Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Resistance

“Are they dead?” Puk asked, with a timid voice.

I looked down at the unmoving bodies of the two soldiers, both laying face first on the ground, behinds raised, knees against the ground, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Her expression completely unfazed by the potentially dead men in front of her, Puk kneeled down next to them and attempted to feel their heartbeats, her ear pressed against their chests.

“They’re okay.” She smiled and giggled again, standing up to inspect the two fainted soldiers, in such a comical position.

I smiled, happy that this had only been an episode of fortune for the two of us. Then my smile quickly went away,  as I realized we could be in real danger.

“Puk!” I yelled, now thoroughly concerned, “We need to get out of here!”

She just stood there, unmoving, not even twitching, ‘Why?”

I panicked, “Someone could find us here. It looks like we attacked these two!”

“…So?”

I looked around, still in a rage, “We’ll be in trouble!”

Suddenly, she took hold of my arm and looked me in the eyes. She had a gaze which instantly made me quiet and attentive, no longer concerned as before.

She simply stood there, looking into my eyes, then in a calm, raspy voice, countered, “With who?”

She had a point. I looked around. There was quite literally not a soul around. We were completely on our own. The entire street was deserted. Not even a wind dared pass through the foul smelling cesspool.

I laughed deeply, at my previous ignorance. I was calmed. I looked down at the soldier, and Captain Jonbesh. What had they been doing here? This was probably the most deserted place in this entire accursed city.

Then I remember something else, which, had it not been for the calm Puk had instilled in me, would have brought about the same amount of Panic.
What about Naomi?

She was back with those poachers.

I looked at Puk, and told her, almost in a whisper, compared to last time, “What about Naomi? We need to go back for her, but I don’t know where the bandits went, where they took her, why they took her, or where in the city we even are. Not to mention the fact that apparently they are searching for us.”

Puk, still and calm and unmoving as before, simply stared back and giggled, “ I really don’t know. She could be anywhere.”

I looked at the floor, undecided and began to think of what must be done. If anything, we needed to hurry, or she would only move farther and farther away.

I looked back at Puk, now decided, “I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Leaning over and carefully, I turned Jonbesh around, onto his back, “We need to fit in around here. If not they will surely find us.”

I took off the main pieces of the military uniform of the captain and handed them to Puk, who was cringing, already aware of what my plan probably was. “Put this on, this way no one will know who we are.”

She hesitated at first, but then she grabbed the tattered, stained clothes, and walked over to a corner, where she could change alone.

I followed, kneeling over and doing the same for the soldier who was lying next to me. His clothes were a little loose fitting and I accidently ripped a hole in the knee, making it even more beyond repair. The clothes stunk of urine, and had probably belonged to several other people before me and this poor sleeping person. I just hoped he had inherited the uniform from a living donor, rather than a corpse.

I stretched in my new clothing, feeling a bit ridiculous. They could barely be called clothes at all but I quickly got over it. Something had to be done; Naomi was in danger, I could feel it.

Puk came back from the corner, dressed in a similar fashion, the uniform, although less torn than mine, still a bit too loose for her.

She looked at me with a pitying look.

I answered, swiftly, “Don’t look at me like that. We need these. They would find us out right away out there.”

She sighed, “Where do we need to go?”

I looked intently down both ends of the alleyway. Neither direction seemed favorable. So I simply pointed uneasily towards where we had come from.

And so we set off. We walked slowly, constantly trying to pick up our loose outfits. In no time we had returned to the main street from before. The grey river of people crossed us by, pulling and pushing carts of various items and sizes. There were not many soldiers, and those that I could see were either walking, heads down, just like the rest of the people, or paid no attention to anything that was happening.

One of these inattentive soldiers raised his head and saw me, standing still. However, it seemed our camouflage was working well, since he simply disregarded Puk and me as completely unimportant.

I smiled, and began and motioned towards Puk for us to keep on walking.

I did not know where we were going. The entire dead, rotting city was as confusing and noisy as the ocean. An ocean of grey flesh, pushing against us. However, I figured if one thing was sure, it was that from up top we might be able to see the gate we had come in through. Maybe if we found a vantage point, we could get a sense of the city. I pulled Puk down the street, toward where I saw the smoke stacks lay and where the masses of volatile gas were being released.

We had only walked several seconds when I heard steps behind me. I slowly leaned my head back to inspect who it was. My heart froze as I saw the short, yet formally dressed soldier, walking directly behind Puk.

I immediately walked faster, hoping this man would not pursue us. But he followed in my pace. To my sides, I noticed two other uniformed men, begin to approach us. One, wearing a deep, curled mustache and the other with a bald, shining head.

Puk held onto my arm and tightened it, noticing what I had seen. She leaned in and whispered, “They’re following us.”

I nodded inconspicuously. We were caught, I knew it.

We walked even faster, still unable to lose these men. Then we went faster, and faster. Then, running against the counter tide of vast working masses, all wearing rifles on their backs, we pushed our way through.

We forced ourselves through the crowd, evading carts, and wagons pulling all sorts of materials. I breathed, desperately, agitated. If they reached us, we would surely be killed.

I ran faster, and faster, till my energy went into my legs. The people in front of me simply made way, not caring as to who I was, why I was running. They did not care why or who pursued us.

I strained my ears to try and hear if we had lost the soldiers, who must have already swollen to over a thousand. I could not see them, as I turned my head. The people who I passed covered everything from my view.

In the distance, I could hear the pushing and shoving of bodies and people, all grunting in irritation. They were still coming.

Quickly reacting to our desperate situation, I grabbed Puk by the arm and dragged her in a completely different direction. Maybe if we couldn’t outrun them, we could lose them. We sped past the people, who, as we pushed past, showed a slight expression of surprise.

We had dashed through the crowds, when suddenly I came head first into a body. I stopped myself and Puk just before crashing into the human being. However, he did not move at all, but only stood, wearing a soldier’s uniform. He blocked our way, and had an expression which looked like an angry bear.

Surprised, the two of us backed up, and then ran in the opposite direction as fast as we could. We dashed through the crowd, even managing to knock down a rather old man. We ran, twisting through the people, till again I came into two still standing soldiers, who simply stared.

We backed up, surprised and frightened, Puk whispering into my ear, “They're everywhere.”

We backed up, unsure on what exactly to do next. We were stunned, surrounded, when then again I felt another body behind me. We bumped into yet another figure, apparently behind us.

We turned suddenly to see the first man to follow us, flanked by two other men.

We just stood there, surrounded, as the other soldiers walked toward us, making a circle in the middle of the crowd. The soldiers around us wore fancier and almost completely intact uniforms. They simply stood there, expressionless.

We had been caught. Who knew what would happen to us now? Surely they would take us away and have us executed in a silent back alley.

As if answering my own thoughts, our initial pursuer gently motioned to us, “You're coming with us. Please do not try to run away.”

Puk, who squirmed in the uncomfortable uniform, sighed, then replied, “Okay.”

The man who had spoken was the shortest and, along with a sharp nose, also had a cowlick hair style.

As the two of us began to trudge away, all the soldiers, seven in total, began to follow us, creating a wall of bodies behind us. The man who had spoken lead the group and his newly captured prisoners away.

I began to shake nervously. This was it. We were doomed. They had found us, from our grand escape way back at the gate. Or maybe Jonbesh had already come to, and had run in his underwear to the nearest authorities to cry about some mean people who had beaten him up.

Puk next to me was breathing very hard. Just as preoccupied as myself. I would have leaned in and whisper solace to her, but I had none to give. Who could say what was going to happen?

I gathered my courage, and looked up to the back of our captors. “Where are you taking us?”

“Quiet.” The soldier behind me called. However, he did not say this with a rough, commanding voice, but more one of reason, and need.

I listened and looked to the floor again.

To the outside of our little entourage, I noticed not a single person paid any attention. We were headed toward the giant stacks of smoke, rising. Now I could see where they rose from. A giant complex made of brick, sticking out of the monotone grey of the entire city. Whatever this place, it looked bad. Surely it was our prison, or where we would be forced to work, growing grayer and grayer like all these people.

We approached, closer and closer and closer, the air growing thicker and the people around us, more and more crowded.

Then, abruptly, we turned right. The crowd of soldiers quickened their pace. They went faster and faster, till I thought maybe they even were worried about something themselves. They were taking us somewhere strange though, as suddenly we were away from the crowds, we were digging deeper into some rotting alleyway, falling farther and farther, till suddenly, we were completely away from the commotion of the people, and there was complete silence, except for the now jogging soldiers, reeling me and Puk with them.

What did they have in store for us?  I looked towards Puk, whose eyes were those of complete terror.

They went faster and faster, till, with a  start, all the men stopped moving.

All was silent. Except for a slight wind. It blew, cold, dragging with it a well expired newspaper.

All was still, until the man, who I now assumed was the leader of this group, leaned down. His knee on the pavement of the deserted alley, he seemed to peering at a piece of the floor. Then, as if by magic, he reached into the black surface, and pulled out a well camouflaged handle.

Black and painted, he pulled the handle, and revealed what appeared to be a trapdoor which led into a staircase. I gasped, as did Puk, while a terribly cold wind pushed through our hair

The man, who looked back at us, smiled, shedding his seriousness, and said in a humorous voice, “Sorry for being so informal. We mean you no harm, only to help.”

He then looked down into the hole and added, “Come with us, we can explain everything."

I stood still, confused, as did Puk. Neither of us knew what was going on. Who were these people?

Suddenly, there was the sound of galloping horses, far off, somewhere down the alleyway. The man speaking in front of us turned to face the emanating sound, his face now one of terror.

A soldier behind me, in a voice as worried as I had ever heard, then called, “They're here already! There’s no time for this, Waleed!”

The man in front of us then, turning back to us, grabbed our arms, and with a holy tug, pulled me and Puk into the steps and the cellar door.

At first there was just the noise of footsteps, as I heard myself, Puk and the other 7 soldiers enter the cellar door. Then, there was only darkness, and the gentle rapping of the wind.

I stared, unsure whether or not my eyes were open, until, abruptly, the light of a flame, illuminated everything. I saw the face of the man, whose name apparently was Waleed, who was holding a torch in front of himself.

The entire dark stairway was illuminated by the flickering flame. Staring at the roof of stone brick, Waleed whispered, “Come with me.”

Above I heard the steps, of galloping horses pass over us. Waleed began to walk down the stairwell. Puk and I followed, almost unconsciously, while the soldiers behind also followed, no longer pushing us along.

We headed down, unaware of what lay in store for us both. I didn’t know whatever to expect, but I knew that something was different about these soldiers, if they were soldiers at all.

At the bottom of the stairs, I soon noticed the emerging light, at the bottom of the tunnel. It was the shining, flickering of yet another flame.  Our group made its way out of the thin tunnel and into a massive chamber.

A tunnel itself, the chamber was made of grey stone brick for a roof, and orange traditional brick for support columns. The tunnel stretched in a cylindrical form, until it ended abruptly with an immediate cement wall. It was huge, the entire chamber.

As we walked out of the stairway into this new strange room, I saw that it was in fact inhabited. Littered all around were small tents and pots and fire places, where small fires and lamps hung, the source of the light. People sat all silently around these miniature camps. All of these were busy, but none spoke.

The two of us looked at Waleed as he cleared our way into the chamber, smiling. He motioned toward the men behind him, and these separated among the tents, each going his own way.

“Welcome!” he began, in a  ceremonious voice, “Welcome, to the resistance!”

His voice echoed across the hall, and came back to ring in my ear. “The resistance?" Puk asked, exasperated, “What is that?”

Waleed began to walk toward the tents, as we followed, and continued, “This is where all who fight for a better existence live, where all those who oppose the oppression of King Tom the Terrible resist.

“We are agents of peace, thoroughly opposed to the war, and we will not stop till we see peace.”

I looked around at the camp. It was nice, warmer than above, where the winds chilled everything. The people all gathered around boiling pots and fires. Rifles were piled against every tent, and people wore actually decent clothes.

“What war?” I asked, “How did you know who we were?”

Waleed, who motioned for us to sit down on a barrel near a fire, laughed, and sat as well, “You two really are not from here. Well, I can explain.”

He pulled out of his pocket a pipe, and began, “You see, this is MUNtopia, the city of death and war. You were taken here by bandits who steal people and sell them to King Tom the Terrible.”

I was enraged, and whispered under my breath, “Naomi…”

Waleed nodded. “Exactly, that is what has become of your friend. She has been sold to the army to be made into a soldier. This is what would have happened to you two, if it hadn’t been for your escape.”

He motioned toward the two of us, “We watch everyone who enters the city, in disguise, and attempt to free them. You two were quite skillful; we were impressed and tried to find you. Luckily we did.”

I looked around, “yes, we are very happy you helped us.”

“Yeah,” Waleed nodded again, “with those disguises, you would have been found and shot in no time.”

“But why?” Puk demanded, next to me, “Why is all this happening?”

Puk’s question echoed through the chamber, and I knew already that everyone had heard it. The question must have vibrated in their heads; it must have been there already dormant. This had simply awoken it, and there was a mass stirring amongst the camp.

Waleed, also deeply troubled by the question, swallowed and then, in a somber voice continued, “It was over 25 years ago. We were a kingdom under the great King Rom Troy, Master of the Western slopes and plains, and these lands were but the fertile lower lands of the River Politics. But then, his majesty died of age, and his two sons took power. These two were the beginning of all the suffering that fell on the land.

“There was no accord on who was to rule,” Waleed continued, now in a tone of anger, “Both wanted the power of the crown, and since there was none elected, both fought and fought for the position, until they simply broke apart. Half the Romic provinces declared allegiance to Tom to the south, and the other half to Roy, to the north. Both brothers became kings of their own nation. A great divide, clad in iron fell between our very own people all at once, a wall of fire and steel, marked by the once prosperous River Politics. The river which ran with lives and gold, replaced with currents of blood. Brothers and families divided between the two, with a word.”

A crowd of revolutionaries, listening to the story, had begun to approach, moved by Waleed’s narrative. The people from the camp, all stood up, from around the camp, hearing a tale, most probably told to them many times.

“Back then our kingdom wore a different name, it was known by its ancient calling, Politeanus, the Kingdom of Valleys. It was a beautiful landscape, with calm, free people, until the day of the great divide, and then it was never the same again.”
A young woman, now sitting next to me, chirped in, “Most of us were not even born yet, and the rest were too young to remember, but my mother told me all about it. She said her own mother, my grandmother lived only on the other side of the bank, and she never saw her again.”

A younger man, barely older than myself, interrupted as well, “My dad’s brother went out to the city, across the river the day the border was shut. He only went to buy cheese and my dad never saw him ever again.”

“Yes, everyone suffered plenty, only from the Great Divide,” Waleed continued, “But it was afterwards, only a year later that the war began. Until then, both had simply claimed to be the one true king, and called the other side the rebels. It was all just passive resistance against one another. Until the day, it all set off.”

“It was horrible!” interrupted a bald guy, with a an eyepatch.

“Astonishing.”

“Terrible.”

“Disgusting.”

“Sad, so sad.”

More and more people from around the camp had gathered to where we sat, and a mumble of agreement traveled amongst the whole crowd.

“Simply one day all was silent,” Waleed continued, “Then another, there was the rustling and din of artillery and marching of death. The war had begun and it never ends, it never ends.”

“What?” I asked, perplexed, “How can a war not end?”

“Simply no one could win, and the two kings grew more and more stubborn, till all the nation was sunk into this eternal death. It all fell to pieces, slowly, as it all became a part of the war. Slowly every piece of our lives was given, the smallest thing even if it gave the smallest chance for victory. Art, dance, music, families, people, cities, it all was given to the war, and turned into what you see outside, out there.”

A man, who had actually begun to cry, gently began to exclaim, “They produce only weapons, and bombs, the only job there is, is to fight, they make every person carry a rifle, even though there is no ammunition, and even this place we hide in now used to be a bunker, until it was decided that having a bunker was a sign of weakness.”

I was speechless, all the horror above, all the grey people, this was the product of the greed of only two men. “I don’t understand how no one saw it coming? How could war have come so unwarranted?”

There was silence amongst all the people, with a shuffling of uncomfortable regret. It was regret for ignorance that only their fathers and mothers had had.

Waleed spoke up among them, “Back then our parents did not understand the meaning of war, it was unknown to them, its horrors, its vicious bloodshed. There was nothing to protest yet. We could not have known it would never end. They could not have known their children would know nothing but war. No one knew.”

There was silence for a brief moment, until a small girl, younger than anyone who had spoken before, with a voice high pitched to match, broke the silence. It was a shrill murmur, a slight whisper, “That isn’t true.”

We all looked down to see her, she was probably only about 14, she seemed intimidated by the amount of eyes which had come on her, yet she went on.

“There was at least one person who knew what it would become, the great division at least…”

Waleed, looking up at the roof, nodded his head in agreement, “Yes. There was only one. A prophet, what’s his name? I don’t remember. He was here, in the land, at the deathbed of our one true King Troy. He saw the division and condemned it. It is even said among the people that both brother princes asked the prophet who was meant to be king and he would not answer.”

The little girl interrupted, in the same quiet whisper, “When he did not answer, they asked of him, ‘Will I win if I go to war?’”

Puk, who had been staring at the fireplace in front of her the whole time raised her head and asked, “And what did he say?”

The little girl, now as if only to Puk whispered back,

“He said no to both… And answered afterwards like this: ‘In war, good fortune for all, means death for all.’”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

From across the chamber, all people, all the resistance whispered unanimously, “We all die.”

There were minutes of silence, almost as if this was the only elegy we could give, the only silence we could give the people already lost. Even so, I swore I could still hear the horses galloping up above.

Then a thought came to me, “Who was this prophet? Do you know his name?”

Waleed, squinting as if racking his memory, sighed, “I do not know. I only know one thing.”

The crowds had begun to dawdle back to their places in the camp.

“He spoke of some evil force, some evil which was the cause for the war. He would say there was something else at work. Something we couldn’t understand.”

Just like the evil Lavinia had told us about.

“Tucker..”