It was raining the day Clancy left.
'Of course,' Clancy thought as he ran through the mud, 'it always rains.'
When ever something sad, or angry, or dramatic, or anything even relatively important to somebody's life happened, it always fucking rained.
Clancy was running for his life. Running for his life. Running for his life.
He was wearing pants, but he had cut them off at knees to make shorts, as sometimes it could be so incredibly hot in Dema all he wanted was a drop of water. Nights were freezing cold, so freezing that he even felt paralyzed. He would just wrap himself up in that scratchy wool blanket, then be prepared to sweat in the morning.
He had been punished for that, for cutting his uniform. Put in the Tower of Silence for a whole week, locked up with Jason.
Now that he was out, now that he was free, little things like hot and cold began to surface in Clancy's mind.
He had never realized how terrible life was in Dema until he escaped. He was brainwashed, and his eyes were now opened.
Trench.
He was running to Trench. Through Trench.
It was beautiful. He didn't need to see it; he knew it was beautiful. He knew the wide, deep gorge that seemed to go on forever and ever, with the rushing river at the bottom and dark caves and green grass on the sides.
But through the thick curtain of rain and dark night sky, everything was a hideous shade of grey-blue.
Everything looked the same to Clancy. The rainfall has turned the crystal clear river at his feet into pools of mud. The sides and cliffs and caves of the trench all morphed together into one big, ugly, blue-grey blur.
His boots kicked up mud as he ran, all of that disgusting brown mud splashing up onto his bare legs. He regretted cutting off his pants now.
Fear bubbled up inside Clancy's chest as he ran blindly through the rain. His light grey shirt stuck to his skin, soaked in mud and rain. His black jacket flew out behind him, almost falling off his thin shoulders, and was crusty with dried dirt. A tattered brown backpack was slung over his shoulders, slapping against his back as he ran, sending pain up his spine.
He could barely see two feet in front of him, but he figured anything he was toward was better than what he was running away from.
Clancy tightened the yellow bandana around his head, still running, his dirty hands splashing mud in his face.
He painfully squeezed his eyes shut and winced as he felt the mud rolling down his forehead and burning his eyes. He kept running. He couldn't stop. Stopping meant going back to Dema.
And going back to Dema was worse than death.
As soon as Clancy opened his eyes again, they grew to the size of them moon. A huge jagged boulder was sticking up right in front of him, and he didn't even see it. Before he even knew what was happening, he smacked into the rock and fell backwards.
He cried out as he fell flat on his face, right into the freezing river at his feet. His backpack fell off and landed somewhere in the mud next to him.
Thank God it was zipped up. He couldn't risk anything destroying his journal.
He laid in the murky water for a few moments before shakily pushing himself up on his hands and knees.
As soon as he was up, he fell right back over again. Pain engulfed Clancy's senses. His legs burned. His chest and lungs ached desperately for air. A deep pain was throbbing through his arms.
Clancy closed his eyes, still burning from the mud and rain and tears, and curled up into the fetal position. He laid there in the river, holding his knees to his chest and putting his head down.
The sound of rain pounding on the ground and splashing on top of the water was loud enough to drown out the sound of Clancy's crying.
"Come on," Clancy said to himself. He grit his teeth and pushed himself up into a standing position, fighting through the searing pain. "Keeping on trying. Might as well."
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Squinting his eyes to see through the rainfall, he looked up at the top of the trench. He couldn't see that far, but he knew there were all sorts of pathways and winding trails that could get you to the top.
It was partly his fault. He had gotten separated from the rest of the group. The ones that had helped him escape.
The Banditos.
Without the Banditos, Clancy would be dead right now. It was impossible to escape Dema on your own. There was no sneaking out. They would see you and kill you.
But with the Banditos, there were too many of them. Some of them might be taken out, but they were such a huge, tight-knit clique of people, there was no stopping them.
You either went with the Banditos, or not at all.
Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos of escaping and the confusion of the storm, Clancy had lost them.
He could have taken the high road, but he knew he was going to have to go low.
Now, along the paths snaking up the sides of the hills, Clancy could see a faint line of glowing yellow lights. Flashlights.
Clancy wiped away his tears with the back of his muddy hand then picked up his backpack.
He tried to breathe, but his lungs felt like they were being crushed. He was hyperventilating, his skinny chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Folina!" Clancy screamed at the top of his lungs. "Sahlo Folina!"
His voice echoed throughout Trench like a haunting melody. Not even the rain could drown out his desperate cry.
Clancy took a gasp for air. His head spun, and black spots blinked in and out of his vision. He had to breathe. He would faint.
Still, he shouted again: "Sahlo Folina!"
The words rolled off Clancy's tongue like a song. He wasn't screaming. He was singing.
"Sahlo Folina!"
It's what they cried out in Trench when they were in need.
Though he was far from Dema, his home, he knew he wasn't alone.
They would come for him. They would help him.
In Trench, he wasn't alone.
✗✗✗✗✗
Clancy woke up surrounded by warmth.
He was lying on some sort of cot, curled up in a bundle of blankets, coats, and quilts. His head rested on a soft cushion. The fuzzy fabrics tickled his skin.
Sunshine warmed him to his very bones, and he was so comfortable he didn't even move from the blankets for a good half hour.
He simply laid there, eyes closed, and soft smile on his face.
He wriggled his toes and snuggled deeper into his nest of blankets. He gave a happy, content sigh.
Maybe Dema had been a dream.
Maybe it was all a dream.
But it wasn't a dream, and he knew that. Nine fucking years of his life trapped in that hell couldn't have been a dream.
Clancy's eyes shot open when he heard footsteps coming closer to him.
Anxiety lurched in his stomach, and he sat bolt upright. He began kicking and yanking the blankets off of him.
He hadn't made it.
He had been captured again. He was back in Dema.
He had to run. He had to escape.
"Hey! Hey, it's okay! You're alright, you're alright..."
Despite the kind voice Clancy heard, he kept struggling.
The person suddenly put their hand on Clancy's shoulder and gently forced them back onto the bed.
Clancy reluctantly stopped fighting for a moment and looked up.
The figure hovering over him was a young woman with kind blue eyes. She pulled the yellow bandana over her mouth down around her neck, revealing rosy cheeks and a soft smile.
"You don't need to run," she said. Her voice was gentle. "You're safe now."
Clancy looked up at the girl, his eyes wide in awe. He silently nodded his head the tiniest bit.
"You almost slept through the day," the woman gave a light laugh. "It's about two now. I'm sure you're hungry."
Clancy nodded again. He didn't even think about how much his stomach hurt or how dry his mouth was until now.
"We've got some new clothes for you," she said. "Your journal is safe too."
She nodded to a small stool next to the cot Clancy was on, where there was a light green shirt, ripped jeans, and an oversized army jacket. His own yellow bandana and backpack were there too.
Clancy looked around. He was in a fairly large tent, with a few cots covered in blankets, a small table, the stool, and tapestries with intricate patterns hanging down from the top of the tent.
There was a pile of what looked like rolls of yellow duct tape on the ground.
"I hope you don't mind, but I read some of it," the girl said. "I know how terrible Dema is. You're safe here with me. With us."
She reached out her hand and gently placed it on Clancy's arm. Her skin was warm, just like the sun pouring into the tent.
She had the kindest, clearest blue eyes he had ever seen. Her smile was tight and tired, but it was genuine and made Clancy feel warm inside.
She wore a pastel yellow shirt and camouflage jacket, with black pants tucked into boots. A bandana was loosely tied around her neck. Wavy blonde hair fell delicately around her shoulders.
"Welcome to Trench," she said, lifting her chin proudly. "My name is Bandito."
Clancy's heart leapt in his chest. He was talking to the Bandito. The leader.
He had made it.
He was safe.
He was in Trench.
"And yours is...?" Bandito asked expectantly, excitement twinkling in her sky blue eyes.
Being in the presence of Bandito, in her tent, surrounded by all of the other people that would love and support him, he felt filled with a sudden courage. A welcoming feeling like he was part of something bigger than himself.
"Clancy," he said firmly.
At the sound of Clancy's proud voice, Bandito's small smile grew.
To Clancy's surprise, Bandito pulled him into a tight hug.
To Bandito's surprise, Clancy closed his eyes, smiled, and hugged her right back.
"Clancy," Bandito said. "Don't be afraid. You're home."
✗✗✗✗✗
✗✗✗✗✗
GUESS WHO'S BACK
BACK AGAIN
How are all my kiddos doing? Did you miss your mom?
Damn does it feel good to be back!!!
Copying what our boys did, I took a little hiatus of my own I guess.
But I am BACK with ANOTHER ACT, and I couldn't be more excited!!!
A little change of pace, a new chapter will be posted EVERY OTHER DAY, so make sure to check back every other day!
I had so much fun writing this act, and golly gee is it going to be a good one.
I truly hope you all enjoy. I worked so very hard on this, and I hope that you love it as much as I do!
I've missed you all so so much,
-Liz.