Ally

by C A Gleason

  To his surprise, people started jumping into the metal opening on their own. It was a peculiar thing to watch. People were there, with all the others, then after shuffling forward they disappeared.

  3. Onnin

  The line relentlessly decreased. Each took their turn to drop into the unknown. Onnin didn’t understand why everyone was going along so willingly. Until he realized he was doing the same thing by marching along.

  Everyone was afraid to get shot, probably—somehow—believing that whatever dwelt underground was safer than what was happening on the surface. They might be right.

  Hopefully the fall wasn’t killing them, and it wouldn’t kill him either, and he’d be able to get somewhere safe once below.

  Even though they were all going along willingly, there was still screaming by those who jumped. He didn’t hear it at first because he was farther away. Now he was uncomfortably nearer.

  The drop off must have been far enough for them to panic, but also, there was some sort of structure breaking their fall.

  A thrashing and tumbling sounded, like the people were falling down a long stairwell built at a steep angle, and it was covered in mud. It was all his imagination could picture.

  The inhabitants of Orthal walked forward as a machine, everyone practically in stride as they slogged through deep mud. Onnin was near the back of the group, one of the last being guided toward the uncertainty of the opening, its mystery tugging at his insides.

  Everyone accepted what was going to happen to them. Realizing he was doing the same as the rest, he forced himself to think straight.

  It occurred to him, he could probably make a break for it. The next few seconds would be his final opportunity. The men wouldn’t be ready if he decided to escape. They believed they controlled everyone.

  Not quite.

  They’d been impressed, intimidated, by Onnin’s height, but wait until they see him run.

  Except, again he thought of his parents. If his actions hurt them, he couldn’t live with himself.

  The armed men would have gotten the beating of their lives if his parents’ lives weren’t at stake. He was much bigger than them, no doubt stronger, and could take on more than one at a time. Plus, there was now a large hole to throw them into.

  But he was no longer inside his home where he was familiar, he was out in the open amongst others. If he made any sudden moves, they would no doubt shoot him. Not even Onnin could withstand a gunblast to the head.

  Eventually, all of the armed men aimed guns at him. Some up close. Or at a distance. They seemed to read his mind, what he was considering doing, and also understood how much of a threat he was. There was no one else left in line. He was the last.

  As Onnin looked down into the darkness of the hole, lightning flashes reflected off its shiny circumference in his peripheral vision, and he realized there were others who were killed. Before the people of Orthal were forced to march there. Too much blood near the rim.

  That was when he noticed the stench. It reeked so badly, he could practically see it. It smelled like a sewer flooded a graveyard.

  “In.”

  Onnin turned and stared down at him. “Are my parents down there?”

  The short man peered up at him, fear in his eyes. Onnin was a young man, but knew he sounded and looked like a grown man. He was also the biggest person he knew of in town.

  Other kids teased him that he was the biggest person on the planet. It must have been why all the men with guns were so wary.

  Still, the short man acted tough and pointed the pistol with menace. “In.”

  “Why won’t you answer me?”

  “I won’t say it again.”

  Onnin considered snatching the pistol away, grabbing his arm, and twisting until it snapped. Then he would shoot the others.

  Except he wasn’t familiar with guns. He knew about them but never fired one. Did you simply pull the trigger? How do you make a gun ready to fire?

  He really wasn’t ready for any of it, and if he didn’t do as he was told, he was sure the little man would shoot him soon.

  There were secrets below ground and Onnin wondered what they were, even if they were dangerous. Why did they want him and the rest of the people to be down there so badly?

  He wondered such things as he towered over those who aimed guns in a threatening manner, grown men he could kill with his bare hands if they weren’t armed.

  The rain splattered his shoulders and head, and suddenly there was a great gust of wind. All of them shielded their eyes. Did they not realize the openings they were giving him?

  Mom and dad could be down there though.

  After creeping forward, he sensed their impatience. They wanted him to jump in like the rest had.

  The metal rim was exposed but there was no rust. There was blackened residue and a tear at the far side. It looked like a seal was destroyed. He wondered if the damage was caused by an explosion.

  “The Dredge is your new home. Go ahead kid, so we can get out of here.”

  The Dredge? The place was named? Onnin was sure the short man would let his gun do the talking if he asked him one more question.

  He raised a foot over the blackness, feeling a tickle of dizziness in his stomach as he sensed the depth below; time seemed to slow down.

  The others had done it. They’d actively obliged to what was demanded of them. If they could survive, then he could too. And he had a better chance of surviving than anyone else because of his size and strength.

  Young in mind, grown in body. It’s how some described him behind his back. Especially those who were afraid of him.

  20 Years Later

  4. Royah

  Westo, the name of the town decided by its originators and based on the recollections of those who were oldest and could remember, was one of the first civilized towns. Established and built by the people who rose up from the dilapidated ruins of the war.

  Even though this was Home and not Earth, the name and its layout was a remembrance of humanity’s past; square wooden homes, all about the same height, except for those in power.

  A house for an overseer was sometimes twice as tall as a regular home and contained multiple floors. Imitations from Earth were common, but Home was far from where humans came from.

  No emerger has ever been to Earth. And ancestors who remember the colonists died a long time ago. How long ago humans came to be on Home and why, was a guess. Some thought 4,000 something years.

  The tech to explore space and settle on another planet must have been impressive. And also spurned imaginations. But the feats were more impressive to her than those who accomplished them.

  People were people, whether they lived on Home or Earth or in space somewhere. She understood them, especially men, all too well. It took a long time for the humans on Home to regain some of their humanity after the war.

  The stories of barbarism were often told to scare children into behaving, and although they happened a long time ago, those were the stories Royah believed. The ability to voyage into outer space happened many years after the first human beings.

  In the grand scheme of things, it was a very brief period of time, considering how old the universe was.

  Emergers were taught about all of it in school, unless they were an outlier, someone who didn’t live in a town, and for them school was practically a legend. But everyone learned about space travel. Otherwise, no one could know how they came to exist on this planet.

  Curiosity happened no matter where someone lived in the universe. Home was terraformed long before the war and some believed its people abandoned it. Royah suspected, over time, the original explorers of space forgot about Home. And the people who live here.

  Humanity, emergers, rose from its ruins, similar to humans on Earth changing from primitives to space travelers. No one even knew if there were any other humans left in the universe aside from those who walked this planet’s surface.

  Their ancestors died a long time ago, which supposedl
y made emergers special. But Royah didn’t believe they were special. There was a lot more going on here.

  Home was chosen for reasons she didn’t understand, to survive a disaster maybe, and may have been the idea from the beginning. Her reasoning was that life on other planets were supposedly symbiotic.

  Existence meant a reliance on a multitude of factors of the environment, including feeding on other life forms, which didn’t happen on Home.

  Well, nearly.

  There were rumors on the net involving cannibalism. Beyond the quadrants. Some said some became cannibals not out of necessity, but to learn to survive once the protein plants are gone. The thought of such barbarism made her shiver as she walked.

  Westo was thought of as futuristic. Especially by outliers who hardly appreciated what it offered, normalcy, because there were so many who were obsessed with collecting defunct tech. Electronics were no longer useful.

  The main tech of use that were leftover were solar radios, ones not destroyed by the war. Most towns maintained multiple radios. Better than the ones without any. Inhabited places without radios typically didn’t last long. No warning of who caught wind of it and raided.

  There were more batteries found than the equipment they even powered anyway. If batteries were undamaged, they usually were charged and people were constantly discovering equipment compatible with them like flashlights.

  Except lighting up the darkness was dangerous; a flashlight was proof of tech, and tech was desirable to practically anyone. Especially the desperate. Whatever tech was discovered, if it wasn’t being used, it could be sold or traded.

  Batteries were once believed to be rare until underground bunkers full of them were discovered. Then it was figured out that some batteries powered ancient guns and even more complicated weapons capable of firing explosives.

  Fortunately for the rest of Home, primitive emergers blew themselves up a long time ago. The dangerous weapons were now useless or destroyed. But no doubt, there were more destructive weapons out there somewhere, undiscovered. Except for grenades.

  Of all the ancient explosive weapons, grenades were still dug up by accident or on purpose. Their destructive power was valuable, so they were often sold instead of traded. Used to blow someone or something up. It was always a concern who might be buying them. Or selling.

  Even though batteries were of use when they powered something, and the war relics they once powered decayed enough for parentless children to crawl around in what was destroyed long ago, they retained value because of what they used to power.

  To lots of people, a symbol of power was practically viewed as power itself. Royah even heard of battles over useless items because of how they were useful years ago. It was human nature to descend into violence for unimportant reasons.

  For those who allowed themselves to devolve, usually meant their lives would end. Many emergers wanted peace, nothing more than what they already had: a sturdy home, a stable family environment, clothing on their back, a living.

  Hardly anybody wasted what they discovered. Many wore what was left over from the war, worn by the colonists, or found on the dead. There was far more leftover than people who were alive, so there was always plenty for everyone.

  Outliers often lived for battle, so they cobbled together tattered and damaged armor. It never looked right because it didn’t fit them. Probably didn’t function so well either.

  The armor was meant for the tall soldiers who fought during the war. Not everyone was patient enough to disassemble armor, and then reassemble it, crudely, as some did. Learned that it wasn’t effective to do so. Not for people their size.

  The only snug fits for regular sized emergers were the suits and helmets worn by the colonists before Home was breathable. The suits were rare, but Royah owned a set though. Her mom gave it to her.

  Since she could remember, there was talk of leaving Planet Home. They were the ones who struggled the most. Outliers dissatisfied with their lives. It was understandable. Struggle was normal and how much of it, depended on the individual.

  Envy was a common downfall, typically involving violence, and usually meant dealing with the deadly end of a gun. Overseers were typically the envy of every town because being in their position meant they were powerful, so they barely struggled at all.

  It was understood, they’d earned the job—or murdered the previous overseer and took his or her place—but no matter how they gained their footing, it was quite difficult to convey to those they led, about the struggle.

  Not while standing atop the nicest porch connected to the nicest house in town.

  Currently, leaving Home wasn’t possible but it didn’t prevent people from talking about it all the time. Especially over the net. And it certainly didn’t stop them from thinking about it to themselves.

  Day dreaming about what might be possible was normal. Especially since everyone’s ancestors originated from Earth. Or maybe somewhere between Earth and Home.

  No one knew anything for sure about those places, the space stations constructed as resting points between planet to planet, just the stories about them, no matter who claimed different. Everyone on Home was restricted by primitive tech, so it was impossible to know the truth.

  Ideas devoted to space travel was a waste of time. Even if the tech making it possible to leave a planet was discovered, by the time anyone around here figured it out, they’d all be skeletons.

  Old tech was complicated; many of its purposes remained a mystery, and much of it was dangerous. It wasn’t uncommon for tinkerers to be vaporized. A boom in the distance and nothing left but charred remains or absolutely nothing at all.

  Royah tried to remind her mom as often as possible, to her amusement. Mayah was a tinkerer too.

  There were collectors of defunct electronics who thought of the tech as mere trophies, remnants of humanity’s past, and thought it somehow gave them an advantage over their fellow emerger.

  Those who believed that never hesitated to exploit their perceived advantage to gain whatever it was they were truly after, which typically was guns. They were the one tech, the one invention that would probably last forever in one form or another.

  Guns would probably never go away no matter how they were perceived, or what was done to rid any world of them.

  Royah didn’t believe that because Home was littered with them, it was because no matter what happened, no matter how wonderful or dangerous life could be, the perception of using a gun to protect was ingrained deeply in human consciousness.

  The war and its aftermath were the proof. Deleting guns from existence seemed impossible. There was always someone who felt safer with one within reach.

  People will probably always be shackled to violence, because there’s always someone looking to take someone else’s things. A gun makes it possible or prevents it altogether. There was nothing to stop the mentality unless humans evolved into something new.

  And the likelihood of that happening was as likely as Royah becoming an astronaut.

  There were even those who thought of guns as something to be worshiped, but they were crazy. They didn’t understand that relying on tech, invented in another world, set them back to the primitive time of that world. Especially considering, machines didn’t even work anymore.

  The evolved, the people with a realistic point of view, like herself, embraced their base instincts knowing that to truly live, meant embracing each moment of every day.

  The day to day, no matter how painful or boring or astonishing, because so often the unpredictable road led to somewhere—

  “Look at those hips.”

  The decision not to be ruled by fear put her in danger. Gazing up from a dirt road spurning her imagination, her thoughts faded. A surge of adrenaline quickened her breathing.

  She hadn’t recognized the voice, but his tone was familiar. She needed to remember there were always eyes on her. But also that there was nothing she could really do about it.

  There were those who l
iked her, even cared about her and her well-being, who looked after her, but she was never worried about them. It was the corrupted men who disguised themselves among them, felt lust or worse for her, who she feared.

  Men like them didn’t belong on the streets of any town. Instead, they should be cast out with the rest of the outliers. But some of them figured out a way to remain long enough to commit their crimes. They certainly didn’t belong.

  Although it was dangerous to walk the streets at night, she wasn’t about to change the way she lived. Never out of fear. Never again.

  “I’m talking to you, beautiful.”

  They already encircled her. She wasn’t paying close enough attention to her surroundings. They’d probably been following her and keeping their distance, until they spotted an opportunity. They waited until they thought she was vulnerable.

  Even though she was armed, they approached.

  5. Onnin

  The flat often gave way to a rise. But he could handle any hill. Or a million of them in a row. The air was murky during the cold of night, but night was when he felt comfortable to walk.

  Glancing up at the night sky, he wondered when the clouds would clear away for the sun and he would feel its warmth. He liked the way clouds formed together into scenes of familiarity. The formations were brief.

  He found it curious how the puffy shapes could be lighter in color than the rest or light and dark at the same time. He often saw all kinds of shapes. Faces of people.

  Some formations were somehow beasts, ones he didn’t recognize because he’d never seen them. Curious. Mostly people and plants on Home. If stunted trees were included. And some people did call trees plants.

  Sometimes, clouds resembled monsters scary enough to frighten a child, even himself, if he were still young. Then they’d transform into other forms or back to normal. Their constant moving and shifting was as amusing as watching a fire.

  Lying by a fire was how he preferred to spend the night, but he didn’t get many chances. It always seemed like there was someone on his trail, waiting for a clue to his whereabouts, or wanting him dead for reasons he didn’t understand.