Parallel II: A New Ordinance

3-HUNTERS

I woke to the sound of birds chirping and the sun gleaming through the wooden rafters of our cabin, it was nothing short of beautiful. All the constant stress and anxiety slowly faded away when I was woken up by nature's symphony of sights and sounds. The compound was deep within nature, however, the walls surrounding us physically extended into our minds; we were unable to think of ourselves as truly free. But here? Here it felt like every part of the earth was gleefully calling out to me. I stood up and walked over to the small eating area, where Troy was rummaging around. I was under the impression, from the sounds he was producing, that food was being prepared, which relieved the smoldering worry and pain of hunger within me. However, as I opened the door I was met with a far different sight. Troy seemed to be taking out cases of bullets and stacking them next to a set of guns. Not only his familiar pistol but a whole assortment of other weapons, all of which looked menacing. I called out his name and he frantically looked up at me. He looked back and muttered, dismissingly, "Yeah?". I slowly approached him and started asking questions. "What are you doing with those guns? Where did you even get them?" He slammed an obscenely long one onto the table and stood up at the same time, pushing against the barrel to assist his ascent. "John gave 'em to me. We're definitely going to need them, so it's a damn good thing he did.", he answered. "So you explained what happened back at your family home to him?" I asked, excited but also nervous. "No, of course not. But we will do that together soon enough." I was puzzled. "If not for that, why would he agree to give you all these guns?" He smiled and looked right into my eyes. "Because... We're gonna go hunting today."

The forest was a beautiful sight, however, with these dangerous weapons strapped to my back it was hard to focus. John slumped next to me and started to talk to me more directly. "So, uh, what's your name again kiddo?" He asked, accompanied by a warm smile. "Hælend" I answered firmly but hesitantly. I looked over to Troy for a moment, as I was unsure of talking to John. "That's a real interesting name. Troy said you were Canadian, so I'm assuming it's a more common one up there." I wasn't sure of what he was even talking about, but I just went along with it. "Yep! So, uh... what kind of business is this exactly that you're running?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation rhythmic and friendly. He chuckled. "Well it's a bit hard to explain, but basically I give a home to those who can't usually get one. I used to be part of that group, but I've been blessed with success. I thought I'd spread some of that luck to the people who never escaped that low, low place like I did. These cabins are my whole career now, my legacy." What he said felt strange. It made perfect sense for him to do such a thing, though strangely such logical initiative felt missing from the world I had known. In the compound, the leaders tended to instruct and control, everyone else below them... well, they were just left to follow, obey, and try to survive, no matter how hard it was. Hearing what John had done with his success brought me a feeling of peace and, even, admiration. "Wow. That's quite noble." I said. I had nothing critical to say in response. "Thanks for thinking so. It's always good to know that my work has a bit of meaning to it... Well anyway, have you ever been hunting before, kid?" I shuddered a bit when he said this. The warmth building up from the interesting, even inspiring conversation had been distilled by the harsh memory of hunters in the compound.

I vividly remember the voices shouting in the wilderness as the Verhimos ran outside the walls of the compound and readied their weapons. The Verhimos were true hunters, using nothing but knives and, sometimes, their bare hands to slay their targets. They were unforgiving and unrelenting, whatever my mother or Archai Bredil sicked them on would likely turn up a withered, lifeless husk the very next day. Sometimes it was for the sake of food, sometimes for sport, sometimes as punishment, but one thing stood true. It was almost never an animal. I had been told by The Keeper during one of my visions that humans typically hunt animals for food, but unfortunately, the Ordinance was far from typical. If you couldn't be dealt with by torture, execution was the logical next step in the twisted minds of those heartless Jack Ketches. Usually, they'd carry this out with a disgusting ceremony, glorifying the end of a prisoner's life. Even for the truly despicable ones, I could barely stand to watch. It was done with such harsh, reckless abandon that it took a truly demented, brainwashed perspective to not doubt its ethicality. But, worse than that, were the times when the food supply ran short. They tended to avoid hunting animals outside of the compound, opting to breed their own in farms, due to the risk of being caught by outsiders, but when things got desperate, they took great pleasure in telling the poor prisoners to scatter and then hunting them down one-by-one, slaughtering all of them without a care in the world. Every memory I had of hunting up until today was a horrific one, how was I to look forward to this new example?