Chapter 12
The narrow street was completely blocked by the vehicle wreckage smouldering like a mortally wounded beast, savage in nature yet no longer able to muster any strength. People came to look at it, whispering to each other and pointing.
“This is where I found you,” Samuel said, panting as he pulled over.
I looked at the remains of Big Simon’s truck, lying in what used to be an affluent neighbourhood--standing as testament to the degeneration of Earth's society. In stark contrast, this area contained some of the few remaining homes that still had some of their old glory. Because of this, the neighbourhood was highly populated. Unfortunately, the area also was home to the city's current most powerful warlord. It made for a wary balance. The sight of the vehicle wreckage triggered my only memory of the blast, when we fired at the truck and it blew up. Everything went black after that. I walked towards the people surrounding the truck. One man looked at me and pulled on his friend’s shoulder. They talked to each other and then one said, “Hey, aren’t you one of the ones who was fighting here?”
I turned to Samuel, to see if it was safe to answer. He shrugged.
“Yeah, I was here.”
The tall, thin man came over to me, looking stern. When he got close, his hand came out and grabbed mine, shaking it.
“Thank you, thank you very much. Another tyrant, another bully smashed. Maybe if we keep this up, there won’t be any left to terrorize us.” He laughed and his friend joined in.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Do you know where my friends are now?”
“Why, they're on the hill, in Big Simon’s house. They’re working with the coalition.”
“The coalition?”
“The coalition of citizens, working for a safe society, anyway, that’s what we hope,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders and walking back to look at the wreckage.
I turned to Samuel, who was still recovering from all the physical exertion. I guess he spent too much time in his little lair, and not enough time outside, moving his muscles; beads of sweat were glistening on his bald head.
“Do you know where it is?” I asked Samuel.
“Follow me,” he said, not wanting me to get in his trailer going up the steep hills. I followed on foot. He was not moving too quickly, so it was not too difficult.
"On this hill," I said to him, "your buggy just seems to be slowing you down."
He gasped at me, as if to respond--but kept on riding his bike up the hill. I was able to walk right beside him at that point.
The city was built around this majestic hill. In its heyday, I’m sure the more affluent members of society would live up there. Now, it was reserved for the most brutal, the warlords to claim as their prize, to become king of the hill. Climbing up the hill got steeper and steeper. Turning around, it afforded a clear view of the ruined city--how far it stretched.
"Wow, look at that." For the first time I noticed the clear blue water that stretched across the entire horizon.
"The ocean Tyler. I guess it's new to you. I can see from your face you're quite impressed."
"Unbelievable. I've seen the blue seas from the station, but never down on the ground like this."
"Hah! If you could see your face. We've other things to worry about though."
"My friends."
For a moment, I thought of Big Simon. I had never met or known him in any way; but I imagined him looking out at his domain arrogantly--pleased in his achievements. He was dead now, like probably countless others before him. I couldn't see any of them having longevity at the top.
"We should keep moving," Samuel said.
I laughed.
"If you needed to stop for a breather, don't blame me."
Samuel couldn't muster a response. We were near the top of the steep hill--and Big Simon's former mansion.
"It's not too far now, just up at the top there," Samuel said, wiping his sweat stained eyes.
"It's something all right. I can see why it would be a prize they would fight over.”
Like a weed growing through pavement, the mansion stood up high--a lone survivor.
“This is it,” Samuel announced as we arrived at the foot of a large mansion. Its structure was more or less intact. There were bullet holes and large chunks taken out of the side of the building, but through all the pain, the original glory of the house could still shine through. Samuel put his bike underneath the stairs leading up to the front of the house. He appeared unsettled as we walked up the stairs, looking warily from side to side, keeping an eye out for enemies.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” I said.
“Easy for you to say. Spend a couple of years around here and tell me how you feel. This whole area around here has been off limits for the last six months, since Big Simon has been in charge. Only the loyal goons would dare to show up here.”
“Well, he’s barbecuing in his truck right now, so don’t worry about him.”
“There’s always another one around the corner,” Samuel said.
There were two large wooden doors each having a brass knocker. It was a testament to their solidity that they were still there, a little worn and dented, but there none the less. I thought about knocking, but then I realized politeness was a low priority, security was higher; and a stealthy entrance was the best strategy. The door creaked into the cavernous entrance way as I slowly opened the door.
Inside, the once regal decor had been manhandled as if by several years’ succession of rambunctious partying. Sheets of carefully detailed wallpaper hung half off the walls. Portions of the banister leading upstairs were broken. I noticed a painting of a pompous ex-homeowner posing stiffly, held up on the wall by a knife right through the canvas. There was loud arguing to be heard from upstairs.
The sound of people obsessively preoccupied with other matters eased Samuel’s edginess. Silence would've been much worse, like a dark bedroom to a frightened child. We could here the sounds of townspeople.
“They must be up there,” Samuel said.
“Let’s go check it out.”
Then, more than ever, I wished I had my gun. The sound of Martina’s voice as we got to the top of the stairs made me feel more secure.
“Let’s all calm down,” I could hear her saying.
At the top of the stairs, there was a hole in a wall, which in better times had once been a doorway. Inside was a large room a long table as its centerpiece. There were all kinds of people around the table, and they all spoke in unison. The sound was shrill and piercing. Martina was standing in the middle, alternately waving her hands and then holding them to her head, as if it were about to explode. She was fighting for order, fighting to control the heated argument, trying to let level heads prevail, but it looked like a losing battle.
Andy was in the corner, holding his gun tightly, as if he were debating on opening fire on the whole lot of them. Martina turned and saw me. Her look went from frustration to joy.
“Thank God Tyler, you’re alive!”
“I could say the same thing,” I said and we hugged.
Andy came over. Even he looked happy to see me; maybe he was just glad to see someone less talkative than the dozen people crowding the room. No one else seemed to notice my arrival. They were passionately arguing their points of view.
“We need to make this house a focal point of the new democratic movement,” one voice yelled.
“What difference does it make where we set things up? We need to discuss real issues,” another voice shouted over top of the other.
There was one woman speaking so loudly that it came out in a shrill piercing scream, of which nothing was decipherable. She kept forcing herself into the middle of the melee, causing the crowd to be in constant motion, mostly moving around the table to get away from her.
“Awww,” Martina gasped. “Let’s go to another room.”
We went to one side of the large room and into a corner bedroom. There was an odd assortment of furniture in the room. A m
ix and match assortment of the best things that could be pilfered from the surrounding area. Samuel, Martina, Andy, and I took refuge in the room, closing the makeshift door constructed out of a huge piece of flat wood. It did not drown out the voices completely, but it muffled the more annoying decibels.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
“Democracy!” Martina said.
“Their warlord is gone. It's left a vacuum which everyone has an opinion on how to fill,” Andy said. “It makes me want to support a new tyrant, just to shut 'em up. I’d like to find that Dan guy. He could do the trick. Who’s this?” He said, pointing to Samuel.
“Don’t you remember?” Martina said. “He’s the one who took Tyler off the street when we killed Big Simon.”
“Sorry, I didn’t remember. I was a little busy at the time.”
“Where’s Doug?” I asked.
“I was hoping you'd know where he was,” Martina said.
“We’ll have to deal with that tomorrow. It’s getting late already.” I said.
The crowd in the room was getting more and more rambunctious, and it appeared that no two people had common opinions. Everyone was trying to shout down the others.
“We’re not equipped for this,” Martina said. “We’re soldiers, not diplomats. Why haven’t they tracked us down by now? You all still have your security passes?”
Andy and I nodded.
“These people, they’re driving me nuts with all their panic!” Andy said.
“They know the routine,” Samuel said.
“What do you mean?” Martina asked.
“Big Simon is gone,” answered Samuel. “No matter how distasteful he was to me, or many others in the city, he has now left a vacuum. There are always gangs of marauders, scavengers wandering the city. To greater and lesser degrees, these gangs are willing to do what it takes to make better lives for themselves. There are remnants all over of a previous, more advanced, society. Most of us spend our time picking valuable tidbits from this past world from the rubble; useful items to make our lives a little easier. These gangs do the same thing; except they might be more likely to search for guns as opposed to myself, who might find a functioning fridge, or stove, more valuable. So, we have this vacuum of power, left by our dead friend Big Simon; now comes the struggle, the fight for power. These people in the other room are dreamers. They hope to build something by the people, for the people; but it won’t come like this.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because the situation is highly unstable right now, that doesn't help their cause at all. Do you think these dangerous gangs are just going to stand by while a bunch of do-gooders take charge? No, there will be a much more primitive altercation, a much more aggressive altercation—soon enough. That is probably why they are so excited. Those people know this as well as I do, they've lived through it many times before. They've seen warlords rise and fall. They know the routine. You guys are probably the only thing that gives us a temporary stability.”
"Whadaya mean?" Andy said.
"You took down Big Simon. You've built a quick reputation. That'll keep the others at bay--for a while."
"For a while," Martina repeated.