Nomad: Freedom Is Never Free

by Todd Brill

Nomad looked around while he ate, focusing his attention on the guards. He listened to the camp. It was tense. The guards were on alert. They knew what was going on and were ready for trouble. He focused his attention on the other prisoners.

  They didn’t feel much different than any other day. Other than his friends, of course. They were tense and scared and agitated. He could sense it clearly. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale, calming himself again. Would their plan succeed? How many of his friends might be hurt or worse — killed? Dark sea. Dark sea. Dark sea.

  Nomad closed his eyes and pushed his calm energy out to his friends. He sensed them sigh and relax somewhat, accepting the calm, quiet energy unconsciously. He finished his breakfast and stood as the morning alarm wailed out and spilled over the camp.

  “All prisoners report to the common area for an important announcement immediately,” came a monotone voice from the sound system. The message repeated several times and then stopped. There was a hush of whispered voices as everyone wondered what was happening. Nomad could sense fear and apprehension from the prisoners and a tense readiness in the guards.

  They all shuffled into the large common area where a small stage had been prepared. The sergeant was on the stage, and Nomad could make out a few figures behind him. It was probably Jorune and her guards. Once everyone had been gathered, the sergeant stepped forward and began speaking to the crowd in a loud, commanding voice.

  “Listen up, prisoners,” he began in a condescending tone. “We’re here for an important event. It has come to our attention that some of you aren’t happy here and wish to leave.” A murmur ran through the crowd as the prisoners looked at each other in alarm.

  “I would have hoped by now that it was clear to you all that leaving is impossible, but here we are. We’ve uncovered a conspiracy — a plan — in which a handful of prisoners were plotting to kill guards and attempt to escape. We’ve seized their leader and will now demonstrate to all of you what might be in store for the rest of you should you attempt to escape. Let me remind you all, in no uncertain terms — resistance is unacceptable. Bring her forward!”

  The guards from behind the small stage brought Jorune around and hoisted her to the stage to stand beside the sergeant. She had obviously been beaten mercilessly. Her face was swollen and bloody and she swayed as she stood there, barely able to stand.

  A collective gasp escaped the crowd of prisoners. A few even wept at the sight of Jorune.

  The sergeant placed one hand on Jorune’s shoulder. Her hands were fastened behind her back, and she had shackles on her tiny ankles. One of the guards handed the sergeant her small bone walking stick, which he took with his other hand to brandish in front of the crowd.

  “We kept this woman alive because, although she seemed small and weak and unable to do much work, she was still useful to us. In response to our generosity, she gathered people around her and attempted to affect an escape of the camp. She isn’t as old as she seems. She also used this,” he brandished her bone stick again, “as a weapon, deceitfully fooling us into believing she was a frail, old woman. But all her trickery and conspiracy have been for nothing. And today, we’re going to demonstrate to you the consequences for this kind of foolishness.”

  He nodded at one of the guards, who pulled out his weapon. The long firearm looked like a rifle to Nomad, but something he might have seen in a sci-fi movie on Earth. The guard leveled the rifle at Jorune, and Nomad’s blood began to pump. He focused his mind and channeled his energy into his muscles and heart like he had been taught. It was time.

  Nomad looked over at Danik, who smiled at him gravely. The others were scattered throughout the crowd and all had somber expressions on their faces. They all knew they could die in the next moments if things didn’t go well.

  “Guard,” said the sergeant, “show these people what happens to prisoners who make plans to escape.” The guard pressed a button on the rifle and lifted it up into his shoulder, aiming the business end at poor Jorune’s head. Her eyes were closed and her head was hung low.

  Suddenly, the rifle jerked out of the guard’s hands and floated with amazing speed toward Nomad who reached up and grabbed it mid-air. Jorune’s head snapped up and he could see a cold, blue fire erupt around her.

  The sergeant was still grinning at the crowd, unaware of what just happened. The guard was staring blankly at his hands where the rifle had been a moment ago, not comprehending what happened. Nomad leveled the rifle and squeezed the trigger. His shot was slightly high and right of the sergeant, but the loud electric pulse of the weapon shocked the crowd and guards alike.

  Everyone ducked except Jorune, Danik, Nomad, and his friends. Jorune was suddenly free of her restraints and had somehow gotten her bone stick back in her hands.

  “Kill them all!” screeched the sergeant, rolling back off the stage. The guards were still momentarily confused, and Nomad took advantage of that moment of indecision and confusion.

  Hiyadi, who was standing next to one of the guards, reached out with both hands and twisted the guards head with a sickening crunch, which popped his helmet off. The helmet rolled across the ground and Hiyadi grabbed the guard’s rifle before the sagging body hit the ground.

  Telarch kicked the nearest guard in the knee, doubling him over. He then grabbed the guard’s rifle and twisted it out of his grip before shooting him in the chest, blasting the guard to the ground face first.

  Danik produced her shiv and stabbed a guard in the back of the neck, grabbing his rifle as he slumped to the ground, bleeding out in gouts of thick red blood. Even Yola had a little knife—a smaller version of Danik’s, out and ready, a fierce look on her cherubic little face.

  The other prisoners fled like a stampede of bison back into their huts as rifle blasts rang out across the common area. They had managed to take out the guards in the common area, but the alarm was now wailing, signaling an escape attempt.

  The remaining guards would be locking down all the exits to the camp now. They had to move quickly. Nomad saw Jorune had disarmed the sergeant and was holding his pistol to the small of his back. The sergeant had a look of utter disgust and anger on his face.

  “Good to see you,” said Nomad, smiling at Jorune.

  “Good to see you, too,” said Jorune in a muffled voice, her face still swollen and discolored. She held her crutch in her other hand as she prodded the sergeant forward with the barrel of the pistol.

  “You’ll never escape,” said the sergeant defiantly. “The Leader would sooner bomb this entire camp than let any of you escape. He’ll kill us all!”

  “I don’t think that’s in your best interest, is it?” said Jorune, jabbing him in the back with the pistol again. The guards were nowhere to be seen yet, but it wouldn’t take long for them to coordinate a counterattack. Nomad could feel the change already. Confusion was evolving into anger and resolve.

  They gathered with the others near the edge of the common area.

  “To the gates,” said Nomad. “Stick together and keep your eyes and ears open.”

  They moved quickly toward the now-empty gate area. There were two guards, who they quickly dispatched with rifle blasts and took their weapons. Telarch ran quickly to the exit gate with the button he had salvaged from one of the guards.

  He waved the button near the gate sensor, but the gate just buzzed and refused to open.

  “You see? You’re too late,” said the sergeant smugly. “Give up now, and I’ll see that you’re treated fairly.”

  Jorune struck him behind the knees with her bone stick knocking him to his knees. She reached over and grabbed the button from his tunic and tossed it to Telarch.

  “Try his,” she said. Telarch waved the button across the gate, and it slid open with a happy chirp. Jorune stabbed the sergeant in the ribs with his pistol, prodding him up again.

  “Help us, and I will see you are treated fairly,” she said. The sergeant just grunted and stood up to walk through the gate.

  They all
followed quickly behind Jorune and the sergeant into a small hallway that led to another gate behind which was an intersection of hallways. There was another small firefight as they killed another guard protecting the second gate.

  Telarch used the sergeant’s button again, but this time the gate buzzed denial.

  “What now,” he growled. “They’ll be on us any second.”

  “I believe I may be able to manually override the gate controls,” said Hiyadi, staring at an access panel.

  “Do it quickly!” shouted Nomad.

  Hiyadi pulled open a small hidden hatch and began rearranging small components inside the panel. After a moment, he looked away, shielding his face and a loud electric spark leapt from the panel. The gate clicked, and Hiyadi pulled it the rest of the way open.

  They all ran through the gate and down the hallway to the right. If their informant had provided the correct information, they now had to clear the guard barracks and an entryway before they could be out into the grounds beyond the prison.

  They ran quickly down the long silvery-metallic corridor. The hall gradually became wider and taller until terminating in large double doors. There was an access panel showing a small red light. There were piled crates of supplies pushed against the walls. Some of them were partially opened and paperwork rested on top.

  “Locked,” said Telarch, scowling. He looked hopefully at Hiyadi.

  “I cannot detect an access panel for this door,” said Hiyadi after a moment. “I believe it can only be opened from the outside or with a proper security badge.”

  Suddenly, the doors whooshed open to reveal several guards with rifles pointed toward the small group. They were behind some overturned tables and equipment. This is where the guards had planned to intercept them.

  “Surrender the sergeant at once,” one of the guards yelled from behind cover, but Nomad took advantage of their hesitation and fired his rifle into one of the guards, killing him. The other prisoners opened fired too, sending the guards scrambling under cover. This was a terrible situation. The guards had decent cover, but the group of prisoners were completely exposed in the hallway. Their only chance was to keep firing and keep the guards pinned down long enough for an opening they could move through. They took cover as best they could behind the small crates lining the walls.

  Just then, Nomad felt a familiar sensation and saw blue ethereal flames reaching out from Jorune’s outstretched hand. The energy blew away the overturned tables as easily as if she had been just brushing away a fly, scattering the guards along with them.

  Telarch yelled and flew into the small room, firing his rifle in bursts. Hiyadi was right behind him, with Danik, Nomad, and Yola. Jorune brought up their rear with the sergeant.

  They had to take cover behind some equipment and bunk beds and the overturned tables Jorune had moved. They killed eight guards before the fight was over.

  “Is everyone all right?” yelled Nomad when the last guard fell.

  “I’m good,” yelled Telarch. He had several blast marks on his clothes showing how close he had come to death.

  “Nomad,” whimpered Danik beside him. He spun around in alarm. Danik was kneeling beside Yola’s limp body; a large blast mark had eaten a hole right through the side of her little ribs.

  “No,” said Nomad, dropping to his knees. His rifle clattered to the ground, the sound echoing off the silver walls. It felt as though someone had struck him in the stomach with a bat. He couldn’t breathe as he stared down at Yola’s limp little body. She looked so peaceful and still gripped her tiny little knife.

  “We can’t leave her here,” said Danik quietly. Nomad didn’t answer. “Nomad!” she yelled at him, pulling on his sleeve. “We have to get out of here now!” He shook his head and looked at Danik sadly.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, tears forming in his eyes. “We have to get her out of here. Can you carry her?” Danik nodded grimly, her eyes wavering. She was desperately trying not to cry.

  “It seems I keep intruding on these touching moments,” came a familiar voice from down the hall. It was Harvith, and he was holding a rifle. It was mere inches from Jorune’s head. He had snuck up behind them while they were all focused on Yola.

  “I do believe they will give me an award for capturing you fools,” he said with a chuckle. “I told you this was foolish. I can’t believe you even made it this far but I knew it would end in failure. Drop your weapons or Jorune dies next. I repeat: drop your weapons now or Jorune dies.”

  “Harvith!” yelled Nomad still crouched. “Come with us. We can all escape together. Nobody else needs to die. Please.”

  “Ha!” laughed Harvith derisively. “What kind of idiot do you take me for, Nomad? Do you really think your little band will make it out of this complex alive? You’ve been lucky so far, but your luck has run out.”

  While Harvith was talking, he didn’t see Nomad carefully aim his rifle at him from behind an overturned table beside Nomad.

  “Drop your gun, Harvith!” yelled Nomad. He saw that Jorune had closed her eyes. He wouldn’t allow Harvith to get away with this. He couldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt.

  “I’m going to kill Jorune if you don’t lower your weapons now!” yelled Harvith. He was standing behind her pointing the rifle down at the top of her head. Something tugged at Nomad’s insides.

  If Nomad fired there was no guarantee he could disable Harvith before he killed Jorune. Nomad stood up from his crouching position and placed his rifle on the ground in front of him.

  “Okay, Harvith, you win,” he said. “Please don’t shoot her. Let’s work this out.” Time was precious, and they were running out of it. How soon before the camp guards called in reinforcements from the city?

  “Good. Now the rest of you — drop your weapons,” replied Harvith with a grin.

  “Be careful, Harvith!” said the sergeant, cowering from behind some crates. “They’re tricky!”

  The others slowly began lowering their weapons. With a crack and a flash, Harvith shot Jorune in the back and brought up his rifle to shoot the rest of them.

  Nomad tucked into a roll, grabbing his rifle as he tumbled behind some overturned equipment nearby. Rifle fire zigged and zagged around him. Before he knew what he was doing, Nomad focused his mind on the particles in the room, asking the air to leave.

  A cold rush of air blasted past as Harvith and the others collapsed, suddenly unable to breathe. He saw Jorune’s body lying on the ground. She had a large hole through her torso and was twitching on the ground.

  Nomad focused his attention on Harvith, the person who had just killed his mentor and friend in cold blood. Harvith needed to pay. Nomad concentrated the airless field to surround Harvith. He could feel the others around him gasping as air returned to the small room. Harvith was clutching at his throat, pleading with his eyes. He dropped his rifle and fell to his knees, his face turning blue.

  Harvith quickly turned purple and then gray. After a moment of gasping and clutching at his face, he stopped breathing, and Nomad stood over him grimly.

  “For Jorune,” said Nomad between gritted teeth.

  14

  For a moment, everything was silent. For Nomad, that moment stretched on too long. Anger rose in him, along with sadness. It was like a pair of ravening dogs fighting over the scraps of his mind. He could smell acrid bile and blood, and his hands were shaking.

  He was watching the scene -- no longer a part of it. He saw himself as if from a distance. Like a hawk gliding over a scene of carnage -- examining it as he tried to understand it. He saw himself lean over the body of little Yola. Danik was beside her lifeless body, weeping into her own bloodied hands.

  His hands reached out to Yola and his mind became as cold as the dark sea. Cold and calm. Nomad focused himself and reentered his body. He listened, but Yola was silent. It was the hollowest, empty sound he had ever felt. He focused on her wounds, willing them, pleading with them to heal.

  He watched as the hole in Yola’s body b
egan to seal itself, the tissues of her flesh knitting themselves back together. Slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity. He could see the cells of her flesh re-forming layer by layer until skin covered the pink wound over.

  Danik was watching with her face wet with tears. She gasped when the final layer was complete. Nomad could hear Telarch urging them to go. The guards would be here in seconds.

  “Live,” said Nomad, willing life into Yola’s little body. Her wound was healed, but she was still lifeless. He closed his eyes, concentrating, listening, willing.

  “Live!” he shouted. Danik began to weep again. It was no use. He could heal her wounds, but he couldn’t will life back into her dead body. Maybe he didn’t know how or he wasn’t powerful enough. He stopped.

  “I’m… I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t bring her back.” Danik was sobbing beside him, clutching his arm in panic and despair.

  “We have to go, Nomad,” she said between sobs. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I estimate thirty seconds before the additional guards arrive,” he heard Hiyadi say. “My margin of error is plus or minus six seconds.”

  “Hiyadi, can you carry Jorune?” said Nomad standing up with Yola in his arms.

  “Affirmative, Nomad,” replied Hiyadi, quickly moving over to the body of his fallen friend and mentor. He threw Harvith’s rifle to Telarch and picked up Jorune’s small body easily. Hiyadi cradled her gently against his chest, slinging his rifle behind his back.

  “You won’t make it out of here alive!” yelled the sergeant from behind his crate. Nomad had almost forgotten about him in his rage and anguish.

  “Whaddya wanna do with him?” said Telarch from beside him, his rifle pointed at the cowering sergeant.

  “Lock the gate after we go through,” said Nomad resisting the urge to kill the sergeant. “Too many have died already.”

  Danik stood up and checked the settings on her rifle. She had wiped her tears away from her dust-streaked face and stood there looking resolute and grim, her arms and face streaked red. The crimson smears looked to Nomad like war paint.