The Wall, page 18
I look to Sarai then back to him. I shouldn’t have come back. He knows. I reach down for my ricochet. I left it in my room! There are six armed guards in the room with us. I don’t have a chance.
Renatus swigs his wine. “Yes Amos, they are the same. We are both too trusting. And apparently both fearless.”
“What are you talking about father?” Sarai finally asks.
He stares at me, his face burning red. “I would like you to meet somebody.”
Ten elite guards open the double doors and in walks the real Amos.
“Amos, meet Asher, son of Silas.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What was once a sprawling metroplex, Fort Worth, is now stained with empty dilapidated buildings. A few helldusters battle the morning nip by standing over a garbage can fire eagerly awaiting the next narcdrop. They wearily eye Cephas and his entourage as they enter what was once a bustling downtown. Not too far from here was the home of the Dallas Cowboys. America’s team in fact participated in the last Super Bowl ever played. They lost to the San Antonio Raiders in overtime.
Cephas sighs and thinks about what a different world this used to be. Sports, games, hot-dogs, BBQs, and family. Now it is starvation, murder, oppression, and The Wall. A world where children no longer play outside, at least not outside Zion. To his right was what used to be a megachurch where families could worship freely. Now Bibles are burned at the altar of Zion. Jude shakes him from his melancholic thoughts and points to the map.
“Just on the outskirts,” Jude informs him.
Three hours later they approach a farmhouse that sits on ten acres of picked over apple trees. Cephas studies the map.
“There, near the barn.”
“Think it’s vacant?” Jude wonders aloud.
His question is answered immediately as a scrappy seventy-something man whose beard is as long as his arm comes limping out of the farmhouse, aiming a shotgun at them.
“What can I do ya for?”
Both Cephas and Jude grip their pistols underneath their coats.
“Just passing through,” Cephas answers plainly.
“Y’all better keep on going. Nuttin’ here.”
“Now what?” Jude whispers to Cephas.
“We come back later.”
“Don’t go pilfering any of my apples neither,” the old man crows.
Just as Cephas and his crew turn to leave, the old man raises an eyebrow.
“Wait a damn minute, are you . . . Cephas? Leader of The Defiance?”
Cephas ponders the question carefully. If this man is a Lazurite sympathizer, then a truthful answer could be deadly, but if he’s a Dreck, then that’s a different story. Before he can say anything Jude blurts, “Yes he is, he’s the one and only Cephas, commander of The Great Defiance.”
“Idiot,” Cephas whispers.
“Just look at him, he’s a Dreck for sure,” Jude mumbles, squinting from the morning sun.
The old man lowers his shotgun. “Then I’d be honored. What’s mine is yours hoss.”
“Funny you should say that,” Jude says through an oversized smile.
“Don’t got much, but you’re welcome to it.”
“Maybe so, or, you may have everything,” Cephas says cryptically.
“How so?”
“We believe, that somewhere on your land, is the Fort Worth Armory.”
“Heck you say! Armory is a myth, everyone knows that!” the old man squabbles.
“Maybe, but can we check your land anyway?”
“If you think you can find it, and it helps defeat those Lazurite butchers, then be my guest.”
After showing him the map, the old man, limping slowly, leads them to his barn.
“What happened to your leg?” Jude inquires.
“Shrapnel. I was part of the first resistance when The Wall was fresh. But I’m the lucky one, my family not so much.”
Jude lowers his head. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Grab some shovels,” Cephas orders.
After four hours of digging inside and around the barn, Jude’s shovel clanks.
“Think I got something!”
Cephas and his crew rush over. “Dig around it.”
A few more minutes of digging reveals a massive slab of rusted metal. A chain connected to both ends.
“This is it! This has to be it!” Jude dances around while shaking his fists.
“Settle it down stringbean, we haven’t found anything yet. Could be an old grain storage locker.” Cephas feigns aloofness and points to the chain, “Pull.”
It takes all of them to pull the heavy slab across the barn floor to reveal a secret opening and a stairwell that leads underground. The smell of history burps from the underground chamber.
“What in the Sam Hill,” the old man mutters in disbelief.
“I told you this was it!” Jude scampers in circles.
Even Cephas can’t hide his excitement as they grab lanterns and make their way down the stairwell. No one has inhaled this musty air since the Civil War. The room is fifteen hundred square feet, much smaller than any of them anticipated. They scour the entire room, only to find two rusted muskets in the corner.
“There’s nothing here,” Jude utters in shock.
“This is why you let legends be legends,” Cephas growls.
The old man picks up one of the muskets. “What’d I tell ya? A myth. Y’all are welcome to stay for some coffee and apples.”
Jude picks up the other musket and it nearly crumbles in his hands. “I knew Boaz was a selfish lying rat!”
Cephas places his hands against the wall as if he needs help standing. The veins in his forehead hammer against his wrinkled leathery skin, as if they are trying to punch their way out. His knees wobble. The Christian in him wants to pray, his flesh wants to strangle Boaz. The last hope for The Defiance is now extinguished. His headquarters destroyed. His weapons gone. His men nearing extinction. He thinks about having a drink.
But Cephas doesn’t know how bad it really is.
SeaPen is two hundred feet under the surface of the Pacific Ocean on the coast of Point Reyes near Renatus’s palatial palace. Talk about keep your enemy’s close. We arrived in a small cargo submarine that then docked with a cement tunnel leading to the prison. This is like Alcatraz, but underwater. Inescapable. As I’m escorted to my cell we pass the mess hall where lunch is being served. The inmates don heavy coats made from iron that are locked to their body as a way of limiting their movements. Their boots are so heavy it seems to take massive effort just to walk, a great but inhumane method of crowd control. You are not allowed out of your cell without these weighted duds.
I spot one inmate who walks unencumbered, as if the heavy coat is nothing but threads of cotton, his massive frame and height is unmistakable. He peers up at me; it is Legion. I nod at him, but he acts as if he doesn’t know me. On the other side of the room eating alone is Dagger. He glances up and his hatred for me seems to dissolve into surprise. He must be thinking, Why is Amos here in handcuffs? Most residents here are political dissidents and foes of Renatus, and if they knew my true identity I would fit right in. But right now I feel like I’m a policeman forced to live with the ones I arrested. To them I’m just Renatus’s cohort. I have a feeling I won’t last long here.
My cell is a six-by-six tempered glass square. Actually, it’s not much smaller than my hostile back on Reservation 9. My mattress, or more like a glorified blanket, lies in the middle of the floor. A small toilet in the corner, no privacy as the glass is on all four sides. I feel like a fish in an aquarium. Except that I have an anchor wrapped around my neck.
“Welcome to your castle Amos the Great,” the guard snickers as he shoves me into my cell with more force than necessary.
I lie on the cold blanket and think of Sarai. Is she okay? Does her father know that she knows who I really am and is she being punished? Will she join me here? Or something even worse?
I wonder if Cephas found the armory, and if he did, was there anything there? And if so, who will open The Wall for him now that I’m in here? I have failed. Failed Cephas. My father. The Defiance. Sarai. Was this really all for naught?
Suddenly a guard appears with a visitor. Renatus.
The guard quickly cuffs me to a pole in the middle of the room and leaves as Renatus enters.
“Oh Amos, or Asher, that is your name right? Asher son of Silas?” he says with a mocking tone.
“Does it matter now?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“Where’s Sarai?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answers plainly.
“Please, she didn’t know, she didn’t know I was Asher. I fooled her too.”
“We’ll soon find that out.”
“Just please leave her be. You can do what it is you want with me,” I plead.
“I know we can Asher,” he says in a deviant tone. “If I wasn’t so affronted, I would be impressed with what you have accomplished. Surely Cephas’s idea. Didn’t think the old man was this clever.”
“Who says I’m done yet?” I say defiantly.
“Tell me something Asher, if you had lost the Canonization, or not have defeated Legion, then what? What was your backup plan?”
“I didn’t need one, I have faith,” I say, not sure where the words came from.
“Now you sound like your uncle,” he scoffs. “Cephas. He sent you to the wolves son. Sent you to die. Yet you still have allegiance to him and his misguided cause. He didn’t care for you, he used you. If you cooperate, I will spare you Asher, perhaps even reinstate you, as you found the Zion way of life pleasing didn’t you?”
It is tempting, as he is taking advantage of my weak state of mind right now. I pray for strength.
“You and Sarai could pick up where you left off, son.”
I simply shake my head.
“I was like a father to you. I was prepared to give you everything. My only daughter! Your own army. Riches beyond what any Dreck can imagine. Eternal life boy!” He slams his fist against the glass. “You were like a son to me.”
“You take what you want when you want it. You have no regard for human life. Not even your own daughter’s. And yet you seemed so surprised by my betrayal. What a sight, the great Renatus has hurt feelings.”
He punches me square in the jaw. I spit blood.
“You’re going to hurt while you’re here, son. Now the degrees and levels of pain will be up to you. But I recommend talking sooner rather than later. You will tell me where Cephas is and the rest of The Defiance. You will give me a list of the other spies such as yourself. Along with the remaining compounds we are yet to find.”
“I know nothing. And what I did know I have long forgotten,” I say blankly.
Renatus stands and smirks. “Trust me on this. Your memory will be refreshed. Cheers.”
“Calm down Cephas!” Jude implores.
Cephas has finally lost his temper, he kicks and throws rocks against the wall of the underground bunker that is the legend of the Fort Worth Armory.
He looks up and growls, “Why? Why?”
“It’s just a setback is all.”
“A setback? We are finished Jude. Do you understand? Finished! We have no weapons, no men and no place to go!”
Cephas turns and begins to storm up the stairs.
“Where ya going?”
“To find some tonic,” Cephas answers with hopeless eyes. He then grabs the old man. “You have anything to drink?”
“No, but there are pallets of the stuff a mile west,” the old man answers.
“Well that’s great! Just great! One setback and our fearless leader quits,” Jude chides him.
“One setback? One!” Cephas barks back.
“Okay, maybe a few, but this lack of faith is pathetic!”
Cephas stops, picks up a rock, and flings it at Jude. Hard enough to scare him, but slow enough that he can dodge it. Jude easily sidesteps it. The rock crashes into the bunker wall. A piece of the ancient wall chips away. Cephas squints at it.
Jude continues on his rant. “What did you always tell us? ‘Have faith, God has a plan! With God on our side what is there to fear! Who could be against us. That—”’
“Shut up!” Cephas barks and trudges over to the wall he had just pelted with the rock. He rubs his fingers around the small indentation. He grabs another rock and chips away at the wall until he finds a rusted metal ring attached to it. He pulls on it. A loud creaking noise reverberates through the room as Cephas pulls open a door hidden within the rock wall. Jude is too shocked to speak. Not wanting to be disappointed again, no one says anything.
They all file one by one through the door. Cephas shines his lantern illuminating the massive room to reveal hundreds of wooden crates. Jude scampers over to the first one and pries it open with a crowbar. Inside are twenty Springfield Model 1861 rifles.
“It does exist,” Cephas whispers.
Jude forces open crate after crate. “There are thousands of them!”
Cephas also finds a crate full of Civil War-era hand grenades. In the corner are two Gatling guns. Cephas’s guilt for his diminishing faith is quickly drowned out by his excitement and thanks. What lies before him can turn the tides of this war into their favor. Exoarmor was not designed to protect against lead and gunpowder. Technology put the Lazurites in power and it will be technology that will be their undoing. At least that’s what Cephas hopes will happen. Jude dances around like a kid on Christmas morning. Cephas is cautiously optimistic. He feels like a desert receiving its first rain. He only hopes it’s not a mirage.
“They need to be cleaned, cataloged, and tested, there is a lot of rust on these,” Cephas orders, hoping that the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old weapons are still viable.
“We’ll need a way to transport them,” Jude adds.
“I have two wagons you can hook your horses up to,” the old man offers. “Would go with ya, but got a bum leg.”
“We will never be able to repay your kindness. On behalf of The Defiance and freedom loving people across this land, thank you.”
“No thanks required, just win!” the old man spits.
“Ammunition?” Cephas queries, almost forgetting the guns are useless without it.
Jude replies, “About ten cases worth. Twenty-thousand rounds.”
“Then we must not be wasteful.”
“I’ll throw rocks if I have to,” Jude says.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Cephas can finally speak with a hint of confidence, “These weapons were used to win America’s first Civil War. They will now be used to win its second. Lord willing The Wall will come down and Zion will fall! We will once again be a united country, we will once again be free!”
After a few hoots and hollers, his men anxiously return to inspecting the weapons.
There is almost a spring in his step as he sidles up next to Jude and places his hand on his shoulder.
“Didn’t I always tell you to have faith?” Cephas says, tongue in cheek.
“I can’t believe you threw a rock at me.”
“Like I had any chance of hitting you, stringbean.”
Renatus paces around the oval table of his brightly lit war room. He is starting to come down from his adrenalin high of punishing Asher. If he wasn’t so busy he would be there for his interrogation. His assistant, Omar, is near the center along with a couple of generals and a few elites.
“We are yet to extract any information of use. Key word being yet.” Renatus turns to one of the generals, “How long before you are ready?”
The general clears his throat. “We’re ready now sir.”
Renatus peers up at the ceiling, then addresses his head scientist. “And what about project Anti-Armor?”
The nervous scientist carefully chooses his words. “We are operational my sultan. We have five thousand units so far.”
Omar raises an eyebrow. “Project Anti-Armor?”
Renatus pats him on the head. “You will be briefed on it later.”
Before Renatus can discuss his next topic, Sarai bursts in, her hands cuffed behind her, two elites in tow.
“I demand to know where Asher is!”
One of the elites speaks up. “I apologize my sultan, she ran past our—”
Renatus waves him off, “You may be my daughter, but you are now a traitor to Zion and in no condition to make demands.”
“What will become of him?” Sarai spits.
Renatus wiggles his fingers in the air like he is playing an air piano, “He will be interrogated, then put to death, a traitors death.”
She falls to her knees, “I beg you to spare him. I beg you, Father. Please.”
“If I showed leniency to every traitor, there would be no Zion. Besides, SeaPen isn’t big enough.”
A tear slides from her cheek. “And what about me?”
Renatus takes a deep breath, then turns to the men seated at the table. “Leave us, we will reconvene tonight.”
All except for his main advisor, Omar, march out of the room, none of them can even look at Sarai. Renatus steps towards her.
“You my dear, I have had much tolerance for. But this is unforgivable. Asher’s fate will be your fate.” He waves to the two elites behind her. “Take her please.”
She is dragged out, kicking and screaming. “Father, please! Do what you want with me, please spare Asher!”
The door shuts with a thud. Renatus stares at the ground and rubs his head, conflicted.
Omar sidles next to him. “You know, she still may be of use to you.”
“Apparently you don’t know my daughter. Whatever information we don’t get from Asher, we definitely won’t get from her.”
“Not quite what I mean my sultan.”
“I’m listening.”
Omar is not sure if he is out of line, but he is always willing to take risks to gain Renatus’s favor. “She carries the gene, correct?”
“Yes.”
“If she ever had any offspring, there is a chance they would carry the same genetic disorder.”
Renatus’s eyes widen. “Yes, yes, another wounded one.”
Omar places his hand on Renatus’s shoulder, then quickly removes it. “You could finally have your son back.”
Renatus swigs his wine. “Yes Amos, they are the same. We are both too trusting. And apparently both fearless.”
“What are you talking about father?” Sarai finally asks.
He stares at me, his face burning red. “I would like you to meet somebody.”
Ten elite guards open the double doors and in walks the real Amos.
“Amos, meet Asher, son of Silas.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What was once a sprawling metroplex, Fort Worth, is now stained with empty dilapidated buildings. A few helldusters battle the morning nip by standing over a garbage can fire eagerly awaiting the next narcdrop. They wearily eye Cephas and his entourage as they enter what was once a bustling downtown. Not too far from here was the home of the Dallas Cowboys. America’s team in fact participated in the last Super Bowl ever played. They lost to the San Antonio Raiders in overtime.
Cephas sighs and thinks about what a different world this used to be. Sports, games, hot-dogs, BBQs, and family. Now it is starvation, murder, oppression, and The Wall. A world where children no longer play outside, at least not outside Zion. To his right was what used to be a megachurch where families could worship freely. Now Bibles are burned at the altar of Zion. Jude shakes him from his melancholic thoughts and points to the map.
“Just on the outskirts,” Jude informs him.
Three hours later they approach a farmhouse that sits on ten acres of picked over apple trees. Cephas studies the map.
“There, near the barn.”
“Think it’s vacant?” Jude wonders aloud.
His question is answered immediately as a scrappy seventy-something man whose beard is as long as his arm comes limping out of the farmhouse, aiming a shotgun at them.
“What can I do ya for?”
Both Cephas and Jude grip their pistols underneath their coats.
“Just passing through,” Cephas answers plainly.
“Y’all better keep on going. Nuttin’ here.”
“Now what?” Jude whispers to Cephas.
“We come back later.”
“Don’t go pilfering any of my apples neither,” the old man crows.
Just as Cephas and his crew turn to leave, the old man raises an eyebrow.
“Wait a damn minute, are you . . . Cephas? Leader of The Defiance?”
Cephas ponders the question carefully. If this man is a Lazurite sympathizer, then a truthful answer could be deadly, but if he’s a Dreck, then that’s a different story. Before he can say anything Jude blurts, “Yes he is, he’s the one and only Cephas, commander of The Great Defiance.”
“Idiot,” Cephas whispers.
“Just look at him, he’s a Dreck for sure,” Jude mumbles, squinting from the morning sun.
The old man lowers his shotgun. “Then I’d be honored. What’s mine is yours hoss.”
“Funny you should say that,” Jude says through an oversized smile.
“Don’t got much, but you’re welcome to it.”
“Maybe so, or, you may have everything,” Cephas says cryptically.
“How so?”
“We believe, that somewhere on your land, is the Fort Worth Armory.”
“Heck you say! Armory is a myth, everyone knows that!” the old man squabbles.
“Maybe, but can we check your land anyway?”
“If you think you can find it, and it helps defeat those Lazurite butchers, then be my guest.”
After showing him the map, the old man, limping slowly, leads them to his barn.
“What happened to your leg?” Jude inquires.
“Shrapnel. I was part of the first resistance when The Wall was fresh. But I’m the lucky one, my family not so much.”
Jude lowers his head. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Grab some shovels,” Cephas orders.
After four hours of digging inside and around the barn, Jude’s shovel clanks.
“Think I got something!”
Cephas and his crew rush over. “Dig around it.”
A few more minutes of digging reveals a massive slab of rusted metal. A chain connected to both ends.
“This is it! This has to be it!” Jude dances around while shaking his fists.
“Settle it down stringbean, we haven’t found anything yet. Could be an old grain storage locker.” Cephas feigns aloofness and points to the chain, “Pull.”
It takes all of them to pull the heavy slab across the barn floor to reveal a secret opening and a stairwell that leads underground. The smell of history burps from the underground chamber.
“What in the Sam Hill,” the old man mutters in disbelief.
“I told you this was it!” Jude scampers in circles.
Even Cephas can’t hide his excitement as they grab lanterns and make their way down the stairwell. No one has inhaled this musty air since the Civil War. The room is fifteen hundred square feet, much smaller than any of them anticipated. They scour the entire room, only to find two rusted muskets in the corner.
“There’s nothing here,” Jude utters in shock.
“This is why you let legends be legends,” Cephas growls.
The old man picks up one of the muskets. “What’d I tell ya? A myth. Y’all are welcome to stay for some coffee and apples.”
Jude picks up the other musket and it nearly crumbles in his hands. “I knew Boaz was a selfish lying rat!”
Cephas places his hands against the wall as if he needs help standing. The veins in his forehead hammer against his wrinkled leathery skin, as if they are trying to punch their way out. His knees wobble. The Christian in him wants to pray, his flesh wants to strangle Boaz. The last hope for The Defiance is now extinguished. His headquarters destroyed. His weapons gone. His men nearing extinction. He thinks about having a drink.
But Cephas doesn’t know how bad it really is.
SeaPen is two hundred feet under the surface of the Pacific Ocean on the coast of Point Reyes near Renatus’s palatial palace. Talk about keep your enemy’s close. We arrived in a small cargo submarine that then docked with a cement tunnel leading to the prison. This is like Alcatraz, but underwater. Inescapable. As I’m escorted to my cell we pass the mess hall where lunch is being served. The inmates don heavy coats made from iron that are locked to their body as a way of limiting their movements. Their boots are so heavy it seems to take massive effort just to walk, a great but inhumane method of crowd control. You are not allowed out of your cell without these weighted duds.
I spot one inmate who walks unencumbered, as if the heavy coat is nothing but threads of cotton, his massive frame and height is unmistakable. He peers up at me; it is Legion. I nod at him, but he acts as if he doesn’t know me. On the other side of the room eating alone is Dagger. He glances up and his hatred for me seems to dissolve into surprise. He must be thinking, Why is Amos here in handcuffs? Most residents here are political dissidents and foes of Renatus, and if they knew my true identity I would fit right in. But right now I feel like I’m a policeman forced to live with the ones I arrested. To them I’m just Renatus’s cohort. I have a feeling I won’t last long here.
My cell is a six-by-six tempered glass square. Actually, it’s not much smaller than my hostile back on Reservation 9. My mattress, or more like a glorified blanket, lies in the middle of the floor. A small toilet in the corner, no privacy as the glass is on all four sides. I feel like a fish in an aquarium. Except that I have an anchor wrapped around my neck.
“Welcome to your castle Amos the Great,” the guard snickers as he shoves me into my cell with more force than necessary.
I lie on the cold blanket and think of Sarai. Is she okay? Does her father know that she knows who I really am and is she being punished? Will she join me here? Or something even worse?
I wonder if Cephas found the armory, and if he did, was there anything there? And if so, who will open The Wall for him now that I’m in here? I have failed. Failed Cephas. My father. The Defiance. Sarai. Was this really all for naught?
Suddenly a guard appears with a visitor. Renatus.
The guard quickly cuffs me to a pole in the middle of the room and leaves as Renatus enters.
“Oh Amos, or Asher, that is your name right? Asher son of Silas?” he says with a mocking tone.
“Does it matter now?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“Where’s Sarai?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answers plainly.
“Please, she didn’t know, she didn’t know I was Asher. I fooled her too.”
“We’ll soon find that out.”
“Just please leave her be. You can do what it is you want with me,” I plead.
“I know we can Asher,” he says in a deviant tone. “If I wasn’t so affronted, I would be impressed with what you have accomplished. Surely Cephas’s idea. Didn’t think the old man was this clever.”
“Who says I’m done yet?” I say defiantly.
“Tell me something Asher, if you had lost the Canonization, or not have defeated Legion, then what? What was your backup plan?”
“I didn’t need one, I have faith,” I say, not sure where the words came from.
“Now you sound like your uncle,” he scoffs. “Cephas. He sent you to the wolves son. Sent you to die. Yet you still have allegiance to him and his misguided cause. He didn’t care for you, he used you. If you cooperate, I will spare you Asher, perhaps even reinstate you, as you found the Zion way of life pleasing didn’t you?”
It is tempting, as he is taking advantage of my weak state of mind right now. I pray for strength.
“You and Sarai could pick up where you left off, son.”
I simply shake my head.
“I was like a father to you. I was prepared to give you everything. My only daughter! Your own army. Riches beyond what any Dreck can imagine. Eternal life boy!” He slams his fist against the glass. “You were like a son to me.”
“You take what you want when you want it. You have no regard for human life. Not even your own daughter’s. And yet you seemed so surprised by my betrayal. What a sight, the great Renatus has hurt feelings.”
He punches me square in the jaw. I spit blood.
“You’re going to hurt while you’re here, son. Now the degrees and levels of pain will be up to you. But I recommend talking sooner rather than later. You will tell me where Cephas is and the rest of The Defiance. You will give me a list of the other spies such as yourself. Along with the remaining compounds we are yet to find.”
“I know nothing. And what I did know I have long forgotten,” I say blankly.
Renatus stands and smirks. “Trust me on this. Your memory will be refreshed. Cheers.”
“Calm down Cephas!” Jude implores.
Cephas has finally lost his temper, he kicks and throws rocks against the wall of the underground bunker that is the legend of the Fort Worth Armory.
He looks up and growls, “Why? Why?”
“It’s just a setback is all.”
“A setback? We are finished Jude. Do you understand? Finished! We have no weapons, no men and no place to go!”
Cephas turns and begins to storm up the stairs.
“Where ya going?”
“To find some tonic,” Cephas answers with hopeless eyes. He then grabs the old man. “You have anything to drink?”
“No, but there are pallets of the stuff a mile west,” the old man answers.
“Well that’s great! Just great! One setback and our fearless leader quits,” Jude chides him.
“One setback? One!” Cephas barks back.
“Okay, maybe a few, but this lack of faith is pathetic!”
Cephas stops, picks up a rock, and flings it at Jude. Hard enough to scare him, but slow enough that he can dodge it. Jude easily sidesteps it. The rock crashes into the bunker wall. A piece of the ancient wall chips away. Cephas squints at it.
Jude continues on his rant. “What did you always tell us? ‘Have faith, God has a plan! With God on our side what is there to fear! Who could be against us. That—”’
“Shut up!” Cephas barks and trudges over to the wall he had just pelted with the rock. He rubs his fingers around the small indentation. He grabs another rock and chips away at the wall until he finds a rusted metal ring attached to it. He pulls on it. A loud creaking noise reverberates through the room as Cephas pulls open a door hidden within the rock wall. Jude is too shocked to speak. Not wanting to be disappointed again, no one says anything.
They all file one by one through the door. Cephas shines his lantern illuminating the massive room to reveal hundreds of wooden crates. Jude scampers over to the first one and pries it open with a crowbar. Inside are twenty Springfield Model 1861 rifles.
“It does exist,” Cephas whispers.
Jude forces open crate after crate. “There are thousands of them!”
Cephas also finds a crate full of Civil War-era hand grenades. In the corner are two Gatling guns. Cephas’s guilt for his diminishing faith is quickly drowned out by his excitement and thanks. What lies before him can turn the tides of this war into their favor. Exoarmor was not designed to protect against lead and gunpowder. Technology put the Lazurites in power and it will be technology that will be their undoing. At least that’s what Cephas hopes will happen. Jude dances around like a kid on Christmas morning. Cephas is cautiously optimistic. He feels like a desert receiving its first rain. He only hopes it’s not a mirage.
“They need to be cleaned, cataloged, and tested, there is a lot of rust on these,” Cephas orders, hoping that the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old weapons are still viable.
“We’ll need a way to transport them,” Jude adds.
“I have two wagons you can hook your horses up to,” the old man offers. “Would go with ya, but got a bum leg.”
“We will never be able to repay your kindness. On behalf of The Defiance and freedom loving people across this land, thank you.”
“No thanks required, just win!” the old man spits.
“Ammunition?” Cephas queries, almost forgetting the guns are useless without it.
Jude replies, “About ten cases worth. Twenty-thousand rounds.”
“Then we must not be wasteful.”
“I’ll throw rocks if I have to,” Jude says.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Cephas can finally speak with a hint of confidence, “These weapons were used to win America’s first Civil War. They will now be used to win its second. Lord willing The Wall will come down and Zion will fall! We will once again be a united country, we will once again be free!”
After a few hoots and hollers, his men anxiously return to inspecting the weapons.
There is almost a spring in his step as he sidles up next to Jude and places his hand on his shoulder.
“Didn’t I always tell you to have faith?” Cephas says, tongue in cheek.
“I can’t believe you threw a rock at me.”
“Like I had any chance of hitting you, stringbean.”
Renatus paces around the oval table of his brightly lit war room. He is starting to come down from his adrenalin high of punishing Asher. If he wasn’t so busy he would be there for his interrogation. His assistant, Omar, is near the center along with a couple of generals and a few elites.
“We are yet to extract any information of use. Key word being yet.” Renatus turns to one of the generals, “How long before you are ready?”
The general clears his throat. “We’re ready now sir.”
Renatus peers up at the ceiling, then addresses his head scientist. “And what about project Anti-Armor?”
The nervous scientist carefully chooses his words. “We are operational my sultan. We have five thousand units so far.”
Omar raises an eyebrow. “Project Anti-Armor?”
Renatus pats him on the head. “You will be briefed on it later.”
Before Renatus can discuss his next topic, Sarai bursts in, her hands cuffed behind her, two elites in tow.
“I demand to know where Asher is!”
One of the elites speaks up. “I apologize my sultan, she ran past our—”
Renatus waves him off, “You may be my daughter, but you are now a traitor to Zion and in no condition to make demands.”
“What will become of him?” Sarai spits.
Renatus wiggles his fingers in the air like he is playing an air piano, “He will be interrogated, then put to death, a traitors death.”
She falls to her knees, “I beg you to spare him. I beg you, Father. Please.”
“If I showed leniency to every traitor, there would be no Zion. Besides, SeaPen isn’t big enough.”
A tear slides from her cheek. “And what about me?”
Renatus takes a deep breath, then turns to the men seated at the table. “Leave us, we will reconvene tonight.”
All except for his main advisor, Omar, march out of the room, none of them can even look at Sarai. Renatus steps towards her.
“You my dear, I have had much tolerance for. But this is unforgivable. Asher’s fate will be your fate.” He waves to the two elites behind her. “Take her please.”
She is dragged out, kicking and screaming. “Father, please! Do what you want with me, please spare Asher!”
The door shuts with a thud. Renatus stares at the ground and rubs his head, conflicted.
Omar sidles next to him. “You know, she still may be of use to you.”
“Apparently you don’t know my daughter. Whatever information we don’t get from Asher, we definitely won’t get from her.”
“Not quite what I mean my sultan.”
“I’m listening.”
Omar is not sure if he is out of line, but he is always willing to take risks to gain Renatus’s favor. “She carries the gene, correct?”
“Yes.”
“If she ever had any offspring, there is a chance they would carry the same genetic disorder.”
Renatus’s eyes widen. “Yes, yes, another wounded one.”
Omar places his hand on Renatus’s shoulder, then quickly removes it. “You could finally have your son back.”
