by Peter Okafor
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Copyright © 2018 by Peter Okafor
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This book is a work of FICTION. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book. The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Cover image from Shutterstock com.
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Liberation
By: Peter Okafor
ISBN: 978-1-64434-018-9
©PeterOkafor2018
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
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Chapter One
Runner of Rat Town
There were no clouds in the sky, nothing but a grey mass stretching to ends unknown. The last yellow sunshine was seen twenty years ago. He was not born then, but everyone knew the tales of those wonderful rays that would kiss a skin with great warmth.
Those days were memories to some and nothing but a myth to others like Runner. He did not care much for a large ball of fire. All he wanted was to join the well-paid guards of Section 5, and that was the reason he was standing before the first dead body he had seen since birth.
He stood motionless and squeezed his face, covering his nose with his hands to keep the obnoxious smell away. It was the body of an elderly woman half burnt by a fierce radioactive storm that swept beyond the domed comforts of MegaCityOne at an hour interval. A silver handgun sat on the palm of her right hand, and resting on her body was a dead baby with a bullet hole in his head. There wasn’t much investigation to the horrid scene as all connections seemed to be in place.
Runner felt a blunt pain in his heart. He knew that was very much a fate destined for half the poor folks that lived outside the protective dome of MegaCityOne.
His best friend, Troy Decker, hissed. “Come on, Runner. She suffered a better fate than any of us would hope.”
Runner tightened the belt that held his gears around his waist. It was hard to be brave when the entire world wanted a piece of him. It was even harder to survive a world where air and water could cost a man his life savings. No thanks to Reinhardt Reddit, the tyrant that left half the planet at the mercy of radiation.
He raised his hand and gazed at an old wristwatch that had all its silver coating worn out by time, but it still displayed time accurately.
“10:30 am. Oh my god!” He raised his gaze to the sky. “Oh my god! We have less than five minutes. Move, everyone, move.”
Dust grew in the air like fumes from an exhaust. He inhaled the air, the sour taste unwelcomed on his tongue. He curved his hands over his brow and looked further. In the distance, a large storm of dust was raging forward. Runner turned around to see how many were behind. He waved his hand and shouted at the top of his voice, signaling a crowd of wayfarers to hasten.
Troy grasped an end of his torn beige jacket. “We’ve gotta go, man. We-got-to-go.” He stressed the last words.
“Where is the cargo?” Runner asked, but Troy gave no answer.
Runner seized him by the neck of his jacket. “Troy, where is the cargo?”
“I don’t know…I kinda left it behind. You know, the storm and all that shit made me panic.” Troy looked woeful.
“What do you mean you left it behind? That’s our ticket to never going hungry again, our ticket to Section 5 and then to the comforts of MegaCityOne—the paradise in this damned wasteland. You know there are people in that truck. Human beings, Troy…human beings.”
Runner took another look at the raging storm. It was like the waves of a restless sea, one of those in the tales of Old Max—his colony’s mad mechanic. The old man had told him once that the storms were poisonous radiation that could melt a skin in seconds. He didn’t know how true that was, but the melting part of the story—that was definitely certain.
“Give me your cloak.” He stretched his arm towards Troy.
Troy pulled his long black cloak and handed it to Runner. “What do you want with it?”
“Just get the others to safety.” Runner threw the cloak on and made sure no part of his body was exposed.
He used a dusty turban to wrap his head and then put on dark goggles to protect his vivid brown eyes.
“Are you crazy, Runner? I know for certain you don’t have any more stash of Sense pills left. You won’t last a heartbeat out there,” Troy spoke sternly.
“Just go. I will see you in five.”
Runner paused for a moment and inhaled deeply. He ran into the growing storm of hot fog and dust. His feet sank into scattered scraps of bricks and metals as he struggled to push forward. The heat was becoming unbearable, and it stung his flesh with a burning sensation. His goggles protected his eyes, but he could barely see the cargo truck that was a few steps away from him.
He managed through the sinking scraps and reached the window of the truck. Everything was cov
ered by dust. He used his hand to wipe the dust off the window and peeped. There were men, women, and children clustered together at one end, awaiting nature’s wrath. Runner slammed his fist on the window, and a man wounded it down.
“What happened?”
“We can’t get our truck to move. We are all going to die here!” the man screamed in confusion.
“Calm down.” Runner urged. “How many do you carry?”
“Roughly forty,” the man answered hysterically.
“Okay…okay.” Runner opened the door and pulled the man down from the truck. “You see that storm in the distance?”
The man nodded.
“It will be here in two minutes. Gather everyone together. We can make it to the city gate before that storm hits us. Can you do that?”
The man nodded again and turned around, calling everyone out. They were all a bunch of the big city inhabitants, who—for some reason—had gone out of the city. They knew nothing of life outside the comforts of MegaCityOne. Well, it seemed nature had a lesson to teach.
Runner had survived by guiding passengers through the ruins of the barren waste beyond his home. It paid enough to keep him fed. Before, he never did care. Wealthy folks meant big bucks for him, and that was all that really mattered. But staring at their faces, his heart would never free him from torment if he abandoned them to die.
“Move! Move!” Runner bellowed.
The passengers rushed down the vehicles. They moved like a herd in a stampede, running towards the towering gate of the city. Runner felt the discomfort on his skin grow intense. The storm would hit them soon. He could feel it. He needed to push them to press forward with haste, or they will all die horrible deaths.
With each stride, the gates of MegaCityOne grew closer. Troy had already made it into the city with a few others that had left earlier, and he beckoned at Runner to move faster.
A loud thud sounded. Runner stopped and turned quickly to see an elderly man who had stumbled into a pile of rubble. The poor man’s right foot was caught in blocks of broken concrete. That moment, Runner’s mind was conflicted. He had two choices: help the man and get obliterated or continue onwards to the safety of the domed city.
In a quick decision, he took a step forward. Runner leaned towards him and stretched his hand to reach for the man. The storm was mere inches away.
“Give me your hand,” Runner yelled.
The words had barely left his mouth when he found himself dragged backwards by an unknown person.
“Let him go, Runner. You can’t help him.” He heard Troy’s voice.
Troy pulled him through the gate. The storm engulfed the man, melting his flesh quickly into flakes of red-hot ash. The enormous metal gate slammed shut to prevent the storm from passing through.
Runner sank to the ground on both knees and hung his head in disappointment. People die all the time—he knew that—and the fact that mortality rates have really surged was not a fictional account. For some reason, the death of the man seemed to weigh heavy on his heart.
A hand came upon his shoulder. “I don’t understand why you feel this need to save everyone in trouble. It is not your fault that a man cannot walk outside the dome without his gas mask. It is not your fault that the skies can only manage acid rains. These folks knew the cost of surviving in this world before they set out.”
“Perhaps they shouldn’t have.” Runner stood to his feet. “A man risks his life on promises of better days for what? To ensure that his children endure a life of shit and piss? Look around you, Troy. Things can never get better than this. A man would have a better time choosing to ingest poison than living in this sewer pit we call home.”
Troy put his arm over Runner’s shoulder. “It is the life we find ourselves in, my friend. Come, let’s go get our pay from the chief enforcer.”
Finally, something good that could come out of all the despair he had endured. That pay was the light at the end of a tunnel. He could literally hear his rumbling stomach, how deeply it cried for sustenance.
Runner trailed behind his friend as they ascended the stairs of a towering outpost that overlooked the gates of Rat Town. The slum town was his home and one among ten colonies that had become the slums of MegaCityOne. The lingering smile on Troy’s face only proved one thing to be true—the mere thought of a full belly could make a slum dweller happy for weeks. But truth be told, Troy wasn’t the only one that bore that joy. Runner was no different; he was only good at concealing his enthusiasm.
“Guys, guys, guyssss…” a voice called from behind.
Runner missed a step and almost stumbled as he heard that voice. In the entirety of Rat Town and even the MegaCityOne itself, only one person made him so tense—Dope “Skittish” Davies. Nothing good ever came from associating with Dope, literally. He was an only child to the chief enforcer, an ideal role model to any aspiring psychopath.
“Here we go,” Troy muttered without turning to look behind.
Runner turned around to face Dope. “What do you want, Skittish?” He had said that, having a good idea what was about to come.
“My father asked me to take care of…whatever it is he asked of you,” Dope said, waving his arm incessantly.
Unlike Runner who was of average height and lean build, Dope was a short, burly boy, thickly muscular with powerful shoulders that could intimidate anyone. But Runner knew within all that sinew was a pathetic excuse for a boy who found pleasure in mockery and guile.
“Where is the cargo?” Dope asked, looking around.
Runner knew this was coming. He grimaced at the thought of something far worse. “We…” He glanced at Troy. “I didn’t come with the cargo. I ran into a bit of a situation, and I chose to secure the passengers first.”
“Oooh!” Dope raised his gaze to the sky putting his hands on his waist. “You’re so not getting paid today.”
Chapter Two
Fight or Flight
“Damn you, Dope!”
Runner surged forward with both hands curled into a fist.
Troy got to him quickly. He threw his arms around Runner’s torso to hold him back. Good thing he did. Three boys and a girl descended the stairs of the outpost and stood behind Dope. They bore fierce expressions and were all dressed in the black military garb of Section 5.
“Calm down, Runner,” Troy whispered to him. “Or we would both leave here with one eye and empty pockets.”
Dope’s strength was the tons of hungry boys and girls who followed him around like the betas of a dog pack. He had bought their allegiances by securing a place for them amongst the well-paid guards of Section 5.
For any inhabitant of the slums, a job at Section 5 was reason enough to sell one’s loyalty. It wasn’t just about the pay, but the constant exploration of the wastelands provided opportunities to loot copper and other valuable scrap metals.
There was no need to press further. Runner’s effort had been stretched thin chasing the dream that was Section 5. Now, as he stood before Dope’s gang, he knew the only thing to do was to retreat with any little dignity he had left. Retreating meant another night spent twisting and turning on his hard bed and listening to the rumbling cries of his stomach.
His hunger he could manage, but how was he going to endure the cries of the two kids that had made him an underage guardian? They had been left to him by his deceased aunt. Desperate for a hot night meal, she had gone into the government’s reserved hunting ground for a buck, but instead took a bullet from the guards. Her burden was now his, and as he lingered before Dope, those thoughts couldn’t have hurt any worse.
Runner’s fist trembled as he stared angrily at Dope. The best course of action was to turn around and leave. Dope would see it as a weakness and jump on every opportunity to cause him misery.
Dope raised his right hand. “Is this what you want?” He opened his palm and set loose tens of credit-chips to fall at his feet.
All that money falling to the ground, it made Runner’s stomach churn at Dope’s fo
lly. He wanted the credits. They were his deserved pay for the day. But a gang of teenage boys and girls was the only thing keeping him from tearing Dope apart. Even if, somehow, he managed to get through them, Dope’s dad was the chief enforcer of Section 5. The man would have the guards hang and cane him till his flesh peeled off.
“Come on, Runner.” Troy pulled one end of his jacket to draw him back. “Let’s go pick some scrap metal and sell to Old Max. We could at least get five credits for that, enough for two meals.”
Troy and Runner turned away from Dope and began to walk away.
“Are you going to cry, Runner? Are you going to cry for Mommy and Daddy? Oh! I forgot. They have been rotting somewhere in the wastelands for years.”
Dope burst into a loud laughter, expecting his gang to join, but it seemed they didn’t share his enthusiasm and left him to an embarrassing lonely laughter.
Runner tensed and tried to turn, but Troy grabbed his arm. “He is not worth your time. Leave him to his foolishness.”
Troy was not one of the smartest or brightest boys in Rat Town, but he was the best soul Runner has ever known. He was kind and easy going, with a slow reaction to anger and his gentle blue eyes held his attributes in keen.
Both boys made their way towards the gates. In the distance, a large shadow was growing. Runner turned around, and despite having seen it many times, it still managed to amaze him every time. The shadow was cast by the stark walls of the big city, MegaCityOne. A bright artificial glowing light that had replaced the sun, slowly dimmed to give way to a silvery light, a perfect replica of the moon’s beam.
He had never seen the sun or moon, nor basked beneath their glorious beams. But he wished it every day, more than he wished for improved living conditions in Rat Town, his home.
For a moment, he stood still and imagined how life in the MegaCityOne would be like. He wished himself in the shoes of one of its wealthy residents or a son of an elite government official. Those folks had everything despite the limited resources available to mankind growing thinner by the day.
