Ally

by C A Gleason

  And he wanted it all for himself and his men. And it was now under his control.

  Initially, Bloomfeld prevented the crimes as he claimed he would. By not allowing anyone to own a gun in town except for his deputies. They were the only ones who could legally remain armed, but before long townsfolk began to break his gun law.

  Breaking the law became necessary to protect themselves from random outliers who cruised into town for a few days or longer, often friends with the overseer, or those he was familiar with.

  Under Bloomfeld’s leadership, some crimes even worsened, like robberies, because people had handed over their guns under the law. Without guns, no one stood a chance against determined men like armed outliers.

  The victims expected the overseer to protect them, but his agenda didn’t involve solving crimes during one of his fake investigations. It was to waste time before someone else—someone innocent—was blamed, jailed, forced out of town, or made to disappear altogether.

  Likely murdered in some cases.

  The tyrannical overseer was essentially holding the town of Easto hostage, having convinced its citizens that they needed him to stay in power. And he took whatever he wanted with the promise of protection, falsely, by his deputies.

  There were far too many deputies to count, and often a gunfight reduced the number, but each one seemed more harsh than the next. They were trying to outdo one another in terms of how much goods and currency they could steal.

  They said it was taxes but it was nothing but thievery.

  The overseer sent his deputies to demand currency from families for “protecting” them. The townsfolk can’t fight back because the deputies and the overseer are the only ones with guns. Except for the lawbreakers who are jailed or shot for violating the law.

  The deputies sleep in shifts, so they are constantly patrolling the streets. Protecting the town, but also “acquiring” whatever they could get away with.

  Yohiro knew for a fact that the deputies took more than the overseer asked them to, because it wasn’t consistent. How much they demanded changed all the time and were likely keeping the overage for themselves.

  It was another example of how corrupt the overseer’s leadership was. No doubt he knew about it but did nothing.

  Yohiro and his father spoke of it among themselves, quietly, and when they were sure they were alone. Like after the store closed for the day.

  Bloomfeld was overseer a few years, but in the short amount of time he’d figuratively torn down what Easto represented; a new place with fertile ground for success, attracting young, motivated, and hard-working people. Like his father.

  Now those same people are old, broken-down, and defeated. Unable to defend themselves.

  The promise of Easto has devolved into crime-filled streets because of the overseer and the outliers he’d deputized.

  He’d mutilated the town to become the moneymaker he desired, and because of his control over the currency, it is a far worse place for its citizens to live than any other time during its history. At least before Bloomfeld, everyone could defend themselves.

  There was a lot of currency here, far more than other towns, but what differentiated Easto from other places was almost all of the currency had been collected. Almost was the key word. The title of overseer was just a front.

  Bloomfeld was here to get richer and once he possessed as much currency as he wanted, once he bled Easto dry to his satisfaction, he would likely move on and do the same to another town.

  Living in Easto was a twisted kind of frustration these days. Difficult for anyone to speak their mind or even fight back, because the deputies openly carried guns in town.

  There were more guns than Bloomfeld or his deputies were aware of, hidden by townsfolk in rebellion, to protect themselves if and when they absolutely needed to. But many remained hidden.

  The real problem was other townsfolk were encouraged—and even incentivized—to inform on the ones who hid the guns or were suspected of hiding them. Because of that, many conformed to Bloomfeld’s leadership even deeper.

  They showed how weak-willed they were by failing their neighbor, but an additional consequence was hardly anyone else was willing to risk hiding guns who weren’t doing it already. Those who did, weren’t able to keep the secret long.

  And the incentive for those who informed on the others was minimal. Receiving a bonus which consisted of not having to pay as much taxes for a week was all.

  What also angered Yohiro was much of the known currency was kept in the bank, encouraged by Bloomfeld of course.

  Keeping currency in a bank wasn’t a negative, but Bloomfeld promptly purchased the bank upon being elected. By using the currency stored there as a loan.

  And even though it was fact and clearly corrupt, people still went along. Storing what minimal amount of wealth was in their possession. Yohiro couldn’t believe it.

  He could not understand why they would have confidence in the overseer, considering the rumors and suspicions and facts about his corrosive behavior.

  About a year ago, there was a robbery. Half the currency was stolen from the bank. All of it likely would have been taken if it were up to the outlier robbers, but it was too heavy for them. It was the only reason every bill wasn’t taken.

  Bloomfeld had probably been making a move. He was surely behind the crime. But something, or someone, changed his mind.

  The banker, Oliver—who was also assigned by Bloomfeld after the one he replaced was murdered under mysterious circumstances—couldn’t identify the suspects because of their helmet covered faces.

  Oliver accepted deposits but also took a percentage for doing so. He was in constant business because he was the only business in town.

  Bloomfeld had declared: “One town, one bank. It’s the law.”

  Yeah. His law.

  To Yohiro’s further bewilderment, and confirming his belief, Oliver the banker was also controlled by Bloomfeld; Oliver demanded a bigger percentage from those who stored their currency in the bank.

  Oliver claimed Bloomfeld raised his taxes too, like everyone else, because of his position. But who was he trying to fool?

  Oliver was in the overseer’s back pocket just like everyone else who pretended to be in charge of this town. Predecessors were murdered, run off, or they disappeared with some made up story about them packing up and moving further east.

  Yohiro didn’t say in front of his father, Ito was a true citizen of this town and also considered Easto his home, but he never understood why others didn’t pack up and leave.

  It must have been plain old complacency. Once people settled, wherever they decided, that seemed to be it. The idea of leaving and starting over somewhere else must have been unappealing. Too much work and they were too lazy.

  The overseer proclaimed no guns were allowed in Easto, yet there were plenty of guns handled outside of town. Out there, anyone could own one if they wanted. Yet the townsfolk of Easto remained within town limits, abiding by the gun law.

  People wanted to feel protected. But feelings weren’t always reality. Protection was an illusion. For some, it was enough.

  Not for Yohiro. He didn’t feel protected. He was biding his time.

  For what though?

  He wasn’t quite sure. But he knew it was more than what Easto could offer. His loyalty to his father was the only thing keeping him there. Even while understanding how dangerous it was outside town.

  Outliers were constantly on the lookout for anyone who was vulnerable or had anything worth stealing.

  Yohiro understood the appeal of the veil of protection the overseer offered, it was easier, but Yohiro wasn’t a conformer.

  His father was a smart man, but Ito also decided to stay and live under corrupt leadership, so in a way he was as brainwashed as everyone else.

  Yohiro would never be so honest with him, and there was nothing he could do about it, but someday there might be.

  What he was sure of was that Bloomfeld was eroding th
e potential of the citizens of the town, even affecting his own father, and it made him angry enough to do something about it. To act. To change how things were.

  Squatting down, he swept up the pile of dirt and dust into the dustpan, appreciating the satisfaction of the labor, noticing the difference in cleanliness on the floor.

  Other than Ito, no one in his father’s store noticed how hard he worked to maintain spotlessness. In fact, none of them seemed to notice him at all.

  12. Royah

  It had been chilly outside, but she’d hardly noticed. Adrenaline.

  Once indoors, she realized how chilled she actually was, how preoccupied she’d been by the shock of killing the men.

  Royah sat down near the stove. Remembering made her tremble, but she disguised it as being chilled, which she was.

  Mentally recounting what transpired whether she wanted to or not, she was relieved to have prevented those vicious outliers from ever committing a crime against anyone again.

  For some reason, the small house didn’t feel like home anymore. It was difficult to understand because it felt that way her whole life. Especially when she was a little girl. Up until now.

  The house was the same of course. Dark wood built from stunted trees that had a charred and burnt look.

  Many tools and everyday items were left over from the war. Those who knew where to find the old relics could afford to live in a house as nice and sturdy as theirs.

  But that wasn’t why they lived here.

  All the tables and chairs were shaped and crafted and put together by her mom. They were as impressive as any piece of furniture Royah had ever seen.

  Mayah was one of the best carpenters in town. The reason they lived in one of the nicest houses in Westo was because Mayah had built it. Alongside Royah’s dad, when he was alive.

  They built the shop out back too and it was filled with tools hanging off the walls from hooks she’d designed; tools she collected, discovered, paid or traded for, with the intent to craft whatever she wanted.

  The idea of walking the planet felt more familiar to Royah now than the house she grew up in. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was her age and how all people felt once they reached a certain maturity.

  Perhaps it was because of what her mom was about to tell her, and Royah could sense deep down what she was going to say.

  Impossible to know until she told her, but something clearly troubled Mayah. Royah wondered what it was and waited. She wanted to ask questions. She also wanted to put her at ease, but patience was a trait she was forced to learn.

  Atop the stove was a pot and what boiled inside it made her grimace. Mayah mirrored Royah’s reaction with a face, making her laugh, and ladled the hot soup—made from protein plant and bits of leaves for flavor—into an old bowl. One portion for Royah, one for herself.

  Mayah handed her the bowl. “It’s good for you.”

  Royah’s grimace remained. “How do you know?”

  “Look how big and healthy you are?”

  “Please don’t call me big,” Royah took a tiny sip. “Or healthy.”

  Mayah threw her head back and laughed. Then she slurped a large mouthful. “I know it’s awful,” she said, smacking her lips, “but awfully tasty.”

  Royah looked at her mom over the bowl. “You always say that. It doesn’t really make any sense.”

  “Or does it? Drink.”

  “I am.”

  Royah sipped the soup and swallowed down nausea. Once again, she had to consume the same foul tasting protein plant. But the bowl was warming her the longer she held it between her hands, which was nice.

  She took another sip. An even bigger one this time with the intent to finish as soon as possible, even though her stomach felt differently and wanted her to savor it while rumbling with more hunger.

  “See?” Mayah said, as if Royah would suddenly like the taste of protein plants even though she didn’t for as long as she could remember. “Not so bad.”

  Royah cracked a smile, noticing how tired her mom looked. She always looked old to her, she recalled. But Royah never told her of course. She knew her age and wrinkles were from what she’d been through as a younger woman.

  The stress from how hard her life was before Westo. Back when she was struggling to figure out who she was as a person.

  Too many days of worrying after her husband passed away. Not knowing what the next best decision for her and her daughter would be. All of it was certainly a contributor to her stress in the last decade.

  Mayah felt insecure about being a mom—she’d told Royah so—and wanted to be the best parent possible. She was well aware, Royah’s life was different without her dad in it. Even if true, she needn’t have worried.

  Mayah was a wonderful mother and did her best to be there for Royah in any way possible while she was growing up.

  “So? About this secret.”

  Mayah hesitated. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I was going to go myself. Except I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “You were going to disappear from my life?”

  “After what you went through . . .” She set down the empty bowl and shook her hands at the ceiling.

  “Really, I’m fine.”

  She calmly folded her hands over her grubby coveralls. “You don’t belong here.”

  Somehow her mom sensed how she was feeling. For some reason it made Royah want to deny it even more. “What do you mean?”

  “In Westo. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Of course I belong.”

  “Not right now. Maybe sometime in the future. But these days?” She shook her head.

  Royah suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. But she held them back. She was confused, even though she knew it was true. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “I don’t want you to go anywhere. But I want what’s best for you…and living here isn’t best.”

  “Don’t you think I can decide for myself? I’m a grown woman.”

  “I know you are, but no matter how old someone is, sometimes their parent knows what’s best for them.”

  Royah marched to the other side of the room angrily, staring at the curtains, noticing the sound of raindrops sprinkling the roof. Before turning back.

  “What’s this all about? You’ve never suggested I leave before.”

  “There’s been a discovery.” Mayah stood.

  Royah almost laughed. “There’s always a discovery.”

  “This time it’s different. It’s important. And Fred found it.”

  “Fred’s always finding something he considers important.”

  “This time it’s true.”

  Fred was one of the oldest men in Westo. He’d been over as a dinner guest a handful of times since Royah’s dad died.

  Fred’s wife died a few years before then, also killed by outliers, but his wife was abducted. Terrible things were done to Fred’s wife before she was killed. Royah asked what happened, but Mayah wouldn’t tell her.

  Fred understood what Mayah was going through. Plus they were friends from before. Losing their loved ones made their friendship even stronger. Fred treated Mayah like a younger sister and periodically checked in on her.

  “What did he find?”

  “He gave it to me because he trusts me and he’s too old to go off and…I told him I would handle it.”

  “You’re being vague.”

  “Well,” Mayah laughed, “the thing is I don’t rightly know. Not exactly.”

  “Then how do you know it’s important? Is it valuable?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s related to the old world. Home, before the war.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. It’s a rumor, essentially. But I want you to go find out about it.”

  Royah was never more confused. “What do you mean, rumor?”

  Her mom stared at her as she’d done her whole life, as if she knew Royah better than she knew herself.

  “Me go? I don’t even know
what we’re talking about. What if it’s dangerous? Wherever it is.”

  “I suspect it will be. You always talked about being an explorer growing up.”

  “I was a little girl. I’ve always meant to be, but I always wanted to be ready.”

  “I don’t think anyone is ever ready. It’s far too dangerous here. Westo is getting worse every day. You’re far too beautiful for this town. Your dad always worried before . . .”

  Royah held up her hand. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want her mom to even mention what happened. She didn’t know how her dad died exactly, but it was violent, and it was clear Mayah was afraid for her life too.

  Still, doing what she was asking needed more explanation. And at least some planning.

  “This is ridiculous. Everywhere is dangerous. Listen to the net.”

  “Even more reason for you to leave. Find your own way. Make your own life. Everywhere can’t be like it is here.” Mayah seemed to change her mind about what she was about to say but then said it anyway. “Too many…untrustworthy men.”

  13. Onnin

  When he opened his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised. The clouds dumped all of their rain, cried all of their tears, as his mother would say, and disappeared completely.

  The sky opened up to reveal its stars, which meant he slept long enough for the storm to blow over. Finally, a decent amount of sleep. He went almost a week without sleep. He dreamt about the terrible place again, but it was worth it to get rest.

  He wasn’t sure why he still dreamed about being there. It didn’t scare him anymore while awake. It was more of an annoyance.

  The nightmares began shortly after the ordeal. When he was still traumatized by it. But his feelings of being affected didn’t last long after a nightmare. Ever since escaping the terrible place, he was stronger. Mentally and physically.

  But the dream was always realistic, and just like when it happened in real life, he couldn’t control what was happening to him. It felt like he was living it all over again. He often thought the reason was, there was something of greater meaning he’d yet to figure out.