What Can't Be Hidden

by Brandon Andress

  But from their narrow vantage point, they could not see it. Truth was nothing more than the next narrative to be believed. Their eagerness to blindly follow and their gullibility in being so easily manipulated proved their bondage and their desperate need for liberation, although they already claimed to be free.

  Father Prodido stood before the crowd like Moses before the Israelites and raised his staff above his head.

  “Brothers and sisters of Patrida,” the religious leader cried. “As your humble servant, may I be so bold to ask what exactly is going on here?”

  Mass confusion led to yet another significant uproar, which Father Prodido had been expecting with his initial question. While everyone was preoccupied with trying to understand what was happening, the religious leader leaned in toward Fovos and whispered in his ear. It appeared to everyone as if Father Prodido spoke with Fovos to understand the situation. But up close, it was something entirely different.

  “You imbecile!” Father Prodido screamed in a hushed tone. “I said a little fear and then Sanctuary! For the love of god, you idiot! Look at what you have created!”

  Fovos, unfazed by the religious leader’s tone and still enjoying the chaotic charade he had created, whispered back.

  “I thought the gallows was a nice touch,” he said.

  Frustrated by the incompetence of his accomplice, Father Prodido continued before the crowd.

  “I regret to say that there have been some significant misunderstandings. These mistakes should have been settled in person rather than turned into a public spectacle. While we believe there is reason to stay alert and ready ourselves for an impending attack, be assured that our forces are still deployed in the woods around Patrida and are giving us regular updates. Lastly, the council will sit down with Fovos to discuss these misunderstandings as soon as we adjourn. So please, go about your day and trust that you are in good hands. Let us meet back at Sanctuary this evening. May God bless you all.”

  As everyone began to depart, Prodido turned and nodded at Pali. The head guard, without hesitation, vigorously pushed away Ochi’s captors on the platform. Irritated and embarrassed, Ochi straightened his ripped shirt as best he could and walked down the stairs toward Father Prodido and Fovos. His brown eyes locked in on Fovos, and he charged. Summoning the strength of his youth, Ochi knocked his adversary to the ground and covered him. The two men grappled and rolled around in the dirt, kicking up dust that was as prominent as their shouting and grunting.

  Unamused, Father Prodido watched but let it continue longer than he usually would have. Pali and Machi even began to run toward the scuttle to break it up, but the religious leader gave them a look, indicating a few more seconds. It was difficult to determine precisely what Father Prodido’s motives were in letting Ochi knock around his antagonizer. Either he believed Fovos needed to be pummeled for creating a bigger circus than he had intended. Or, he thought Ochi might be less likely to execute Fovos if he was able to rough him up a bit. Both were likely true. But Father Prodido did not need Fovos dead no matter the real reason. He was too valuable of an asset at the moment.

  Those who had not already dispersed began to congregate again, this time to watch Ochi and Fovos settle the matter for themselves. But as the small crowd began to cheer, Father Prodido released the brothers to rip them apart. The last thing he needed was another big crowd requiring another speech. Without stopping or even acknowledging the two men, Father Prodido walked solemnly between them.

  “Now, you gentlemen will follow me,” he said. “We will finish this in the council room.”

  As the men walked together along the Monon toward the council room, Tyran rushed up from behind and followed them. Still standing at the gallows with her daughter, Velos turned her attention from the leaders to Thura. The matriarch, as stern as Thura had ever seen her, grabbed the front of her daughter’s dress and pulled her close. Her mother’s face was no more than an inch from her own. She could feel her intensity.

  “Where were you?” Velos said. “You abandoned me when they took your father. I ran after them and thought you were right behind me the entire time. But you were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of them! I didn’t have anyone, except your brother, who I found walking around aimlessly in the crowd.”

  “I am sorry,” Thura mouthed, though not meaning it.

  “Do you think I had time to worry about what you were doing, Thura?” Velos asked, not expecting an answer. “Your father was being taken to the gallows, for god’s sake! How did I know that someone had not taken you as well! Did you think about that! When I should have been only concerned about your father, I had to send Tyran off to find you! And what were you doing? He told me that you were in my room doing god knows what.”

  Thura remembered she was holding her father’s shirt. She knew, however, that using it as an excuse with her mother was super thin and bordered on ridiculous. There was no way it would convince her mother or stand up to her intense scrutiny. So rather than answering her, Thura put her hand on top of her mother’s tight grip and gently lowered her hand. As the young woman pulled away, she held the shirt high in the air and took off running down the Monon.

  “Father’s shirt!” Thura shouted out. “I forgot to give it to him!”

  A palpable unease permeated the council room as the men sat down at the table. Father Prodido placed himself directly across from Fovos while Ochi and Tyran sat opposing one another. This configuration meant that Ochi had to sit right beside his adversary. Without waiting for the religious leader’s proper formalities, Ochi, still full of raw, unfiltered emotion, began to speak.

  “Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?” Ochi said, raising his voice to an uncomfortable level.

  Startled, the men raised their eyes from the table. But no one immediately responded so Ochi continued.

  “I have to tell you, from where I sit, this looks like some kind of conspiracy,” he said. “Pretty convenient for every person I consider to be a friend, or a part of my family, to be mysteriously absent while this jackass tries to hang me!”

  While Father Prodido desperately wanted to offer perspective, he knew he should let Ochi continue to burn off his anger before speaking.

  “Where were you, Father?” Ochi asked. “Pretty amazing that you were nowhere to be found. And you, Tyran. My own son. You finally show up when he shows up. You see how this looks?”

  Ochi paused and stared at the men, who could not even return eye contact with the leader.

  “You guys show up at the last second to save the day,” Ochi said. “Isn’t that convenient? All this was ironically happening right after I met with you guys at your house, Father, and told you that I was reconsidering what to do with the prisoner.”

  Ochi then turned to his nemesis.

  “And you. It’s not Mr. Ochi, nor will it ever be Mr. Ochi to you again. Do you understand?” he demanded. “I am your leader, and you will address me as such. You know nothing of a threat because you are an ignorant fool. All you know is how to scare people and work them into a frenzy.”

  It had been a while since the men had seen this kind of energy and aggression from Ochi. Of course, it was justified, and Father Prodido knew it. But at the same time, he also knew he needed to interject before the leader went any further. Ochi was getting precariously close to punishing Fovos, and if that happened, Father Prodido believed Fovos might expose their relationship and their brief, early morning conversation.

  “Your Excellency, if I may,” Father Prodido gently interrupted.

  Ochi immediately stopped speaking and turned toward the religious leader, as if giving him permission, but signaling that he was walking on thin ice.

  “I know that the circumstantial evidence appears to point toward our guilt,” Father Prodido began, “but I can assure you there really has been a significant misunderstanding.”

  Ochi sat up straight in his chair and opened his eyes wider, communicating that he was moments from jumping out of hi
s chair at the religious leader.

  “You are testing my patience, Father,” Ochi warned, “but I am curious what kind of story you’re concocting.”

  “When you left my house this morning,” Father Prodido continued, “I told Tyran that I was going to take my usual early morning walk by the creek. But I have to admit that I was deeply bothered by your decision to not execute the prisoner immediately.”

  Ochi leaned forward and put his muscular arms on the table, slowly cracking each knuckle of both hands.

  “As I told you at the time,” Father Prodido continued. “I believed that delaying the execution would send the wrong message to the townspeople. They need to feel safe and protected from outsiders. But again, as I told you this morning, you are my leader, and I will humbly follow your lead. So I went into the woods to clear my head. I walked through Sanctuary and then along the route I normally follow. I was not so far away that I did not hear the commotion in town, but I also was not close enough to be there immediately. I turned and began my trek back, but as you know, I do not move as swiftly as I once did.”

  “I ran to get him from the woods,” Tyran interjected. “Well, I was in the bathroom in my house at first, but then I ran outside and saw mother frantically looking for anyone to help her. I knew I couldn’t stop the mob all by myself, so I ran into the woods to find him. But before reaching him, I saw a guard and told him what was happening. He told me that both Pali and Machi were doing rounds in the woods like they do every day. We agreed that I would find Father Prodido, and he would go find the brothers.”

  It appeared that Ochi was buying the story, or at a minimum, had not stopped its telling.

  “Yes, and that is when Tyran located me, and the guard located the brothers,” Father Prodido said. “As we exited the woods, we all came together in Sanctuary and began our march down the Monon. We understand how conspiratorial this all appeared to you, and we are sincerely sorry. We are all deeply remorseful that we were not there for you, your Excellency. You are our leader, and you have our sincere and utmost allegiance.”

  Ochi turned and looked directly at Fovos, who had remained deathly silent as Father Prodido and Tyran recounted their stories.

  “Well, it looks like this all comes back to you,” Ochi said, “and I can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

  Father Prodido and Tyran prayed for a contrite and apologetic Fovos. But they were about to witness the opposite. Realizing he was virtually untouchable, Fovos leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and smiled from ear to ear.

  “I don’t know, leader. See, I can still say leader. Did you hear it? That should count for somethin’, right? What do you gentlemen think?” Fovos asked as he looked at his accomplices.

  Father Prodido and Tyran froze in fear of what he might say next.

  “But I digress,” Fovos said. “I’m not sure any of this comes back to me at all. In fact, if I may be so bold, Mr. Ochi, I think it all comes back to you.”

  Ochi stood abruptly from his chair and waited for Fovos to stand up before taking him out.

  “Let’s go! Stand up!” Ochi yelled. “You’re nothing but a rodeo clown! I’m going to personally take you to the gallows with my own two hands and put that damn rope around your neck.”

  “Sit down, leader,” Fovos said, putting both of his feet on the council room table and rocking back in his chair. “We’re not done talkin’ here. If you still want to break my neck after this, I will gladly walk up those thirteen steps and put that old noose around my neck all by myself.”

  Ochi looked at Father Prodido, who raised his eyebrows, indicating that maybe he should at least hear what his adversary had to say. Ochi remained standing and ready to aggress but allowed Fovos to continue.

  “Listen, leader,” Fovos said, reaching for a toothpick out of his shirt pocket. “We’re all wantin’ the same thing around here in Patrida. These fine people just want to be safe. That’s all. But how can these fine people enjoy their freedoms if they’re always lookin’ over their shoulders worryin’ about savages comin’ out of the woods? They can’t. Do you guys have any firewater? I’m gettin’ thirsty here.”

  Glaring at Father Prodido, Ochi’s red face indicated that he had reached his limit.

  “How many of these fine people have you talked to lately, leader?” Fovos asked before Ochi had a chance to make a move. “They’re afraid. Now I know you’re a busy man and can’t talk to everyone. But all I’m sayin’ is that we need to see some good ol’ fashioned Patrida resolve from you about now. Cause the way I see it, you really don’t have a choice in the matter. So here’s my ultimatum to you … ”

  Ochi went for Fovos’ throat with both hands. As the leader hit his neck, Fovos fell backwards out of his chair. Scrambling under the table to the other side of the room, Fovos moved as if that was part of his plan. He deftly danced back and forth from one side of the room to the other like a wild animal to avoid being caught.

  “You’re going to die either way, Ochi!” Fovos shouted. “Don’t you understand that? The people are turning against you. You’re going to die!”

  The room suddenly stopped.

  “Listen to me, leader,” Fovos continued, breathing heavily. “Not only are you going to hang that savage tomorrow at high noon, but you’re also going to hang the old woman with him. And if you don’t, I will turn this town upside-down in a fear you have never had the privilege to behold. And I can guarantee that if you don’t oblige, the fine people of Patrida will be happy to throw a necktie party for you as well, dear leader. Do you understand me!”

  Ochi remained silent but burning.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Fovos shouted. “You try to hurt ol’ Fovos, or even think about laying a finger on ol’ Fovos, and every single one of these fine people will know it’s you. You got me?”

  Seething with anger, Ochi had no interest in dignifying Fovos with a response.

  “In fact, my little second-rate concierge service will be delighted to make reservations for your wife and daughter, as well,” Fovos continued. “Yes, sir! We might just have ourselves a party if you know what I mean. On second thought, no reservations needed! If you don’t execute those prisoners, your wife and daughter will be hanging right there with you! Do you understand me! So how about you just play nice and announce your plan for an execution tomorrow. You do that, and ol’ Fovos will be happy to tell everybody around Patrida how great a leader you are. You see? It’s a win-win, your Excellency. And you know, I am always lookin’ out for those win-wins.”

  Fovos had backed Ochi into a corner, but the leader was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. While he was not completely sold on Father Prodido or Tyran’s stories earlier, he knew Fovos was the fulcrum of turmoil. He even supposed that it was Fovos who had manipulated Father Prodido and Tyran against him. As Ochi circled back to his seat at the table, he could not turn around and face the men. He stared at the empty wall with an intense heat radiating from within.

  “Get out of here!” Ochi screamed at Fovos without turning around. “Get out of here now! Before I take my chances with killing you with my bare hands!”

  Unfazed by the leader’s tone and threat, Fovos slowly made his way to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned toward Ochi with a half cartoonish, half villainous smile and offered one more knife to the gut.

  “You’ve got until this evening to make your decision,” Fovos said. “I’ll be eager to hear what you decide, Mr. Ochi.”

  CHAPTER 7

  From a distance, the island was a tiny dot immersed in vast blue. Below, the azure sea cradled it. Above, the cloudless, cerulean sky enveloped it. The invitation was not so much what could be seen but what was below the surface. An uninhabited paradise was the allure, but the real bounty could only be found from within.

  The welcoming aberration danced softly on the horizon as the calm sea found its rhythm. Wood creaked, and the waters coaxed the boat closer toward the shoreline, with the only
resistance being the salty brine mist blowing delicately on sun-cracked lips and overexposed faces. The passengers were in a trance-like state, partially from the steady cadence, but more so from the opportunity of freedom that lay ahead.

  Tyran rested his wet and weary head on his father’s sunburnt arm as his mother ran her long fingers through his wavy, black hair. The boy had traveled remarkably well, complaining very little, during their three-day voyage. While this particular trip was certainly different in the number of people joining them, Tyran had already been to this island at least three other times over the last three years with his father.

  “What will we do when we first get there, Kala?” the young boy whispered to his father in an almost inaudible voice, but still loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves.

  “Just like our trips, Tyran. We will need to have water, fire, and basic shelter first,” Ochi said. “And then, we will make time to lie on the beach together. The skies are clear, and the stars should be delightful tonight.”

  Tyran smiled lovingly at his dad.

  Kala was the family name, but Tyran called his dad Kala since he could first speak. When others said “Ochi Kala,” the young boy thought his dad’s name was Kala, and he would repeat it over and over. Even when his mother tried to correct him by saying, “No Tyran. Daddy’s name is Oh-Chee,” the boy would yell, “Kala!” and laugh hysterically.

  The name caught on with family and friends when Tyran was young. Everyone loved the boy erupting in a wild and nonsensical toddler laughter every time they said the name. They did it for Tyran. So while the entire family was technically Kala, only one person would go by that name throughout Tyran’s childhood… his dad.