by Robert Gill
6
EGGPLANT
In the castle town, Boran Jurok stood in the street talking to a man. The man pointed down the street to a wall with a hole in it. Boran went over to the brick wall and looked through the hole.
Many parts of the town were flooded with healthy economic growth. The natives did well and so did many people who came to that town to set up their businesses. But in those same parts of town were the neglected areas. The places where homeless, poor people were left to die. In this area was a one hundred-or-so-yard field with a sea of people, some of them sleeping.
Boran crouched as he stepped through the hole. Two people slung a fat trash bag over the wall into the area. A group of people rushed it and tore it open with their hands. Food scraps poured out—it was their way of feeding the homeless. More people hurried to the food and within seconds a battle royal broke out. Boran tried to step in to break it up but ended up getting knocked to the ground with a left hook, and he didn’t even know who threw the punch.
One time was enough. He crawled away from the scene with a lesson learned. He got back to his feet, rubbing his jaw. Then he started making his way through the field, stepping over people as he glimpsed at their faces.
The smell in the air made Boran want to gag; not only from the scattered trash everywhere, but also from the rotten flesh of many people who sat with open wounds wrapped with filthy linen. How could I not have noticed this before? he thought.
He continued deeper into the crowd almost passing by the person he was searching for. “Hey,” he said, turning around. Tonx lied on the ground, on his side.
As soon as he saw Boran he rolled his eyes and turned over on his other side.
Boran sat on the ground beside him. “I have a confession to make. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve tried so hard to give my people a decent living … but I’ve failed.”
“I don’t care, so blow me.”
“Dammit, child, you don’t understand. At this moment a tyrant is living in the castle. Before he came, I was the one in charge of this town.”
“Well, you suck for puttin’ him in charge, ‘cause that Jurok dude did a crappy job with this place,” Tonx said. “Go get drunk and high like everybody else and stop botherin’ me.”
“You’re wrong about me. I … I am Boran Jurok and I care for these people. This is my home. If anyone needed help I did what I could. I wouldn’t turn down anyone. My guards must’ve …” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Anyway, when I said that I could help you I meant it.” He pulled the stolen money from his pocket and dumped it over Tonx’s shoulder. “Do something good with it.” Boran got up and began to walk away.
Tonx picked up the money and then sat upright. “Y’know, if you are him you shouldn’t go around sayin’ it.” He captured Boran’s attention. “It might get ya killed.”
“Can you tell me where I went wrong?”
“That’s what you really wanted, ain’t it?” Tonx asked. Boran nodded. Tonx looked down at the money in his hand then back at Boran. “Let’s talk about it over lunch.”
Half an hour later, they both sat in a nice restaurant with pictures all over the walls of the same short man posing with different people. One particular photo of a very familiar person posing with the man caught Boran’s eyes the most.
“Hey,” Tonx whispered to Boran, leaning toward him over the table. Boran’s eyes left the picture. “As soon as we finish eatin’, we gonna run outta here as fast as we can.”
“Don’t be foolish. You have the money to pay.”
“And? I’ll have money for later, too.” Tonx leaned back in his chair, relaxing. He picked up his fork, clinched it, and started banging the bottom tip on the table top. “Waiter,” he shouted. “Waiter, bring the food already!” The people in the crowded setting gave Tonx vexed stares.
Boran snatched the fork away. “Stop it, boy! What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong witchu? Oh, yeah, you took a dump on this town, that’s your big problem. Anyway, I’ve been runnin’ these streets for a while and I ain’t ever seen you before.”
“That’s because I was always busy helping build this town. Bringing in outsiders from all around to help create more opportunities. Things seemed okay from my prospective.”
“Yeah, because you never saw what you created. I came here when I was eight. Back then it was fine, but when the streets started floodin’ with people so did the crime. I’m only eleven and I’ve already seen four people get beat to death over some money. And what did you do about it? Nothin’. There ain’t no opportunities for everybody. I even had to break into people’s houses for clothes, and food, and other crap.”
Boran became saddened. “I didn’t know that was happening.”
“Well, now you do.”
“What about your parents? Where are they?”
Tonx shrugged. “Never knew ‘em.”
“Who raised you?”
“Myself. I mean, well, whoever actually gave a damn. But they all just throw you away after a while. There was one dude, though, that taught me how to survive. When I met him I didn’t have a name.” Tonx’s demeanor was difficult to read. It seemed like he had no sentiment for his past. “This guy was really crazy. He used to rob people and gamble with the money in card games. He lost all the time before he met me, then he started winnin’. He said I was good luck and gave me the name Tonx (after the card game Tonk). I can’t complain, though, ‘cause before that he kept callin’ me dumbass. He said I had A.D.D., which stood for Attention Dumbass Disorder. He was a freakin’ butthole, by the way. The fool lost his mind and started robbin’ people, even after he won all their money.”
“Did this happen here?” Boran asked, intrigued.
“Nah, this was back in Qatar. Too many people wanted him dead, so I left his crazy ass to avoid a stray bullet and eventually ended up here.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be that way. I wish you had known your parents.”
“Me too. But it’s alright. When I was younger I was sad about it, bein’ all alone, learnin’ about life from a lunatic. Then one day I woke up on the ground and looked around and realized that I ain’t nothin’ more than a piece of trash on the streets. And I learned to live with it.”
The man from the photographs—in his late fifties with a slight-brown complexion—approached the table with a large serving platter of steamed couscous, topped with a small chicken—drizzled with some sort of thin, brown sauce—tfaya (caramelized onions and raisins), chick peas, fried almonds, and four boiled eggs on the side. He wore a navy blue djellaba with a white turban—he had different colors for each day of the week. A huge grin showed his teeth through his bushy, salt & pepper goatee. “Mr. Jurok, thank you so much for stopping by,” he said, his grin still cheesing. A young man and woman came around to the other side of the table. One had a tray with lamb harira soup; the other had a silver-plated pot of mint tea and two small glasses. They sat the stuff down.
“Oh, yeah, I uh—”
“We didn’t order all this,” Tonx interrupted Boran.
“Oh, no, no, don’t worry about it. This is complimentary, in honor of Mr. Jurok gracing our presence,” the man said.
“Well, thanks. I don’t deserve it really,” Boran replied.
“Yes you do,” the man insisted. “I remember when you were a little boy. Your father talked about you all the time. I used to cook him meals for his generous work. In fact, he loved my cooking so much that he convinced me to start my own business. Of course, I didn’t have any money at the time, so we made a deal where he built my restaurant in exchange for food.”
“Yeah, I remember him bringing a bunch of food home every day. It fed us for a long time.”
“I’m glad it did.” The restaurant owner looked around the room. He spotted the framed photo that Boran was staring at, went to pull it from the wall, and handed it to Boran. “Back then, all I had was an oven and four walls and a roof to cover it. When you came back you helped eve
ryone. Now business is lovely, and my restaurant is top-notch with indoor and outdoor dining. Thank you.”
Boran half smiled. “It was the least I could do.”
“Enjoy your meal.” The restaurant owner nodded and went back to the kitchen. The other two people followed him.
Boran stared at the photo.
“So, what’s the plan?” Tonx asked, grabbing handfuls of couscous and sitting it on a plate in front of himself.
“Plan for what?” Boran looked at him.
“You said you can help me. Obviously you can’t do it out here on the streets. You gotta get back in the castle.”
“The man who occupies that castle turned everyone I trusted against me. Even if I find my way inside he’ll most likely kill me, and you too if you’re with me.”
“So, you never had a plan?”
“No,” Boran said lowering his head. Then he regained confidence as he lifted it again, forming a maniacal smile. “But … if he wants to be a ruler so bad, let’s see how he deals with his angry people.”
Later on, as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, Zembok and Kwon made it to the base of the mountain. They would’ve gotten there sooner if some guy hadn’t have stolen Zembok’s diamonds when he tried to exchange them for money in the small city. The search, the chase, and the confrontation delayed them for about two hours. But Zembok got a fair exchange in the end, thanks to the man’s brother.
Standing like a tower over a vast, green field, Mt. Embor was far past its best days. Boulders lied around it, because chunks had been blown out of the surface. It resembled a crooked, jagged, stubby finger pointing up to heaven with a wide base.
The boys searched up and down the mountain with their eyes. “Okay, this doesn’t make sense.” Zembok said. “How do we get inside?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a secret entrance somewhere.”
“No, I doubt it.” Zembok began jogging around the mountain to give it a thorough examination. Meanwhile, Kwon began rubbing and knocking on the mountain. “Now I see,” Zembok shouted from far away, looking up toward the top of the left side. Kwon went to join him. “Up there.” He pointed to a hallowed opening with a protruding ledge that resembled an upside-down eagle’s beak. Smoke seeped from somewhere in the peak.
“How are we gonna get up there?”
“There’s one way I can think of.” Zembok took the pole case off of his back, opened it, and pulled out the pole. “All right, pole, I need you to help us reach that ledge up there.”
“Why are you talking to a pole?” Kwon asked.
“You’ll see. Spear!” The spear tip emerged. Zembok pointed the end toward the top of the ledge. “Extend!” The chain-linked spear tip shot far past the ledge, stopped extending, and then wrapped around the top of the ledge three times. The spear tip latched onto the chain perfectly. Zembok yanked the pole several times to make sure it was tight enough, which it was. Then he picked up the pole case and had Kwon hold it with his good arm. “Double spear extend and take us up there!” Zembok hugged Kwon tight. Kwon shouted in pain from his injury. “Sorry,” Zembok said.
The other end shot out and then wrapped around the two boys. As it retracted, it carried them up the mountain, also making them smack into the surface multiple times. When they reached the bottom part of the ledge it stopped. They both walked up the surface onto the ledge. The other end unwrapped itself from the top part and then it retracted. The closer end did the same until the pole returned to its original form. Zembok put it back in the case.
From up there they could see everything: Rivers and streams in the distance, the city miles away, grass stretching everywhere in the field, the mountain ranges on the horizon, a community of trees in the forest they came from—seeing the incredible size of the forest from the outside.
Six feet into the hallow space was a wooden door. They approached the door. Kwon knocked. They waited and waited, but there was no answer. Kwon knocked again, and again no answer.
“Ah, shoot,” Zembok exclaimed, frustrated. “Don’t tell me this old man died.”
“What if he did die?” Kwon’s eyes widened with a gasp. “What if Bohr attacked him and he’s dying right now?”
“Noooo, man. If Bohr attacked him there would’ve been evidence of a struggle.”
“But what if things just look normal on the outside? What if Goopa’s laying in there with the whole place destroyed, bleeding to death and he’s using the smoke to signal for help from the city folk, but when they came to the mountain they said, ‘Y’know what, how the heck are we supposed to save him? He lives at the top of a stinkin’ mountain for god’s sake. Let’s just let him die.’ And then they went back to the city and got drunk and said, ‘Aw, what the hell, that’s one less old person to worry about.’ We have to get in there, Zembok.” Kwon took a step back.
Zembok looked a little confused. “What made you come up with that story?”
Kwon stepped forward. THUMP! THUMP! He push-kicked the door twice, but it didn’t budge. Then, in the heat of the moment, he rammed his bad shoulder into the door. Zembok gazed speechlessly. Kwon fell to his knees cringing in pain. “That was the worst thing I could’ve possibly done,” he groaned, holding his shoulder.
“You can’t just break into people’s homes, Kwon.” Zembok turned the doorknob and then opened it a bit. “And the door was already unlocked. Now we can enter without permission,” he said with a grin.
Kwon got up, kicked the door open, and ran inside. “Goopa, are you dead?” he shouted. His jaw dropped with amazement as he froze. Zembok entered, and the interior impressed him also.
The room was large, carved into a perfect rectangular pocket. A fireplace blazed to the left. Bright, red flames sat in torches in each corner, illuminating the entire room. A brown leather sofa sat up against the wall to the right, and a love seat sat to the left of the entrance. The place even had soft, red carpet. But the real wonder lied on the far side.
They made their way over there. It was a D-shaped, diamond-studded fountain going from the left to right walls. There was a tunnel on each side of the fountain with stairs leading down to other rooms. Five golden statues decorated the fountain, each with their own pose. Water flowed from the mouths of the figures into the sparkling fountain. Two of them were easy to recognize, even though their statues were much younger versions.
Otem stood with his arms crossed over his chest. A pair of old, dirty, worn-out sneakers were tied together by their laces and hung around the statue’s neck. Zion was crouched with his left hand behind his back and the other in front like he’s guarding his chest—the same stance he used against Bohr. A hole was in his fist for where the pole would fit.
The three other statues were unfamiliar. One of them was very short. The other two were a man and a woman, both with long hair and horns on their heads, but the female had a skinny tail with a heart-shaped tip. The female had a silk bra on her statue breasts—even though the statues were sculpted fully clothed—while the male posed flexing his biceps and had a picture of his obese childhood self worn as a necklace.
There were also two other spots that looked like the statues had been ripped out of the fountain. One space had a rectangular indentation in the wall near it.
Tiny, blue orbs came from their left side and landed in the water, floating on top. As soon as they noticed them … BOOM! The orbs exploded, sending water splashing into their eyes. With their eyes closed tight, they wanted to rub them but found themselves unable to move. Their bodies felt like they were carrying a blue whale.
“I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing here. You’ve entered my home without my permission. That’s an invitation for death,” a soft, aged voice came from behind. “In less than ten seconds your bodies will become so heavy that all of your bones will be crushed by the weight of your muscles.”
Zembok opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could identify the bright twinkles from the fountain. He struggled to inch his head around
as the voice continued. “Use your final excruciating moments to realize the terrible decision you made coming here to …”
Something eggplant-colored. As his eyes began to clear he started to make out the person’s image. The eggplant was thin fur on a three-foot-tall figure. Its hands were touching his and Kwon’s backs. Four fingers rested on Kwon’s back. He wore denim overalls over his plump body. He had a snout with fur strands going across the top, on a chubby, green face with wrinkled skin. His ears were long, pointy, and stuck out to the sides. His wise hazel eyes were surprised by Zembok’s appearance.
“You … you’re a troll,” the man … it said.
“Y-Yes,” Zembok answered.
“There were only three living trolls that I remember and you’re too young to be any of them. Do you know who I’m talking about?”
“Yeah, they’re dead,” Zembok responded.
Shock seized the little guy’s face.
Kwon added, “That’s why we’re here … Mr. Goopa. You are Goopa, right?”
Goopa released the spell. A few minutes later, he brewed some tea in the fireplace while Kwon and Zembok told him everything they knew. At the same time, he used some sort of spell to heal Kwon’s shoulder with his hands. The longer the conversation went on, the sadder Goopa became.
As they sat on the floor by the fireplace sipping their tea, Goopa sighed. “Your grandfathers were honorable men.” His eyes were glued to the two medallions lying on the floor in front of him. “I hate that their lives ended this way.”
“Do you know why something like this would happen?” Kwon asked. “I mean, other than what happened twenty years ago, why would Kizm or Bohr want our grandfathers killed?”
He frowned. “That’s what bothers me. Kizm was always a pain to deal with, but to wait so long to take out the Guardian Sages just doesn’t make sense. He could’ve killed us individually long ago. To wait ‘til now just seems ridiculous. The Guardian Sages are not a threat anymore.”
“Maybe Bohr just wanted revenge,” Zembok said. “After what Kwon told me, I’d wanna get back at the people who put me in a cave for twenty years.”
“That’s a possibility, but Bohr’s grudge lies within another piece of his past. He’s been wanting revenge for the death of his family. Killing us would be pointless, especially after so long.”
“But it’s possible, right?” Zembok asked.
Goopa nodded. “It’s hard to say what’s going on. Kizm lives for drama. He only surfaces when he has something planned, and since he’s been unnoticed for this long he must be planning something big.”
“That means you don’t know how to find him either, do you?” Zembok asked. Goopa shook his head. Zembok sucked his teeth and then sighed with disappointment. “This was a waste of time. He doesn’t know anything. He’s just as clueless as we are.”
Goopa snapped, “Just because I don’t know what’s happening doesn’t make me clueless. I know Kizm like a son. Now the only explanation that I have is that Kizm wants the Guardian Sages dead because he doesn’t want us to interfere with his plans. What those plans are, I don’t know. Accept that and shut up! I need time to think this over. If you want, you can sleep in your grandfathers’ rooms for the night.” He stood up. “I’ll show you the way.”
“Wait.” As Kwon stood up he pulled the envelope from his backpack. The envelope had been torn open and the letter inside was balled in a wad. “What the—? I bet that guy had something to do with this.”
“What guy?” Goopa asked.
“Some psycho.” Kwon frowned. “But why didn’t his head explode? Well, anyway, Jasmine wanted me to give you this.” He held the envelope out.
“Jasmine?” He took the envelope with his brows curled, a little surprised.
“Yeah, that was the name of the woman who told me everything.”
Goopa stared at the envelope for a few seconds and then said, “Let’s go.”
He took Zembok to Zion’s room first, down the steps into the right tunnel. As Goopa walked past torches on the walls of the dark tunnel, he clapped his hands, making flames ignite inside the torches on each wall. “Do this if you need to turn them on or off,” he explained.
The tunnel was pretty short. Past two closed doors and next to a room full of board games and books was Zion’s room, on the right side. Goopa opened the door and clapped once. Four intense lanterns lit the entire room. Gold medals and plaques hanged on the walls. Trophies and fancy weapons neatly sat on shelves and stands all over the place.
“Wow,” Zembok said with astonishment as he stepped inside. “I wondered where all of this stuff was. He told me he hid it in the woods by the bridge near our home. So this is why I never found anything.”
Goopa said, “Some were achievements, others were gifts from people we helped out. C’mon, Kwon.”
Otem’s room lied through the other tunnel, past one locked door, a kitchen area with cabinets and storage coolers, and stairs leading down further into the mountain. Otem’s room had a bed, a desk with stacked papers, thin books and a lantern on it, and a wall with twenty-four holes and boxing gloves sticking out of them. “What are those for?” asked Kwon.
“Otem used them to train his speed reflexes. The gloves are filled with steel and are connected to steel rods. They work like an extra high-speed version of the Whack-A-Mole game, except in reverse. Your eyes won’t be able to see them move, so don’t ask to use it.”
“I won’t.” Kwon made his way over to the desk. He examined one of the book covers. “Faster Than a Crack Head. What’s a crack head?”
“Try to forget about it. Otem always read weird motivational books and stories.” Goopa left the room, shutting the door.
Kwon started looking through the book. He found a folded sheet of paper between two of the pages. He set the book down and unfolded the paper. It was a drawing of the human body with scribbled doodles around the bones and internal organs. The top of the page read, THE TRANSMISSION FACTOR. Kwon turned the paper over. On the back were a series of movements with little person figures and arrows moving in random directions all over the sheet. The top read, 1200 PISSED OFF PUNCHES.
Goopa sat on the love seat in the living room. He straightened out the letter and read it. After he finished, he lied down and stared at the fireplace, pondering.
The next morning, Zembok and Kwon just happened to come into the living room at the same time. Goopa stood in the front doorway staring at the blue sky as a breeze blew through the room. “It’s about time you two woke up,” said Goopa. “I have something important to say.” He turned around. His eyes were bulging bloodshot red. Puffy bags loitered under them. Both of the boys jerked back, shocked.
“Ah! Did you stay up all night?” Kwon asked.
“Kwon, you should pay attention the most,” Goopa continued. “After hearing what you’ve learned about Palpa I have to say one thing. Palpa was by far the greatest witch I’ve known. She even taught my fellow colleagues and me a thing or two about magic.
“Over twenty years ago, before the tragedy that Bohr and Kizm created, Palpa used her magic to see into the future. What she saw was Kizm with every nation bowing to him as the supreme ruler. She also saw the stars falling, and within those stars were two women, both carrying children. She warned us about her vision before the group split up.
“One night, eleven years ago, a great meteor shower occurred that could be seen all over the world. Within the shower were two fallen space crafts. Each of them crashed into different locations. But one of them crashed in a city miles away from here. The crash site was all over the news. The whole world found out about it, including Kizm. Do you want to hear more?”
“Uh, yeah, whatever,” Kwon said.
“Not me,” said Zembok. “I want somethin’ to eat.”
“Fair enough. We’ll have to go into the city to get food. I’ll tell you the story on the way. You’ll have to climb down the mountain. And you can’t bring the pole, Zembok, I already know what it’s capable of. I
’ll see you both at the bottom.” Goopa ran outside and jumped off of the side of the mountain, gliding to the bottom.
Over an hour passed by. Kwon had to deal with his sudden fear of heights, but with Zembok’s encouragement he gained control over his anxiety. On the other hand, Zembok struggled to hold back his anger as Goopa taunted them for taking too long. When they reached the bottom Goopa took off running toward the city without giving them a chance to catch their breaths. They followed behind.
Goopa sure didn’t seem old, since he and Kwon jogged with lots of energy. Zembok, though in decent shape, lagged behind. But he knew he couldn’t let an old animal, slash whatever he was, make him look slow, so he sped up to catch up.
In town, Goopa stopped at a fruit vendor and acquired a basket full of chopped watermelon. He gave the boys their breakfast. They began to eat.
“So tell us the story already,” Kwon urged, now warmed up and excited.
“You certainly are full of life. Where was I?” Goopa thought for a second and then cleared his throat. “Oh, yes, um, Kizm had found out about the alien craft. You see, in Palpa’s vision one of the women would carry twins born eight days apart. The woman that made headline news was found out to be carrying twins, so the race began. Otem and I went to find her, but Kizm wanted her also. We found the girl and took her back to Mt. Embor. Kizm spread his troops out to find her.”
“Why did he want her so badly?” Kwon asked.
“I’ll tell you that once we get back to the mountain. Let’s go!” Goopa ran back toward the mountain with the basket in hand. Kwon followed with his food still in his mouth. Zembok shook his head. He threw the food down and started following them as the lady that sold the fruit cursed at him for wasting good fruit.
They made it back to the foot of the mountain, all out of breath. Goopa placed the basket on the ground and his hands on his knees to rest. “I’m sorry for the delay. I have to stay in shape, though. Before I tell you the end of the story, look around. What do you see?”
Kwon and Zembok checked out their surroundings. The passing white clouds, the sunlight bouncing off of the short blades of grass, the mountain, the birds flying around chirping, the annoying insects swarming around the basket of fruit and anybody who had touched a piece.
“Nothing,” Zembok answered.
“You see nothing. I see peace.” Goopa stood up straight. “I see a world where wars are constant. But I also see a world where some places are filled with people living in peace.”
“What does that have to do with the story?” Kwon asked.
Zembok started eating fruit straight from the basket.
“Everything,” Goopa replied. “The girl had given birth to the firstborn twin right here on this mountain. Kizm found out where she was, so he and his troops came looking for her, but Otem had already taken her to his ranch. I didn’t tell him anything, but somehow, Kizm figured out Otem’s location.
“In the vision, Kizm would rule the world, but the twins born eight days apart that came from above would take down his empire. He knew this. That’s why he found Otem and the woman, and took the firstborn. The first child was a healthy baby girl. The second child was a healthy baby boy. Four years after that, the woman died from a mysterious illness.”
A curious look came over Kwon’s face.
“Seven years after that, the healthy boy stands before me. Forgive me for not making myself known to you when you were a child … Kwon.”
Kwon was confused. “Wha … I don’t …”
“Everything we tried to hide backfired. The great power of the universe has brought you here.”
Kwon was still confused. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Wow, Kwon’s an alien,” Zembok intervened. “What happened to the other ship? Where did it land?”
Goopa replied, “No one knows what happened to it.”
“Why didn’t my grandpa tell me that I had a twin sister? Why didn’t he tell me anything?”
“Some things are hidden to protect a loved one,” Goopa said. “Would you be able to respect your grandfather knowing the truth but watching him sit by idly? Or would you even be able to handle the truth of where you really came from?”
Kwon thought about it, but he didn’t respond.
Goopa continued, “Now, I don’t know how strong Kizm’s gotten, but I know I have to stop whatever he’s planning, and I’ll need you boys to help me. Now, you both have two choices, you can walk away right now and go back to what’s left of your lives or you can keep moving forward. The choice is yours.”
“I’m in,” Zembok answered without hesitation, grabbing and crushing a slice of watermelon with fiery delight. “I made a promise to Bohr, and I need to get stronger if I’m gonna keep it.”
Goopa gave Zembok a certain look of slight disappointment but kept quiet.
Kwon shook his head. “I just … I just wanted some answers not …” He shook his head again. Then he walked over to a spot in the field and fell to the ground lazily, moaning on the way down. He just lied there on his side, motionless.
Goopa sat on the ground and started eating the fruit. “Give him some time.”
Boran, Tonx, and a large group of people stood outside of the castle gate chanting, “You are mindless! We are homeless!”
Kizm and Nebin observed the crowd from Boran’s favorite balcony. “What does Boran think he’s doing?” Kizm asked. “And who’s that little brat with him?”
Tonx had some kind of psychotic, bulgy-eyed look on his face as he jumped around, waving his middle fingers and spewing profanities at the four gate guards and the balcony.
“You know he won’t give up without a fight, sir.”
Some of the citizens spotted Boran and began whispering to each other.
Boran yelled, “Traitors,” to the guards. “I gave you everything and this is how you treat me? Open the gate!”
“They ain’t listenin’, man,” Tonx hollered as he ran over to a glass bottle lying on a curb and picked it up. He threw the bottle at the gate. It went right through the bars and shattered against one of the guard’s forearms as he blocked.
That angered the guards. They opened the tall gate and went after Tonx, but the homeless protesters shut off their path. They started tossing the protesters to the ground. The protesters’ shouts became violent. Things were about to get out of hand quick as the guards raised their guns to shoot. Then something happened.
With a ripple effect, from the back of the crowd to the front, the protesters silenced themselves. The crowd began to split apart, making a path for two men approaching the gate.
Kizm smirked. “They’ve finally made it. Send someone to find out where the group is meeting. Boran is beginning to be a pest.”
“Yes, sir,” Nebin complied. Kizm went to greet his visitors.
Maybe it was the long scar across the massive chest of one man or the tattoo masking half of the other man’s face but something about the two men intimidated the protesters, and even the guards. Only the wind made a sound as the two men walked straight through the gate. “Let’s … get out of here,” Boran suggested. “Let’s go everyone!” With that command, the crowd left the gate.
Kizm met the two men as they walked through the massive castle door. They knelt before Kizm, heads bowed. “Tan,” Kizm addressed a Chinese man. He had jet-black hair down to his butt that he kept in a long, thick braid and a red soaring eagle tattoo covering the left half of his face. “Raymond,” speaking to a Caucasian musclebound man. His thick, bare chest had a very noticeable scar going across it diagonally and his hair was cut so close he looked bald. “What took you two so long to get here?”
“The soldiers were starting to slack off so I had to deal with it my way,” Tan replied.
“Tell me you didn’t torture my soldiers.”
“Not this time.”
“He’s lyin’,” Raymond blurted. “He nearly killed ‘em all. Thank goodness you have people that can heal them.”
Ki
zm sighed. “As calm as you are on the outside you never know when to simmer that fire on the inside.” A soldier approached his shoulder and whispered in his ear. Kizm nodded and then glanced down the hallway. “Follow me, kids.” Tan and Raymond followed him as he eased down the hallway to the right of the grand hall entrance—which sat parallel and to the left of the front door. “I summoned you two because Bohr hasn’t returned and we need to keep moving forward. We need leverage in order for the other countries to take us seriously.”
Raymond griped, “Why’d you even send that clown out there anyway? He’s been out of commission for so long he probably can’t even wipe his butt right. You shoulda just sent me.”
“I have my reasons for choosing Bohr. Besides, you shouldn’t underestimate a person you’ve never even met before.”
“I’m just sayin’, you should trust us more. We might not be where you want us to be but we are just sittin’ around lookin’ stupid nowadays. Let us get some real action.”
“I hate to say that I agree with Raymond on that account,” Tan said. “We’ve proven ourselves enough before, haven’t we?”
“This assignment should give you plenty to do. If you boys don’t want it I can have your little sister come do it for you.” Kizm smiled sarcastically.
“Heck no,” Raymond said with a frown. “She already gets too much special treatment from you as it is. Plus she’ll probably screw up your plans altogether.”
“And she won’t leave us anything to do if she comes around.”
“Let’s just forget all that bracelet crap and kick things off right now.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not ready, Raymond. You’re too impatient.” As Kizm walked his slight smile never faded, mainly because he hadn’t seen these two in nearly half a year.
“I bet if we still had our fifth general we could do it,” Raymond stated boldly.
Kizm chuckled. “Only you still have faith in the lost and forgotten, Raymond. Our rogue destroyed that possibility.”
They arrived at the conference room entrance where Nebin stood with a beige folder tucked under his arm. He held the folder out. “Here you go, sir. He’s on hold right now. Also, I’ll be ready to record your message as soon as your meeting is done.”
“Thank you, Nebin.” He took the folder and handed it to Tan. “Follow the instructions inside. Tan, after you’re done there’s something else I want you to do.”
“Why not me?” Raymond groaned.
“Because you’re too strong. Just get this done first.”
Simultaneously they answered, “Alright.” Then as they walked away Raymond added, “Whatever.”
As the two left the castle, Tan examined the paper inside the folder. He paused in the center of the front lawn, his eyes fixated on the paper.
“What? What’s wrong?” asked Raymond.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you standin’ there like you’re braindead? What’s it say?”
“It says I’m in charge.”
Raymond snatched the folder from Tan and began studying the paper. “What?” he yelled with outrage. He studied the paper further. “What the hell is this?”
Tan scoffed and began taking his steps to part ways with Raymond. “Looks like we’re on guard duty. I’m going to go start my steak out. I’ll see you at the south post.”
The first part of Raymond’s plans were clear, though time consuming. In fact, he spent all day examining the territories to the north, east, west, and south of Taruh.
The next day, Tan arrived in a city to the south. The people there were lively, with smiles as bright as the sun.
Raymond stood on the edge of town staring out into the desert. Tan approached him. “How am I supposed to make this a circle” Raymond said.
“Just improvise and pretend it’s a circle.”
Raymond sighed. “Well I’m ready when you are.”
“And your replicas?”
“They’re waitin’ for me to give the word.”
“Sounds good. You lead the show.” Tan turned toward the city. A little boy caught his eye, a dingy boy wearing a blue baseball cap. He went over to the kid, who held his abdomen, wincing with hunger pains. Tan smiled at the boy. He noticed a scab on the kid’s chin.
The boy leaned away.
“Are you afraid of my tattoo?” Tan asked. The boy frowned with confusion. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, I’m not wearing it right now. You see those birds in the sky …” He pointed to thousands of eagles flying above the city. “Forget about it. Let’s work on getting you something to eat.” He spotted a man eating a turkey leg and ran over to him. “Excuse me!” He grabbed the man’s attention. “Can you do me a very big favor and give that boy over there some of your food?”
The man looked at the boy and shook his head. He began to walk away when Tan stopped him by placing his hand on his shoulder.
“You see, I know that look all too well and just a little bit of your food will make that boy happy, believe me.” The man shrugged away from Tan’s hand and continued walking. Tan’s polite demeanor turned threatening as he calmly cut the man off in his tracks. “You know, when I woke up this morning I felt pretty low. This assignment is a mockery of my skills. And just the thought of being here for the next few weeks really depressed me … until I met you. Now I believe I can actually find some pleasure in this assignment.” Tan pointed to the sea of eagles above. “You see those birds? All it takes is …” he flashed his index finger in the man’s face, “one finger to get them excited.”
The man rolled his eyes. He continued his journey, ignoring the interruption. But before he could think of a foul thought against the interrupter he felt the skin of his neck being yanked off and soon found himself being eaten by four ravenous eagles.
The earth began to convulse. As the man hollered for help after his eyeballs were pulled out, Tan glanced at the dropped turkey leg and then at the boy, who happened to be leaving a trail of dust as he fled the area. Tan walked over to where the ground was breaking apart. He sat down on the earth as it began to rise and then he shut his eyes. The rest of the eagles suddenly attacked the city like swarms of angry bees, tearing the flesh of many and setting some people ablaze by shooting fireballs from their mouths. The citizens tried to find ways to escape the attack, but no form of cover or hole could keep them safe.
Finally, as the ground stopped shaking, indicating Raymond’s completion of his twenty-five-story wall trapping the city, the birds came to a sudden calm. Tan stood on top of the wall, peering over the city. He used the eagles to speak to everyone. “Listen up! From now on you are no longer citizens of Morocco. You are now citizens of Kizm’s new nation. Do what we say when we tell you to do it. Those who don’t like it, feel free to resist. But know this, those who resist … will be punished.”
CONTINUED IN “THE MYSTERIOUS ARMY” …
#
