I looked at Doug; a lost confused look on his face.
Now I could empathize.
Like innocent children suddenly realizing the world was totally different than the sheltered view from underneath their parents’ protection; we walked back towards the city without a sense of victory, without the gratification of a job well done. On the way back we looked cynically to the crumbled structures of the city, with more questions than when we had gone the other way--when we were confident in our mission.
In place of that confidence was just hollowness and confusion.
We headed back towards the opening of the tunnel. All of us wanted to retain our sense of direction, to maintain the orientation we had developed coming out of the tunnel. It was not too difficult to find. We just had to retrace our steps along the riverbank. As we walked along, a couple of children dressed in rags with wild long hair were running beside us, talking excitedly. They went by us quickly, in the same direction towards the city.
The city stretched out in front of us in all its horrific destruction. We could see it stretch up the rolling mountainside that it was built on many years earlier. I thought of the original settlers; who knows how many countless years earlier. I thought of the generations who had built this city throughout Earth history. I wondered how sad it would be for them to gaze at this landscape.
We went by the port again. I could see that here the river was littered with boats. It was only the larger ones that could be seen above the surface, but looking down into the water there were bits and pieces overgrown with green growth swaying in the water; ghosts of a noble past.
The tunnel was innocuous. We almost went right by it. You couldn’t see the actual tunnel from the street, but the building around the opening was a hangout for all kinds of people. I wondered why they would hang out there. None of them appeared to want to venture down the foreboding tunnel; maybe the location near the water was considered choice—maybe they were waiting for the messiah to come out from the hole, save them from this wretched place.
“Look, the boy from the tunnel,” Martina said. “The one who directed us to the terrorist camp.”
Lying near the entrance of the camp, his face swollen and bloody, tears welling up on his face, was the nervous boy.
“What happened to you?” I asked, staring at his pathetic state.
The boy looked up, squinting, the defensive reflex of one who is used to constantly accepting abuse. “Leave me alone. I wanta be alone.”
“What happened to you?” Martina said.
“I done whachya told me, I told ya the truth—ya know it—and look at me.”
“Did you let your friend out of the utility room?” she asked.
“That’s what I did. That’s why I got da beating. He said I betrayed da cause. He said I would go to hell for dis.” He paused. “Hell can’t be worse than here.”
His abused face fell into his hands. You could see his head trembling as tears rolled between his fingers. “Is dere really a hell?” the boy asked me. “Is dere really a heaven?”
“I think so, but it’s not like they told you.”
“Why?”
I didn’t know what to say. I looked around at the others. Doug moved forward, kneeling down before the boy, looking sympathetically at his bruised face. The boy looked up at Doug. “I don’t know all the details, my little boy. I don’t want to lie to you—and if someone tells you they do have all the answers, don’t trust them. We are all simple human beings, and your question is too vast for our tiny minds to fully understand. There are more questions than answers for us on our voyage.”
“What voyage do ya mean?”
“I mean life, my dear boy. I mean life. Just remember one thing.”
“What's dat?”
“You can never understand the complexity of heaven and hell with your mind, even as an adult.”
“What hope do I have?”
“Patience, you can understand it, but only with your heart and with your emotions; and you know what my heart tells me?”
“What does it tell ya?”
“That the entrance to heaven can not be reached through anger, through bloodshed. It can’t be. You must search to unify, through love, to become whole, part of the whole.”
"Jesus," Andy looked at me, "Lloyd's getting crazier by the minute. He's turning into a guru."
The boy was looking down, thinking hard. The boy got to his feet, starting to walk off quickly.
“Where are you going?” I said.
He turned around, apparently surprised I still wanted to talk. “I have an uncle who used to live on da other side of da city. I wanta go see him if he’s still alive.”
“If he’s still alive,” I muttered to myself.
We looked up the mountainside. The daytime sun shone down on the city, revealing the sordid details of a less-than-perfect city.
"Look at this place," I said, turning around to get a full panorama of our environment.
"What about it?" Andy said.
"I don't know Stoneman--nothing I guess--same crap--but every person I meet, every moment I spend here--the city seems to look a little different."
"Very deep Jonz, very deep--but where the hell do we go from here?"
"This city may be a mess," Martina said, "but it's the only place we'll get any real answers."
"--or real dangers," I said.
"Do you want to head back in the tunnel--wander the woods again?" she said.
"No, not really."
We all looked at our surroundings. Sloping up from the port the grandeur and ruins of the city rose up a mountain side.
"There seems to be a lot of activity up there," Andy said.
"How do you think they're going to react to us?" I said.
"I don't know," Martina said, "but I don't feel like waiting on my hands for a government rescue team that may never come."