Swallowing down the last of the warm, salty water, Sofia placed the can upon her lap.
“Thank-you for the drink,” she said.
Setting her project on the floor, the woman smiled as she took the can from Sofia’s hands. Standing up, she walked it over to a cloth-covered window on the other side of the room. Pushing aside the covering, the light entered in, revealing the woman’s protruding abdomen, which seemed so out of sorts in comparison to the bony, thinness of her arms and legs, the sunken skin of her cheeks and eyes. Dropping the improvised cup outside, it fell into a pile of refuse in the trash littered alley below.
Returning back to Sofia, the woman took a seat beside her on the cot, appearing uncomfortable and nervous by Sofia’s close presence. As the stranger made an awkward attempt to look at her, Sofia passed her a friendly smile, but she was too shy to make eye contact, and she quickly turned her head away.
“Your skin is so smooth and young. Are you from the Savior?” Sofia’s odd host asked of her with a hint of embarrassment.
Sofia rubbed her hand upon her own rosy cheek, finding it quite queer that the woman seemed so enamored by the tone of her flesh, not to mention that she had made a reference to a place known as Savior.
“Um, no,” she answered. “I’m actually from Labor.”
The woman took Sofia by the hand. Opening her palm, she revealed its smooth, pink surface. The woman’s deep, black skin contrasted heavily against Sofia’s fair tone.
“You don’t look like you’ve labored much,” she commented, comparing her own discolored, calluses to Sofia’s youthful tenderness.
“I’m sorry,” Sofia smiled. “I didn’t mean that I work hard. Labor is where my home is. That’s its name.”
“Oh, I see,” the woman said, turning her face away as if she was feeling ridiculed by her own comment.
“I do want to thank you for bringing me to your home, though. It’s very,” Sofia paused, “unique.”
“It is very well made, isn’t it?” The woman smiled as she looked around the ragged apartment. “It used to belong to a woman by the name of Sage many years ago that bore thirteen children here.”
“Wow. Really? That’s quite a lot of children.” Sofia said. “Where is she now?”
“She became barren,” the woman explained. “Eventually the Security found out and sent her to die on Red.”
“Is Red where the old people go? In Labor we called it Restful Haven.”
Seemingly taken aback by Sofia’s ignorance, the woman looked at her in a curious manner.
“Red is where the war is. Everyone, unless they die here first from an accident or something worse, ends up dying in the war.”
“So there’s a war being fought here, too?” Sofia asked with amazement.
“Here? No. On Red,” the woman corrected her.
Confused as to what exactly she was talking about, Sofia chose to ignore it. She was about to open her mouth to change the subject when the woman asked her, “How far along are you?”
It was another bewildering question, to which Sofia responded, “From home? Well, I never thought about it, but I guess a million…”
“Oh, no,” she interrupted with a nervous giggle. “I meant for your baby.”
“My baby? I don’t have a baby,” Sofia said, reacting to the women’s seemingly absurd line of questioning.
Rather perplexed in her expression, the woman placed her hand upon Sofia’s abdomen.
“They wouldn’t have brought you back here if you weren’t with child. This is where we bear the children and work the land for the wealthy. You must be carrying.”
Carrying. What a strange thing to say, Sofia thought. It was the same term used by the agents on the day she was sent to Basket Town.
Walking across the room, the woman left her side, picking up another rusted can from the corner and taking a sip from it. It seemed as if she did not want to talk anymore. She sat down upon the floor giving Sofia her back. But after a moment she said, “Thank you for what you’ve done for me.”
Sofia did not understand why the woman was giving thanks to her. Standing from the cot and walking across the creaking floor, Sofia stepped beside her and placed her hand upon the woman’s shoulder.
“I’m the one that should be thanking you,” Sofia said. “When all those women were surrounding me yesterday, I didn’t know what I was going…”
“They weren’t trying to hurt you,” the woman interrupted. “They only wanted you to heal them… and to raise their loved ones from the dead.”
A fearful churning of her stomach accompanied the terrible thoughts of Sofia’s mind that the woman sitting in front of her was insane. How to answer such a statement, she did not know. Healing the dead, she thought to herself, what in Labor does that mean?
After considering the trauma she would probably sustain if she were to jump out of the window to make an escape, she left off with the plan and asked, “Heal their dead? I’m not sure I understand. What do you mean heal their dead?”
“It’s all part of the change that’s coming. The day when He returns for us,” the woman said.
As the woman placed her hand upon her own abdomen, Sofia took a few steps back. It was quite obvious to her now, that the woman had left her side to be alone, to hide her tears.
“I was among the dead when you arrived here by the airship,” she confessed. “The presence of you and your mate brought me back. Many people believe that you two are part of the New Beginning.”
Straightening up the shirt collar of his new, black uniform, John was barefoot upon the cold, concrete floor of the military installation’s holding cell. Nervously limping back and forth, he knew that whatever training he was being forced into was certain to begin shortly, as the two high-ranking officials had ordered it to happen before they departed back to their home planet.
Upon his reception of the order from his superiors, the Base Commander had seemed quite pleased with their decision to place John in the Kill Core facility of the training compound. He wasted little time moving him through the process in order to get him started immediately.
Since his return to the tunnel system, retracing his steps back through the control room, John had not seen the light of the Savior for several hours. He had been escorted into the military’s training grounds where he received a new set of fatigues. Ever since that time, he had been held in the cell in which he currently found himself waiting.
The silence made the moment all the more anguishing to his soul, as he could do nothing but think. He thought about Sofia. He thought about their time in the forests outside Labor. He thought about the fact that she no longer existed. The image of her frail and petite person, fearfully looking into his eyes, pointing directly at him, as if she were accusing him of some misdeed, was seared upon his brain. It was ten fold worse than the intense burning in his legs from his continual movement, and the sharp stabbings at his side from his fractured ribs. Almost cathartic in nature, as the pain seemed justly deserved as a punishment for all the suffering he had caused, it kept him going. He needed to suffer, too.
The longer he was held, the more he thought. The more he thought, the stronger his anger grew towards the men that were the cause of her death. He was turning his fears into hatred. It helped to keep him warm.
The door to the cell suddenly opened, causing John to put an end to his pacing. Approached by a heavily armored, military agent, John stood in his place. Without saying a word, the man shoved him to the ground and walked out, leaving him alone once again.
Standing back upon his feet, John stared at the door, expecting that the agent would return again. But after several minutes of looking upon the flat aspect of the exit, he gave up waiting and returned back to his tormented sauntering.
It was not long before the door once again opened to the same robotic agent. After performing the identical action upon John, he left the room in the same manner. The game continued for the next several hours, with the violence by which the man
entered escalating with each encounter.
The final straw came when the agent entered in with a club in his hand. Raising it above his head, about to bring down a deadly blow, John rushed upon him, grabbing him by the legs, toppling him to the floor. Racking the wooden stick upon John’s back, the agent fought to regain his footing. Swinging a fist into his throat, John forced the agent to drop his club. Clenching his neck and gasping for air, the man crawled upon the floor retreating from the fight. With a heavy grasp of the chin of his helmet, John tore the man’s head backwards, ripping the head protector off, the chinstrap shearing away the man’s skin.
As the agent rolled over crawling upon his elbows and knees, John scurried towards the wooden baton that had fallen upon the floor less than a meter away. Wrapping it within his fist, he turned back upon his enemy with a hard-set determination to kill him.
His swing was intentional, and in the fullness of his strength he attacked. The shaft of the baton was about to make contact with the back of the agent’s head when John’s arm was stopped mid-flight as the dart of a taser gun bore into his back. A current of electricity pulsated throughout his body, freezing his muscles and dropping him to the ground.
The military personnel that entered the room stepped over their motionless victim, assisting their fellow agent to his feet and walking him out of the room. As the last soldier proceeded to make his exit, he pulled the cables from his taser letting them fall to the floor.
Tactile sensation was beginning to return back to John’s legs and arms. As he was sealed once again inside his cell, alone and sore, he gazed upon the reflective goggles of the last agent to leave the room, making eye contact as it were. The opportunity for revenge would come again… it was only a matter of time.
Sofia could still hardly believe the words that had entered her ears just a few days prior. To think that she was carrying a child inside of her was a miracle that even her own wild imagination could never have conceived. She had not started experiencing any noticeable changes with her body as of yet, and the more she thought on the idea of being pregnant, the more she concentrated on feeling the child inside of her, although nothing seemed to come of it.
She was now gowned in the cultural, colorful dress of the women of Basket Town, and fitted with a facial scarf to help cover her fair skin while they worked the fields under the Savior’s rays. She obeyed the request of her companion, Maryanne, the black-skinned woman, staying close by her side as they gathered fruit together, knowing that Maryanne was not only looking out for her best interest, but that she was a native to the town. Her experience made her a trusted resource.
It was difficult being out in the streets. Thronged at every corner by the women of the city, Sofia was much more comfortable in the fields, where there were fewer citizens, both living and dead. Although the work was laborious, and she was still the focus of attention wherever she went, Sofia found it much easier to acclimate to the eyes that were constantly upon her, rather than the hands that touched her.
The Security vehicles rolled along the dirt roads on the outskirts of the flatlands, kicking up their billowing tails of thick, brown dust as they made their circuits around the perimeter of the city and through the farmlands. For the most part, the agents seemed to know which women were untouchable and which ones were not, although Maryanne said the rule only applied to certain times of the year. According to her command, Sofia gave special attention to be sure to never make eye contact with any of them.
On a few occasions they were assigned to work the fields at the edge of the city, towards the rising Savior. The base that she and John had made their initial landing was still sitting lonely on the distant hilltop. Over its high wall, the tip of their air transporter was barely visible. But after a few days it was gone.
During the cool of the night, hidden within the thin, shanty walls of Maryanne’s abode, Sofia made every attempt to busy her mind, to keep it from wandering too deeply. She began learning the art of weaving, working with her hands in the dim flickering of the lamplight. The nighttime was the only time when no one else but Maryanne was present. Sofia missed John with a passion. Reminiscing of him and their adventures helped ease the pain of his absence. As the cool night’s breeze would often blow aside the tattered, cloth covering of the window, she would occasionally catch glimpses of the wishing stars… oh, how she hated them.
Due to the fact that her companion was not afforded the people skills that Sofia had obtained while living in Labor, the woman remained quiet and reserved during the beginning stages of their relationship. Shying away from discussing very many details about her own life, her likes and dislikes or anything else for that matter, Maryanne was a good listener, a characteristic of a friend that Sofia subconsciously needed to help her through the daily stresses of being separated from her love. But after a few days of accompaniment with Sofia, Maryanne seemed to feel a little more comfortable in her presence, speaking more openly, yet in a rather secretive manner.
One cool night, while sleeping as soundly as she possibly could under the circumstances, Sofia awoke to the soft, voiced whispers of her new companion.
“Sofia, I need to tell you something,” she said.
Sofia knew immediately by Maryanne’s tone of urgency that she had some news of great importance to tell her. Sitting up at the edge of the cot, she rubbed the blurriness from her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Maryanne?” she whispered.
Maryanne was hesitant at first, nervous and stuttering. Speaking to Sofia about the secretive details of John’s whereabouts, it was not long before she settled down, expressing her thoughts with more clarity. She had a contact somewhere within the Security that informed her that John was in lockdown in the military training center. Although she was not privy to any of the finer specifics of his purpose in being there, Maryanne was certain that he was being trained into something that would undoubtedly be incredibly taxing upon his spiritual well-being. In fact, according to her source, John was on schedule to be transferred to the inner facility of the training center within the week. That is the place where, she said, “men become monsters”.
Sofia’s emotions were a mix of joy and sorrow. She was thankful to know that her love was still alive, but her heart was still downtrodden by the painful words regarding his horrible situation. She could not bear the fact that she possessed the knowledge that somewhere, beyond the flatlands and over the horizon, John was suffering under the hands of the Security. Placing the deadly potentials and dangers awaiting him into the inner recesses of her mind, Sofia attempted to forget all of John’s difficulties, instead concentrating on the fact that they could one day be reunited. She knew John more intimately than any other person. He was strong in spirit, rugged in mind. And he would fight every effort of his captors to change him for the worse.
Sofia struggled to fall asleep after the news that Maryanne had brought her. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of hardship and happiness. She finally drifted off into a light rest a short time before the Savior was to make his presence known. Under Maryanne’s wishes, she was left alone for the rest of the morning, allowing her to obtain the rest that her body so desperately needed.
Chapter Thirty
It had been a heavy day of gathering and transferring of produce from the great fields of the flatlands. After returning to Maryanne’s home, Sofia, even after a half-day’s labor, was far too exhausted to work anymore with her hands. After sponge bathing her arms and legs behind the veil in the corner of the room, she climbed onto her cot and immediately fell into a deep sleep.
The soft whispers entering through the window on the opposing wall from where Sofia lay were like sheets of water on a stormy day, unsettling and too random to allow for a mind’s rest. As her eyes opened, she found herself staring at the ceiling, unsure at first of what it was that had caused her to suddenly awaken from such a dreamy state. Sitting up in bed, Sofia was about to call out to Maryanne when she realized that her companion’s bed was empty. She was
nowhere to be seen in the room.
The whispers from the window began to flow once again. As the initial fear of the unknown began to wane, Sofia’s curiosity was piqued. Throwing aside the thin, course sheet from off of her legs, she began to quietly make her way across the room.
At the midway point to the rag-covered opening in the wall, the creaking of the wood flooring beneath her feet became an immediate concern. Its sound would certainly give away the fact that she was awake. Choosing the safer route, her adventurous side stifled long ago by her terrible experiences, Sofia returned back to her cot, sitting down and waiting in the darkness for the strangers to leave.
The time was moving by at a sluggish pace. It seemed as if the long exchange of words would continue throughout the rest of the night. Just as Sofia was about to give-up the wait, the fading sounds of the strangers’ footsteps indicated that they were departing from each other. Hearing someone enter into the room downstairs, she quickly slipped back into the cot, drawing up the covers.
A vehicle from the streets outside, indicated in all likelihood by the familiar sound of its rumbling engine, a Security transporter, drove off into the distance just before Maryanne entered through the door. Quietly making her way across the room, she climbed into her bed without saying a word.
Considering that Maryanne hardly ever spoke with anyone in the community, as far as Sofia had seen, she assumed that the person driving off must have been the “contact” that Maryanne was getting her information from. As her companion seemed to fall fast asleep, Sofia did not attempt to press her on the subject of her encounter. It was, after all, none of her business.
It had been over a week since John had been able to procure any real sleep. Having been transferred to another cell somewhere on the training grounds several nights ago, there were rare occasions where he was able to nod off momentarily before being interrupted by the harsh words of the military personnel. Although his hearing seemed to be in tune to the sensual world, his vision seemed out of synch. Unusually appearing apparitions were becoming the norm. The walls were chronically in a slow state of movement, appearing to breathe, inhaling and exhaling around him. Every effort to close his eyes to regain his inner balance was met with a hurtful end from one of the soldiers waiting outside. No longer willing or able to fight, John gave into the demands of each man that entered the room, even apologizing to them whenever they pushed him to the ground or threatened him with harm.
The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey Page 23
