembered Makukku had said they were trying to trap the big black bear he killed in the woods. The clay-skins had brought him eastwards which meant they used that path to avoid the traps. The traps were certainly westward, a perfect opportunity to offload his burden.

  “We go west.” Runner pointed.

  “Are y
ou sure?” Dope asked again.

  “Stay here if you like.” Runner walked to Big Eddy and lent him an arm.

  The fat man held Runner’s arm and was drawn to stand on his feet. Runner led the way, jogging forward, and they followed behind him. He knew his deception had both them all in danger and tried to be watchful of his environment.

  If the bear traps were the typical leg-holds with jaws capable of holding down such a large animal, it was sure to rip through a man’s ankle. Runner tried not to think of it. If anything, Dope and Ishmael deserved a lot worse than that. Ishmael’s atrocities with his gang of man hunters had put him on the top of Runner’s elimination list for long, the mauling of Gunner a turning point to that decision. But Dope, his evils were restricted to an annoyingly amount of insanity. Now, he was fast becoming inhuman.

  Runner walked slowly, his feet pressing softly upon dried leaves. He heard it, the clattering hooves of horses galloping towards them.

  “Headhunters,” he whispered.

  “Run!”

  Runner sprang to his feet, right into a forest full of traps. He had led his company into hell, but he did not care, for if the woods were a lake of fire, then Makukku was the devil himself. The man would not stop until their heads decorated his pikes.

  “You killed my daughter, Runner. I will find you, I promise! I will find you, I swear it!”

  In a short break to catch his breath, Runner hid behind a tree. He looked back and saw the fire from torches, illuminating the way for Makukku and his headhunters. The tribe leader’s words echoed in Runner’s head, and he shuddered.

  “Oh god,” Dope muttered. “We should have stayed in the cage. We shouldn’t have killed that girl. He is not going to stop until we are dead. What should we do, Runner?”

  “Why are you looking at me?” Runner tapped his chest. “And what do you mean by we exactly? If I remember correctly, it was yours and Ishmael’s doing.”

  “We are all in this together,” Ishmael said. “When he catches us, he is not going to ask who did it and who didn’t.”

  Ishmael might be crazy, but he is right in this, Runner thought. There was only one thing he could do to escape the nightmare. Runner looked back again. The headhunters were following their trail, and they would not do so unless they were certain the bear traps were not on that side of the woods.

  Runner looked around. He needed to kill two birds with one stone. He had to force the headhunters into the part of the woods where the traps were laid and leave them an outstanding gift.

  “Follow me,” Runner said.

  The undergrowth in woods grew as tall as his ankle. They were mostly a combination of brownish dead leaves and green weeds. A pale light cast its beam slowly, illuminating the night in a silvery hue.

  Runner took his gaze to the sky. Beyond the feathery shadows of tree leaves, a bright pale sphere the colour of ash peered behind a dark cloud, and around it, thousands of tiny lights glistened like diamonds in the night sky. It was beautiful and pristine.

  “Wow, the moon and stars,” Runner muttered to himself. “I wish Troy and Rhiannon could see this.”

  A hand came over his shoulder. “It must be the moon. I have never seen anything like it in my life,” Dope said.

  Runner pulled the hand away from his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving,” he said.

  His back was arched as he bent low to navigate the woods. With great keen, he watched the undergrowth, studying them carefully to mark where there are traps. It was quite easy. Places where leaves and grasses rested untamed showed there had been no disturbance whatsoever. But places where grasses gathered sparingly, showed signs of trampling by an animal or human. He avoided them subtly, trying not to alert Ishmael to his deception yet leading Big Eddy along.

  The clattering hooves of horses were growing closer and so were the light from torches. Runner hastened his movement, and Big Eddy tried to keep up.

  Something creaked behind. Runner turned back and saw Ishmael on a standstill.

  “Fuck me!” Ishmael cursed.

  Runner took his gaze to the gang leader’s foot and noticed it was standing on a trap. If he took another step forward, the serrated jaws of the trap would snap on his ankle.

  “Oh, shit! You got to help me, Runner,” Ishmael cried.

  Dope knelt towards him, trying to figure out how to help his new friend. He reached his hand for the side of the trap.

  “Don’t touch it!” Ishmael snarled. “You have to find and disarm the levers.”

  Dope raised his head as the horses drew nearer. He shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t find…I don’t know how to. I’m sorry.”

  He stood up and walked to join Runner.

  “Come on, Runner. Get me out of this, and I will get you enough men to fight LongJaw. I will give you anything you want. I have a lot of food supplies stashed in the wastelands. I have credit-chips, a lot of them. Anything you want, Runner, anything. Just get me out of here, please.”

  Runner shook his head and retreated. “No,” he said. “The world would be a better place without you, Ishmael.”

  The voices of the headhunters could be heard nearby. Runner turned around to leave.

  “You’re not a killer, Runner. Don’t leave me here,” Ishmael cried.

  A suppressed laughter escaped Runner’s tongue. “No, I’m not. I don’t have to do anything but watch you die,” he said and escaped into the woods.

  A few paces away from Ishmael, he heard the trap snap, and a loud shriek rose in the air. Runner stopped and turned back to watch. A group of horsemen surrounded Ishmael. The poor man begged in pain, but another horseman charged forward on his steed, cleaving Ishmael’s head with an axe.

  “Holy shit!” The words escaped Dope’s lips.

  Runner turned his eyes away.

  “Look, Runner. I know we’ve had our differences, but we need to work together now more than ever.” Dope shared his gaze between Runner and Big Eddy.

  “Run, Runner run. I’m darkness. I’m death, and I shall have your head soon enough!”

  Makukku’s voice always threw them into panic. It urged them to run further into the woods, but they were getting nowhere.

  Big Eddy ran to a halt, breathing heavily. “I can’ take this anymore, I can’t.” He rested his back on a tree trunk.

  “You have to endure, Eddy.” Runner walked to him. “Makukku is right about one thing. He is the darkness that threatens to consume us, one we brought on ourselves. We might not have killed his daughter, but we’ve done things as worse to survive the cruel world we were born into. I will get us out of here, I promise.”

  “How do you expect to achieve that?” Dope joined them. “The woods stretch as far as I don’t want to know. There is no escaping this place.”

  “I thought I was misleading Makukku, but it turns out he has been driving us deeper into the woods.” Runner hung his head downwards. “But there is one way we can get out of this. The clay-skins respect strength. I saw it in Makukku’s eyes when he heard I killed a bear. I need to get rid of Makukku if we are ever going to survive this.”

  Dope burst into a tremendous laughter and then paused, staring at Runner.

  “Don’t let all that stuff about being beating your darkness get into your head. Makukku relieved Ishmael of his big head with one swing of an axe. How do you intend to fight that?”

  “I need bait,” Runner said.

  “Who?” Dope asked.

  Runner pulled his elbow and struck Dope hard on his mouth, knocking him down in an instance.

  “You,” he replied and dashed his fist on Dope’s head, knocking the boy unconscious.

  “Take your shirt off.” He turned to Bigg Eddy. “Hurry.”

  The plump man pulled off his black shirt and handed it to Runner.

  “Help me lift him up,” Runner said.

  Big Eddy held one end of Dope’s arm, and Runner held the other, lifting him to rest his back on a tree. Runner tore Eddy’s shirt and used it to tie Dope’s hand behind t
he tree.

  “Wake up, wake up!” Runner slapped Dope to consciousness.

  Dope opened his eyes. “What the hell is this, Runner?” he snarled, throwing his gaze around nervously.

  Runner stepped backwards. “Like I said, you shouldn’t have killed Makukku’s daughter.”

  “It was Ishmael, not me.” Dope struggled with the ropes.

  “Now,” Runner said. “I want you to scream as loud as you can.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Ghost and the Darkness Part II

  “Don’t leave me here, Runner!”

  “Runner! Runner!”

  The voice grew faint as Runner made his way further into the woods. He tried to convince himself that Dope deserved his fate. The boy was a necessary sacrifice to draw Makukku’s attention away from him. But he knew he had sentenced Dope to a fate worse than death, and it tortured his mind with conflicting thoughts.

  “Come on, Eddy. Come on.” Runner beckoned at the plump man. “I can hear running water. We will soon be out of here. Just keep moving.”

  Eddy was tired. It couldn’t be any more obvious as the man’s face was squeezed like a knot, his eyes shut tight, and he drew in hard breaths. Supporting his hand on a tree trunk, he shook his head and arched his back slightly.

  “Please, I can’t go any further…I can’t.” He kept breathing rapidly.

  Runner turned around and walked back towards Eddy. As he pushed through a cluster of tree branches, its leaves itched at his skin. He reached his hand forward and wrapped Eddy’s arm, putting it around his neck.

  “Get up, man. We got to keep moving.”

  He helped Eddy to stand on his feet, and slowly, they continued onwards. They went past a few trees, and Eddy fell on the ground again.

  “Come on. Get up, Eddy!” Runner raised his head in frustration.

  “I’m sorry,” Eddy said.

  Runner pointed forward. “It’s just a few walks more, Eddy. You can make it.”

  “Please, Runner. I’m not a fool.” Eddy hung his head in despair.

  “What?”

  “I know you’re trying to help, but please, let’s face it. There is no way out of here. Even if we make it to the lake, then what? You don’t know the way back home, and I don’t.”