Neeka Featherstone

by R. J. Lucas

“What is?” Braam asks.

  “Insurrection,” Isaiah says, casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  Braam and I look around to see if anyone else has heard, but no one seems surprised by the word.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  Isaiah tells us of an uprising that has been in the works for over a year now. He tells us of a secret network of information, shared between some of the outposts and how everyone is playing a part. Some outposts train fighters while others gather supplies to make weapons.

  “That’s why my friends gave you the side eye when I first introduced you. They don’t know what we’ve been through together.”

  I feel so many emotions about this. Excitement. Fear. Shock. Finally, there are others who will help in my mission to rid the world of that tyrant, Lord Solomon. But can they be trusted? Are they competent? Will they let me wrap my fingers around Solomon’s neck, or will they want to try to steal the vengeance that is rightfully mine.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Braam shouts. “This is a ridiculous plan.”

  “On the contrary,” says Isaiah. “It’s a very well thought out and carefully organized endeavor.”

  “You finally make a place that is safe and prosperous, where people are free, and you want to throw it all away on some silly idea you can overthrow Solomon.”

  “We can’t have freedom without sacrifice,” says Isaiah.

  “Do you have any idea how powerful Solomon and his army are? Solomon has ship cannons and blunderbusses and shocksticks. On top of that, he controls the supply of power cells. What do you have? A few arrows and some flimsy hand weapons.”

  “You don’t know your history,” he says. “You don’t know the story of the nine-hundred Israelis who held off the fifteen-thousand Romans, or the three-hundred Romans who held off the entire Persian army? You don’t know the story of the outmatched rebel alliance who defeated the death star of the Empire?”

  “Those tales are fables and if they are true, they are rare. What usually happens is powerful forces, like the one Solomon has, utterly destroys the opposition.”

  “Just think about it,” says Isaiah. “We could use a fighter like you.”

  Braam stomps off without a word. His frustration observed as he slams the tunnel door.

  I look at Isaiah and he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

  I run my hand over the arsenal of weapons. The steel feels cool on my hand, the wood feels thick and solid. I imagine the stakes going through the heart of Solomon, the blades slicing his throat. I can see it all so clearly it almost feels like it is happening.

  “I take it you’re in,” he says.

  I answer him with a smile, excited others want to rid the world of Solomon as much as I do.

  I spend a couple more hours there, learning what all the weapons are. Some I’ve never seen. Some I’ve never heard of.

  My favorite moment in this secret location is when Isaiah introduces me to his double-headed axe.

  “This is my mistress,” he says of the weapon. “I love her like a woman. And I missed her almost as much as I missed Lydia.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He runs his finger along the sharp blade. It’s smaller than most axes but just as deadly.

  “I didn’t take you for an axe guy,” I say.

  With one quick motion, Isaiah spins around and tosses his axe. It spins through the air and connects with one of the wooden targets across the field, splitting it in half.

  I smile at him. “I guess I was wrong.”

  25 - Eli

  It’s early afternoon when we get back to the house. The sun is high above us and we still have plenty of daylight left. Amari and Papa are already there and I’m glad to see them. Papa greets me with a new contraption he has built for me.

  “What is it?” I ask as he puts the disc shaped object in my hand. It’s about two hands in diameter and made of a light-weight metal. Around its circumference, smaller pieces of metal protrude from it, like fish fins sticking above water.

  “Here, let me show you,” he says. He takes the object and attaches it to my right thigh with a couple of screws. He taps one of the pieces sticking out from the side. “Now pull on that,” he says with a sly grin plastered across his face.

  I pull it and a small throwing knife ejects into my hand.

  “It’s a throwing knife dispenser!” he exclaims. “There’s eight of them in there.”

  I’m not sure who is more excited over the invention, me, or Papa.

  After another delicious meal prepared by Lydia, she and Isaiah invite us on a walk. They call it a “post-meal constitutional.”

  “My father always took one,” says Lydia, smiling. “He always said it leads to longevity. Who doesn’t want that?”

  We walk across the grassy plot of land near where the grapes are grown. The sky is filled with an infinite blue. White puffy clouds float about like billowing airships. The children buzz around Isaiah playing a game, the rules of which make no sense to me. Papa chats with Amari about their new jobs. They snicker like they have some secret between them. Maybe they do. Who am I to judge? I have my own secrets.

  “I take it Braam didn’t like the idea of the uprising?” Lydia asks me.

  “I think he’s just afraid,” I say.

  “A big brute like him? Afraid of what?”

  “Losing his newfound family.”

  “Some people just need to understand what they are fighting for,” she says. “He has always fought for no good reason, other than taking orders. Just give him some time.”

  “How do you feel about the uprising?” I ask her.

  “I think it’s been a long time coming. Solomon is nothing but a cruel opportunist.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  Lydia smiles and places her hand on my arm. She looks like she is about to say something else when Maggie and Cornelius grab her by each arm, begging their mother to let them go play in the water.

  “Play in the water?” I say, confused and shocked. “How do you play in the water?”

  The children use me as part of their pitch. “Can we show her, Mama? Can we? Please?”

  Lydia sighs and consents. The children celebrate and run ahead to the edge of the river.

  “We aren’t staying for long,” Lydia shouts to the sprinting children. “You still have chores to finish.”

  The children yell back to us. “Hurry Neeka! The water is amazing! Amari…you too!”

  I turn to Papa and ask if he is coming to the river with us.

  “You go on ahead,” Papa says and smiles. “I’m going to take a look at a broken harvester machine with Isaiah.”

  “What about my legs?” I ask, unsure if it’s okay to submerge them in the river.

  “The water won’t hurt them,” Papa replies. “Just stay in the shallow. They weren’t designed for swimming.”

  Amari grabs my hand and we run down to the river’s edge, like two little kids filled with excitement. She kicks off her shoes while the children strip down to their skivvies and they all rush into the water, screaming and laughing and splashing. I reluctantly step in and let the water splash over my feet and ankles.

  “Doesn’t it feel amazing?” Amari shouts, more like a statement than a question.

  She stands there with water up to her thighs, watching Cornelius and Maggie tussle and play. They are all so happy and I am lost in the joy of their playfulness. I look down at the water rippling around my feet wishing I could feel its wetness and warmth…but there is nothing. I look back at Amari and those beautiful legs of hers and for the first time in many years, I find myself wishing I still had my real legs…if only for a few moments.

  “Come in!” Maggie squeals at me. Her front teeth are missing, and it causes a funny sloshing sound when she talks with a mouthful of river water. Her smile is jagged and probably one of the cutest things I’ve seen in a long while.

  I step forward, but she y
ells at me again. “You’re not supposed to swim with your clothes on.”

  Amari and I lock eyes, unsure of what to do. I know she can be shy, but what’s holding me back? I’ve never been shy. But I’ve never removed my clothes around other people either, except for Papa when he has to fit my legs.

  I remove my top and toss it onto the shore, revealing the bodice underneath. I refuse to remove my shorts, though, embarrassed by the underlying scars where flesh meets metal.

  Amari strips as well, leaving nothing on but her undergarments and face mask. She tosses them to the shore next to mine and saunters over to me. My heart skips a beat and I try not to gawk at the lovely creature standing before me.

  Her long white hair falls behind her like a waterfall. A few strands lay across her collar bone and down the front of her chest, accenting her soft and slender neck. Beads of water roll down her porcelain stomach, highlighting the tiny, white hairs beneath her navel. I peal my eyes away and look back to her face.

  “What is taking you guys so long?” Cornelius shouts. “Get in already!”

  Amari and I smile at one another, Cornelius’ voice pulling us from our trance. We hop and splash our way to the children. Laughter and tussling ensue, and I find myself having the time of my life. Who knew playing in water could be so much fun?

  The three of them push my head down, and I get my whole body wet, including my newly arranged hairdo.

  I come back up for air and yell at them. “Not too far out. I’ll sink!”

  As we swim and play, the children seem to glide through the water, like birds floating on the wind. They have obviously done this a lot. Whenever they swim away from us, an invisible force pulls me to Amari. I grab her wrist and playfully hold onto her. It feels good to touch her. It is more contact than we’ve ever had. When I feel her skin, I get a tingle inside and I feel my face flush. I can see the same thoughts and feelings in her eyes, and it feels good to be wanted.

  After some time, Lydia yells for the kids to come get cleaned up and finish their chores. They scamper out of the water, grab their clothes, and disappear over the hill. We emerge from the water and put our clothes back on, expecting to see Papa and Isaiah show up at any moment, but they never do.

  Amari and I look at each other as if we are getting away with something. A sly grin spreads across her face and she runs off along the shoreline, toward some rocks in the distance.

  “Where are you going?” I shout.

  “Who knows? Who cares? I’m free!” She holds her arms outstretched as she spins and skips away into the distance.

  I decide to stand still for a moment and feel the breeze against my wet face. I savor the moment and listen to the water as it ripples against the bank. I watch Amari as she reaches the rocks further down the river and climbs them. She looks back at me and waves for me to follow. It only takes me a few seconds to catch up and leap onto the high boulders with little effort.

  “Show off,” Amari teases. I smile and sit next to her.

  The ledge is high enough to overlook the entire town. We can even see Eden from here, although it is small on the horizon. The sun has started its descent and the sky is painted yellow and orange. We lie on our backs and look up at the sky. Amari asks me about Eli and wonders what happened to him.

  “When I was nine years old and my brother Eli, was seven, all we ever wanted to do was sneak around. We loved the thrill of taking risks and not getting caught and we did it all the time. We would sneak into pantries and grab sweet breads. We would climb to the tops of towers and pretend we were rulers of all we could see. We were always looking for a new adventure. We were partners. Explorers.”

  I sit up and swallow hard. Telling the story is bringing up so many memories and I don’t want to cry. I take a deep breath and continue.

  “We knew all the entrances into Fairebourne, and we knew the best times to sneak in. They were usually guarded, but we were small enough and young enough to go unnoticed while we watched the movements of the protectors. There is one part where the wall doesn’t separate Fairebourne from Vanvale. It is where the Sacred Platform of the Holy Charter can be seen from most of Eden.”

  “What’s the Sacred Platform of the Holy Charter?” Amari wants to know.

  “It’s where Solomon showcases his so-called divinity. Part miracle, part crowd control device. It’s electrified with divine power, or so he says. He makes a big deal about defying death and being chosen by the Great Creator. Sometimes, he’ll throw a rat or a desert skitterer onto the electrified surface and it will sizzle and pop before disintegrating into a cloud of smoke. Then he’ll step onto it and address the masses.”

  “Is he truly empowered by the Great Creator?”

  “He says so.”

  “What happened when you got into Fairebourne?”

  “At first it was fine. We were snooping around. We found a merchant selling expensive jewelry and we took some bracelets and headbands. Eli put one on. I still remember it. It was leather and it was just a tiny bit too big for him. He looked so silly.”

  “Sounds like you two found joy in danger,” Amari says with a smile.

  “We were spotted though. A protector saw us take the headbands and yelled at us. We took off running. We couldn’t go back the way we came, though, as another protector had cut us off. So, we tried to slip past the Sacred Platform, but there wasn’t enough room to get by without stepping on it. As we ran across it, we were both knocked off and thrown through the air like being blasted from a cannon. I remember the pain of it clearly, like my body was being split in half. I could feel parts of me go dead instantly. My legs felt like heavy chunks of dead weight, kind of like a bag of bricks holding me down. And then I lost consciousness. I lost my legs and Eli lost his life.”

  “Neeka, I’m so sorry.”

  “That day I became the only person to have ever survived the platform, other than Solomon, who does so freely. I guess it was a miracle,” I scoff.

  “I think you’re a miracle.” Amari smiles at me.

  “After that, I got some proths from the local distribution center, but Papa wasn’t having it. He made these babies and I’ve been unstoppable ever since. Eli is why I have to get back to Eden. I have to get rid of Solomon and his stupid platform.”

  “I understand, but do you have to do it right away? Maybe we could stay here a while first. It’s so nice here.”

  I lie back down and roll onto my side, facing Amari. “You don’t want me to leave?” I ask.

  “I like it here,” she pauses and swallows. “I like it here with you.”

  I look from her eye to her lips and back again. I wish so desperately the mask didn’t cover half her face. I want to take in all of her. I move toward her, close enough to feel her breath on my face. I lean in closer…and when she meets me halfway, we kiss.

  26 - The Praying Mantis

  The next morning, I wake and look upon Amari, still asleep in her bed. She lays on her side with her milky-white hair washing over her face. It is parted just enough at her mouth to see the soft pink of her lips. I am filled with a desire to climb into bed with her and feel nothing but the warmth of her body for the rest of the day. But my resolve to set the world right for all who cannot protect themselves is also strengthened by her innocent face. She is so vulnerable when she sleeps, her mask offering her no protection from a man like Solomon. I obey the latter impulse and leave her to sleep.

  I join Isaiah for his morning ritual on the porch. He shows me how to sit and breathe. To focus. He tells me it might feel new and strange, but it is important and something to be done with intention and seriousness. So, I sit next to him with my eyes closed…but I don’t get it. I feel stupid, like I’m wasting my time. I open one eye and peek over at Isaiah. He is dead still and I wonder what he is thinking about.

  From the corner of my eye, something across the porch catches my attention. A fly has landed on the rail of the steps and is busily cleaning his face. I watch him with intensity. Maybe this is what Isaiah
meant when he told me to find something to focus on. But my focus is interrupted when a praying mantis appears out of nowhere and snatches the fly up.

  I gasp out loud and quickly try to hide it by covering my mouth with my hand. Isaiah opens his eyes and looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  I smile and say, “Sorry.”

  He ignores me and closes his eyes again.

  I turn back toward the praying mantis. As he chews, I see a fly wing fall from his mouth and float to the ground like a leaf in autumn. Before I can cover my mouth again, a squeak of laughter escapes. The harder I try to stay quiet, the more I giggle. Until finally, Isaiah jumps to his feet.

  “Alright! Fine! Let’s just go then.” He stomps off in frustration.

  “Sorry again,” I say as I jump up to follow him. “But I thought you said meditation calmed the mind and body.”

  “I am calm,” he grumbles without looking back at me.

  “If you say so.”

  Maybe he’s not doing it right, I think to myself. I don’t dare say it out loud, though.

  We arrive at the saloon where the men play Atomic Toads and grumble into their drinks. They look sideways at us as we enter. I feel much different than I did the day before. I feel like I am the one who knows something they do not. I feel I am the one with the secret and they are on the outside looking in. They don’t intimidate me anymore. In fact, I pity them because they don’t have what I have. They don’t have love and vengeance to propel them forward. They seem to just sit there, wasting their lives away.

  As we make our way to the back room where the secret entrance is located, we hear a voice call out to us.

  “You’re wasting your time going back there girl.” I hear the voice croak from the shadows.

  It is Braam, he is sitting at a table by himself. He looks at me and Isaiah and we don’t speak for a moment. Isaiah just sighs and shakes his head.

  “Let me talk to him,” I say to Isaiah. He nods and heads into the back room.

  I sit down with Braam. He smells like krum and body odor. He shifts in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He looks so different than he did in Arcmire. He was emboldened there. He was fierce and jovial. Full of purpose and intention. He wanted to fight. He wanted to win. He wanted to survive. Now, he seems discouraged and broken.