The Wall, page 11
Cephas sighs, “They don’t burn uniformly.”
“So?”
“So, it could take forty-five minutes to burn the first half of the rope and fifteen for the second.” Cephas sips his coffee. “I think I remember hearing this riddle as a kid.”
“Alright professor, what’s the answer?”
“Let me see. I think you first light both ends of one rope, and just one end of the other rope. The first rope will burn in thirty minutes. Once that is done, light the other end of the second rope and voila, forty-five minutes.”
Jude scratches his head. “How is that forty-five minutes?”
“Once the first rope burns, the second rope will have thirty minutes left, so simply light the other end and the rest of the second rope will burn in fifteen minutes instead of thirty. Thirty plus fifteen is what?”
Jude doesn’t answer.
“If brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your nose. Good Lord, who taught you your math boy?”
“Your mom did.”
Jude sidesteps as Cephas swings an elbow his way.
The light inside Asher’s room flashes green. It’s time. They watch Asher hold the lighter, looking unsure what to do. Cephas edges closer to the holotube, his dirty long fingernails scratching his cleft chin. “C’mon boy, c’mon, you got this. Be your father’s son.”
With a smile and a small nod, Cephas watches as Asher does exactly what he just explained to his sometimes dense but jovial friend. Just as the fire on the last rope burns out, Cephas senses a new spark being ignited for The Defiance.
Asher pulls the lever.
“One more to go.”
Jude throws another rat on the fire.
For two days I have sat in the final room that I have now deemed impossible. I have never been so thirsty. The last time I tasted water was more than sixty hours ago. The room is an empty box. The final lever is mounted on the ceiling fifty feet above me. There is no way to reach it. The flat slick walls cannot be scaled. There is nothing else in the room. I have checked every nook and corner for any possible trapdoor or hidden device, but nothing. The room is locked, no way out. My skin is dry as a desert, my heartbeat and breathing rapid, all signs of dehydration. I can push the surrender button or die of thirst in this dark box. Or should I say casket. Either way, I lose Sarai. Confusion is setting in, another byproduct of dehydration. I sometimes wonder if this is a dream I am living instead of Renatus’s sinister nightmare. Will I soon wake up and find myself back in The Middle sifting through trash and delivering contraband for Boaz? I circle the four hundred square foot room again rubbing my fingers against the concrete searching for something . . . anything.
I finally slink down in a corner. I’m too dry for tears, but if my body could produce them I’m pretty sure I would be bawling. My hands shake, and I picture Sarai in her faded Van Halen shirt and braided hair standing underneath our weeping willow. Gazing into her defiant sable eyes made me feel that anything was possible. If she was here now she would figure it out, find a way. I should have danced with her on the boat the day we were engaged. Why didn’t I? I have taken life’s precious minutes for granted. I close my eyes and relive the bombing at the bazaar. Five children dead because of the explosive I sold to The Sons of Levi. I’m haunted by their mother’s shrieks from losing what was most precious to them. Maimed families beyond repair. My tear ducts are able to extract what remaining moisture is left in my body to form one lone tear that evaporates before passing the corner of my mouth. Is Cephas watching and wondering if I am weak? Regretting his choice? I’m not him or my father.
What about Sarai? Is she watching, happily waiting for Amos’s demise? I may never see her again. I should have done more to try and talk to her, tell her who I really was before entering this baneful game. She would at least know why I was here.
I’m empty.
I close my eyes and take a page out of my uncle’s book; for the first time in my life, I pray. I don’t know what else to do. I pray to be forgiven, to be washed. I pray for those in The Middle who are starving. I pray for the mothers of the children murdered at the bazaar. I pray for Sarai. For her happiness, with me or without me. I pray for Him to show me a way out of here. For wisdom, for strength.
And if that is not given, for peace.
To be honest, I don’t even understand what I’m saying. I feel as if someone else is interceding for me, telling me what to say. I even pray for my uncle. For his leadership and discernment. For The Defiance.
I pray for The Wall to come down.
Something washes over me and through me. Fear dissipates. For just a moment I am okay with my fate, with what lies before me. A peace beyond understanding. I open my eyes, then it hits me. My father’s words, “Sometimes the best course of action is the obvious one, great leaders must recognize that fine line between never giving up and knowing what is impossible.” Maybe that’s it? Maybe pulling this lever is truly impossible, and that is the point? I’m sure Renatus would want whoever is to lead his third army to be able to discern the difference between what can and cannot be done. Someone bold, but not reckless. All there is left to do is surrender. If I’m right, I pass. If I’m wrong, Sarai will be given to someone else. I will have failed Cephas, The Defiance. I stand and wobble towards the green surrender button. I suck in a deep breath as if the oxygen was courage, or better yet wisdom, and then push the button with my dry arid palm.
Nothing happens. Am I delusional to think this was the answer? Then a mechanical creaking. The ceiling starts to roll towards me. My disorientation takes over and I just stare at it. Soon I will be crushed. I snap out of it and frantically try to open the door. It is moving faster now. Is this what happens if you surrender inside the last room? To be crushed for your cowardliness? I lie on my back and think what to do, in a few more seconds I’ll be pancaked. Lack of sleep, food, and water has turned my brain to mush. I’m exhausted. Wait a minute? The lever. I can reach it now. Cephas is probably shaking his head, and Jude is cackling I’m sure.
Just pull the lever buckethead!
With just two feet to spare I reach up and pull the final lever. The ceiling reverses course. The door unlocks. Lights flash. I hear my name and the roaring of the frenetic crowd. The blazing sun is blinding. I feel as if I’ve been in this tower forever. Cephas is rubbing his butt-chin, jump-starting a smile. Jude is doing a crazy dance.
I have done it, but all I want is water and to see Sarai’s face. For a moment I have forgotten that Legion awaits me.
Sarai sets her book down. This is where she has a vested interest. Three contenders left. She assumes her father will come up with another plan to marry her off if neither are successful. As much as he adores Legion, even he knows he is too barbaric to marry his daughter.
Legion makes quick work of contender number one. Like watching a bull-riding match, the entire bout lasted about eight seconds. Legion made a show of not picking up a weapon. In fact, it was one hit. A mighty armor crushing fist to the head. She noticed his gnarled knuckles were the size of golf balls. The contender didn’t stand a chance, but does anyone? This fact mildly comforts her and she wonders why her father had Legion return in the first place if he wanted her married off to the winner when there more than likely would be none? Maybe he secretly wanted her at home and alone? She is the last of his offspring after all.
“Foie gras?” Renatus offers Sarai the rare delicacy.
She simply shakes her head; duck liver is something she never acquired a taste for. Nor does she agree with gravage, the method foie gras is produced. The ducks are force fed grain via a tube down their throats. This causes the liver to expand and add a fatty texture. The overindulgences of Zion don’t come without a price. To Renatus, everyone is a duck that only exists to please him. She’ll take a market burger grilled by a Dreck any day. Her father smacks his lips as the coliseum caretaker mops up the blood from Legion’s latest victim. Sarai hates how her father slurps his expensive wine instead of sipping it.
With overabundance, nothing is savored. She watches as Renatus beams with pride as Legion prepares for his next battle, guzzling water, but keeping the blood on his hands. For a moment she is jealous. It was always about her brother, now it is Legion. A killer of his creation. A savage. It scares her to be his daughter. She is terrified that in her genes is the propensity to be like him. Or even worse, like her mother. Someone who idly sits by as evil propagates. Her affluence so great and her shoe closets so bountiful, perhaps she hasn’t the time to notice the evil ways of her husband? Or that of Zion?
The now raucous crowd cheers in delight as Legion gouges out the eyes of contender number two before pulling his limbs from his sockets. The Lazurites’ cheers turn into a stiff golf-clap as Legion circles his dead victim. Sarai can’t help but think when you peel back Zion’s snobbery and elitism, it really is just a culture of violence and self-gratification in the most primal sense. Their blood lust is unquenchable. The noxious odor just gets worse with each layer. She longs for the days spent lazily fishing with Asher while gnawing on homemade venison jerky far away from the ocean that now terrifies her. The simple kindness and companionship of Asher’s fellow Drecks. That is before half of them became addicted to Zion’s narcdrops. Enslavement, delivered by the pallet.
Next up is Amos, the butcher of her beloved. The back of her throat burns from the bile that has snaked its way from the pit of her stomach. Her mourning of Asher has been dwarfed by her anguish and animosity. Perhaps that will come later?
At this very moment, she is Legion’s biggest fan.
I enter the arena and pan the crowd. Sarai is perched at the Seat of Sultans next to her father. I’m still exhausted from the towers. I feel like I have been asked to wrestle a bear after being hit by a bus. The blood stains are still fresh on the coliseum floor from the two “winners” before me.
Legion approaches. He towers over me by more than a foot. He is stronger than a Gorilla. Nimble as a Cheetah. His movements are surprisingly graceful for someone of his stature. I once more peek up at Sarai and wonder what she is thinking. To her I’m a barbarian who killed her fiancé. I can see the venom in her eyes. I’m leveled by the mere thought of her revulsion towards me. I need to focus. Weapons fall from the sky and land on the arena floor. In typical Legion fashion, he doesn’t reach for one. Why would he? His arms are like canons, and his fists the size of bowling balls. Instead of exoarmor, we both don metal armor, similar to that of the Roman gladiators, by design I’m sure. To my right is a spear, and my left a dagger. I don’t have time to grab both. Conventional wisdom suggests I take the spear and try to take out Legion from a distance. But I have seen him grab spears out of the air and snap them like toothpicks, besides, if I have any chance of beating him it won’t be by doing anything conventional. “Fight like a Dreck.” My uncle’s words replay over and over in my head.
Legion charges me. Strong and fierce. Possessed with blood lust. Always on the attack. His opponents try to retreat, play defense, but are usually swallowed up and quickly spit out by this behemoth. So I do what is unexpected, what he never sees. I charge him. He never has to practice defense. He is fast. I’m faster. I hear the “whoas” from the crowd as they don’t expect my charge, neither does Legion. He swings a mighty fist that I duck, then roll to the ground. On my way back up I stab his left ribs where his flesh is exposed in between his armor plating. The cut isn’t deep, but blood trickles out proving he is only a man. That he is human.
Silence.
This is the first time this arena has tasted Legion’s blood. And now they want more of it. I was moving too fast to make the cut deep enough to do any damage. Now I think I just pissed him off. He releases a scream that sounds like peals of thunder. My eardrums literally throb. He dabs his index and middle finger against his wound. Blood drips from his fingernails like a melting ice cream cone on a hot day. He jams his fingers in his mouth and tastes his own blood.
He nods and smiles. “Not bad. I taste your blood next.”
Legion spits out the blood and gallops towards me, his massive feet batter the dirt and rock of the arena floor. Saliva drizzles from his mouth. I swing my dagger at him, he swats it out of my hand. He reaches back and punches me in the chest sending me flying, leaving a massive dent in my armor. I feel as if I was hit with a sledgehammer. The wind knocked out of me, I suck for oxygen. He picks me up by my left arm, swings me around like he’s performing the Olympic hammer throw and tosses me against the arena wall. As I’m the last contender he is toying with me as a cat does a mouse per Renatus’s command, I’m guessing, prolonging the entertainment. The first two bouts were much too quick for Zion’s liking. Before I can gain my bearings, he picks me up and slams me, sending puffs of dust into the air. I think I cracked two ribs. I won’t last too much longer at this rate.
He lifts up his elephantine foot in preparation to stomp on me, before he lands it, I spin around and sweep his other leg, knocking him to the ground with a thud. He quickly rolls onto his stomach and tries to pound me with his gargantuan fists. I roll to dodge the blows. He finally makes contact, first my nose breaks, then I’m whacked on the side of my head, I go dizzy for a moment and everything fades to black. Seconds later I come back from my concussed state as Legion grabs the back of my armor and holds me up like a mother dog does her pup. He then tosses me across the arena. I finally roll to a stop. The crowd yells out their requests for the different sadistic ways they want him to finish me off. I can feel the ground shake as he hurdles towards me. I gather a handful of sand from the coliseum floor and fling it into his eyes. This gives me just enough time to roll out of the way before being trampled.
From the corner of my eye I see Renatus send Legion a quick nod. Playtime is over. Legion springs up and barrels towards me, his movements much more deliberate and concise then they were before.
Wait a minute.
His weakness.
I was so drained from the tower I forgot all about it.
I sprint to the corner of the arena where more weapons have fallen. I grab a ricochet and a spear. Instead of strapping the ricochet’s retriever to my wrist, I scamper towards the right side of the arena and slyly drop it to the ground and spurt back to the corner.
I toss the ricochet, purposely aiming wide left of Legion, and dart towards him. He doesn’t track it for a moment as he knows, as everyone else does, it will make a full half-circle before it starts to return to me. That is, if I was wearing the retriever. Instead, it instantly tries to return to the retriever I placed on the ground to his right. Being blind in his left eye he doesn’t spot it coming straight for him. The ricochet hits him in the neck and the electric shock stuns him for a moment, sending him crashing onto his back. Just as he hits the ground, I arrive and drive my spear into the chink in his armor between his chest and shoulder. It goes through his entire shoulder and into the dirt, pinning him to the ground. He struggles to stand but can’t move. I run and grab the dagger, hold it above him. Renatus stands in shock, as does the entire coliseum.
Legion takes a deep breath and sighs. The flame in his eyes extinguish. He looks different. I no longer see a monster, but a child. I see someone who only fights to be loved. Beneath the mountain of flesh is just an abandoned boy wanting approval, Renatus’s approval. He is just another tool of Zion. A product of Renatus’s manipulations and lies. Like the duck, he has been force fed Zion’s propaganda for the selfish gratification of the Lazurites. He waits for me to end him. Everyone does.
The crowd chants, “Finish him! Finish him!”
How quickly their loyalty turns. Legion, once revered, is now a loser. And Zion does not like losers. I think back to the tower when I asked for God’s help. Do I see Legion differently because I have changed? Or is it simply the look of a man about to meet his demise?
I raise my dagger and the crowd suddenly goes eerily silent. I’m not sure if it’s out of reverence for their beloved Legion or if they are simply appalled. I know I am. Legion’s shallow breathing sounds like ocean waves lapping up the sand. He looks to me as if he wants me to do it, that or he has accepted his fate.
“Do it. I deserve it.”
I look to Renatus, then to Sarai. I can suffer her heartbreaks no longer. I simply drop my dagger and walk away, unsure if I have won or lost.
CHAPTER NINE
“HE DEFIED ME!” Renatus bellows, slamming his fist against the marble table. “Per the rules, only one man leaves the arena.”
“Simply kill him,” says Omar.
Sarai’s ears perk; she doesn’t want more death, but at least she wouldn’t be forced to marry him.
“I can’t kill him, did you hear that arena? The crowd loves him. Amos the Magnanimous they called him. Amos the Vanquisher of Giants.” Renatus spits on the floor.
Sarai senses a hint of jealously in her father’s tone. It is he who seeks the crowd’s love and affection.
“It’s not all that bad my sultan,” Omar says. “Look at it this way, you have a cunning and canny leader for your third army, a masterful and popular warrior for your only daughter, and you still have Legion. All in all this is a win for you.”
“Legion is a disgrace and will be sent to SeaPen.”
SeaPen is Renatus’s underwater penitentiary located just offshore from his magnificent compound. It is where his dissidents and political foes are sent never to be seen or heard from again.
“SeaPen? But surely Legion is still an asset to Zion?” Omar asks.
Renatus waves off the suggestion. “Tosh.”
Sarai peers into her father’s eyes and sees the wheels turning. She knows Renatus is skilled at manipulating and transforming any situation to his advantage.
“Look, the populace is war weary, so are our soldiers. They need inspiration such as this, someone like Amos to lead them to final victory,” Omar presses.
