Ehoti shrugged, also bewildered at the merry festivities
they heard. “A celebration of some kind, no doubt. Perhaps a birthing party?[1]
Gerate shook his head. “Whatever it is, it will not stop us
now. We’ve come too far to be stopped by a birthing party. But listen!”
The rebels strained their ears, making out the voice of a
little girl that was begging for more drink. She giggled as something swept her
off her feet – probably her father or mother, giving her a warm embrace. Almost
like one of the rebels might do to one of their own family.
Ehoti shook his head. “We need to do this quickly – I’m
already sick at the thought of it.”
“What? The partiers, or the thought of killing them?” Desidu
checked his magazine load again, procrastinating.
The guard sighed, wiping his forehead with the corner of his
jacket. “Both. The man celebrating this party is probably the greatest source
of evil on the entire planet. If anyone should die, it would be he.” He paused
as the little girl squealed again, prompting a chorus of laughter from the
merry-makers.
“But who appointed us as judges over the land? Assassinating
the dictator might be as wrong as him killing us! What if we have fallen into
the ways of darkness, through our pursuit of light-“
“What if, what if, what if!” Gerate glared at Ehoti. “This
is hard enough without you adding guilt to our load! We all know that under
normal circumstances, we would all agree to the morality of such an act! It is
simply the gravity of such a decision that makes us falter at the doorstep!” He
tightened his grip on the weapon, a shaking finger resting on the cold steel trigger.
“Let’s get this over with.”
*****
Just
as the waiter handed the glass to the little girl, a loud crack split the air,
followed by a shout. All eyes turned to the waiter, who looked blankly at all
those around him with an expression of fear. The glass fell to the ground,
shattering on the hard surface. Slowly, he sank to the ground, laying to rest
at the feet of the dictator.
All
was silent for a moment, everyone too stunned to make a move. The waiter had
been shot in the back – a tell-tale circle of red stained his white uniform.
Crying, the little girl ran from the dead man to her father, hugging him
tightly and looking apprehensively toward the three men that emerged from the
curtain.
Gerate
felt all last remnants of hate leave him as he tried to avert the gaze of that
little girl. Were they men of hate and vileness themselves? Killing men, and
even entire families? Could they-
“NO!”
He could not bear to take another glance, another look into those pleading
eyes. Even the sight of the horrified father sickened him, wrenching his
stomach. Gasping, he pulled the lever on the side, releasing the safety
mechanism. It would all be over in just a second…
Ehoti
almost choked as he aimed for the dictator, pulling the trigger with a finger
that shook violently. His conscience told him no. His entire being told him no.
Everything that was within him screamed in opposition, reminding him that the
life he possessed had not been given because of his love for He who gave it.
The rebel shuddered as the man fell over, hitting his head against the
refreshment table.
Desidu
felt his heart race as his finger tightened on the trigger, sending a spray of
bullets into the midst of the party. Almost crying, he swore to himself that
the little girl would not die by any bullet of his, purposely keeping his line
of fire away from her. Tears blinded his eyes, forcing him to shoot randomly at
the assemblage of people.
He
was furious with himself, dabbing violently at his eyes with the corner of his
jacket. What kind of monster had he become? Why did his convictions not stop
him from the evil he was committing? The scream of a dying man jolted him from
his thoughts, bringing him back to the horrific present. And then, too late, he
realized where he had been shooting in his moments of blindness.
“NO!”
The rebel fell to his knees, crying without control. “I didn’t see her move
until it was too late!”
Maybe
Inusha was right, Ehoti thought to himself as the last man fell to the ground
on top of the heap, slain by one of his own shots. We are murderers – murderers
who do not care. Murderers who excuse their wicked crime, believing they are in
the right.
The
sight was unbearable to his eyes, forcing him to turn the other direction. Was
he becoming soft, a wretched excuse for a gritty hulk? Or could it be that they
had the wrong definition of strong, even of right and wrong? He forced his
tears away and turned back to the gruesome spectacle.
Gerate
had just finished piling the bodies up in the heap, his face anything but
triumphant. Desidu did not make a move to help him, for the rebel was a
complete mess of emotion. He sat in the corner, trembling and weeping – an ironic
contrast to the Desidu of before.
And
then a forgotten figure stepped into the room, countenance lit with triumph. It
was Sahure, the rebel that betrayed their confidence and sold his alliance for
a bribe. But his face did not remain triumphant as his mouth dropped, surveying
the room he had left thirty minutes ago.
Ehoti
suddenly understood. The dictator and his family were celebrating the discovery
of the plot, elated that the dictator had eluded assassination – they had
simply celebrated too early. The traitor stiffened as Gerate approached,
sadness replaced by hatred.
“So
you betrayed us, did you?” The lead rebel’s face was electrified with fury, his
eyes flashing. “You betrayed our trust for the temporary pleasures of this
darkness?” He reached his hand toward his belt, fumbling in a pocket.
Sahure
bowed his head. “I needed the money, Gerate! If you were in my shoes, you would
understand-“
“No
I would not! You betray our confidence, our cause, and our reality?”
Sahure
shook his head. “You’ll never understand-“
“And
I don’t need to! Your actions have explained you, Sahure – a traitor to-“
Gerate
stopped his tirade as the traitor began to tremble violently, his breathing
sporadic and shaky. Something was not right – he almost looked as if he was
suffering a severe case of shock. But there was more to Sahure’s strange
behavior than biologic shock, Ehoti reasoned as Gerate backed away
suspiciously. And then suddenly the rebel realized what was happening.
“He’s
infected!” Ehoti jumped back, motioning to his friends. “It has finally arrived in the capitol of Netopia City!”
The
commander backed away further, examining Sahure with some alarm. “It could be
shock...”
“Just
look at him!” Ehoti pointed to the traitor’s trembling limbs. “It takes over a host’s body, leading it
to desire the lusts of the flesh! We all knew that It was coming – what else could it be?”
Gerate
was just about to retort him when Sahure rose to his feet, eyes opened wide.
Struggling to keep his balance, the man slowly walked toward the rebels with
outstretched arms. The rebel quickly changed his mind.
“We
need to leave – now!” Sprinting towards the door, Ehoti heard a screech echo
dismally through the throne room, grating on his ears. As Desidu slammed the
door shut, something hit against the door violently, falling onto the floor
with a crash. It wouldn’t be long before Sahure found the other exit into the
hallway.
The
mass decay of Netopia had begun.
*****
Inusha
stiffened as the sound of footsteps echoed through the dark corridor, the beam
of a flashlight visible fifty feet ahead of him. For a brief moment he reached
his hand into his jacket, groping for his weapon. The guard would never know
what hit him in the darkness, and the passageway was secluded enough for the
rebel to hide the evidence. It would be an easy way out.
The
weapon clattered to the ground. This was not the way of a figure of light, nor
the way of someone who cared for his fellow man. This was the way of the dead
flesh that he had discarded, the body he resolved to avoid.
A
shout arose from the sentry as the flashlight revealed the intruder in the
hallway, standing weaponless with his arms outstretched. Why was he here? What
was he doing? The guard’s voice shook as he ordered the stranger against the
wall, fumbling for his communications unit.
Suddenly
he screamed, falling heavily to the ground with a crash. Something was grabbing
him from the inside, clinging to his brain. He struggled for control as the
guard felt this feeling take control, subjecting him to its will. Picking
himself up, the sentry vainly struggled to throw the creature off, but the
creature was inside of him.
His
hand reached for his weapon against his will, a voice inside ordering him to
kill the captive. But the voice was his own – the creature and the guard had
become one together. This was not what he wanted, and yet it was. The infected
sentry looked up, scanning the hallway for the intruder.
But
Inusha had fled. It may have not been the most courageous action at the moment,
but the action saved him from almost certain death. Screaming in rage, the
guard raced down the tunnel after him, his limbs shaking violently. Though
Inusha’s head-start provided little chance for the man to catch up to him, It wasn’t concerned.
It had the rest of Netopia to
chase him with.
*****
Reshnu
wandered through the garden, gazing in awe at the colorful flora surrounding
him. Though a few species of the vegetation he had seen in old manuscripts and
environmental records, most were foreign to him.
He stopped
as a sweet-smelling orange bush, marveling at the little flower-like buds
sprouting from the vines. A small insect landed on one of the sprouts, drinking
in the small protein fibers the flowers produced. Reshnu began to notice
similar insects on the other flowers, a strange sight to a city-dweller.
And
then he saw her, walking down the garden pathway, humming to herself. It was
the same girl that Yive had forbidden him speak to, the one that seemed so
understanding and kind. Her face was beautiful, the radiant white glow lighting
up her delicate features like a rainbow.
Reshnu
was usually a very obedient little boy, submitting to the authorities placed
over him. Yive had told him he was not to speak to the girl because of their
culture. But Reshnu had begun to resent the old Netopian and his constant deprecation
of minor things. The boy had travelled to the Veti to learn about Lova, not to
obey a list of rules. And even though something inside him told Reshnu that disobeying
the Elder Yive was unwise, he resolved to speak to her anyway.
“Excuse
me!”
The
lady turned in surprise, noticing Reshnu for the first time. She smiled, but
shook her head. “Hello Reshnu! But Yive must have told you that our culture
forbids a man to talk to any other woman than his wife, except on matters of
life and death.”
“Do
you know Lova?” Reshnu looked pleadingly at her, hoping for a sign of recognition
but certain of her dissent. The girl shook her head sadly.
He
slumped. Was his entire trip in vain? If no one knew of Lova here, what had he
accomplished? Was he now integrated into this community until he died? He
looked up as the girl spoke again.
“My
name is Tacia – I am the Elder Yive’s daughter.”
She
seemed so affable and friendly that Reshnu threw all caution to the wind and boldly
asked what Yive would never tell him.
“Why
is your father so strict?”
The
girl gasped, looking at Reshnu in shock. No one had ever asked such a question
of anyone in their community, and she had never dreamed of such a thing. It was
so natural to accept these superficial rules that thinking of anything else was
revolting. Finally, she turned and swiftly walked in the opposite direction.
A
heavy hand landed on his shoulder, whirling him around to face the imposing figure
of the Elder Yive. Reshnu suddenly felt very small in the presence of this
glowing one, almost afraid of the old man. The elder’s face was stern.
“Come
with me, Reshnu. We need to have a talk!”
[1]A
Netopian party held on the date of someone’s birth, celebrating the
accomplishments of that individual. Though similar to a birthday party, the
birthing party was more significant and more focused.
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