The Arrival

by Riley Moreno

  “I’m just as unwelcome as you. Like two cables connected to the same socket. I’m sure that sanctuary behind us would be an ideal place to protect us both.”

  “You’re mad,” the man winces, “To think that they won't come inside and still come and take you!”

  The two men come dashing down the slope with slippery words that say, “you must let him go.”

  The man sounds erratically unstable. “Yes. Listen to them.” His pacemaker must be malfunctioning.

  “Sir, if you don’t let him go, they’ll likely kill him.”

  The man opens his gob, but only the sound of his inhale is heard. “Then he needs to make a big decision and allow us both to go inside there and take cover. I know they’ll kill him. He knows it too.” The man is contemplating Darren’s words.

  “I can’t. Albastor wants us to begin work. They’ll be here to knock it down!”

  “But they aren’t here now.” –

  “Pah-ha-pah-ha-pah-ha-pah-ha-pah-ha-pah-ha-pah” The skinner of the two proclaims, “they are coming.” He doesn’t look as petrified as the man feels when that pah-ha has four faces behind it and taking their time to come over.

  “You see what’s in their hands? We should head inside, right?”

  The man’s shakes are close to the declaration of wanting to pee himself. “We ... we ... we ... we ... we ... we.”

  “We should head indoors because they won’t come in there, will they?”

  One of the men answers for him, “no. They find it a sacred place.”

  “O ... ok. Le ... let ... let’s go and stay there until they leave.”

  A far-flung yell reaches Darren and the others, “Hola, is that Peter, the man who so loves to knock buildings down and build a corporate mausoleum of a new hell instead? Pumpkin says, my friends, that if we ever see him again, take off his head.”

  Peter replies back with no balls at all, “you’ll be arrested on the grounds that I work for Albastor. You rebels can’t touch me as I play a very important part for the development of your island!”

  The four men laugh and raise their machetes into the air and torment their audience, “Foolish man!” he shouts, “With you dead, then fewer developments will proceed. The law out here is make-believe.”

  “Take the stranger.” The man tries to take his arm back from the thief. “Here he is.” The 4 are nearing the other side of the road.

  Darren can see that what he must do is turn around and run back in. The man who’s a few inches taller than the other 3 looks towards the dungaree wearers, “You two can go. Get out of here and let those back in Freshon know that they are destroying all points of health and care for us out here. They want us to be in total dependence upon them for when the time comes to rid our currency too.”

  The men stand and do nothing, facing the stranger, “Can you allow the stranger to come with us?”

  “No. Peacock wants to speak with him.”

  “But it is wron-“

  “Do not speak to us of wrong!” The machetes fly into the air and stay up there. “You are the weak-minded sheep. You chose to work for them, instead of fighting.”

  The men have no more guts to spare when they take one everlasting look at those machetes. They head up the slope and make their way back to their town. “And as for you, stranger. That sanctuary there was full of corruption in the end. Hona advising you to go there was him not knowing much of what goes on around here. His blindfolded unawareness is what keeps him segregated. You will come with us now.”

  “I won’t.”

  Two of the rebels start to cross the street. “Are you sure, you won’t do that?”

  “Yes.” Darren has to stand his ground. For his own sense of the word courage. But it soon smolders like melted gold when one of the machetes slashes against the man’s diaphragm and then is palm-pushed onto the road with the machete now ready to slice his head in two when he is fully down and gasping wildly from both pain and his life.

  Darren’s mind rings from how fast it happens, with the man trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail as it’s pointless. “We will kill him. And although you do not care. If we kill this man here, you will be next. It is our choice to what we do with you.”

  The other two come over, beginning to make a circle around Darren and this man who is squirming for some painkillers as his heightened agony receptors are off the chain-links, his palms are being coated in blood that is a shocking site for even somebody like Darren who’s had a life threatened before him with a primary choice to be made.

  The blood is spilling, “It’s your intention for him to die?”

  “Yes.” The one facing Darren speaks. “And I’ll finish him off if he becomes any more annoying and loud. I don’t want to put up with his alarm call.”

  The man bites his lips with his central incisors and canines. No more cries of anguish for him. He needs to shut that trap door and not re-open it.

  But Darren feels for him when they get him up to his feet and sling him down again where he stiffens his back as one of the rebel’s steps on the sliced wound with the soles of his high-top plimsols. The blood is soaking through his shirt, so the rebels roughly help him to take it off and then unbutton his shirt.

  “This stranger here will be the death of you.” The man can barely issue any pretext but tries his best to face Darren. “We will take out the rest of your insides. I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon.”

  The man tries not to release any noise. They are taunting him into a grand opening. They really do wish to finish him off. “Scream. And let me cut your skull as easy as a fish that is being sliced and guttered.”

  Darren finds some sappiness somewhere for this man’s life, “Where will you take me?”

  A cold machete taps Darren on his cheek and brings him around to the center. Then taps his chin until he’s facing the sky. He cuts Darren marginally, but it’s no bigger than what a sharpened nail would cause. Darren flinches from the blade and it’s sting, and stalks the machete that is now being placed on the middle of his forehead. “To hang.”

  The other rebels protest, “No. We bring him to Peacock.”

  “Yes. And that is a hanging.” Darren can see a concealed smirk underneath that balaclava. “You’ve made our job easier. These banks of land, with no river, make it easier for us to trek to various locations that we’ve settled upon. Peacock wants you to see the fruits of what thieves do when they come to visit on a tour.”

  He winks at one of the rebels, and Darren finds that he’s next wrestled to the ground with is temple being forcibly held back so that a scarf can be placed around his eyes as a blindfold. It all goes dark. And Darren holds back from calling out Lee.

  Then Darren feels a kick to the back of his head more than four times which pounds his upper body down until he’s bowing before his new enemies - and further blows come from the front, side, and then to his face which start to run-up-a-bill until it needs to be paid with the final blow that is received as a gift from the grip of the machete that sends Darren into the beginning of a very peaceful zzzzzzz with no assurance that he’ll wake up from it.

  His body is powerfully throbbing with his ears ringing from tinnitus, his head sways dazedly and his whole-body swirling. He’s about to shut it all out when an enclosing image of a heel comes towards him and connects with the bridge of his nose.

  Darren can’t tell if it’s broken, but breathing is labored, and he can’t keep awake anymore. The last thing he remembers is the man next to him screaming, “there’s no reason to kill me!”

  Darren’s hits the concrete, thud-thud and the lightest thud with his eyes losing focus and one more blink gives a haunting visualization of the rebel’s machete blades chopping away at a brutal execution, the two rebels with a similar act to chopping wood; do it severely by gradually taking that head clean off.

  ...

  Lee waits for Hona by the side of the motel, the fence barring the land owned behind it. A call comes through, private number. She k
nows who it is, “Henny?”

  “Lee. What do you think you’re doing? You’ve been ignoring my texts that I’ve been sending you. It’s vital that I and you keep in contact throughout your entire time away. That was what we agreed.”

  “Henny, there’s a whole load of complications out here. It’s a crisis situation for these people. Rebels are tenacious in getting rid of all unknown visitors. And I almost got myself killed a few hours ago by ... by...” Lee hasn’t been standing still, so her point of interest gets distracted when she sees a black sedan: extremely shiny, park up and a few men get out. She places her whole person against the fence and peers through the small holes that conceal her enough to not be seen.

  They are quite small in the distance from where she stands. “Why have you gone silent? Lee, I need some catch-up work from you pronto!” Henny’s barking on the phone. Lee lets him. She wants to see if she notices any of the men.

  LEE WISHES SHE HAD some binoculars or something. Because all she can make out is a land surveyor dressed in casual but decent attire: slim fit polo shirt that reaches biceps, and spacey tapered jeans that are navy blue with white smudgy patches on the knees and thighs holding a compass.

  Walking onto the soil is a normal looking town-man who sets up a theodolite and metal poles in his arms. He raises his index and middle at the man, who jots that down. He goes back at least 15 paces, then 20,30, and 40, each time plucking up those same fingers for the man to jot down some understanding between them. Then he sticks the poles down when Lee counts the man reaching 100 -paces.

  There is still one man who doesn’t get out. Lee can see the window open where some ash from a cigarette falls onto the narrow grassy path. The surveyor keeps running back and forth giving him all the information.

  “Lee!?” She can’t ignore him anymore.

  “What is it, Henny?”

  “What is it?” Hearing that annoys him greatly. “I have a meeting in a few hours and you’re holding up my time. What is happening?”

  Lee’s attention is distracted once more, but she narrates it to Henny, “Rebels really don’t want the go ahead on this bank. Because they’re marching with guns in their hand. And a shiny black sedan is getting ready to drive off, leaving one of the workers behind.”

  “What do you mean they don’t want a bank built? How do you know that?”

  “Call me back soon. I need to hide from them.”

  “Lee! Don’t hang ...” Lee hates to do it to him. But right now, she makes her way behind the motel and becomes a peeping tom from the corner as she observes the rebels opening fire and Hona running out but keeps his vigilance about being spotted. He joins Lee.

  “Thank God nobody is out on the road. People are wise enough to let things die down and stay indoors. I hardly see kids go to school.” Hona ducks from reflex and so does Lee, the firing, although not aimed at them, is still a worrying site to witness and perceive. The rebels are vocal with their chase after the sedan, “hiyaaaaaaaaargh!” They run and shoot. Then shoot and pursue wildly, until Lee and Hona can see them no longer.

  “They will never let them start work over there.”

  “Who was in that black Sedan?”

  “I’d say Albastor with his new mode of transport. He wants to get the ball rolling.”

  “I need to find Darren.”

  “Yes. We should go and find him. I had to leave your things in the motel foyer. With no car, we’re going to have to walk there.”

  “Is there no faster way? Walking on foot wouldn’t be a great option considering all those rebels with anxious demands to massacre being met. I mean, where’s your force out here?”

  “I was one of the clean bandits. Now all they’ll send against the rebels is the small army that’s under Albastor’s thumbprint. We could maybe ride some horses? That’s a risk in itself. Albastor might recruit those ponies for his own needs. I’m sure they’ll be sending out a team to wipe out these rebels real soon.”

  “You haven’t even had time to tell me about Camila.”

  “Let me grab your bag. I umm... I also found this ...” Hona presents Lee with her two Kahr pistols and ammo from the box. “It was under the bed and I figured you’d want to travel real lightly. It was a nice box though. Pity to leave it.”

  Lee takes it with great pride, her third arm now absolute. “I can see nature with all it’s glory now.”

  “You have a strong attachment to these pistols?”

  “They’ve been my saving Amy when I needed them to be. Saved my life when nobody else had the guts to. And that’s why I love them more then I love-”

  Hona speeds her up, “let’s make our way to Madelene.” Lee trails after a secretive Hona who is checking for the all clear for them to leave. Some of the gunshots can faintly be heard far away.

  “The elderly woman who often walks her horses across the town for exercise?”

  “Yes. Her. She’s like me: neither for or against the actions of the rebels. She just wants some peace and quiet around here. And I couldn’t agree more.”

  ...

  As they traipsed to the summits of the Torbelli hills where the homes that sit up here go on a teeter-totter pattern of teeth that go up-and-up-and-up. It’s not hard to climb as the lane for vehicles with the pavement attached twirls as Lee touches some of the elevated surfaces. And if she was to come out a little more, she could see some of the humongous trees that reach heights that could be found in a rainforest.

  From up here, Lee can see a park that she would’ve missed if it hadn’t of been from sighting it up here. “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “From up here looking down, one would think of Madrid if it had more to boost its touristic value. The colorful homes. Plenty of free land, that’s sadly got every few days for selfish reasons is what upsets many of us. We need more people coming here to inflate the economy.”

  “Do the rebels come up here?”

  “Not much is up here except for Madelene’s pony ranch. The rest is where the majority of townsfolk live. And that makes up a population of 550 plus. It would be more, but some have fled to other parts to keep safe. It’s why I’m more relaxed for you. They wouldn’t come up here because it burns plenty of body fat. You’ll feel it when we reach the top. Madelene loves it, it’s why at 58-years old she looks so well.”

  Lee takes it in some more. She sees the blue sky with a tint of gray, but still, the weather is lovely as a few red wasps buzzing in the air, but she hasn’t seen these kinds before, “what do you call that bug?”

  Hona catches a few of them, “They go by the name of the pelecinid wasp, that’s about all I know. Don’t ask me anymore because I’m no entomologist. We have one guy out here who is an avid researcher on these things. But our educational people out here have gone into hiding or fled to be safe from the changes.”

  Lee smells the trees and cleaner air. She can see the motel become miniature with the owner closing up early. And a few townsfolk are still trying to behave normally by drinking a coffee as they sit on the walls of a well or carrying groceries and small talking with whoever they may know. “Tell me about Camila. We have some way to go.”

  “Have you tried calling Darren?”

  “I gave up. He’s not answering. I’d say don’t change the subject, but I’m trying to distract my worry about him onto something else.”

  “They won’t kill him if he’s caught. They don’t know anything about him to do that. The reason why they want him, and you, are because you’re a gray marker on their map of people out here. He’ll be interrogated if found, but nonetheless, it’s better for him to stay unfound. He’s a big lad, he’ll be fine.”

  “That still isn’t soothing for me.”

  “You care about him?”

  “I ...” Oh wow, Lee hadn’t thought about that sailing ship. It tangles her tongue.

  “Something you should think about, huh? Care ... and being away from somebody who actually means more to you than you realize.”

  “I never nee
ded any support from the opposite sex before. I’ve done fine on my own.”

  “Until this Darren character comes along.”

  In an odd way, Hona is becoming that friend that Lee could’ve done with when in school and wanting to talk about a prospective crush. It’s a strange, but quite an irregular feeling that she's not used to. “I see you’re aren’t comfortable with emotions and expressing them.”

  “I never thought of Darren as a partner ... partner. We work together. And he’s been quite supportive of me against plenty of backlashes that I face from others who want my job because they think I’m an incapable contender.”

  “When you were locked up, he was very concerned for you. Willing to risk his life even. I had to tell him to wait until it’s safe. It took a lot of restraint to keep him glued.”

  “That’s Darren right down to the chewing of the bone marrow. Always thinking of others before himself.”

  Hona and Lee are coming to another loop around the elevated earth that will bring them to higher plains. “He would’ve been an idle candidate for Camila. It was foolish for such a pretty woman to come out here alone with no protection. Very unwise of her.”

  “What can you tell me about Camila?”

  Hona searches Lee’s face, “Lee Coil, are you a private investigator?”

  Lee chuckles with her head lowering from discomfiture. “I wish. I think it’s safe to tell you that I work to find answers that a normal ranking cop wouldn’t be able to. More the risk taker of the bunch of big-bellied bullies who only want to pay others to get their hands dirty and necks hacked off. That’s my job role.”

  “And do you enjoy this type of work?” Hona is suggesting dangerous places like Torbelli. “The idea of possibly never returning to family or friends?”

  “The only friend I have back home is Saul. A genuine friend. It’s not that I enjoy this work. It’s...I suppose...what else would I do with my spare time? It’s ... something.” Her skull hangs again. Lee's not used to so many questions about herself. “Can we please speak on Camila? I want to learn what happened?”