by Peter Okafor
“Why should I waste my time on a poor slum dweller?” Dope stated.
“Are you backing out then? Are you scared that Daddy isn’t here to protect you?” Runner taunted.
Dope stood up. “Fine,” he said. “Set him free.” He ordered and began to descend the stairs.
“Skittish!”
“Skittish!”
“Skittish!” Dope’s gang carried his name high with their voices.
Runner removed his black jacket and the hide belts that were crisscrossed over his chest. He dropped them on the ground and lifted his makeshift axe. His torso was bare, carrying rippled muscles from years of hardship. The image of a winged woman was tattooed on his back.
Dope stopped before him and pulled his shirt off too. A boy came towards him, carrying something that looked like Sense pills. If indeed it was a Sixth-Sense pill, it spelled trouble for Runner. Despite the pill being used to detoxify the poisonous air of the wasteland, its secondary use was to boost sensory organs, something that had gotten a lot of folks hooked on it.
Runner had used up all the Sense pills given to him by Rhiannon, so he prepared his mind that it wasn’t going to be a fair fight.
He glanced at Troy who was the only one cheering him but turned around too late that he didn’t see Dope charging towards him. He tried to counter as quick as his reflex could manage, but Dope picked a handful of sand and threw it into his eyes.
Runner fell on both knees and scratched his eyes. A hard blow came upon his head from the pipe Dope wielded, and he fell flat on the floor.
“Skittish, you cheat!” Runner heard Troy’s voice.
The itching sensation in his eyes began to fade. He opened them and saw Dope lunging with his metal pipe. Quickly, he rolled over, and Dope smashed it on the ground.
Runner trapped Dope’s feet between his legs and pulled back hard, sweeping the boy to fall with a loud thud. He pushed forward to climb upon his opponent but was met with a hard blow on his face. Something rang in his head. His sight went blurry for a moment. His lips broke, and he tasted the iron flavour of blood in his mouth.
The Sense pills must be working wonders. Dope sprang to his feet, full of energy. “Did you like that, little bitch?” he yelled angrily.
Runner tried to stand up, but Dope lunged with his foot and hit the boy hard to fall on the ground. Not satisfied, Dope picked his metal pipe, ready to unleash one final blow. He lifted it in the air, and just when it was about to descend, Runner leapt from the floor, his arms going around Dope’s waist, and down they both fell.
Runner sat on top of the boy. Dope tried to fend him off weakly, but Runner caught his fingers and broke the boy’s thumb, rendering his hands utterly useless. Now, he had free access to Dope’s face, and he unleashed blow upon blow until the face went bloody.
“Stop it, Runner, stop!” Troy tried to drag him away from Dope, but in a fit of rage, he pushed his friend away and continued.
“That’s enough, Runner!” he heard another voice, but this was not Troy’s.
Runner stopped and stood away from Dope. He turned around to see the many eyes fixed on him, but one especially made him feel so ashamed.
“Rhiannon,” he muttered.
Before any other word could leave his tongue, a convoy of military trucks lined up towards the gate. Rangers of Section 5 alighted in tens, wielding sophisticated guns and gears. These were the real rangers. Runner knew this and couldn’t help but think if his life was in danger.
“Are they here to arrest me?” he asked Rhiannon.
She gave him no answer, still disappointed that he had beaten Dope to an inch of his life.
The rangers lined up, and the chief enforcer walked through the twin line escorted by two bodyguards. That moment, Runner knew there was something else going on. The chief opened the door, and a blonde teenage girl stepped down from the vehicle followed closely by a blonde boy who seemed to look a bit like her.
She wore a white shirt and short black skirts; her hair was wavy, and her eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. Folks from Rat Town in their numbers gathered around the trucks, struggling to catch a glimpse of the girl, while a few uttered insults directed at the government.
The guards followed her. They guarded every single step she took like the last egg of a hungry man determined to keep it safe at any cost.
“What’s this madness, chief enforcer?” The girl removed her sunglasses and gazed at Runner.
He saw her eyes, crystal clear like the waters of an ocean.
“That’s Olivia Patterson,” Rhiannon whispered to him.
Runner was struck numb by her presence, contrary to what he had always said about sticking his knife into any of the supreme councillor’s family he came across. She looked different than the girl he had seen on the TV screen.
“Get him up!” the chief enforcer ordered.
Runner picked himself up and went to stand over Dope. He stretched out his right arm to help the boy up, but as Dope received his hand, he plunged a shiv deep at Runner’s side and blood burst with force.
Runner fell to the ground. Just as everything seemed to fall apart, he heard a loud blast. Half the rangers fell upon each other. The force pushed Olivia Patterson to fall upon him, and his blood stained her white shirt. Everything was in a haze. A large mass of smoke rose and hung in the air over MegaCityOne, urging everyone into a wild panic.
“Rhi…Rhiannon…” He couldn’t hear his own voice.
She was lying just across him, and she was not moving. Runner felt weak, and the last words he heard were Death Throe, and darkness followed quickly.
Chapter Six
With Friends Like This
“Hold it…hold it tight. Put pressure.”
The voice was faint and desperate. Runner opened his eyes. He could barely see a thing, only the shadows of people moving in the light. All he could hear was that same voice repeating the same words. At first, he thought he was dead and was in that place of abundant milk and honey Reverend Malachi had always referenced to give the poor folks hope in the church at Rat Town.
But if indeed it was paradise, then why did he feel a stabbing pain in his abdomen? Why did the whole place smell of blood and gangrene?
“Put more pressure.” The voice came again.
Runner turned to his right, and a sharp pain stung at his side. The vagueness began to fade. It felt like a veil had been lifted from his sight. He saw someone familiar on a table surrounded by a woman and two men. There was blood everywhere.
“Rhiannon!” Runner screamed and jumped off his bed, ignoring the pain.
He pushed through the woman and her help, grabbing his friend’s shoulder and shaking her. Rhiannon was as still as a log, her face pale and her garb soaked in red blood. One of the men grabbed Runner and pulled him back.
“Why is she not waking?” Runner’s face grew sullen as if he was going to cry, but tears would not fall.
“Help her,” he cried out. “Please, help her.”
The men handed him to two rangers from Section 5, and they dragged him out as he kicked and screamed. “Help her!”
Runner rammed his knee on one of the ranger’s groin and escaped the grasp of the other. He surged into the tent, so concentrated on his friend that he had failed to see that there were hundreds of slum dwellers writhing in pain on makeshift hospital beds.
He halted, masked in utter silence, and watched the nurse cover Rhiannon with a white cloth. He couldn’t feel anything. All his senses had gone numb. Blood trickled from his wound and soaked his white vest.
The rangers came back, pointing their stun guns at him.
“It is okay. Let him go. I will take care of him. Let him go,” a voice said, but Runner did not care to see who it was.
He was led to a bed, and he sat down, staring blankly, making no attempt to be aware of his surroundings. The next that came was a flash of light on his eyes.
“Pupil dilations, normal,” the voice said again.
Runner opened h
is mind to the world, and everything rushed in with an overwhelming force. The moans of patients in pain, the racket of folks arguing with the rangers, buzzing sounds of electric generators—all were like a jumble of memories invading his mind. He felt a sting at his side and looked down to see the nurse stitching his wounds.
“Hello,” she said while making her stitches. “I’m Dr. Lysander from the Citadel of Healing.”
Immediately, Runner recognized the name. Everyone knew Dr. Lysander headed the Citadel of Healing. Not that they cared anyway, but even so, she could not be denied the influential figure of being one of the councillors in the governmental hierarchy of MegaCityOne.
“What happened?” Runner asked with a husky voice.
“A bomb blast from MegaCityOne caused a chain reaction that got to Rat Town. The rebel, Death Throe, was responsible for it.”
Death Throe, the name sounded in Runner’s mind. He has always respected the rebel and saw him as a heroic figure to the dwellers of the ten slum colonies. Now, the name stirred anger in him. It made his tongue bitter like ash and his mind filled with hatred for all things.
Runner noticed that his right hand was tightening into a fist and the fear festering on Dr. Lysander’s face couldn’t be helped.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I understand.” Dr. Lysander held Runner’s hand and opened his palm. “She was your friend, and you hold every right to be angry.”
Runner pulled his hand forcefully away from her and stood from the bed. “Can I go now?”
Dr. Lysander rose to her feet, and her eyes met Runner’s gaze. Like all from the Citadel of Healing, she wore a white latex overall that stuck to her body like a skin, and upon it, a long flowing white coat—which indeed had been implemented by the citadel in memory of healers from the world before the nuclear radiation.
“Mother,” a girl called from a distance.
As she came further, the vagueness that masked her from afar disappeared and Runner saw her clearly. She was none other than Olivia Patterson, daughter of the supreme councillor. Runner’s jaws dropped when he made the connection.
His nurse had all long been the most powerful woman in MegaCityOne, a wife to the supreme councillor. Oh! How rudely he had spoken to her. But why was his head still attached to his neck? It would seem the queen bee of MegaCityOne was not all folks had imagined her to be.
The girl reached her mother, and they engaged in a long embrace. Following behind her was a blonde boy, dressed in a long black trench coat. He too shared a warm hug with the doctor.
“Who is he, Mum?” Olivia ran her eyes over Runner.
Typical, Runner thought. It was not so long ago that she reprimanded him for his fight with Dope just before the bomb went off, yet she had all but forgotten his face. He couldn’t believe he had spent half his life fantasizing over her, ignoring the best thing to have ever happened to him, which was Rhiannon.
Now she was dead, and his heart was full of regret. What would he say to Troy? Was the boy even alive?
“Olivia, meet Runner of Rat Town. He has been through a lot today.” Dr. Lysander gestured at Runner.
“Runner, meet my daughter, Olivia, and my son, Oliver.” She pointed at her daughter and son.
Oliver stepped forward, smiling, and gestured a handshake. Runner received it, and that moment, the boy didn’t seem like the arrogant sack of horse shit Runner had thought he was. Olivia remained at her mother’s side, but her eyes…her eyes held truths untold for the way they vividly focused on Runner.
Despite being the most privileged kids in MegaCityOne, Runner pitied them and found it hilarious at the same time. They had stepped into the slums comfortably with their philanthropic mother, ignorant of the fact that almost every slum dweller from Rat Town to Bug Town wanted to bury a makeshift axe in their head for just being who they are.
Runner grabbed his jacket from a table. “I will be going now, ma’am. I’ve got to find my friends and make sure they are alright.”
“Come here.” Dr. Lysander opened her arms for an embrace.
Runner felt reluctant to receive it. He hadn’t had a hug from an elderly figure since…well, not ever. It was already weird that Dr. Lysander had taken a sudden admiration for him. Now she wanted to give him a hug. He couldn’t tell if she was after something from him, but what could he possibly give her? One thing he knew for certain was that all the good people in the world are dead or had been hammered into insensitive beings by a harsh way of life.
“Come on, Runner. I won’t bite.” She urged.
He finally received her embrace but made sure it was brief.
“Go find your friends.” She turned her gaze to a room where corpses had been kept for a quick cremation. “I will make sure you get her ashes when they are done.”
Runner nodded and walked to the door. He stopped and turned around. “Thank you, Dr. Lysander.”
“Wait!” a voice came as Runner stepped through the door.
He paused and turned to see Oliver running towards him.
“You don’t mind if I tag along, do you?” the boy said, panting from the short distance he just ran. “I…I would like to see what Rat Town looks like.”
“Bad idea.” Runner countered.
Oliver would not turn away. He seemed intent on following Runner. Of course, it was odd that the son of the supreme councillor had come after him without his glorified guards from Section 5, but his safety was the least of Runner’s worries. He just didn’t want to lose that hatred of all the folks in the big city he had held on to for long. It was that hatred that had kept him going all this while. That dream that one day, the rebel, Death Throe, would bring them all to their knees.
Death Throe, the rebel, was all he could think of right now. He hated him more than anything. Not even Dope or Ishmael and his gang had been able to stir such hatred in him. Rhiannon’s death had set him on one path: vengeance.
“I’m sorry. You can’t come with me,” Runner spoke rudely and continued onwards.
Oliver followed. “The rangers of Section 5 have sealed every route to the slums, but I can show you a safe path you can use to get around.”
“Let me guess, only if you tag along.” Runner glanced at him. “Fine.”
Runner checked his wound. Dr. Lysander had done a great job. It felt like there was no injury there in the first place.
“Where are we going exactly?” Oliver asked.
“To find my friend, Troy Decker,” Runner answered as he walked.
Oliver was trailing behind and took quick strides to catch up. “How are you sure he is not…dead?”
Runner spared him a glance. “I’m sure all your life the amount of resources invested in your safety has made safety even boring. No one knows the slums better than Troy Decker. I have seen him survive a pit of shifting bricks that sinks faster than quicksand and even every radioactive storm he had encountered in the wastelands. I don’t think a bomb from a sick rebel will be enough to claim his life.”
“Wow,” Oliver exclaimed. “I have never been to the wasteland. Let alone see a storm. What does it feel like?”
Runner did not answer him.
They walked into Widow’s Street, a place known for its series of shanty malls and haggard shopkeepers. Beyond a half-broken glass, Runner saw boxes of freshly baked bread and no one around to keep watch. He was hungry, but even so, all he thought about was how to get food to his aunt’s kids and tell them that their guardian angel, Rhiannon, was dead.
Stealing was one of the worst crimes a man could commit, and yet it was the crime most frequently committed in Rat Town. Men lost their heads for that, yet most did not care. The way they put it: better to die at the gallows than to be snuffed out by starvation, but he did not share this ideal.
Despite the hunger, Runner walked past it.
“Hey, I know you are hungry. Take some. No one will know. I won’t tell, I promise.” Oliver stood in front of the shop.
Runner shook his head shyly. “No
, I don’t want to visit the gallows.”
Oliver went towards the glass. Carefully, he passed his hand through the broken glass and took two loaves.
“Here.” He gave one to Runner.
“You can’t just do that.” Runner grabbed both from him. He stepped into a hidden surveillance line of sight, and an alarm rang loudly.
They both turned to run. Two patrol trucks from Section 5 rode in front of them and blocked their path. The doors of the vehicles sprung open.
“Round them up.” A man commanded.
“He stole them, not me,” Oliver bellowed, pointing at Runner. He showed them his identity on an ambassador’s pass card.
“Forgive us,” the captain said. “Take the supreme councillor’s son back to the visiting camps.”
Runner watched as they escorted Oliver with utter respect to a car. He wanted to tell them the truth, but then again, it was his word against the councillor’s son. A ranger landed a hard blow on his head with a baton and forced him to the ground.
“Take him to the gallows.” The captain ordered.
Chapter Seven
Two Weeks in Limbo
For two weeks, his eyes saw darkness—a darkness that had almost rendered him blind—and all he had for company were mice. Creepy little things would not let him have a sound rest. Runner twisted on the cold floor, but there wasn’t enough space to stretch his legs. He folded both legs and clasped his arms around them.
At least, he got to eat three full meals a day. Not that they proved to be the best, but they filled his stomach. That was more than he could say for life in Rat Town. Even so, freedom has such feeling that makes a man want to fly.
He had spent most days trying to draw a mental picture of his mother and his father. That way, he kept his mind from wandering into the lair of insanity. Even as hard as he tried, he could not remember their faces and ended up picturing the faces of some random folks.
There was little a man could do in such incarceration. He could lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, but that would require a bit of illumination in the room.
