Immortal

by Kelvin Kelley

As they arrived at the square, the girls opted to stay far away. They did not plan to actually watch the spectacle at all. They were there, more or less for moral support for Gabrielle, who refused not to go. And especially once they realized that Jericho could not be stopped. He felt that he must attend. The square was not large by any means, but it currently held hundreds of villagers. They were packed tightly into the available space, but the center of the square which held the small raised stage, and a slim path from the control center to the stage were completely empty. Guardians stood around the back walls, each unmoving and silent. Jericho made his way toward the center. He did not want to be in the very front, but he wanted to get close enough to see Donovan’s face. He wanted to see into his eyes. Jericho knew, more than anyone, what Donovan had been through over the past day, because he was certain that he had experienced the same type of interrogation. This gave him some type of kindred spirit, with Donovan, even if it had truly been Donovan’s fault to begin with. What he was did now, wasn’t for Donovan though. What he did now was for himself. Somehow he felt that if he watched this through its finality it would give him some kind of absolution. It was a way to go on with his life, and to leave the events of the last day behind him. He was near the front now. Close enough that he could see the rusted chain rings on the whipping post quite clearly. It would be here that Donovan would be shackled for his punishment. Jericho’s heart hurt. Even if Donovan was an ass, did he really deserve this, he asked himself.

  A sudden commotion at the far side of the courtyard, subsided seconds after it had started. Though Jericho could not see directly, he could tell from the crowd’s reaction that the Guardian had entered the area and now led Donovan to the center platform. It couldn’t have been very far, but from where he stood, he just could not see. For what seemed like an eternity, he expected to be able to see something in the center of the square, and then suddenly he did. The Guardian stepped onto the platform, and from Jericho’s viewpoint he could see that the floor of the stage was stained a dark brown. He knew it was long ago dried blood from other punishments. It was immediately obvious what took so long. He watched as the Guardian dragged Donovan’s unconscious body to the center of the square. The Guardian hoisted his limp body on top of the stage. Jericho thought that Donovan looked much worse than he himself had ever felt during his interrogation. His face was flaccid and gaunt. There appeared to already be streams of blood soaked into his shirt, though the first lash had yet to be thrown. And, Donovan was unconscious.

  The Guardian pivoted Donovan’s body to the post, and it calmly and methodically fastened Donovan’s arms around the rings. The Guardian stepped slightly back it as it released its hold on Donovan, and his body slumped as far to the floor of the stage as it could. His arms were still held up in an awkward fashion by the shackles, as a stream of drool ran from his mouth. With one quick motion, the Guardian ripped the shirt from Donovan’s limp body, and as it fluttered to the stage floor, the Guardian reached down and held something close to Donovan’s face. Suddenly he was awake. He shook his head to get it away from the Guardian’s hand. He was coughed and sputtered. As he began to realize where he was, his eyes began to look around wildly. He seemed to say something, as his lips moved, but Jericho could make out no intelligible words. The Guardian stepped back to the edge of the stage, and with no announcement or warning, its arm flicked forward, and the whip that had been unseen moments ago lashed out and wrapped around Donovan’s back and up his side.

  The crack was loud, but not near as loud as his scream. His eyes were wide now. So wide they looked unreal. And blood began to well up in the red mark left behind from the whip. The Guardian sent the next stroke on its way.

  Donovan wailed, and the bottom of his pants suddenly began to drip, as his bladder let go. This second lash had wrapped around his other side, and in less than a second, blood already dripped from this wound. The third lash hit before the air had run out of Donovan’s lungs from his first scream, and his scream became that of a choking cry. He passed out, and slumped against the post. The Guardian paused. For a few seconds, it was silent. All was motionless. Another second passed, and blood ran down Donovan’s back and sides. Was he even breathing? Jericho thought. From where he was standing, he couldn’t tell. His stomach turned flip flops, and he thought sure he was going to throw up his meal. He looked back to see if he could see Gabrielle, but the crowd which had gone totally silent, blocked his view. No one so much as whispered. The Guardian took a step towards Donovan, and then bent down towards his face, and again held its hand in front of his face. Instantly, he coughed, sputtered, and seemed to fight for air. He was awake, and his eyes were wide. And even as he looked around, he tried to get his bearings. The Guardian stepped back to the edge of the stage. And faster than Jericho could have thought possible, the Guardian’s arm moved, the wrist flicked, and Donovan screamed again. It was a blood curdling scream. Agony sprayed from Donovan’s mouth with bits of spittle, as lines of spit hung from his mouth. His eyes were still wild and bloodshot.

  “No!” Donovan screamed, as another stroke wrapped around his split and bleeding flesh, and his body contorted in mind bending pain. He gagged, drooled, cried, and screamed. Jericho saw his eyes. Donovan would not disobey again. The man beside Jericho suddenly bent and vomited, and barely missed Jericho’s own shoes. Jericho fought the gorge in his own throat. He was determined to see this through to the end. He felt that he owed it to himself, and also to Donovan as he screamed, and bled. Once again, Donovan passed out. The Guardian paused, and seconds passed. It approached the unconscious Donovan again. Once again, seconds later Donovan was awake, and he screamed with a ferocity that would surely tear his lungs from his body. And once again the Guardian assumed its position. The whip cracked. Jericho’s stomach flipped. Would it ever stop, he thought.

  It seemed to take forever, but it was finally over. The last stroke had been thrown, and for the final time Donovan had passed out, and hung limply from his chains. In all, it had been fifteen strokes from the whip, each delivered with emotionless precision by the Guardian. Donovan had needed to be revived six times before it was over. In the end, Jericho had managed to not throw up, but several of those around him were not so lucky. As soon as it was obvious that the final crack of the whip was the last, Jericho headed back towards the girls, but he took one last look at Donovan’s limp body, just as the Guardian approached to release him. Good, bad or indifferent, Jericho thought that he had done what he had to do. He had seen it through to the end. Poor Donovan, he thought. No one should have to go through what had just happened. Broken, he thought, as remembered back to his own interrogation. Remembered back to when he awoke and the Guardian was gone, and when he had begun to think that maybe he had admitted disobedience. He thanked whatever powers that looked over them that he had not done so. Sure, he thought, he would have survived, just as he hoped Donovan would. But being broken so completely, and so unmercifully, was something that he could understand. No one could truly recover from that. No one, not even himself. He looked up and saw that the girls were just ahead.

  “It’s over.” He said solemnly.

  “You okay?” Asked Gabrielle.

  “No.” He said, “But I will be.” He gave her a slight smile that he did not really feel. Her face lit up.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She said.

  “I’m heading home.” Rebecca said, as she hugged Jericho briefly, and then one by one, the others.

  “Me too,” Said Sarah, as she hugged everyone as well.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me girl.” Jericho said to Gabrielle.

  “Fine by me.” She answered.

  “Walk you home?” He asked.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She said, as she wrapped her arm around his. They left the square which was quickly emptied. A glance back confirmed what Jericho already thought. Donovan was gone.

  Mostly in sil
ence, they made their way back towards Gabrielle’s building. The talk was quiet, and definitely not about what they had just witnessed. Suddenly Gabrielle stopped.

  “Let’s link.” She said as she grasped both of his hands. He looked at her, silent.

  “Link?” he asked.

  “Yeah, link.” She exclaimed. “Why not. I love you. You love me. We love each other, then why-”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “-not link. You know we have to make up our minds some time, we can’t just-”

  “Okay.” He said again.

  “Keep on waiting around until-” She paused. “What did you say?”

  “I said…” He paused and drew her close to him, “Would you link with me?” She was silent. The emotions that ran through her face elated him. She was absolutely right. They should be linked, and it should happen right away. There was no reason to wait. No reason to consider. They should be linked, and they should do so right now.

  “Gabrielle, my dearest beloved, would you please do me the honor of-”

  “No!” She exclaimed. “Not here! Not now!” She said. Then suddenly she smiled. “Tomorrow.” She said. “Tomorrow!” And she knew just where it should happen. He should ask her to link at one place, and one place only. It should happen at their special place. The place where they had truly become one. The beach.

  Chapter 9