From every nook and cranny of Lost Island, the threat of denunciation loomed over us, nowhere safe, as long as an increasing bounty was put on our three heads. Everlasting escapees, we were the Party's and shameless reward seekers' targets altogether.
Without the Hummingbirds' protection, our lives were constantly endangered, to the extent it became impossible to find anywhere to rest. Without support, despaired, we delved in the untainted verdant depths of the countryside, where Mother Nature reclaimed its lands over three decades of stubborn urbanism.
Afar from the battlefield, this discarded part of District 7 was now covered in rampant vegetation and bushes. Here and there, yet unseen tree patterns sprouted out the ground through cracks and crevasses. As its name suggested, called Setforth Woods, not many looters or adventurous Islanders had set foot in this area shrouded in mystery, likely fearing the unknown.
That's true, a few stories revolved around Setforth Woods, most of which depicted of Setforth Woods a door to the dangers of the left-behind countryside prone to the Idyllic Sea's tantrums, tucked in the volcano's flank that surrounded Heavensgate, expanding towards the sea, forming newly born lands. There, Mother Nature thrived in all its glory.
Deeper, we dipped in the green shade of Setforth Woods' trees when suddenly, down a hiking trail, we stumbled upon an unusual habitation, mounted on massive wooden poles, accessible by a chain of stairs safeguarded by a black and white dog.
Alert, despite ungainly, it startled awake, warned by the sound of leaves crackling. Even without a collar, it had the appearance of a domesticated wolfdog. Wary of us, intruders, it barked aggressively, very protective of its territory, thus indicating we trespassed inadvertently on its master's property.
"Before the night comes, we shall leave immediately and find somewhere else to hide for tonight, before it gets too dark to keep advancing," Skye suggested.
"Our only alternative is to ask for hospitality," I disagreed.
"Are you crazy?" Skye shouted. "We can't entrust our survival to a complete stranger who's probably not expecting late visitors! What's more, this dog is gonna attack us, if we don't decamp!"
"We won't know, unless we try," I sighed, reaching out for a bronze bell hanging from a tree's branch. "That's our only chance to..."
In before I rang it, the door creaked open, and an elderly man of venerable age appeared before us, dressed in an outlandish kimono-style overcoat.
"Fear not, as long as you don't scare him, Vox isn't going to attack you. He's belligerent because we aren't used to have visitors," he greeted us.
"Sorry for the intrusion! We shall leave right away, if you'll excuse our intrusiveness..." I gasped.
"You were looking for a place where to set camp for tonight, weren't you? Please come in. After nightfall, I can't afford to let you wander around Setforth Woods untrained for surviving in the wild."
"You're being too kind, we're used to handle ourselves," I objected weakly.
"I see that you've travelled a long way, exhausted. You're hungry too, right? Stay at my place for tonight. You'll be safe, until you've rested from your journey."
"Uh, thanks, but..." I argued, as I had not told him yet anything about us.
"Please come in, while the trees' crown is getting dark."
***
At first glance, Senku seemed like a nice guy, with harmless intentions.
Only his furrowed eyebrows betrayed his suspicion. Understandable, given not many strangers must be venturing so far inside Setforth Woods. Furthermore, he must be aware of Lost Island's recent goings-on, like a majority of people if he tuned in regularly to the radio.
However, his benevolence suggested that he was inclined to grant us shelter, in spite of the risks taken by hiding some of the Party's highly wanted enemies, portrayed as dangerous criminals. I was grateful for his mercifulness, but worried about endangering his life.
Even though his loyal Vox watched over its master's verdant sanctuary like a vigilante, he may not be safe from the Party's scrutiny. Protective, the old four legs interposed itself between him and us, growling. Several years, how many years, of living deep inside the countryside's vegetation, trained Vox to be cautious, in order to guarantee its master's safety at all costs.
Seeming on the verge of writing the last decades of his life, Senku had survived somehow the test of time, like a millenary-old tree, wearing the marks of a long and exhausting life. Like crumpled sketch paper, ageing carved arduous paths into his cheekbones, in addition to expression lines, which depicted of him a man who may have turned grey too rapidly due to a series of insurmountable hardships.
His otherwise boyish traits softened his angular face, framed by whitish-grey locks of hair tied in a braid, lit up by his caring smile and striking blue pupils under a pair of undisciplined eyebrows. Caught in my contemplation by his wondering gaze, unguarded, I realised I had an unsettling sensation of déjà-vu, which had me forgetting my manners.
The moment I thought to myself that we had never met before, however, my embarrassment grew thicker, mumbling an apology as I reddened of shame for losing my countenance in front of our unlikely caretaker.
"Let's not miss with introductions," he ensued. "I'm Senku. And you, what are your names? What's the reason of your coming to Setforth Woods?"
"Nice... Nice to meet you," I stuttered. "Thank you for your hospitality... it's much appreciated. My name's Cassidy. They're Liam and Skye.
"Rest assured, we'll leave by tomorrow morning. We're currently on the run from the Party's ravens, for being staunch activists against the Party's leadership, and..."
As soon as he heard those words, Senku stepped backwards, grasping the door's handle. His expression turned to indifference, just like other people's faces, whom we asked for help in our desperate escape from the Black Police. After all, we had been fooled by the wishful desire to find a listening ear to our distress.
"We're staunch opponents to Pipelin Pantonium's regime. But we overestimated our chances to take over our elders' battle," Liam explained. "Due to a series of circumstances... we have nobody to turn to anymore for help."
Studying the three of us from head to toe, disconcerted, Senku seemed in every way reluctant to let us inside. It was a given, even in our dire situation, we were still no more than a bunch of outcasts on the run. Not to mention, we were pitiably dressed in torn clothes unwashed for several days, exhausted and dishevelled.
Furthermore, our empty stomachs craved for water and edible food. In his eyes, without measuring the extent of our commitment, we must look like runaways stranded across the other side of Heavensgate, begging for his help, although he didn't intend to get involved with the Party's affairs, even less so to hide some of the Party's sworn enemies.
"Even for a day, we won't be a bother, I swear," I whispered, looking down and away. "By tomorrow, we'll find another place to hide by ourselves."
"To venture inside Setforth Woods, without knowing the dangers of the countryside, you must be really desperate," Senku responded. "Whatever it takes from me, I can't feed you to the depths of Setforth Woods past midnight, however, or else I'd never forgive myself for abandoning your side."
"Thanks... thank you for consenting to help us; you have our deepest gratitude!"
"You don't have to thank me, if you truly are committed to defending your ideals," Senku replied, sketching a gentle smile filled with... nostalgia?
"We're truly grateful for your hospitality!" I reaffirmed.
"No hustle and bustle between us, just relax. Make yourselves at home, I'll get dinner ready," he replied, laughing lightly under his beard.
***
Heating up an ageless stove to put together a modest dinner for us four, Senku proceeded to tell us more about him, once we had sat down on wooden mats that told the story of another era dating back from the centuries before the Exodus. His home reminded me of traditional Japanese interiors I had seen in a book about the ancient continent of Asia.
"I've been living on the countryside at the Idyllic Sea's tides' mercy, for thirty-two years, as a hermit, afar from the city's hassle, which preserved me from the Party's distorted ideal of prosperity."
"Wasn't it hard on you to live there alone, given you spoke earlier of the countryside's dangers?" I inquired, getting lost in the dreamy art pieces exhibited on the walls of his sanctuary inside the trees, which had all in common various representations of the sea, reminiscent of Japanese-styled etchings.
Speaking of Japanese culture, his resting place exuded the simplicity and elegance of Japanese aesthetic, which you could find in an historical Japanese household, mixed with modern-time appliances. He designed it to fit one person's needs, living there alone. We would be sleeping on the floor, unless the three of us shared his futon. I objected that he shouldn't give up his comfort to accommodate us.
"I settled that far out of the city's borders, so I hid my existence from the Party that became in my eyes the Nationalist Coalition's successors. It was too reminiscent of the catastrophe of forty-three years ago, which caused our beloved Earth's premature downfall."
"It must have been excruciating, remembering" I whispered.
"With time, I learned to cope with solitude," Senku responded in a light voice.
"Haven't you missed the company of people, even once?" I inquired.
"I can't miss what I can't have," Senku replied simply.
***
While we were having supper, Senku resumed on telling us the story of his settlement on the countryside,
"When the Party came to power thirty-two years ago, I established my home on the countryside, entirely built from usable materials drifting at sea, Senku recounted. At a later time, I domesticated Vox to serve as my bodyguard... because of my disabilities."
His voice faltered on the word 'disabilities'. I guessed without asking more that it brought back sorrowful memories from a traumatic experience. Earlier tonight, I noticed that a few loose locks of hair covered the left side of his face, deeply scarred, marred by large silvery welts.
Taking a closer look at him, I came to the realisation that a major trauma ravaged half his face, and the left part of his body. Under his garments, he wore full arm and leg prostheses, which became visible when he stood up from the seiza position to stretch his artificial limbs.
"That's gruesome!" Skye exclaimed out loud. "How is it living with those injuries?"
Discomforted by Skye's question, Senku did not respond right away. A few moments later, when he sat cross-legged on the ground more comfortably than sitting seiza-style, Senku smiled wearily, rearranging himself,
"Let's say, they're old-stitched scars," he responded emotionlessly.
All the while he installed his futon for the night, Senku remained silent, looking disconcerted, as he glanced at us three over his shoulder. I guessed, since we stormed in his haven, he might worry that his life was turning upside down.
The man must be at least eighty years old, tired of living, even though his sparkling eyes exalted his can-do spirit, adapting to circumstances that surpassed his understanding. Those eyes mimicked the impetuosity of the bluest seas, by being of a deep and dreamy blue shade similar in colour to those wondrous, underwater riches. To say this was a rarity, was an understatement; he had an outstanding blue eye colour.
Even if his irises were strikingly beautiful, they also reflected the depth of a grand, overwhelming sadness. In their shine, all the hardships he'd been through during his lifetime resurfaced, a majestic bird's life shot in flight by a great tragedy that shattered him to pieces, physically and psychically. Such fragility laid bare for everyone to see revealed another side of him, that of a man forced into solitude.
For a reason, he kept walking forward on and on, on the path of existence, having nothing and no one to protect anymore, however, except for his modest house and Vox.
Most notable, there were no photographs displayed here and there, whether of family or friends, which confounded me. If he lost the rest of his family during the Exodus, I wondered how he kept living after the Gathering, coping forcefully with solitude, without breaking apart in pieces.
As if reading through me like an open book, he looked up from the volume of poetry he was reading, gazing at me with curiosity. Before I asked him questions, he pre-empted them by waving a hand around,
"Guess that getting rid of my memories was sort of my coping mechanism with loss, he avowed without saying much else, and after that, resumed his reading."
The evening went on, way past 9pm, during which none of us spoke. We were each too absorbed in our thoughts. We worried about the coming times in which the four of us must escape from the Party, because now that he took us in pity, Senku was in danger too.
A long-awaited respite after the storm of recent days, though we knew, deep inside our hearts that unfortunately, it wouldn't last very long. For once in a long time, I wanted to trust in tomorrow's coming, free from the Party's scrutiny, in the greenness of Setforth Woods.
***
The next day, at birdsong, we followed Senku and Vox on a field trip across the other side of Heavensgate well afar from urban areas, besieged by growing vegetation, under the trees' crown, thickening by each kilometre passed. Yet only decades old, Setforth Woods was the dominium of Nature reclaiming its lands.
We simply invited ourselves inside its complex maze of trunks. We kept on walking, until we reached a sand dune, embellished by the light of the rising sun, on top of a rock face that overhung Westboat Sea. Red and pink clouds of vapour formed in the horizon as the sun rose and shone. Quickly, the sky turned blue and the temperature perked up. Where sea and forest met, this piece of land offered a magnificent view on Westboat Sea and beyond, the Idyllic Sea's international waters.
The horizon drew an ultramarine blue line across Westboat Sea's turquoise surface. Further beyond it, and beyond the Naval Border's limits, unfolded the Unknown Lands, concealed by a crown of massive clouds. If storms ravaged Earth outside of Heavensgate's frontiers, closer you got to Heavensgate's battlements, sunnier the sky became, usually cloudless, apart from small conglomerates of vapour.
"This is my go-to place for creating, since I settled here," Senku told them, proceeding to unpack the stuff he had been carrying since we left the safety of his tiny house up in the trees. "There's no one around, so it's best for meditating."
Indeed, there were no people around, only the four of us and Vox. Then, I gasped, stupefied, when Senku set up an easel in front of the rising tide and unfolded a three-legged seat to start painting.
That old geezer was hiding his game, under the appearance of a grumpy lone wolf living at trees' height! In actuality, he was a kindred artist at heart, even more so a prolific one, at that, assuming the art pieces hung on the walls of his house were his artworks. Furthermore, the name Senku had a familiar ring to it.
If he was an artist, he must possess outstanding sneaking skills to always stay out of the Party's Eye, or else he must have practiced the craft a long time ago. Not to mention, a handful of people nowadays, wore a name other than the list of generic baby names approved by the Party, which implied I might have heard it in an history-related class whether in high-school, or in Artea.
"Surprised, much?" Senku inquired, laughing lightly. "Yes, I made a career in painting ages ago, on side of my main job! I remember I made quite the headlines, but rest easy, there's no need for formalities between us! I'm just an artsy old man, dusting off my paints and enjoying the last decades of my life while I still can, nowadays!"
I had not yet spoken at all, at a loss for words, when Skye jumped in the conversation,
"If it's not indiscreet, what did you do for a living back then?" she questioned.
"In another life, fifty years ago, I used to run an art gallery, Now & New Grass Gallery's its name, with my college closest friends from Vangaard Art & Design Academy," Senku happily replied, reliving fond memories of his youth while he spoke.
Definitely, Senku was someone to get along with easily, despite the fact he co-founded one of the most influential independent art galleries of his time, before the happening of the Exodus.
In art history class, we learned that fifty years ago, a collective of three graduates from Vangaard Art & Design Academy, pioneers of the new angst wave, co-founded Now & New Grass Gallery to exhibit up-and-coming undiscovered shooting stars who didn't meet the criteria to make a name in most well-known places. However, it was part of unofficial history, so we didn't get to learn a lot about them, even though they played a great part in seeding the opposition against the Nationalist Coalition, by giving birth to the independent art world.
To meet one of them in person was quite the humbling, and unique, experience, every aspiring artist could dream of in a lifetime.
"Senku, it's an honour to be able to speak with you... but it's so unexpected... I mean... you were an influential figure of the art scene, back then!" I exclaimed, reddening.
"If you know your art history, you must know about the other two, John and Wilfrid to be exact," he said casually, leaning back to stare at the greenness of the trees melting into the blueness of the sea down below, tormented by the rising tide crashing upon the far ends of land.
"Before we engaged in resistance, Liam and I attended art school... Wait, what did you say, just now? By any chance... are they Wilfrid Hawkins and John Mansfield?" I exclaimed.
"Them exactly! These two and I were best buddies and partners-in-crime! Because of living secluded from the modern era and newest communication technologies, I don't know if they've survived or not the Exodus. I hope they did. To keep my existence secret from the Party, I had to give up that too."
"'Partners-in-crime'?" I quoted, concerned.
Shadow swept over Senku's face, distracted from his artwork in progress by speaking freely of the past with us, artistic minds alike. Any smile vanished from his lips when he told us about the rise and fall of Now & New Grass Gallery, less than seven years after its opening to the public,
"It brought tragedy upon us three and our relatives when the Nationalist Coalition heard word of our subversive activities from authorised critics affiliated to the Coalition. We were issued an ultimatum to close down business.
"Otherwise, we and our acquaintances would be prosecuted for terrorism, charged for disowning the Coalition's leadership. In the end, we were forced to accept their terms, for our relatives' safety. After that incident, the three of us parted ways, staying friends, however."
Only the sound of the waves filled up the silence that fell upon us like a ton of bricks. It felt inappropriate to ask him more about that period of his life that must have been traumatic, more traumatic than the Exodus itself. Knowing all that gave me the creeps.
This new world, crumbling on its feet of clay, that we yearned to build, had not much changed since the era preceding the Exodus. Already, fifty years ago, a jingoistic government held all the marbles. What's more, already, fifty years ago, dissidents and their families were targeted both, in order to dissuade wannabe activists from entering in rebellion.
Already, those methods were used to instigate terror in people's minds, fearing the Coalition's retaliation, just like the Party tamed its opponents, using persuasion. To take over from where our elders failed, felt like an ideal farther from reach, as despair killed repeatedly the promise of a better tomorrow in the egg.
I began to wonder if all of our comrades' sacrifices were eventually pointless, which rubbed salt in my mental scars, as well as it must be affecting Liam and Skye.
I didn't have the heart to inform Senku about his comrades' tribulations, recently arrested by the Black Police as exemplar with many other well-known personalities of the new angst circles. Instead, I laid on my back to listen to the sea's roar, while gazing at the border between the sky and sea, so much different from Lost Island's disrupted skyline, but that did not make me happy, feeling like losing my gaze in Kim's ultramarine irises all over again.
I fought back the memory of him getting flayed alive in front of me, powerless to stop them from beating him to a pulp. Simply mentioning the name of Kim filled my heart with sorrow, just thinking about the imminence of his execution. Each day passing was a step closer to death's doorstep, by getting the firing squad, for Kim.
Laying down on the red-hot sand with only a T-shirt to cover my back, awakened me from my depressed state of mind and snapped me back to reality. For being so careless, I must have fallen asleep while thinking, and now Liam and Skye were looking at me with concern. Senku, as for him, continued painting on and on, turning his back on us while he contemplated the landscape with pensiveness, his brush floating in mid-air, as if it was going to take flight, to never land again. His current work in progress reflected a world falling apart to ruins, sacked by a fleet of raging sea monsters, born from restless waves, inspired from Japan's folklore creatures.
After a while giving some finishing touches to this scene of utter chaos, Senku let his arms fall to his sides, genuinely smiled and proceeded to clean his brushes while the paints dried quickly under the scorching sun's light; then he hurried to wrap up his painting supplies in pieces of wetted cloth to keep them fresh and ready for use, all of which he thoroughly packed up, stating that by noon, it became nearly impossible to work up his colours quickly enough, thus why he went there early for painting from dawn to zenith. I just found out then that It had been three hours, or even more, since we watched him working, which flew by in a flash.
***
To have lunch, we battled in retreat towards a small clearing shaded by the trees' crown. This morning, we helped him cooking a meal for four, which we ate thankfully, hungry from our improbable trip across the woods. Judging by his belief standings, Senku was very critical of the Party that reminded him of the Nationalists' authoritarian regime, pointing out that the Pantonium's dynasty were the most influent Nationalists' partisans back then. He held on to the hope that future generations will learn from the tragedy bestowed upon Earth by the Nationalists' and then the Party's stubborn jingoism. He confided to us that he heard about SLACK on the radio, praising SLACK'ers' courage to take over the fight their elders lost against their persecutors.
"In fact, we haven't told you much about ourselves yet," I avowed, almost with contrition. "Before SLACK split between two sides of the same coin, Liam and I used to be part of its leading body; as for her, Skye was one of our fellow activists.
"For pulling reckless stunts, we incurred the Party's ire, thus the reason of our forced exile from Heavensgate and from Lost Island, because the Party aims to eliminate all of us, till' the last of us standing. Besides, some of us, us three and other fellow members, formed at one point a schismatic faction that got in the way of Ulk Tazer's schemes to annihilate the Party's opposition all at once."
"I guessed so, and I was right," Senku remarked on, smiling. "Else, why would the three of you, risk your lives far deep into the countryside, by venturing inside Setforth Woods?
"Having said that, let me ask you: what about SLACK's three other co-founders? There were five of you, at the beginning, weren't there?"
A sombre expression must be painted on my face, overwhelmed by grief.
Feeling down, I didn't notice I was playing unconsciously with my treasured necklace, until I saw Senku's eyes looking at me with understanding, widened in shock at the sight of my botched right hand struck by several silvery welts.
Over time, my hand healed completely, but it wore the indelible scars of my suffering. Since he asked us questions with worry, rather than indelicacy, I forgave his curiosity, though. The tide started receding as we finished eating and readied to depart. All the while, I weighed my words to tell him more about us without telling everything, but Liam pre-empted my reply, taking the initiative to recount our demise, on my behalf,
"In the war versus the Party's ravens, namely the Black Police, we've lost many of our comrades-in-arms, including them. As exemplar, last year, those vultures arrested and tortured one to death in order to locate our whereabouts, whereas the others died recently in the line of duty.
"To nip the new world's resistance in the bud, Vladimir Tapes' Mockingbirds, Koji Sullivan's Crows and Volton Loeth's Scavengers are determined to put SLACK out of harm's way, scared that we might succeed to light up the masses' will for change."
"Wasn't there one of you, among you five, capable of endorsing a leader's role? To coordinate SLACK's operations, and guarantee the activism's overall daily functioning, you needed at least someone to fill this task, right?" Senku inquired.
Although I resented admitting Senku saw right through our strengths and weaknesses, I must commend him for being so clairvoyant, or maybe it was just glaringly obvious.
Ever since we co-led SLACK, we had always conceived our authority as a shared leadership, but when it became impossible to contain the troops' discontent, we should have foreseen that our makeshift army was falling apart due to being disorganised, even after I came back alive from Hellsground's darkness.
And thus, I came to a dreadful, saddening, conclusion, which gnawed painfully at my insides; I failed, despite my earnest efforts, to lead SLACK because bearing the post-Exodus' world's hopes and dreams was a role too grand for me shouldering alone.
"Because none of us had such charisma, we decided early on co-leading SLACK," Liam replied.
"Like ants, without a leader, you became disorganised!"
"Ulk Tazer's hatred for us goes to show that for some reason, he was determined to reduce us to silence, by making of SLACK's downfall an exemplary sentence for all wannabe activists," Liam observed.
"Isn't it glaringly obvious?" Skye objected.
"What's hiding in broad daylight according to you?" Liam inquired.
"The Ministry gave zero fuck about you four; you, Cassidy, Stephany and Anthony, living or dying," Skye elaborated. "If not for committing yourselves to a greater cause you forcefully embraced, by following Kim's lead, SLACK wouldn't have ever been created in the first place.
"Ask yourselves then, what if he lit up many people's will for change and became the new world generation's figurehead, inheriting his famed ancestors' legacy? The Party simply took the opportunity to arrest their youngest inheritor before he got to accomplish the destiny imposed on him ever since he was born at a turning point in History."
"Let me remind you that he got in hot waters with the Party by searching desperately for his mother's whereabouts, Skye," I objected, "what incurred the Ministry's wrath because he sought for unravelling the truth about her unexplained disappearance."
"I know for a fact these cowards are scared shitless of losing their might because she laid down everything for her son. That's Petra for you, bastards!" Skye exclaimed.
Staggering, Senku's feet tripped over a pile of rocks, which alerted Vox.
Stupefied, Senku stopped walking and turned around to look at us three, wondering,
"I'm glad to hear that the younger generation is willing to fight for freedom. Your friend Kim was brave enough to take on the task to lead the uprising. His courage opened a path for change, but will it be enough to hamper the Party's thirst for expansion?"
"Apparently it wasn't enough," I stated.
"It seems like many people placed on his shoulders the onus of taking the revolution's lead. Maybe, he wasn't cut out for the role," Senku observed. "I can relate, being the odd one out among my family. I lacked the resolve and the courage to take up weapons against the Coalition whereas my older brothers and sisters went to battle. Instead, I cultivated my artistic talent by becoming painter to criticise the Coalition."
"Dammit! It's too late!" I swore, saddened. "It's too late... In a few weeks, maybe days... he's going to be executed..."
"What... what happened to him?" Senku questioned.
"The full Court sentenced him to lifetime prison, basically. In a matter of time, he'll get the firing squad. As long as their leadership's threatened, they'll get rid of their sworn enemies, by obliterating them," Liam responded.
"How cruel is this nonsense?" I wailed between my gritted teeth. "His father's a freakin' moron for cutting off his wings! He tempered his passion for art! He disowned him for attending art school! If only..."
"He protected his son, like any parent would, didn't he?" Liam pondered.
"... If only he met someone like you, he'd have found a listening and compassionate ear to hear his call for recognition," I said to Senku.
"In the chaos of the fourth millenary, at a point of no return in theworld's existential crisis, dreaming on becoming artist is a true commitment,faced with the ruthless censorship of the leading classes," Senku remarked on. "Ordinarylife eludes those who think beyond the box and abandon the prevailing orthodoxyto oppose their leaders."