The Wall, page 16
It is risky saying this, but I say it anyway. “What if I don’t want that?”
“What? Protocol?”
“Yeah, what if I didn’t want to use another’s LifeCell?”
He licks his lips. “Respectable. Did you know when I first came to power I ran on the second-life platform. I truly wanted to make the world a better place. To heal people, to bring back the lost, those gone too soon, like my son. I truly thought we could engineer protocol to use a manufactured or synthetic LifeCell, if you will. I believe we still can. That is the hope anyway.”
Again, I feel as if I’m being swaddled into Zion’s bosom. Its comfort and security. It’s strange to think that I could be invincible. We approach a control station where numerous doctors and techies amble about. Renatus approaches one of them.
“What’s this week’s count?”
“One hundred and seventy,” he answers after checking his chart. I can only assume he is talking about their harvest. Harvest. I’m even starting to think like them. This isn’t a harvest. It’s murder. They are Drecks, my people. But I begin to wonder, am I still one of them?
“Any matches?” Renatus asks.
The doctor simply shakes his head. Renatus turns to me and nods to follow him. As we stroll through the line of cyro chambers, I try not to look at their faces, afraid I might see someone I recognize. We stop at one chamber harboring a small child, a young boy.
“You see, my son, Eleazar, was born with a cellular disorder. When he, when he drowned, we recovered the body. But protocol hasn’t been successful. I’m told we need a LifeCell with the same chromosomal disorder as my prince.” Renatus peers at his frozen lifeless son. His eyes become moist. His teeth grind. He quickly snaps out of it and pats my back.
“We shall keep trying.”
We?
To my left is the processing center for new arrivals. Through the glass I can hear the screams of a mother and the groans of a father as their children are ripped from their arms. Will they be a match for Eleazar I wonder? I cringe. Six months ago the scene would have panged me greatly.
“We are Lazurites!” the father screams, “You can’t do this to us!”
I peer over at Renatus. “Lazurites? I thought you were only harvesting Drecks?”
“And enemies of the state,” he responds. “They were caught smuggling Bibles and other contraband into The Middle.”
And I used to be the one on the receiving end. How far I have come.
Or fallen.
“Why not SeaPen?” I ask.
“SeaPen is for much bigger fish, excuse the pun mate.”
But I know the real reason. Now that he hasn’t found a match for his beloved Eleazar in The Middle, he is starting to see if his own people will yield a match.
As we turn the corner and walk back through the next row of chambers, I see something that finally shakes me from my complacency.
In an instant I remember who I am and why I’m here.
In the two chambers to my left, frozen in time, are my parents.
Sarai poses in front of the full-length gold trimmed mirror, this is her third outfit. She smiles thinking about the six-course banquet they will attend tonight, and perhaps she will convince Asher to dance. Then back here and her intimate time with him. It took a while, but she has gotten used to how he looks now, in Amos’s skin.
A few months ago she wouldn’t even have dreamed of wearing such ornate and gaudy attire. Now she fancies it. She used to scoff at wearing jewelry, now she is so layered with gold and diamonds she glitters and sparkles. She is becoming her father’s daughter. And she has never been happier. She turns as Asher shuffles through the door.
“Ready to nosh?” she asks.
His face is pale, his walk cadaverous.
“Asher?”
He trudges past her, removes his ricochet from his belt and places it on the bed. It sinks into the goose down comforter. He slowly sits next to it.
“Asher? Are you alright? What happened?”
He looks at her, their massive bedroom, her lavish dress. Her adornment of what was once mined from the earth. He scowls.
“What are we doing?”
“I don’t understand. We’re going to dinner. What’s wrong? Did something happen today?”
“What are we doing? Who are we Sarai? What are you wearing?”
Sarai’s worry is becoming ire. “Have you been drinking? What are you talking about? Does this have to do with what my father showed you?”
“Where’s your Van Halen tee?” he asks, still looking like he has seen a ghost.
“Asher, tell me what’s going on?”
“Your car accident, back in The Middle. It was no accident.”
“I’m not following.”
“I found the wreckage Sarai. The break line had been cut. It was not an accident.”
“Cut? By who?” Sarai starts to breath rapidly.
“Who do you think? Your father.”
“That’s crazy. Look I know he is many things, but—”
“Think about it Sarai, you were with me, a Dreck, on the other side of The Wall. He kills you, transfers you to Zion, implements second-life protocol, and problem solved.”
Sarai shakes her head in disbelief.
“Do you know where I was today?”
She just stares at him, fear and anger boiling inside her.
“The Mountain. You know what happens inside The Mountain?”
“Yes, protocol.”
“And do you know exactly what is involved?”
She shakes her head. “What are you getting at Asher?”
“Your father, the rich and powerful of Zion, not only want to live forever, but they sacrifice the innocent to do so.”
A tear streams down Sarai’s face. She has ignored the rumors this entire time, but deep down she knew the truth.
“Drecks Sarai, they are kidnapping and harvesting Drecks for their LifeCells. Killing them. Children. He is rounding up children so he can find a cell match to bring back his precious Eleazar. He’s even harvesting his own people now.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I have been there Sarai, I have seen it! We have been coddled in Zion’s grip for long enough. It’s time to fight.”
Her heart is pounding. “There has to be another way, a way we can end this without war . . . a negotiation maybe? My father can be reasonable. Let me talk to him.”
“Your father is a despot and a murderer.”
“You have to let me try. I don’t want to lose you and me. Not again.”
“How can you defend him?”
Sarai squints back tears. “I . . . I’m not. I’m not defending him. I just . . . I feel war with him will cause me to lose you again. I love you more than I hate my father.”
Asher grabs her shoulders and leans in. “Sarai, my parents are alive.”
“What?”
“They’re in the belly of your father’s hungry mountain. He told me he is keeping them like a trophy, and that Cephas is next.”
She sees the anger and determination in his eyes; there is no going back. She touches his cheek and he wipes the tears from hers.
What now? she wonders, a question to herself as well as to Asher.
“I’m going back to The Middle. I need to speak to someone, then I need to see Cephas. I need to know the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“My parents. Your father said it was Cephas that betrayed them and ambushed him, not the other way around.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know. But I think I know a way to turn the tides in our favor, or at least give us a fighting chance.”
“I’m coming with you,” Sarai demands.
“No.”
“I’m coming, you can’t stop me. You know that.”
“Listen to me Sarai, I can be gone under the guise of a mission or another patrol, if you’re gone also your father will get suspicious. You need to stay here, for now, and act normal. I’ll be back for you shortly. I promise.”
With that, Asher kisses her passionately. She returns it with vigor. She grabs his face and kisses him like it might be their last. He finally pulls away.
“We’re Drecks, Sarai, we always will be.”
And just like that he is gone.
Act normal. Sarai doesn’t know what that is anymore. She wonders if this is the second time she has lost him as she realizes he is no longer a prince of Zion and she a sultana. She has been living her dream all the while blind to the nightmare that is Zion.
It’s time to wake up.
The fire snaps, its many tongues lick the air. Cephas leads a Bible study, as men from his inner circle participate around the percolating campfire. They talk about fear and anxiety and how in Christ there is freedom from both. But even as Cephas spouts these words, he is anxious over Asher’s lack of progress, that The Defiance will fail, that maybe he has already failed his people, his nephew, betting it all on a crazy and somewhat outlandish plan that many of his leadership didn’t agree with. He taps his cleft chin with his right index finger. Jude liked to joke that he had a massive dent in his chin, that his mouth was in a car crash.
Cephas wraps it up with a prayer. After a round of amens, Cephas keeps his eyes closed and continues to pray silently that God will take away his urge to sip the DemonTonic. His cravings have been worse than usual lately. Usually they would break bread together, but bread, or any food for that matter is scarce. Rats are now on the menu. Just as Cephas sighs and turns to retire for the evening, one of his commanders speaks in an insubordinate tone.
“Maybe we should all stay and discuss contingency plans?”
“Contingencies for what?” Cephas scolds.
“If your nephew fails,” the commander responds plainly.
“He just needs more time!”
“More time? If you haven’t noticed sir, we are starving, our numbers are shrinking, and Zion’s army is growing. And all we do is gather around this stupid campfire and do nothing about it.”
Cephas takes a deep breath and holds his tongue, choosing words carefully. “Sometimes God’s plan doesn’t lineup with ours, at least not on our timelines, we need faith and more patience.”
“We have been patient for long enough. Your absurd plan is failing. When is the last time you even heard from Asher? My spies tell me he and his new bride are living the high life. Fat and happy while slurping Zion’s milk. In fact, Darius tells me Asher tells him nothing, nothing about Zion troop movements or The Wall openings. No intelligence of value whatsoever. He will not even meet with him!”
Cephas’s face turns beet red. A little piece inside him can’t help but think that maybe his commander is correct. Is his plan lunacy? Can Asher be trusted? As Asher never believed in The Defiance or its cause, did he truly only accept this mission because of Sarai? How could I have been so stupid? Of course he did it for Sarai.
The commander turns to the twelve others. “I put forth a vote of no confidence in Cephas as leader of The Defiance.”
Cephas grits his teeth; he wasn’t expecting this.
“You think I like my current position commander? That I like watching my men starve? Or die on missions I send them on? The weight upon my shoulders is almost unbearable. This wasn’t something I asked for. It was thrown upon me. But I have done my best. You look at me like I’m a tired old man, and maybe I am. All I can say is that I have not made my decisions based on fear. That is all I have to offer. But if you think you can do better, then let’s vote.”
Before he can respond Jude bursts into the room, out of breath. His skinny legs dancing around like his feet are on fire.
“Lazurite soldiers are approaching!”
“What? How many patrols?” Cephas asks.
“Not a patrol, my scouts tell me five thousand men, half of Zion’s first army are at our doorstep.”
“How close?”
Before Jude can respond, the sound of plasma rifles and screaming Drecks can be heard. Then the smell of gasoline and smoke. They are being flushed out with fire.
“Head for the tunnels and exit the rear!” Cephas orders, referring to the series of secret tunnels that eventually exit two miles north of their compound.
The defiant commander refuses to move. “We stay and fight!”
“It’s suicide to stay down here. We escape and fight another day,” Cephas pleads.
“All of our weapons and intel are here! We must guard them, otherwise we will have lost everything.” The commander refuses to move. Cephas shakes his head as he, Jude, and the rest of his leadership head towards the tunnels.
Minutes later they are met by hundreds of other Drecks escaping through the vast array of underground tunnels, carrying anything they could grab on their way out. The smoke is thickening, causing Cephas to choke. Twenty minutes later they reach ladders that lead to camouflaged manholes in the center of a thick forest. They quietly emerge from them one by one and gather in the thick dark brush, hiding from Renatus’s first army. Cephas and Jude stare at what used to be their headquarters, now lighting up the night sky in a massive fireball. Most of their weapons and intelligence were stored there along with the little food they had left. How had they been found? Do they have a mole? Did Asher know about this attack and not warn him? Was he too busy prancing around with Sarai? Attending banquets and balls? Driving fancy cars?
The Defiance’s headquarters is not the only thing burning. Cephas seethes as he watches everything they have gathered and worked for turn to ash. The tonic is calling him, reeling him in. Maybe I should step down.
“Now what?” Jude asks solemnly.
Cephas’s head sinks. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, a thought hits him.
Amos.
Did he die in the blaze or did Renatus’s army find him in the underground prison?
If the latter, then the ruse is up.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The last time I walked through these doors I was a contraband mule. I am returning as a false prince. Boaz dons three gold rings to match his gold Rolex. His abundance is evident by his waistline, which stretches well over his small feet. One of the few here in The Middle that aren’t starving.
“Business is good,” I state, tapping his bulbous stomach. He knows who I am, not the real me, but who Amos is, as he surely has watched the Canonization. His flabby wrinkled jowls flap in fear.
“I barter for used goods. I am excellent at finding deals,” he lies.
To get what I’m here for I have to frighten him. “Don’t lie to me Boaz.”
I pace his massive family room lined with expensive furniture as my muddy boots taint his silk Isfahan rug. His hands tremble in fear causing the light to bounce off the diamonds embedded in his Rolex.
“I’m not lying,” he stutters. “My business activities are all completely legal.”
I approach him with a menacing gait, but inside I can’t help but laugh and wonder what he would say if he knew I was Asher the Dreck, his ex-contraband mule.
“I know you’re the largest supplier of contraband east of The Wall. That your items come across in the garbage drops. I know you hire poor Drecks to rummage through the refuse and underpay them.” That last part was a jab just for me.
I get within inches of his sweaty brow and bantam green eyes. “I know that you pay off patrolmen to look the other way. Do you know what the offense is for supplying arms to The Defiance, to The Sons of Levi?” His eyelids shutter as he knows he faces death.
“Please, please, I’ll do anything, I can pay you, please.”
I sit and practically melt into his suede leather couch. “How about some tea?” It’s not the request he was expecting.
“Yes, yes of course.”
A minute later he returns with two steaming cups. I sip mine; his cup clatters against the plate as his hands still shake like the tail of a rattlesnake.
“Sit,” I tell him staring at the teacups, “Is this china?”
“I . . . I believe so, yes.”
“Do you have any family Boaz?” A question I have asked him in the past as Asher, but he never answered.
“An ex-wife. Three of them actually,” he admits.
“Any children?” Just as I ask the question his white Persian cat jumps into his lap.
“No, never had the time I suppose.” He shrugs, stroking the purring feline now nestled comfortably into his massive girth.
I stare into his greedy eyes. “Well, you are a busy man. Tell me Boaz, what do you think your purpose in life is?” Again, I sound like my father.
“I don’t, I don’t understand,” he stutters.
“Is it to line your pockets and fatten your belly? Or is the purpose of life to serve others, serve a cause greater than yourself?”
He doesn’t answer. He looks confused by the question, as if he has never considered it.
“Do you think it’s possible that a simple Dreck, a contraband mule can rise up to become a great leader? A liberator for an entire nation?”
He leans in, now it is he who bores into my eyes, my soul, there is a hint of recognition, his fear dissipates. I almost think I saw a smile. Does he recognize me?
“Perhaps anything is possible,” he replies.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I stand. “Perhaps we can work out an arrangement. Give me what it is I came for, and I’ll let your little operation continue. It will be our secret.”
He wasn’t expecting that. The corner of his lips rise. “Anything. What is it that you want?”
“I want the myth, the legend, I want the map to the Fort Worth Armory.”
He is taken aback. “I don’t have any such map, as you said, it’s a myth, pure folklore.”
It’s a gambit as I am not even sure if he has it. Or if it even does exist for that matter.
“And if I did, I probably would have sold it already,” he forces a chuckle.
Or he is saving it for times of desperation. Right now, I’m desperate. I need to make it very clear that he is as well. I abruptly stand.
“Very well Boaz, before your execution, tell me how your stay at SeaPen was. I have never been there.”
