The Betrayal of Ka (The Transprophetics: Book One)

16. Compassion in the Darkness

"Do you believe in miracles, son?"

Kadamba could hardly make out the face of the person talking to him. As his eyes began to focus and he awoke, he realized that he was back in the prison's medical clinic. He supposed they would accuse him of being a clumsy bird. They certainly wouldn't consider him anything other than a small portion of their profit. Something that simply needed to be fixed up, so that he could be counted when the government paid each month.

"Mr. Vorhoor, can you hear me?" the voice spoke again. This time Kadamba focused. He did know the face. It was one of the many guards that worked at the prison.

What would he want? Was he there to taunt Kadamba for attacking Jackos? The reality of it hit him. He was still in the prison. Jackos hadn't killed him. He stared at his hands. There had to be blood on them. Then he looked at the brand on his left arm. It was two simple words in Lamaratian, the dominant language on Koranth. Maybe others couldn't see the blood on his hands, but they could read those two words, "child murderer."

"Kadamba, I need you to listen to me now. I don't have much time," the guard stated.

If Kadamba could have laughed, he would have, but he could feel the darkness quickly creeping through him. Maybe here in the clinic, he could finish what Jackos had failed to do. Maybe, he would end his misery with a scalpel or inject himself with something. Anything. Anything at all to stop this pain and guilt.

Kadamba saw what looked like a gun in the guard's hands. A sense of relief swept over him. He wasn't going to have to try. He looked into the guard's eyes, almost wanting to see the hatred and disgust that this man certainly held for him. It would be the final validation that he deserved to die. But the guard's eyes were wrong. "Doesn't he hate me like everyone else does?" thought Kadamba, as he searched the man's face for signs of contempt or something that would validate why the gun was in his hand.

The injection stung as it went into Kadamba's neck. It wasn't a laser gun or energy blaster; it was a gun-shaped syringe. "Kadamba, this is the only time I can talk to you, so you have to listen, and you have to remember what I tell you. You will not live if you don't."

"I don't want to live" Kadamba responded, as tears streaked down his cheeks.

The guard looked at Kadamba and let out a knowing sigh. "You're a kid. You screwed up as badly as you possibly could. You have to live with that, but that doesn't mean you have to die. There is always hope. Listen to me now. Do NOT forget what I am saying. I won't talk to you or even acknowledge you, once you are out of the clinic. However, if you stay close to me when you are out of your cell, I can protect you somewhat. Jackos won't do anything if you are near another guard or me. When I'm not there, watch the guards; we have patterns that we walk. If you learn those patterns, you can keep yourself within twenty feet of a guard throughout most of the prison."

"Jackos will simply get me in my room," Kadamba muttered.

"You can be safe in your cell," the guard maintained. "When you go into your cell, place your left hand on the wall and say, 'Seal.' That will make the force-field door close, and only a guard can open it from the outside. Never tell anyone how you learned this or how you do it, as management has decided that this should not be known."

Tears welled up in Kadamba's eyes again. This was the first moment of compassion that he experienced since the justice enforcement officer had shot him on Schmarlo's Landing. He tried to get words to form, but his tears choked them off.

The guard put his hand on Kadamba's shoulder. "Son, I can't undo what you have done. You made a horrible mistake. You will have to come to terms with that someday. I may work in a prison, but that doesn't mean that I don't believe in humanity and treating others as human beings. I'll do what I can to help you."