Shackled Serenity

by Leon Logos

  “You went all the way there?” she said, startled.

  “Of course!” said Cackle. “I needed to scout the location.”

  “And?”

  “It’ll work,” Cackle said, removing the blanket. “Luckily, the wagon is big enough for him. It looks like it belongs in medieval times, but it’ll work.”

  She didn’t disapprove of this plan. Truthfully, she felt it was passably genius. The only issue was coming up with a lie believable enough to fool any patrol that stopped them. She dismissed her misgivings, giving Cackle the responsibility of devising one.

  “I was just thinking,” said Cackle, gazing at the wagon thoughtfully. “It’s big enough for both of you. Don’t you think?”

  “I’m not getting in there,” said Serenity, foreseeing his intentions.

  “Yes, you are,” said Cackle affirmatively. “What the hell am I supposed to do if guards see you with me? You’re supposed to be on lockdown!”

  “Are you even strong enough to push or pull the both of us?”

  “I’m not weak like the both of you,” Cackle scowled, flexing his arms ostentatiously. “I’ll manage. Now get in.”

  “And what’re you going to tell guards that ask why you’re moving a wagon?” she asked, addressing the problem.

  “I’ll think of something,” he shrugged insouciantly. “Let’s go.”

  Resigned, she helped Kyler into the wagon which proved to be a struggle. He could barely move by himself, deprived of vitality. He grunted as he fell back-first onto the wagon after she mishandled him. She murmured “sorry” sheepishly and grabbed the musty blanket, covering him up.

  “Get in,” Cackle reminded her.

  Serenity sighed, squeezing into the remaining space of the wagon with difficulty. She managed to fit in, but just barely. Her back was against Kyler’s shoulder, her nose touching the fusty wood of the wagon interior. It was extremely uncomfortable; the blanket concealing them supplemented the discomfort, making it hard to breathe. Her claustrophobic fears manifested. She didn’t want to guess how long it would take to reach the farm. Even if it took ten minutes, she was unsure whether she’d survive. The tight, compact space immobilized her almost entirely. But as she remembered the miserable state Kyler was in, she sucked it up and quit the complaints.

  She could feel that they weren’t moving at a fast pace. The road was rough and bumpy, exacerbating the experience. It was nowhere close to a joy ride. Naturally, moving the wagon uphill would be more laborious than on even ground, certainly more arduous than downhill. She knew Cackle was exaggerating his physical strength, as testified by the intermittent grunts and groans she could distinctly hear from him. He was having a strenuous time; but she had to respect that he wasn’t complaining. The road eventually became more pleasant, making the ride go smoother. Each jarring lurch caused considerable discomfort to her, but even more to Kyler. She had half-a-mind to yell at Cackle and tell him to go slower.

  Serenity knew they were on the cobblestone roads (the main roads) as the wagon suddenly transitioned to a joltier, bumpier surface. They were out of the gardens quicker than she would’ve anticipated. Cackle seemed to be speeding up, overtly regulating his stertorous breathing. Perhaps he could take them the whole way. She’d be categorically content if he could; however, she couldn’t help but think of how much easier Garen could’ve pushed the wagon. For Cackle, she wondered if it would be easier for him if he pulled rather than pushed. That would depend on whether his bicep or tricep muscles were stronger. If she was to guess, she wouldn’t be certain which one it was. Cackle obviously had muscle, like all the other brothers. But physically, she’d rank him next to Kyler—neither superior nor inferior. Next would be Agno, Desmos, and obviously Garen.

  After a dozen minutes, her back, neck, and legs were beginning to cramp. She had been unable to reposition any of her body since the moment she got in. Her back and neck were pinned against the wood, and her legs were too long to extend completely. Her calves were bent at an awkward position, screaming in discomfort. She desperately wanted to change positions to mitigate the discomfort. Thankfully the wagon wasn’t closed off at the top, like a coffin. It would’ve augmented the torture considerably, emulating the feeling of being buried alive.

  “You all right, Kyler?” she asked, wanting to take her mind off of it.

  He murmured something incoherent. She assumed it was a “yes.”

  “Just hang on a little longer. We’re almost there. I hope.”

  Kyler didn’t respond. She knew he was trying to limit himself from speaking too much or unnecessarily. Serenity understood and had experienced (somewhat) the feeling of starvation. Although not at a magnitude of what Kyler was currently feeling, she had been deprived of meals as punishment a couple of times in her lifetime. Either when Gunther locked her in the dungeon, or more preferably in her bedroom. She could describe the wretched feeling in concise details: being too languished to move, speak, or even sleep, and having to cope with living on a hollow stomach, the pain intensifying by the sluggish minutes. Furthermore, it was like feeling so dead that the capacity to be happy or excited was absent. The concept of euphoria would be rendered ineffable and impossible to grasp or recall. For her, the same starvation also coincided with depression.

  Aside from her atrocious experience, everything was going fluidly until the wagon came to a halt, preceded by a bark to halt.

  Serenity gulped, concealing her breathing immediately. It wasn’t necessary to freeze; her body was already virtually constrained. Very indistinctly, they heard Cackle mutter, “Be quiet.” Then the sound of approaching footsteps was audible. She could detect only a single pair of feet. She had heard trooping footsteps before, indicating the passerby of soldiers. But none of them had investigated Cackle and the wagon. Until now.

  “Explain yourself,” the guard demanded. “Hauling that ancient-looking wagon in the dead of night. Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?”

  “I don’t work the night shift,” Cackle said, composed.

  “What company are you from?” asked the guard.

  “B Company,” Cackle responded.

  Serenity prayed that Cackle knew what he was talking about, and that he wasn’t just blurting out nonsense with the hopes of fooling this guard.

  “If you’re supposed to be in the dorms, what brings you here?” the guard continued, not yet convinced with the results of the interrogation.

  “I’m transporting supplies to the barracks,” said Cackle.

  “Not in that filthy, obsolete thing you are,” said the guard, puzzled. “A supply truck arrived this morning. We weren’t expecting another shipment.”

  “This isn’t exactly the typical shipment,” said Cackle. “The contents of this wagon will be greatly appreciated by my company, and even my unit.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Beer,” said Cackle; she could practically sense the mischievous smile forming into his visage, despite being unable to see his face.

  “What?” the guard said, startled. “What do you mean? We have plenty of that in stock in the barracks. And we’re not supposed to be drinking on the job. We’re on lockdown, rookie! Haven’t you noticed?”

  “No, this is the good stuff,” said Cackle defiantly. “Haven’t you heard the other guards talking about it? This is that high-end, one-of-a-kind liquor. I got it straight from the house kitchens.”

  “Thievery!” the guard rebuked, but his tone was strangely lacking in genuine censure. “Have you gone mad? State your identification!”

  “We’re going to feast on this once we capture the intruders,” said Cackle persistently. “Don’t lie to me, my friend; you’re just as excited!”

  “W-well,” the guard stammered. “S-shall I have a look, then?”

  She heard the footsteps coming closer, preparing for her and Kyler’s cover to be blown and for the blanket that was concealing them to be torn away. But Cackle effectually halted the guard, stopping him in his tracks.

  �
�Stop!” Cackle commanded. “Don’t touch it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—I want it to be a surprise for us all!”

  She wanted to face-palm herself, disappointed at his excuse. But in reality, she couldn’t have done better herself. Cackle was clearly making up the lies and excuses on the spot, with little to no preparation.

  “You do realize how suspicious this is looking?” the guard grunted. “How do I know you’re not hiding a bomb in that wagon? Or maybe, dare I say it, the intruders we’ve been searching for this entire time?!”

  To their fortune, the guard was only joking, as he chuckled heartily at his own quip. She stifled a sigh of relief. Cackle joined in on the laughter; his acting skills were twice as polished as she would’ve anticipated.

  “If that’s the case, I should warn you not to take a look,” Cackle chortled. “Uncover that blanket and one of them will jump at you with a knife, slitting your throat before you can even get a look at their face.”

  “Very well,” the guard said airily, still snickering. “Off you go, then!”

  “Thank you, sir!” Cackle exclaimed.

  She heard the guard’s footsteps recede. Cackle nonchalantly continued pushing, as if nothing had happened. Thank God, Serenity thought to herself. It was a close shave, the closest one yet. And hopefully, their last. She wondered if Cackle was actually a blessing in disguise. Her initial belief was that the only plausible way they were going to escape the predicament would be through exerting physical, violent force; and Cackle was the most likely to do so, given his disposition to violence. But shockingly, he had used words instead. Then again, Cackle was incredibly cunning when he wanted to be. In the past, the brothers had insisted Cackle adopt an ask-questions-shoot-later philosophy for efficiency on the job. But he invariably balked at it.

  For the next half-an-hour, they were interrupted. Cackle’s pace had been naturally declining, as she suspected his strength was attenuating. But she could sense that they had arrived. Through hearing, she perceived that Cackle’s feet were landing on both grass and dirt. But what really gave it away was the unmistakable bleating of goats.

  “Okay, get out,” Cackle panted, thumping on the wagon.

  The moment Cackle pulled the blanket off, she climbed out of the wagon and hit the ground hard. The force of the impact was inconsequential. She stretched out her muscles and limbs as far she could, recovering from nearly an hour of anguish. Her bones cracked at every twist, bend, or compression. Both pain and pleasure were obtained from this.

  “Okay, quit stretching like a cat and get in that barn,” Cackle said, massaging his arms with pride.

  She couldn’t reproach him for it. It was quite an accomplishment. He had asserted that he was capable, and it wasn’t a lie. Cackle carried Kyler out of the wagon and into the barn. It was a considerably small building, containing horse stables, chicken pens, and empty cages. The wooden-planked floor was sporadically covered with patches of hay and animal feces. The air smelled of the aforementioned but was not nearly as foul as it was in the tunnels. Cackle set Kyler down in one of the empty horse stables, on a small stack of hay. It was oddly considerate of Cackle, she couldn’t help but notice.

  “I hope nobody’s home,” said Serenity, walking over to him.

  “I think it’s just one farmer,” said Cackle. “He manages everything.”

  “I think I remember somebody telling me that,” she nodded. “How did you know that, then? And how did you know how to talk your way out of that encounter with the guard? I thought we were dead.”

  “Two things I’ve learned in the barracks,” said Cackle smugly. “One, these Aurelians soldiers love booze. Two, they’re incompetent, lazy, and lousy when it comes to security. They’ve been confident of their safety for so long. These cowards haven’t seen serious action in decades, it’s blinded them. Even now that’s it’s a lockdown, they’re not serious enough. Lucky the guard that stopped us happened to be one of the slack, gullible ones.”

  “That’s helpful,” she said. “Anything else you learn?”

  “Yep, that my time here with you is done,” said Cackle, shooting her a disdainful look. “About time. It’s been a shitty night. I’m OUT!”

  “Wait!” she cried. “Kyler NEEDS food! And water!”

  “Then go get him it,” he said untroubledly. “Go away.”

  “Fine, I’ll go—”

  “WAIT!” Cackle cut her off. “I’ll do it. I’ll see what I can steal from the chow hall. You stay here. This time, I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  “Why not let me do it?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Because I don’t trust you,” he said simply. “You’d mess up everything, knowing you. Stay here and watch him.”

  Cackle exited the barn without another word, glad to leave her. It was logical that Cackle be the one to do it. He was the one in the guard uniform. Serenity looked down at Kyler, unsettled by the fact that half his body was suspended by the haystack, the other half dangling down onto the ground. She decided to make mattress for him, scanning the barn for more haystacks. Most of them were at the very corner of the barn, adjoined by the chicken coops which were nosily occupied.

  She realized that maybe she could kill and cook the chickens, but that would require a fire. And it would certainly enrage the farmer that managed the place. Lily had told her before that it was only a single farmer that was paid to run the farm. It piqued her curiosity whether this farmer was content that it was his or her sole duty to manage it. It seemed like a lot of work.

  But she quickly learned the farmer would be resting eternally, permanently furloughed by his incapacity to work any further, as she discovered his lifeless corpse obscured behind the haystacks, his overalls bloodied and his eyes staring into space.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Cackle returned relatively quickly, as he had promised. He had successfully thieved food from the cafeteria in the barracks. She didn’t question why, satisfied with the considerable amount he had brought. He had stuffed all the food into one large bowl, wrapping the bowl with aluminum foil. There was chicken, beef, mashed potatoes, a potato, apple, and crackers. Cackle had also brought a large gallon of water. How he managed to carry all this and make it back to the farm without detection was puzzling.

  Serenity brought it all to Kyler. She had to spoon-feed him for the first few portions. He lacked the strength to eat himself. After a potato and a single chicken breast, he took over. He began savagely shoveling the food into his mouth with his hands, discarding the spoon. It was evident how hungry he was. Strangely, she also felt relief while watching him eat, as he ridded himself of his everlasting hunger, building his strength and vitality back. It looked like a man bringing himself back from the dead. He chewed quickly, with quick pauses between stuffing something in his mouth and grabbing something else. It was fortunate Cackle had brought enough for a family of three, and that he was even considerate enough to bring a jug of water. She expected Cackle to leave right after the delivery. But instead, he leaned back by the door, his arms folded, keeping an eye outside.

  Kyler chugged half the jug of water in three whole gulps. Water trickling down his chin, he resumed guzzling the meal promptly.

  “You feel better?” she asked hopefully.

  “I’m alive,” he said, his mouth full.

  Serenity turned back at Cackle.

  “Are you gonna stay here with us?”

  “For now,” he replied.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “As long as I feel like,” he said noncommittally.

  She didn’t dwell on it, redirecting her attention to Kyler. He was now helping himself to the mashed potatoes. She had to admit; for military food, the quality was impressively high. Just what she expected from the Aurelians.

  The chickens in the barn clucked intermittently, observing them stupidly with their beady eyes. Some of them circled around the pen in a frenzy, perhaps under the impression they were next in line to be slaug
htered.

  Kyler finished gorging the mashed potatoes in under a minute, moving on to the final portion of his repast. He munched on the crackers three at a time, his chewing loud enough for somebody even outside to hear. But there wasn’t anybody in the vicinity; and she had already discovered that the owner of the farm was unable to disturb them.

  When Kyler was finished, his had inflated considerably, but not enough to even match its usual size when he was healthy. Nevertheless, Kyler was visibly feeling much stronger. He propped his back against one of the haystacks, legs stretched out. Blinking slowly, he stared up at the ceiling without uttering a word.

  “Do you need more?” she asked.

  “I’m not getting food again, forget it,” Cackle said firmly.

  “I’m all right,” Kyler responded, with enough vigor in his voice. “I feel ten times better now. I can eat a whole lot more, but what I got was good.”

  “Once all this is over, you’ll be able to eat all you want,” she promised. “But first, we’ll need to look at those injuries.”

  “It’s fine,” Kyler waved it off. “These are just superficial wounds. The worst I have is one badly bruised rib; but luckily, it’s not broken.”

  “They beat your little ass in that cell?” Cackle asked tactlessly.

  “One of the big guys did,” Kyler said, referring to Bastion. “After that, the guards pushed me around a bit for fun. Wasn’t too bad with them.”

  “‘Big guy’?” Cackle asked, his eyebrow quirked. “Who the hell?”

  “His name is Bastion,” Serenity answered. “He’s one of the top soldiers in their military. He’s also part of their Council, which is like—”

  “I know what the Council is,” Cackle cut her off. “They were talking about them in the chow hall. And I heard this ‘Bastion’ name too.”

  “He’s also dating my cousin,” she said conversationally, though it was an irrelevant thing to mention. Why would they care?

  “‘Cousin’?” Kyler repeated. “You actually have family here? Blood?”