It's dusk outside so my eyes can't quite make out who it is, but my mind tells me it's Solomon Jon. It's unusual for him to be out this late alone, so I seek Viceroy out to go and see if the boy needs any assistance. After a few minutes I see the familiar red robe approach him. The two exchange a few words and I know now he's been trying to figure out what happened to Apollo. I'm amazed sometimes how blind I can still be; too blind to realize that he would be worried about his friend. I can never seem to stop adding fuel to the fire of regret that burns within me.
Standing in the Great Hall, I wait for Viceroy. I instructed him to bring in Solomon, call his mother and inform her of what's going on. I'm sure I'll get a visit and stern lecture from the Old School Teacher soon. When they reach the Hall I dismiss my robed assistant, and invite the boy to join me as we walk upstairs toward Apollo's room.
I peer inside and find my son gazing at the very large aquarium against the opposite wall, tracing the paths of the brightly colored saltwater fish with his fingers as they dart back and forth across the tank. “It was a gift,” I announce as Apollo turns around and gives me an inquisitive look, “A gift from who?” His tone does not contain the usual resentment; maybe we really are making progress. “An old friend who passed away recently,” I reply. With that his attention turns toward my companion and I feel both of them swell with friendship. “I just wanted to bring Solomon by and tell you he is welcome to stay if he would like, I've already spoken with his mother.” I motion for Solomon to join his friend. It's best to leave them alone so I walk toward my own room. As I head for my chambers, I can't help but let my thoughts surround me with all the decisions and mistakes I've made trying to keep everyone from the danger that's outside those walls.
Chapter Three
Apollo
“What are you doing here?” I say because that's the only words that come to mind. “Wow, I'm happy to see you too, Apollo Lex.” The upward curl of his lips shows me his relief and amusement. “I thought you fell off the face of the earth only to find out you're a prince!” I never thought of it that way; a prince, a surname, a heritage, a future. I like the sound of that even though I still have my reservations about the whole thing, especially about Oriah- that's what I've decided to call him. “I guess.” I shrug the thought off with my shoulder, don't let your guard down. I will admit though that I have been treated really well here. The food is delicious, nothing like the bland slop-burgers they serve at the Orphanage. I always wondered what kind of meat the really put in that stuff.
My room is like a palace all to itself, fine wood paneled walls, thick royal red carpet, deep as Viceroy's robe. There's a huge bed, private bathroom, and a walk-in closet with all the clothing I'll ever need. A fancy ornate chess table with plush chairs also matches the room perfectly. There is no monitor. Every dwelling and structure in our Community has a news monitor mounted somewhere on its walls, but not here. There's also a wide balcony, right by my bed, that's equipped with two chairs and a silver telescope.
But by far my favorite thing in the room is the massive aquarium. The fish are amazing. I didn't realize God made such creatures- flat fish shaped like teardrops- bright blue, red, yellow, and the sharks, about half a meter long, bright orange with silky white stripes moving horizontal across their bodies trimmed in bold black. “So are you going to give me a tour of the place or what?” Solomon asks as he nudges me in the side with his elbow. “Sure let's go!” I nudge back. It's good to have my friend again.
The first place I show him is the library. We didn't have one at school. All of our texts were digital, and easily accessible through our personal Notebooks. I never even seen a real book until yesterday, so I'm sure Solomon hasn't either. “Hey! There are real texts in here!” Yep, it's new to him too. “They are called books. Solomon.” My comment doesn't break his astonishment; it's easily the biggest room he's ever been in. Thousands of books canvas every wall from floor to ceiling. There are at least a dozen tables for reading, a computer lab, and a media room. I've only browsed through a few shelves briefly, it's just not my kind of thing but I knew Solomon would appreciate it.
“The touch screens here have catalogs of all the materials.” We look up to see a lady standing from behind a desk pointing to a row of monitors in front of her, facing us. “Feel free to use them as you wish, sir, I am here to assist.” Her show of respect catches me off-guard, and I'm not sure how to respond. I finally manage to mutter a thank you as I follow Solomon who is already making his way to one of the screens, “I want to see if there is anything on the ancient history of our people,” he says as he starts tapping on the glass going through the various menus.
After a few minutes, he finds something that must intrigue him. He asks our assistant for help and she walks over to our screen. After a few taps on the glass she leads us to one of the large bookcases. She presses a keypad next to it and the selves start to move silently from top to bottom sinking into the floor until the correct one containing the book is at eye level to us. The woman reaches out and grabs a thick, dusty volume and hands it to Solomon. “Let me know if you need anything else.” With a polite nod she takes her place back at her desk.
We make our way to one of the tables in the center. Solomon places the book on the table and I see the front cover, “Holy Bible.” The words are unfamiliar, and I have no idea what they could mean. “This is supposed to tell the ancient history of our world,” Solomon says as he begins to open the text. “That's an interesting choice.” I hear a deep voice behind us and I know immediately who it is as Oriah walks over to our table. “I hope I'm not disturbing you two, I can leave you alone if you would like.” Solomon speaks up before I can. “No its fine, we were just trying to learn more about our history.” Oriah looks to me for approval of his company, and I give him a fallacious but friendly smile, “Join us.”
“This is a book of great wisdom and vast experience,” he tells us as he reaches for it. “This is the stories of our distant ancestors; great men, one in particular, who tried to teach the rest of the world the right way to live. It's full of sacrifice and pain.” Oriah begins to thumb through the pages of the old book, “If you really want a history of how we got here I can show you.” Somehow the solemn look on his face makes me anxious. “How?” I ask. He quickly responds, “I will show you an example.” The excitement that appears in his eyes makes me want to refuse but Solomon replies before I can, “Well show us.” Oriah looks at both of us, “Okay then, bear with me.” He sits at the table and motions for us to join him.
What comes next is something a person would have to see to truly appreciate. As soon as we sit down, the wall and everything else in the library vanishes in a quick, blinding flash and what is revealed is a dim light-blue sky, tinted with dull orange around the horizon. It doesn't take long to realize that we are standing on top of a really tall structure because you can see from all directions. Hundreds of rectangular buildings, some with great spires, rise up from the blurred dull line where land meets the sky. “This used to be one of the largest cities, in one of the most powerful nations on Earth.” Oriah yells over the wind as he holds his arms up and out, the gusts from the city flap the long sleeves on his robe. “What happening Doyen?” shrieks Solomon. Oriah just looks around with wild exhilaration and howls, “Wait for it!”
After what felt like just seconds, I began to here a familiar growing rumble much like the one the roars through Alcazar on a regular basis. I notice a disturbance in the east gradually distorting the horizon. Soon an enormous, menacing green and gray mass rises from the distortion and consumes the entire sky until it's all we can see. A thunderous crash pummels our bodies, slamming us to the roof then sweeping us up in its embrace, and I suddenly realize I'm underwater. I kick my legs with all my strength, clawing with my arms, struggling to find the surface. My lungs almost burst as I finally break through and gasp, filling my chest with the now oily, salty air. I look around and find Solomon and Oriah wading in the debris-filled water nearby, “What
happened?"
Oriah replies, “Death happened.”
I snap back, “Well that's a little cryptic. " And in that moment I feel dry again as the warm wood of my chair supports my body. I realize we've been sitting in the library the entire time. “How did you do that?” Solomon's words synchronize with mine, both our voices filled with amazement. “It's a tool I use.” he calmly replies. “Yeah, some tool” I can't help to remark, but Solomon gives me a disapproving look so I decide to refrain from commenting further.
Oriah continues, “That wave left the great nation crippled, and a long time ally moved in immediately. But instead of giving aid, they occupied the land. There was a long time grudge between the two that was thought long forgotten. An insurgency soon set in and the opposing sides fought fiercely until what remained was just a shell of the former world.” Solomon seems to read my mind. “The Last War?" Oriah nods with approval as he answers, “Exactly Solomon.”
“Well what caused the wave?” The words escape me before I even realized, you're not supposed to not care. “It was cause by a mountain that erupted a great distance away, across the vast ocean. Cumbre Vieja they called it.” “That doesn't explain how we got here.” I smile as I make my point.
Oriah says calmly, “I'm not finished yet,” and his words precede another flash. This time we are standing in what seems a smoldering, desolated city. A man with two boys, about the same age as us, scurries through the street, their clothes tattered. The skin that peeks through the holes is stained with blood, and an anguished look occupies all three of their dirty, sweaty faces. “Just a little farther.” I can hear the man say as they move past us toward a large covered truck where a woman and another young boy wait.
The woman looks maybe thirty, thin and plain, dressed in dark blue, camouflaged fatigues; her long blonde hair is pinned in a bun. She smiles as she grabs one of the children's faces in her hands, “You're safe now.” Just then a loud blaring sound, like a trumpet, vibrates painfully in my ears and I bring my hands up to try to muffle the sound. “Another attack! Let's go!” screams the woman as everyone loads into the truck and it speeds off down the broken, cratered street.
Another flash, this time we are at what looks like some kind of large campsite, a collection of small buildings and tents occupy the flat spaces around us. Around the perimeter I notice people busy on the construction of a high stone wall that looks eerily familiar. Then I spot something emerging from the wall behind us, it's the truck from before. It comes to a stop and everyone piles out. They are greeted by an emerging small group of people from one of the buildings- a man and a woman, another young boy and two young girls. Everyone exchanges warm greetings as they move back into the small building.
Flash. We're in the building, well what appears to be the building, more specifically the basement. I figure that because I'm looking at the same group of people from outside, descending down a concrete staircase that perfectly matches the stone-like walls around me. I see a row of beds along each side of the rectangular room. Large trunks sit in front of each bed making the whole thing a look like some military barrack. Oriah points to the woman from the truck and says, "Apollo, that lady is your grandmother."
As the two boys collapse onto beds next to each other, the man who I assume is their father, shakes my grandmother's hand as she speaks to him, "You'll be safe here. This place is not on any map and we're well out of the range of the bombers. The worst is over. The Bloc has already taken anything of any value that wasn't destroyed by the war. All that is left now is a wasteland... and this place."
Suddenly, were once again back in the library. "I hope that helped." Oriah says to us and starts to get up from his seat. Solomon looks up, "Was that our city?" Oriah nods, "Yes.” I can't hold back my interest anymore, "That was you with her in the truck, wasn't it?"
He looks at me, but he doesn't address my question. "That was a glimpse into how this place came to be," Oriah gets up from his chair, "Perhaps later, I will show you more." With that, he turns and abruptly leaves, clearly trying to avoid my line of questioning. I try to think why he would do that. Maybe it's because of what he went through, being born during the War, and having to literately fight to stay alive. For a brief moment, I imagine myself there and I wonder out loud, "I wonder what happen to her?" After few moments, Solomon finally replies, "Maybe it's too painful for him to think about." I just nod in agreement. Maybe so.
For the first time, I think I might actually feel something for my father.
Chapter Four
Oriah
I awoke early this morning feeling as depressed as the night before. Seeing her face again had more of an effect on me than I thought. I miss her so much. There was so many times in the last few weeks I could have used her council. One of her lessons to me was if you don't learn from your mistakes, you're doomed to repeat them. And while her sacrifice wasn't a mistake, it's definitely something I want to try to avoid. I decide to clear my mind and take a walk through the Porticus Acropoli, her garden in the center of this palace. I hope to try and catch a scent of the Winter Daphne that blooms there. My mother planted those years ago, and I hoped their fragrance would make me feel closer to her, but all it does is remind me again how much I miss her. I walk through the mixture of trees and flowery shrubs with my head hung low from the tug of sadness that has suddenly flooded my heart.
“Still feeling sorry for yourself, I see.”
I raise my head to see someone walking toward me. I thought I was staring at a ghost until I realized who it was. Her light blonde hair is now nearly to her lower back and I like it. I don't think I ever seen it that long. Her ocean-like eyes, still peering into my soul, even though I'm forbidden to ever have a glimpse at hers.
“So have you told him yet?”
“It's not my place."
Sabrina stops in front of me and I feel the temperature drop twenty degrees. “I'm not talking about that,” she says and gives me a look like it's my fault she decided to put on her charade. “Well the boy has a right to know,” I retort. Her next words kick me hard in the gut and I struggle to catch my next breath, “It's funny how you pretend his rights are what you're concerned about.”
“You know Sabrina, if you came here just to hurt me, I can do that all by myself. Besides, you inflict wounds that tend to linger”
“So do you Oriah.”
She steps closer, puts my hands in hers and I feel the air thaw a little, “I came to get Solomon, where is he?” I point at the East Portico, “Through there and up the stairs, he and Apollo are probably just waking up." She smiles at me and squeezes my hands, but I stand stoically, remembering how she hurt me and I her. “Thanks again for finding him, Oriah,” she lets go of my hand much too quickly. Sometimes I think she still likes to make me suffer.
She disappears into the Acropolis, and I notice our conversation has served at least one good purpose; my dark mood has brightened. I return my thoughts to the task at hand, and suggest to Viceroy to check in on Apollo and notify me as soon as he is alone. After a while his response appears in my thoughts and I make my way to Apollo's room. The boy rises from his bed as I walk in and I ask, “Have you had breakfast yet?” I learn from my past mistakes. “Yes I just got back.”
“Good,” I say as I walk over and take a seat at the chess table, “Miss Jon teach you chess?” Apollo nods as a grin grows on his face, so I inquire further, “Are you any good?” Motioning for him to sit, he joins me and smugly replies, “There's only one way to find out.” Then the thought occurs to me, This will be a great opportunity to teach the boy humility. I politely point to the board, “Your move.”
Apollo's opening was completely predictable even if I couldn't read his mind. Queen's Gambit. I decide to start this one out symmetrically, so I mirror his move- d4, d5. He reaches in and picks up the white pawn to the left of his queen and slides it two spaces ahead. “Ambitious,” I say as I take over the same square with my own pawn, capturing his piece. “That wasn't very smart,” he
says in a flat tone. “Why do you say that, Apollo?” He then bellows to me like the victor he believes he will become, “Because you just gave me the center!" So I let my warning sound like good advice, “Never let your opponents know when you have the advantage." He just scoffs and stares at the board, planning his next move. Maybe he is stubborn like his mother.
We continue to play match after match with me soundly defeating him after each one. I let him play white every time, allowing him to be the aggressor. Every time he starts with the same opening, Queen's Gambit. I defend in the typical styles, Indian, Slav. I both accept and decline his gambit and always win. Still he never changes his strategy. He is stubborn like his mother.
After a couple of hours I decide to call an end to this first lesson. Brutalius is planning something big and I need to find out what it is before it's too late. I tell Apollo to be sure to eat and if he ever wants to visit Solomon and Miss Jon just to let Viceroy know as he is here to assist him in anyway. He just looks at me as if I never said a word, “What was my mother like?”
The question chases away every thought or explanation I could have ever come up with. I hastily try to use the mental lapse to my advantage, “I tell you what Apollo, practice your moves and when you defeat me then I will tell you about your mother.” The boy screams, “I hate you!” and storms out, slamming the door. I instantly realize how hopelessly doomed and heartless my solution was. I might be the superior chess player but I'm a terrible father.
I walk upstairs to the solitude of my study. Lying down on the leather couch, relaxing my body, I focus on my breathing until it is even and slow. My mind begins drifting to the point where sleep usually happens, and it's at this moment I release my conscience, like cutting ropes that tether a hot-air balloon to the ground. Slowly, my buoyant cognizance rises above the couch.