Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Great Escape

“Who?” asked Waleed, rather confounded.

“That was his name!” I called out excitedly.

“Who?” Now Puk, repeated, perplexed, standing next to me.

“Me and Naomi, we were sent to find where this man has come to end up.” The simply uttering of Naomi’s name caused me to pause and shutter, “It was this great evil which he spoke of, which we went to destroy. It is real and afflicts not only this land, but also the Kingdom of Lavinia, to the South.”

“Where?” asked several people around us.

“The deserts to the South?” Waleed seemed perplexed, “Does anyone truly live in these wastelands?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, surprised by the question, “These people lived in harmony as well as you did, but this evil threatens to tear that away.”

There was a pause and a murmur among the few people who still stood around Puk, Waleed and me.

After a few moments, Waleed continued, “It does not matter, regardless of any prophet or any evil which there might be. We are the resistance and the resistance will resist.”

“O, right…” I examined the camp around me again. The entire place, albeit silent at the moment, seemed homey and warm. “What is it you guys have planned to do?”

Waleed stood up, now filled with passion and zeal, “We will take to the streets! And every day we will fight to destroy the establishment which has imprisoned us! We will knock down the power which has oppressed us! And we will never seize to resist. WE ARE THE RESISTANCE! The Liberation Secrecy Division or LSD for short. We are the last stand for the people, their last string between the pit of eternal war, and freedom!”

All but the young girl had gone back to sit down. She smiled alone, as Waleed gave his speech.

Puk also smiled and giggled, just before frowning and asking, “O…how?”

Waleed, his chest extended, his arms on his hips proclaimed, “We will preach in secret to the people of King Tom’s Evil. We will spread across all the people the will to resist, to rebel against the system of war, so perfectly intricate. We will take advantage of the only cog which has rusted. IT is the people, they will RISE ABOVE THE ASHES OF OUR ANCESTORS AND PARENTS! AND THEN…” He leaned down and whispered to the little girl before him, “We break down all the rules and laws and kings.”

He rose again and declared, immediately afterwards, “But first, you two must escape!”

Puk, laughed and replied, “WE MUST!”

“NO!” I declared, jumping up and down, excitedly. “We must stay and help free you all!”

Waleed laughed to himself and in a deep voice commanded, “You two are kind, honorable souls, we would love to have you as part of the resistance, but you are not from here, and I would never have you two suffer as we suffer.”

Raising his hand to his heart, Waleed shed a single tear, “I would never impart our fate on anyone, no matter how detestable, or noble.”

“But..!” I tried to protest.

“But nothing!” Waleed answered, interrupting precisely, “Besides, you guys have an ancient evil to find and destroy!”

Still jumping, I again was hit by reality, “NAOMI! O my God, we need to rescue her!”

“Yes,” Waleed pointed out, “You have your own mission and we have ours.”

I suddenly became very worried. I was anxious, I needed to find her right away, I needed to rescue her this instant. But we had lost her, I had lost her so long ago.

“Don’t worry!” Puk exclaimed, as she grabbed me by the shoulders and kind of tussled me, “We will find her, just like I told you before.”

“Okay..” I whispered back.

        “Yeah,” Waleed piped in, “She is not really lost at all, in fact she’s on the way to your escape.”

        I turned to face the revolutionary, with a bewildered expression, “What do you mean?”

        “Well,” he continued, “There is no way to escape the way you came. Absolutely not. However, there is one way which we have used before, and it just happens to be in the place where your friend will be?”

        “Where?”

        “Yeah, where?” Puk repeated after me.

        “Well, you see,” Waleed explained, “The poachers, they take people from all over the land and take them here, where they are turned into soldiers. They are given basic training and then sent immediately to the front to…well, die.”

        “This isn’t making me feel any better.” I commented briefly.

        “Not to worry, basic training takes a month. However, she will be taken to the general barracks and here we, the resistance have connections, people who know of an escape. Lucky for us, this barracks is next to the main wall of the city.”

        I sighed, in relief. There was hope after all. Naomi was safe, albeit probably not in very good conditions as it was. It was too much to think how she might be stuffed with all the other prisoners, being forced to become a soldier.

        But it did not matter, now I needed to do what I could to save her. I knew where she was. It was time for action, no matter the danger. I looked at Waleed, now swollen with assuredness, “When can we go?”

        He laughed, a laugh of intrigue, “NOW! We can go now! That’s the spirit I want to see! That’s what the resistance is all about.”

        I laughed, though not sure why. “Let’s go!”

        “Wait,” Waleed called, as I began to dash towards the exit. “We still need you two properly dressed. Those uniforms are both too large and too fancy. We will get new ones for you and then we can take you there.”

        I stopped in my tracks, then nodded, In agreement.

        There was a quick scramble as the young girl and another young man, sitting next to me stood and ran off. They soon returned with two small piles of grey tattered clothes which they handed to us. With a swift dash, I bolted behind a tent and changed, as did Puk. It took no time at all before the two of us were thoroughly befitting the aspect of soldiers.

        Puk emerged afterwards, “How do I look?” she asked, sheepishly.

        “Cold.” I answered, as she was clearly shivering. Now directed at Waleed, I asked, “Will we really need to wear these the whole time?”

        “Yeah, it might be cold, especially out there, but how else are you going to look like one of them? This is all about stealth and infiltration.”

        The small group of soldiers from before had gathered around us. “Now,” Waleed continued, “We are all here. It is time to be off.”

        The men waved back to those who were going to stay. I waved as well. It was only fitting since I would never see them again. Sadly I hoped for this. It was a sad, disgusting place I hoped never to return to. The city at least.

        “Then away we go!” called Waleed, one last time, then all of us stormed up the stairway. And the last to follow was the young girl, who walked, right behind me.

        We swept through the chamber and were out at the cold, dark air, topside, in no time. I was first surprised by the sudden darkness, apparently sunset had come and gone without us knowing. The air, as well, was frosty and had grown perceptively colder. It only made me think of the countless people who only had a few rags to thwart the cold.

        It had even been better lit inside than out in the alley way. The city itself, I could tell, was mostly dark at night. Not a flame was spared for people to see the way. Two revolutionaries, the tallest, lifted thick torches, and carried us through on their light.

        We passed, first through the alley, then through the main street from before. The byways were as busy as they had been before. Piles of rifles soared past on the backs of wagons and men alike. Artillery shells, carried by single men, weaved through crowds, and the sound and smoke of the factory, as close as it was, permeated the air with pollution.

        We passed by the main road, and onto a secondary one, which was riddled on all sides by sheltering grey people. All of these, clinging to the smooth walls, groaned and called out to us in words that sounded more like the calls of animals.

        The entire street, which we began to travel down, was alight with the sound of desperate moaning. We carried on. If only these people knew who we were, that we fought for the revolution. That were actually did care, that we actually were doing what was needed. But then again, were we really?

        “They are all dying,” Puk whispered next to me. “But why?”

        Waleed interjected from the front of the group without even turning around, “From silence, from waiting and from complete and utter uselessness. There is simply nothing that can be done.”

        “Oh.”

        We walked on, almost completely unnoticing of the changing time. It was dark, and it must have been midnight when we set off. The city streets all dazzled with the scum of grey death all around us. The streets and walls and houses all passed us, emulating the glow of our torches, the only color their way.

        It was all the same, as we passed by. And I lost track of time.

        When I re-awoke (figuratively), I was standing before the bank of a cold, wind blast river. The sight was humongous. We stood, walking at the same pace, except within a huge open space. We left the flanks of grey houses and entered an open street, leading to a massive cement bridge, crossing the river. The street, entirely empty, was only occupied by a lonesome, frigid wind, which pushed pieces of paper. I picked one flickering fragment.

        It must have been a fragment of some sort of pamphlet, for it read, “But we held the Bank after the 57th offensive of the Roic operation, codename: Resolution. The losses, while unrecorded, constituted yet another strategic victory for the Tomic forces which soon rendezvoused with General Tak…”

        I let it fall once again, uninterested. This war was probably a collection of strategic victories and failed operations.

        The river ahead was wide and vast. And for once I had a peripheral view of the sky which was more than just a slit above cement constructs, and noxious fumes. I took it all in, as did Puk and the young girl. All of us stopped, as the group walked on, same as always, at least for a second.

        It was no longer black, deep dark, but a thick blue, thick dark water blue. It was now nearly morning. Stars riddled some corners, but were so far away and dim they offered no illumination. Then suddenly the entire sky was covered again by the smog and we walked on.

        Puk quickly whispered behind me, “It was pretty.”

        I didn’t answer.

        The river we crossed was deep sky colored, deep blue. The current pulled the dark masses along, I could see, peering from the end of the ledge. There was no railing, the bridge was more a tongue of grey concrete.

        The water, pouring over, was too dark to quite distinguish the figures it pulled with it. They were transfigured and lifeless. I didn’t care to ask what names they had had.

        I approached the young girl and asked her, “Is this the River Politics?”

        “No,” she answered, stark and silently, “the Politics, runs far north, this is but a tributary. We called it once ‘The Ideology’ but now it is known as ‘Extrema.’”

        I did not ask why.

        The smog was pulled down by the cold air and we suddenly were walking through smoky morning fog, which obscured our vision of the other bank.

        All I could see was the glow of the torch as we re-entered the labyrinth of streets and houses.

        A soldier casually commented next to me and Puk, “Across the river, we are nearly there, we only need walk a few minutes more. We must hurry though, if it becomes morning, we will not be able to rescue your friend. At least not today.”

        “Why?” Puk asked, equally nonchalant.

        “Because,” interjected another, fake soldier, “By daytime, the entire barracks will be lively with both new arrivals and training squads. It will become impossible for you to find your friend and leave unnoticed.”

        We began to approach what I soon identified as the massive cement wall from before. It’s height was greater than any building, in proximity by tens of meters. It was a colossal construct; how they were supposed to transcend it, I did not know.

        As we approached, walking down a rather wide street of dirt, we turned abruptly into an alleyway, and down until we hit a sudden, rather tall, chain-link fence.

        “This is it!” Waleed called, from up front.

        Within, I could see some wooden houses and cabins, which were placed in a wide brown field of dirt, quite oddly placed in the middle of the city. It looked like a training ground if ever I’d seen one.

        “Hurry!” he called again, “It’s getting late, and if the barracks awakens, this will get a whole lot harder.”

        He kneeled down, next to a small crack on the corner between the fence and a building built right next to it. The cement had cracked into a substantial hole, and an entire person could fit in the gap, allowing someone to go in the space between the houses’ wall and the fence.

        This was impossible to do, of course, during the day, without being caught. But inside the barracks, everything was empty. If anyone was watching it was from two wooden towers. But not a light or sound stirred.

        Waleed pointed at the opening, “Here, into here keep moving until you come to an opening, then hurry until you reach the houses farthest to the left. There just find your friend among the sleeping.”

        Another soldier, interjected, “Hurry, there is no time for goodbyes.”

        I moved to the hole, Puk moving in first. She was immediately in the opening and I lost sight. I made to enter it as well, but then hesitated, “How do we escape the city?” I asked Waleed, who watched us disappear from behind.

        “O yeah! Find our inside man, he will show you. Just look for the man with the tattoo on his chest. You cannot miss him.”

        “Thanks.” I called back, “We will not forget what you have done for us.”

        Waleed smiled and nodded, saying not another word, as he disappeared from my view, behind yet another grey piece of cement.

        I crawled to meet up with Puk, who was waiting, and we continued on.

        It was a few meters, before I heard someone breathing behind me. I turned to find the young girl, crawling behind me.

        “What are you doing?” I yelled.

        “I’m coming,” she whispered back.

        “No you’re not! How did you even get away from the others?”

        “I sneaked away. It doesn’t even matter. We are wasting time!” she answered.

        I was confounded, “But…” I was torn. Surely she would get hurt. But again, for me to force someone to stay here?

        “O! Just let her!” Puk yelled as she pulled on my sleeve, “We don’t have time.”

        She was right, the darkness was receding and there was no way to know how long it would be before dawn.

        I nodded towards the girl, and then carried on, leaving these thoughts behind, at least for now.

        I turned and followed Puk, further down the crack, until, plain to see, there was a hole dug in the dirt ground below us. The hole was dug next to the fence and was jump the right size to crawl under the chain link fence.

        Puk, taking the time to glance back at me, as if expressing doubt, turned back and sprawled on the floor. Then then, on her stomach, she crawled through the hole. Her already torn clothes became even more filthy but it was not long before she was on the other side.

        Relieved that we had found an entrance, I quickly followed, finding myself first caught by the fence, and then simply tugging till a portion simply ripped. I didn’t care, it only added to the many others already there.

        The young girl behind me followed.

        Then we began to run. As soon as we had entered the complex, we found ourselves within some sort of main courtyard. A square of wooden cabins lined each side. As we ran across the concrete field, we approached the cabins Waleed had spoken of. I could feel my heavy breath, from running, call in the cold deep air.

        As we entered the complex I could truly appreciate how massive it all was. The square itself was more like an airport runway in length. Based on how lengthy it all was, there must have been a tremendous amount of people lining up here every day. Not only that, but at the dead center of the perfect square, stood a single pole, abruptly interrupting the perfectly grey, flat surface. The pole was covered in speakers and to top it all off, a single blue and white flag, bearing some strange insignia.

        As we ran past, we slowly approached the main line of wooden buildings. My head was brushed in relief. We would make it; the dawn was not yet here. Naomi had to be here. How desperately I needed to see her and make sure she was alright.

        The lined buildings approached us and finally I drew close enough to reach out and grab one, leaning on the wooden beams for support. Fairly exhausted, I took some seconds to let my breath run out, my heartbeat, calm itself. Next to me, the young girl did the same, her raspy breath sounded as if she truly was near passing out.

        Puk, still standing, watched us in disagreement, “What are you doing? We need to hurry?”

        “Okay, okay,” I replied, “We’re ready...”

        “Good,” she answered, “Now we just need to mov…”

        All of a sudden a tremendous flash of noise interrupted Puk. From the center of the square the sound of speakers crushed the silence almost completely. The cement surface vibrated with the terrible noise and the world resonated with the echo of a voice, a high pitched voice screaming, “GOOOOOOOD MOOOORNING!”

        We all grasped our ears, desperate to relieve them from the horrible sound. My ears felt as if they were literally bleeding from the pounding screech.

        The voice on the speakers simply repeated, the same over and over again, “Good Morning! Good morning! Good Morning! Good Morning!” It sounded like its volume was being reduced, or perhaps our ears suddenly lost a portion of their functionality. Either way, the sound receded and was replaced by another, far more terrifying noise. The twisting and turning of people suddenly perturbed the air as the entire complex, every single barracks began to rise for the morning.

        I released my ears from their defense and looked towards Puk, “We’re too late!”

        She looked at me, her eyes showing how truly terrified and shocked she was, “What do we do now?”

        There was not even a split second to answer, as the sound of marching boots, perfectly in sync, began to ring in all our ears. From the walkways between the buildings, ranks of soldiers started to march toward us. They may or may not have seen us, their blank faces did not show, but they approached us, slowly, following what seemed to be some sort of daily routine.

        I looked at Puk, equally as fearful, and did not know at all what to say. We were in a difficult situation, I was completely clueless of what should be our next move. I simply sat there, mindless.

        Then I felt a desperate tugging on my sleeve and looked down to see the young girl, desperately trying to get me to move. She could barely be heard over the raucous of morning greetings and marching men. However, I could just barely hear her scream, “Move! We need to move!”

        I looked down, still mindless and unsure, but I at least allowed myself to be dragged by the girl. She also took hold of Puk, who simply allowed herself to be guided.

        She then took the three of us and began to take us toward the ranks of approaching soldiers. I was immediately shocked and made to protest, exclaiming, “What do you think you’re doing?! We can’t get caught!”

        She did not stop, but simply looked back and answered, “Just trust me!”

        I looked into her eyes, doubtfully. Her eyes of soft brown petitioned that I give her my trust. Still straining, I decided to let go and she continued to take us toward the crowd.

        As we approached, the ranks of men did not show any sign of noticing us, but simply marched on, toward the central plaza of the complex. The young girl who pulled us so vehemently, suddenly turned right and flung me and Puk around. Then she yelled, above the sound of clashing boots on the dust, “March!”

        Puk and I instantly began to follow the other men’s lead and in no time, we had been assimilated into the ranks. Our fake uniforms, as I had not realized, matched perfectly to those of these soldiers and we simply gravitated into the front line of the massive army of people, marching onward.

        The girl, in the meantime, disappeared behind the lines of bodies and I soon lost track of her. Still marching in tune, deftly worried about our savior, and not certain we would not be caught, I had no choice but to stay in line and do nothing of any sorts. I felt useless.

        As Puk and I, standing directly adjacent to each other, marched, mimicking our nameless comrades, we began to approach the central pole, from which the painful sound was originating. The voice, high pitched, and bloodcurdling, still screeched out the same old words, “Good Morning! Good Morning!”

        I nearly clutched my ears to avoid the ear shattering sound, but restrained myself. I did not want to stick out among the mass of soldiers.

        I looked around at the people surrounding me. They all wore the same grey, void of emotion, face from outside, on the city streets. These were the same broken people, the same people Waleed and the others were trying to save.

        And yet, we were only trying to escape, without a care in the world. We would abandon these poor people to this?

        I looked up at the speakers. This, this was the fate of all these people, to be subject to the commanding voice of someone they could not even see.

        Since I was at the front of the line, I could see, approaching from the opposite and perpendicular directions, 3 other columns of soldiers, each marching at the same pace.

        We all stepped forward, calmly and patiently, making slow work towards the center, until we had neatly fit together a perfect square. The pole stood immediately in the middle of our ranks. In a sudden clap of thunder, the marching suddenly came to a stop. Puk and I followed, except rather out of time. The echoes of the now gone synchronized footsteps bounced off the immense concrete wall above us. The wall, directly adjacent to the complex, rose indefinitely next to us. It was a spectacular construct, tall enough, that it still blocked out the morning sun. What little remained of the night was still clinging to this complex, under the shadow of the wall.

There was an infinite silence, as the echoes of the marching were carried by the wind.

        Suddenly the high pitched voice stopped  and then, after a few moments of silence, came back with the sharp question, “How are you today!?”

The voice almost sounded, enthusiastic, joyful, optimistic.

        From among all the people around me, the same, monotonous, dead voice answered, “Okay…”

        The voice, as if it had heard the response, “Good!!” Then continued, “Now, please give a warm, obedient, silent welcome to, your commander…..Peter Mangi!!”

        The voice trailed off into the distance, and everything was quiet for another second. The shuffling of a few feet were all that disturbed it. I did not move my head and neck, being too afraid I would stick out from the crowd. I prayed Puk was also not doing anything that might attract attention to her. The entire square was completely still.

        Then, I heard, echoing, and distant, the sounds of boots on the concrete floor, approaching. At first, they were barely discernible. But then, I could feel the vibration, reaching my legs through the floor. They were quick, long steps.

        Then, from across one of the columns a tall, svelte, swab, dark skinned man, with short, curly hair and extensions running down his back, walked into view. He wore a brown trench coat, which sported various medals of hundreds of colors and sizes. On his face you could see an expression of both anger and humor mixed into two. His lips pursed as he turned to view us, the soldiers, surrounding him.

        There passed a few seconds, as he simply examined us. First, looking intrigued, then disappointed, then simply annoyed with us all, as if he had been stuck with a job that he abhorred.

        Suddenly he opened his mouth and broke the silence, with a resounding, slightly high pitched voice, “What are ya’ll looking at! You know the drill. I ain’t gonna say twice. You all better listen up.”

        Then he took from his trench coat pocket a clipboard, made of a shiny metal lining the back. He looked at the piece of paper displayed on the front, sighed heavily, then called again, with the same, annoyed, high pitched voice, “Today the bath stalls are closed again due to further renovations.”

        A shuffle and unanimous sigh pushed its way through every single soldier standing around us. The initially unperturbed faces of everyone were replaced with expressions of irritation.

        Commander Peter, responding to the unrest amongst the soldiers, stopped his reading and looked around angrily, yelling in all directions, “WHAT! You don’t like it!? Huh! Don’t make me slap you! It is as is! You HEAR?! I swear, I swear, I hear once more…. You all complaining! I will SLAP YOU!”

        The crowds, silent again, stood, completely still.

        Looking down at the list, Commander Peter, continued, “Alright good! Now, where was I? Okay, so, lunch is at 1 rather than 12 for construction reasons.” He paused again, as if expecting the same kind of trouble. However, this time, no one made a sound.

        “Today is the general attendance call at ten.” He continued, satisfied with the degree of silence, “Afterwards, today’s general oath of ultimate loyalty will be made, as usual. And today we will be sending off to glorious combat the divisions of 5613d, 7820f and 8160r prisoners’ detachment.”

        That last bit caught my attention. Prisoner’s detachment? Could Naomi possibly be in this group? Could she be leaving today for the front?

        Meanwhile, Commander Peter continued, “….however, remember we have a limited number of donuts so, don’t forget to come early. You never know when one of your commanding officers might have pity and throw some crumbs your way. Now, that’s all for today’s announcements. Never forget, Strength, Unity, and Peace. ALL HAIL OUR SUPREME OVERLORD, THE ONE TRUE MASTER OF THE POLITICS RIVER VALLEY!”

        All around, the men and women answered unanimously in a mighty, voice, “WE REMEMBER!”

        Then Peter, looking down and lowering his clipboard, answered, “Yeah, yeah.. whatever…” There was a moment of silence, then he looked back up and yelled, irate once again, “WHAT ARE Y’ALL LOOKING AT! GET OUT OF HERE!”

        Then all the columns and lines and ranks disbanded into mobs. All the soldiers began to run their own way. In the confusion, as everyone around me suddenly shifted, I was left there, completely still, unsure what to do. Puk, next to me, also did not move. We stood there, until finally I felt some strange tug on my sleeve and looked down to see, once again the young girl. She was desperately pulling at our sleeves, yelling, “Come on! Move!”

        I succumb to her pull, quite relieved to have snapped out of the stupor which had not allowed me to move. The three of us, now running, passed by the confusing masses of people, each trying to get to its own unit. I looked down at the girl, “Where have you been?”

        “Me?!” She asked, indignantly.

        “Yes, you. You disappeared.”

        Puk, running next to me, added, “And where are we going anyway?”

        “I can’t be in the lines with you. I’m too young, they would now I don’t belong. And don’t worry. I’m getting us out of here.”

        I had to admit, without her, we probably would have been already been executed publicly. “What is your name anyway?” I asked.

        She looked up, shyly, “Isabelle.”  

        By now, the glow of the morning sun could be well seen, dancing just on the other side of the massive concrete beast, the wall. The entire sky had abandoned its darker hue for that of azure calm, but still, there was only the glow of the sun which we could see. The shadow of the wall, loomed over us, like the ghost and spirit of imprisonment itself.

        She pulled us, taking us off to the far corners of the complex. We were still undistinguished from the crowds, I assumed. If it had been any other way, surely they would have noticed, for one, the girl, far too young to even be here to begin with and secondly, our simply desperate manner of running. But as I looked around me, the same commotion and flight could be seen in every person around us.

        It was simply the perfect time for us to make our escape; no one would ever notice our disappearance. But Naomi was still to be found! Where could she be? I dreaded to think of it.

        I insisted again, now consumed by worry, spawning from my recent reasoning, “Where are we going?”

        Isabelle looked up, impatience on her face, “Don’t worry! I know what I’m doing, can’t you already tell?”

        I nodded, “I guess…”

        Then, suddenly, we turned to our right, and entered under the grimy doorway of one of the many barracks’ doorways.

        The building was entirely empty, except for discarded items of clothing, each mangled and thrown about the building. A similar flag as from before, hung from the edges of wooden bunks.

        Isabelle, detaching herself from us, began to examine the room frantically.

        “What is it?” Puk asked, as she watched Isabelle pace around the building.

        “Where is it?” She mumbled to herself, “He said it would be here! Where is it?”

        Overhearing her muttering, I asked, “Where is what? What are you looking for?”

        She stopped, walking, then, her gaze transfixed on a small point on the floor. I followed her eyes to a small slit in the floorboards, just beneath a pile of what looked like well ripped underwear.

        She kneeled, and reached for the slit, managing to insert her hand beneath it. Then, she began to pull on the opening with all her strength. The floorboards twitched and turned, till this began to lift. The opening then converged into what she had been looking for, a cellar door, just like that which Waleed had shown us back in the alleyways. She flung the entrance fully open, revealing the dark inlet, beneath. I could distinguish beneath, a slight glow, perturbing the darkness below.

        Turning to us and smiling, Isabelle motioned to us, “Here! Found it! Come on.”

        She then turned her legs and jumped into the compartment beneath the floorboards. I heard her feet reach the bottom with a slight, lingering thud, then her voice, permeating, asking, “C’mon! What are you waiting for?”

        We didn’t hesitate. I jumped in, as did Puk, soon afterwards. I fell with a thud, at the bottom, placing my hands on the cold, dirt surface floor. It was moist. I raised my head and saw where the light was emanating from. To the back of this basement-ish room was a single lantern, hung over a nail, sticking out of the floorboards.

        Beneath the lantern I could see what looked like two boxes piled together to resemble a desk. Next to this rudimentary desk stood a wicker chair. I could barely see all of this, as the light could barely even reach my eyes. The entire place was simply a small space between the ground and the foundations of the barracks. The entire floorboard roof was rotting from moisture, and every so often, small struts of wood, stuck out from the ground, no doubt supporting the floor above. The ground below was, for once, simply brown dirt. I never realized how much I missed it.

        Isabelle, seeing that we had joined her, took from her pocket a match box, and without delay, struck one. The light emanating from the match was just enough for me to make out her face. She held it close to mine, as if to make sure, I was who she thought I was.

        “Are you alright?” she asked, sounding concerned.

        Then she turned towards the lantern. “Follow me.”

        Puk, who glanced towards me, began to follow her, as did I. It was difficult, since we needed to squat; the roof was fairly low. My feet even sunk into the moist ground below. However, as I continued, the light from the lantern grew stronger, until finally I realized that there was, in fact, someone sitting on the chair I had seen.

        This figure, upon sensing our presence, suddenly rose. It was a robust, short, curly haired, man with a distinct nose and bold cheeks. On his chin and neck he wore a scruffy beard, and a slight mustache. His shirt, loosely fit, revealed the top of his chest and on his bare chest I could faintly make out a tattoo.

        This was the man Waleed had talked about, their inside man! Isabelle had led us to him.

        He looked at us with a puzzled look, as we approached. Then, once we had come into the light of his lamp, he frowned. I also saw that his tattoo was that of a Viking hammer, the one which is wielded by Thor.

He looked at us all, and then with a smirk, asked, “Yes? What is it?”

Isabelle, raising her voice above ours, answered, “I’ve brought them. It wasn’t easy.”

He raised his gaze to me and Puk, and then asked, in a sarcastic voice, “So?”

There were a few moments of silence, till I asked, rather doubtfully, “So you are part of resistance? What is your name?”

“Yoav,” he answered, his expression still not changing. “I am part of the revolution to free this place. Now what do you want?”

“O, Well,” I was suddenly unsure as what to answer, “…Our friend…she was taken… and she is here somewhere.. and we want to…”

“Rescue her?” Yoav interrupted, “Who is your friend?”

“A girl who…”

“Say no more.” Yoav interjected once again, “I will help you. Come with me.”

He suddenly stood from his novel desk, and grabbed the lantern off its post.  He glanced around, in the dark, and then, with sudden resolution, began to walk away from where we had come.

Apprehensive, we began to follow him, crouching, so as to not hit the roof with our heads, “O…okay… thank you.” I added, rather confused.

“Yes,” he answered, sternly, but without looking behind at me.

“Um, but….” I hesitated, still following, “So… how are we going to.. do you even…?”

He answered, still moving forward, without even an ounce of delay, “We will go to where the new prisoners are.”

        “O, okay… and then… um what…”

        “Then we will find her, and get you all out.”

        I continued to follow, rather doubtful as to how he planned to have all of this accomplished, so I asked, still confounded by his direct attitude, “But how will we do that?”

        He then suddenly stopped where he stood, and straightened his back. He looked back at me and with a deep, announcing voice, declared, “God will have it.”

        Then, after a few moments of silence, where his expression, did not change, as did mine, until suddenly Yoav smiled, toothily. Then he turned, and continued to lead us forward.

        Rather confused as to the reaction, I simply continued to follow the slight, wobbling light in front of us.

        We continued, crouching and advancing. Up ahead, the roof changed from wood to cement and I realized we were moving under the entire main plaza and the roads between. I wondered how far this tunnel-like structure went.

        After a few minutes of silence, Puk suddenly interrupted from behind, asking Yoav, “So who are you?”

        Yoav, turning around, with a surprised expression, replied, “I don’t know.” Then he shrugged and kept on moving.

        “Hmmm…” Puk from behind sounded puzzled, “Where are you from?”

        “From Yoavistan, my family lives there, but I live here.”

        “Where’s that?” she asked, now quite interested.

        “Down south. I come from the Port of Yoav.” Then he suddenly stopped walking and added, “But I left a long time ago.”

        As soon as he had said the words, he kept on walking abruptly.

        “Why?” Puk continued to ask.

        He turned around again, with the same unknowing look, “I don’t know.”

        There were another few moments of silence, before Yoav continued, “Maybe because it’s a mess. And I couldn’t stand to live there.”

        “Why is that?”

        “Well,” he continued, “Maybe because there are no laws. But I don’t know.”

        “O...” Puk took a second to think, then added, “So you are part of the resistance?”

        Yoav laughed; his laugh was a deep voice chuckle, “Yes.”

        “Why?”

        “I believe that there are people who oppress and those who are oppressed. I believe in a better world, where there is no longer far reaching suffering and unnecessary war. I believe there can be an end to this unnecessary war. I believe in peace, and hope for all the people, no matter who they are. I believe in the revolution and that we must rise against the current systems. And to rise for our peace.”

        “Hmmm, what?”

        “I just wanted to save people.”

        “Yeah?”

        “Like you.”

        “O, thank you.”

        “You’re welcome.”

        Then suddenly, Yoav stopped where he was, and, looking back to us, pointed his finger upwards.

        “We have made it!” he declared loudly.

        Without me noticing, the roof above us was once again composed of wooden planks, just like at the barracks from before.

        Yoav, carefully placing his palm on the floorboards, began to lift up a well camouflaged hatch. This hatch, peeling open, unveiled the sunlight coming from above.

        Yoav motioned towards us to come. Then, with one arm, took me and threw me up, out of our basement. Startled, I grabbed the edge of the floorboards, and pulled myself up easily. I stood, but did not have a lot of time to examine where we were, instead beginning to help up Puk and Isabelle up.

        I had just finished pulling up the last of us, except Yoav, who stood below, when I heard a voice that made my heart sink. From the corner of the building from which we had emerged. It was the call of a feminine voice, “Amir!”

        I turned to see, much to my glee, Naomi, running from the edge of the room. She quickly hugged me, almost toppling me over.

        “I thought you had forgotten about me! Where were you?”

        I stared, bedazzled, shocked, with a glazed expression, unable to answer, “Umm.. no.. well…”

        Puk, standing next to me interrupted, “O, hello.”

        Naomi, turned to see Puk and Isabelle, and surprised answered, “Oh hi! What’s your name?”

        They had begun to introduce themselves, when I turned to see Yoav, underneath, whispering to call my attention. I looked down, “What?”

        “Listen,” he began, “Don’t take too long. You need to leave soon.  You see over at the end of the building?”

        I lifted my head and noticed the far left wood wall.

        “Yes.”

        “Behind that,” continued Yoav, “is the Wall.”

        “Where at the wall?!” I asked, almost unbelieving of our good fortune.

        Yoav smiled, “Yes, the secret exit is there. Under the rug. Just remember. Put it back.”

        Then he returned to his stoic expression, and waved, “Now goodbye and good luck.”

        “Wait? What does it mean?”

        “Put it back?”

        “Yes.”

        “Put it back.”

        “O, alright.” I stood, ready to go, determined to finally escape.

        The building we were in, I then noticed, was in fact filled with people. All around laid and sat hundreds of staring prisoners. Not one wore an expression or said a thing. They simply watched.

        Yoav repeated, “Just, put it back.”

        I answered, “Of course. I’m sure we will meet again.”

        “Maybe.”

        “Thank you for everything.”

        With his stoic expression he answered then, “Yes.”

        Then without another word, I closed the floorboard hatch.

        I watched the closed, plain wood for a second longer, then stepped back to see Puk, Naomi and Isabelle, in the middle of what seemed like a very enthusiastic conversation. Outside I could hear the screaming of the voice on the speakers, this time calling,

        “REMEMBER, A HAPPY SOLDIER IS A STRONG SOLDIER. AN UNHAPPY SOLDIER IS A DEAD SOLDIER.”

        I shuddered. Then, filled with a deep need to leave this once and for all, repeated to myself, “Put it back.”

        And then pulled on the arms, of all three girls. “We need to go.”

        They looked at me, smiling from their new acquaintances and answering, in unity, “Okay.”

        We passed the staring people. Not one did anything to stop us or join us; they simply sat. Loathing, weak, uncaring of the circumstances or their fate. I turned towards Naomi, still walking towards the wall at the end, “Should we take them with us?”

        “What?” she answered, confused, “where are WE even going to escape from?”

        “I know where to go. But should we help them?” I asked again.

        “ I spoke to them before. They won’t move, they are too afraid. They would never leave. And we don’t have time”

        I looked around, almost unable to keep going, but still desperate to leave, “Okay.”

        We reached the last wall, and then I suddenly saw what Yoav had been pointing at. On the floor, was a single mat, which read in pretty, cursive letters, “Welcome.”

        Puk, Naomi and Isabelle watched as I kneeled down and picked up the square of felt. It was moist, and smelled like urine, but underneath I saw what I needed. A key, brass and golden, but almost inconceivably small.

        I took it, almost uncontrollably eager and happy to see the vessel. Immediately above the mat I spotted what I needed to see. A key hole, miniscule, but clearly cut out of the wood.

        I pushed the key, my companions still watching behind me. And then with a slight twist of my index finger, there was a click, then a thump and a sudden creaking, permeating. Then as if by magic, a large, tall door swung open, slowly.

        The door, coated in the wood of the barracks, was made of impossibly thick concrete, most probably from the wall. Immediately having opened the door, I was blinded. Light seethed in through the crack for freedom. We all turned our gaze from the outstanding sun, outside, coming in through the perfectly rectangular shaped exit.

        I let out my spirit of relief in a gasp of air, and then, feeling the others follow, I stepped forward, still partially unable to see. Puk, closing the door behind us, sealed the hell behind us. In front, I could see the looming of salvation, light, contorted so beautifully, forwards. I laughed, and then, fully confident, and ran forward, into the light.

        I put the tiny key into my pocket. Only later, once we had long since escaped, did I realize the horror prone truth. The terrible reality.

        I had not put it back.