“Hold it…hold it tight, put pressure,”
The voice was faint and desperate. Runner opened his eyes. He could barely see a thing, only the shadows of people moving in the light. All he could hear was that same voice repeating the same words. At first, he thought he was dead and was in that place of abundant milk and honey where Reverend Malachi has always referenced to give the poor folks hope in the Cathedral at Rat town.
But if indeed it was Paradise, then why does he feel a stabbing pain at his abdomen. Why does the whole place smell of blood and gangrene?
“Put more pressure,” the voice came again.
Runner turned to his right and a sharp pain stung at his side. The vagueness began to fade. It felt like a veil has been lifted from his sight and he saw someone familiar on a table surrounded by a woman and two men. There was blood everywhere.
“Rhiannon!” Runner screamed and jumped off his bed, ignoring the pain.
He pushed through the woman and her help, grabbing his friend’s shoulder and shaking her to wake. Rhiannon was as still as a log, her face pale and her garb soaked in red blood. One of the men grabbed Runner and pulled him back.
“Why is she not waking?” Runner’s face grew sullen as if he was going to cry, but tears would not fall.
“Help her,” he said, “please, help her.”
The men handed him to two Rangers from Section 5 and they dragged him out as he kicked and screamed, “Help her!”
Runner rammed his knee on one of the Ranger’s groin and escaped the grasp of the other. He surged into the tent, so concentrated on his friend that he had failed to see that there were hundreds of slum dwellers writhing in pain on makeshift hospital beds.
He halted, masked in utter silence as he watched the nurse cover Rhiannon with a white cloth. He couldn’t feel anything. All his senses had gone numb. Blood trickled from his wound and soaked his white vest.
The Rangers came back, pointing their stun guns at him.
“It is okay, let him go. I will take care of him, let him go,” a voice said, but Runner did not care to see who it was.
He was led to a bed and he sat down, making no attempt to be aware of his surroundings. The next that came was a flash of light on his eyes.
“Pupil dilations, normal,” the voice said again.
Runner opened his mind to the world and everything rushed in with an overwhelming force. The moans of patients in pain, the racket of folks arguing with the Rangers, buzzing sounds of electric generators, all were like a jumble of memories invading his mind. He felt a sting at his side and looked down to see the nurse stitching his wounds.
“Hi,” she said while making her stitches, “I’m Dr Lysander from the Citadel of Healing.”
Immediately, Runner recognized the name. Everyone knew Dr Lysander headed the Citadel of Healing, not that they cared anyway but even so, she could not be denied the influential figure of being one of the Councillors in the governmental hierarchy of MegacityOne.
“What happened?” Runner asked with a husky voice.
“A bomb blast from MegacityOne caused a series of chain reaction that got to Rat town. The rebel, Death-Throe, was responsible for it.”
Death-Throe, the name sounded in Runner’s mind. He has always respected the rebel and saw him as a heroic figure to the dwellers of the ten slum colonies. Now, the name stirred anger in him. It made his tongue bitter like ash and his mind filled with hatred for all things.
Runner noticed that his right hand was tightening into a fist and the look of fear resting on Dr Lysander’s face couldn’t be helped.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I understand,” Dr Lysander held his hand and opened his palm, “she was your friend and you hold every right to be angry.”
Runner pulled his hand forcefully away from her and stood from the bed, “can I go now?”
Dr Lysander rose to her feet and her eyes met Runner’s gaze. Like all from the Citadel of Healing, she wore a white latex overall that stuck to her figure like a skin and upon it a long flowing white coat—which indeed had been implemented by the Citadel in memory of healers from the world before the nuclear radiation.
“Mother,” a girl called from the distance.
As she came further, the vagueness that masked her in the distance disappeared and Runner saw her clearly. She was none other than Olivia Patterson, daughter of the Supreme Councillor. Runner’s jaws dropped when he made the connection.
His nurse had all long been the wife of the Supreme Councillor. Oh! How rudely he had spoken to her, but why was his head still attached to his neck. It would seem the Queen bee of MegacityOne was not all folks had imagined her to be.
The girl reached her mother and they engaged in a long embrace. Following behind her was a blonde boy, dressed in a long black coat. He too shared a warm hug with the Doctor.
“Who is he, mum?” Olivia ran her eyes over Runner as if she was some kind of security check-device.
Typical, Runner thought. It was not so long ago that she reprimanded him for his fight with Dope just before the bomb went off, yet she has all but forgotten his face. He couldn’t believe he had spent half his life mooning over her, ignoring the best thing to have ever happened to him which was Rhiannon.
Now she was dead and his heart was full of grief and regret. What will he say to Troy? Is the boy even alive?
“Olivia, meet Runner of Rat town. He has been through a lot today,” Dr Lysander gestured at Runner.
“Runner, meet my daughter, Olivia, and my son, Oliver,” she shared her gesture between the girl and the boy.
Oliver stepped forward, smiling, and gestured with a handshake. Runner received it and that moment, the boy didn’t seem like the arrogant sack of horse shit Runner had thought he was. Olivia remained at her mother’s side but her eyes…her eyes held truths untold for the way they vividly focused on Runner.
Despite being the most privileged kids in MegacityOne. Runner pitied them and found it hilarious at the same time. They had stepped into the slums comfortably with their philanthropic mother ignorant of the fact that almost every slum dweller from Rat town to Bug town wants to bury a makeshift axe in their head for just being who they are.
Runner grabbed his jacket from a table, “I will be going now ma’am, I gotta go find my friends and make sure they are alright.”
“Come here,” Dr Lysander opened her arms for an embrace.
Runner felt reluctant to receive it. He hasn’t had a hug from an elderly figure since…well, not ever. It was already weird that Dr Lysander has taken a sudden admiration to him, now she wants to give him a hug. He couldn’t tell if she was after something from him, but what could he possibly give her? One thing he knew for certain was that all the good people in the world are dead or has been hammered into insensitive beings by a harsh way of life.
“Come on, Runner, I won’t bite,” she urged.
He finally received her embrace, but made sure it was brief.
“Go find your friends,” she turned her gaze to a room where corpses had been kept for a quick cremation, “I will make sure you get her ashes when they are done.”
Runner nodded and walked to the door. He turned around, “thank you, Dr Lysander,” he said.
“Wait!” a voice came as Runner stepped through the door.
He stopped and turned to see Oliver running towards him.
“You don’t mind if I tag along,” the boy said, panting from the short distance he just ran, “I…I would like to see what Rat town looks like.”
“Bad Idea,” Runner countered.
Oliver would not turn away. He seemed intent on following Runner. Of course, it was odd that the son of the Supreme Councillor has come after him without his glorified guards from Section 5, but his safety was the least of Runner’s worries. He just didn’t want to lose that hatred of all the folks in the big city, it was that hatred that had kept him going all this while. That dream that one day, the rebel, Death-Throe, would bring them all to their knees.
Death-Throe, the rebel was all he could think of. He hated him more than anything, now, more than any disgusting person in MegacityOne. Not even Dope or Ishmael and his gang have been able to stir such hatred in him. Rhiannon’s death has set him on one path, Vengeance.
“I’m sorry, you can’t come with me,” Runner spoke rudely and continued onwards.
Oliver followed, “The rangers of Section 5 have sealed every route to the slums, but I can show you a safe path you can use to get around.”
“Let me guess, only if you tag along, fine,” Runner said.
Runner checked his wound. Dr Lysander did a great job for it felt like there was no injury there in the first place.
“Where are we going exactly?” Oliver asked.
“To find my friend, Troy Decker,” Runner answered as he walked.
Oliver was trailing behind and took quick strides to catch-up. “How are you sure he is not…dead?”
Runner spared him a glance, “I’m sure all your life the amount of resources invested in your safety has made safety even boring. No one knows the ten colonies better than Troy Decker. I have seen him survive a bog of molten metals that sinks faster than quick sand and even every radioactive storm he had encountered in the wastelands. I don’t think a bomb from a sick rebel will be enough to claim his life.”
They walked into Widow’s street, a place known for its series of shanty malls and haggard shop-keepers. Beyond a half broken glass, Runner saw boxes of freshly baked bread and no one around to keep watch. He was hungry, but even so, all he thought about was how to get food to his aunt’s kids and tell them that their guardian Angel, Rhiannon, was dead.
Stealing was one of the worst crimes a man could commit and yet it was the crime most frequently committed in Rat town. Men lost their heads for that, yet, most did not care. The way they saw it, better to die at the gallows than be slowly killed by hunger, but he did not share this ideal.
Despite the hunger, Runner walked past it.
“Hey, I know you are hungry. Take some, no one will know, I won’t tell, I promise.” Oliver stood in front of the mall.
Runner shook his head in a no.
Oliver went towards the glass. Carefully, he passed his hand through the broken glass and took two loaves.
“Here,” he gave one to Runner.
“You can’t just do that,” Runner snatched both away from him and proceeded to place them back. He stepped into a hidden surveillance line of sight and an alarm rang loudly.
They both turned to run. A few steps forward and two patrol trucks from Section 5 halted in front of them with such haste that the tires of the vehicles screeched and dug into the earth. The cars blocked their path and soon a third halted behind.
A man stepped down followed by several Rangers. “Round them up!” he commanded.
“He stole them not me,” Oliver bellowed, pointing at Runner. He showed them his identity on an ambassador’s pass card.
“Forgive us,” the Captain said, “take the Supreme Councillor’s son back to the visiting camps.”
Runner watched as they escorted Oliver with utter respect to a car. He wanted to tell them the truth, but then again it was his word against the Councillor’s son. A ranger landed a hard blow on his head with a baton and forced him to the ground.
“Take him to the gallows,” the Captain ordered.