Protests were going on in Tifftam and the whole of Dairione. People were out again with loud voices, confident than ever, sure of a forthcoming peace, sure that it would be sooner than later, sure that they would all witness it. Schools had opened again in some states and churches had opened again, even in Hustarbull where their main bishop had been killed and sorrow had come upon the city. It already marked a whole month since they had stayed with no president for the country and no governor for their states. Since they were all part of the terrorist organisation, Sawer had cleared them all because he was nearing the final stage of the apocalypse.
As the whole country was agog with optimism and wild jamboree of a new dawn at hand, the enemy party who had pitched their tents right in the centre of Singalort watched with agony and confusion. The most menacing news for Owen Sawer was the revelation of Dale Eagan’s real name to actually be Reece Bailey which meant he was the son of Andre Bailey. He had been the commander of the Dexter Armed Forces and a then retired Sawer who was starting his enterprise found him ruthless and so, a major addition to his men but Andre refused the offer and told Sawer that he was going to expose him.
Now, Andre was one man with the heart of ten and a stamina of a dozen; both qualities that were proficient to shrink the ego of Sawer from that of a fire-breathing beast that he saw himself as to a little featherless chicken. He knew the kind of threat Andre would be if he decided to stay opposed to The Blazing Empire and that was why he did what he thought would end it all. He killed him and his wife and one of his sons, Taylor, Vince got missing and the last son was the invincible Reece. He came to realise that the worst decision he ever made was not killing him right there at the age of 8. He’d done what he thought was right: Take the boy far away, crush his skull with a hammer and leave him on the road to die.
As it stood, that boy was back but no longer as a boy, he was back as a fiercer reincarnation of his father and Sawer knew that the only way to fulfil his plan was to take him out. Or maybe it was too late. A whole troop of ten thousand European soldiers had arrived in helicopters and landed on the coast of Dexter, set to invade Singalort and end it all.
It was enough headache for Sawer and as he sat at his table on the 3rd day of November, instead of ordering deaths over the telephone and using The Ritual Of Caprice as recreation; he had sweat all over him with his insides sweltering and his lemon-coloured teeth chattering together. He was looking up at the TV and could see some other fighter jets landing in the city of Tifftam to guard the city. There were protests in Kebstarek – more like a carnival – with people carrying placards: I- a love emoji painted in red – hashtag Reece Bailey.
‘Aargh!’, he roared as he stoned the remote control against the wall. ‘Hey now, you all should listen to me. I want you to get me a hundred alpha men! And get them to find Dale wherever he might be and kill him. Search through the whole town of Baskers, find him and kill him right away!’, he yelled to the guards lying across the room. ‘Now!’
‘Sir, don’t you think we might need more of the alpha men to secure the stead against any invasion? Soldiers are on their way and…’, one of them dared to utter but he wouldn’t be able to complete his sentence.
‘You don’t tell me what to do. You stupid thing’, he unleashed his fury to the suggesting guard by shooting him five times.
‘…But he might actually be right’, he mumbled amid his frenzied breathing. ‘Hey, hey’, he called the guards again. ‘I want you to go to every dome in this place and send everyone out. Tell them to get armed and get ready to fight. Let the alphas lead the teams. That stupid lad can rot to hell. Go! Go! Go!’
We’ve come this far! We can’t lose now, he told himself.
Meanwhile some miles away from there, thousands of men were headed to one place. They were headed to a farm that they agreed to meet. They had all gone back to their families, some of them had found their families hale and hearty and happy for their arrival, some had returned to meet an empty house and neighbours to tell them the tragic happening but at the end, returning home triggered the same viciousness in them all. Those that had their loved ones knew they had to preserve them and this was the only way; while those that didn’t felt worthless but decided there was one last journey to make, one last ground to break and one last homage to pay.
At 9:30pm, in the basement of Khelain’s farmhouse, numerous men were gathered there with weapons that they’d gathered, waiting for the rest to arrive. Dale was one of the last men to arrive, Darius had driven him in a truck that wasn’t a Platini, it was an inoperable, far-too-useless vehicle whose makers had faded into obscurity a long time ago. It had been owned by Darius’ grandfather and with all its faults, only him could drive it. They spent almost nineteen hours on the journey across all the dilapidated roads from Baskers to Reckdette to Redtwuft to Kebstarek to Yolyarkshire and then through Gollogher on one near-dead engine moving at a speed of twenty miles per hour. The vehicle stopped twelve to fifteen times on the roads and each of the times that Dale had come out to restart the engine for Darius; crowds of varying sizes would heap up on Dale.
‘That’s Reece Bailey over there’, they would yell from across the road.
‘Where? Is he really… Where is he?’
‘Pushing the car. There’
Men and women all alike would run to him, hugging him, mothers giving him a peck on the head and little kids clutching at his knees. They offered and some begged to travel with their car.
‘Sir Reece Bailey, please don’t take that car anymore. I beg you, sir. Honourable men like you should use better cars like limos…’, one man who was old enough to be Dale’s father would say amidst the other people urging him. Dale would give a thank you bow and a humble look that said: ‘Please do not call me sir. I am just a little boy’
‘You are a star now, Dale’, Darius would say as they went on on the journey. ‘No one is more famous than you are in the whole of Dexter Islands, not even actors and actresses in Reckdette’, he would say and laugh.
Dale would just smile on, wondering how everything had just turned around for him from the time they got into Boorbunk after that painful arrest at Reckdette up to the present moment. It was the most important year of his life and it also put an extra layer of worth on the last mission he was going for. At least he would be able to live in a new Dexter with only pleasant, happy people around. That was if he lived past the war.
They reached the farm at 10:11pm.
‘Son’, Darius called Dale before he stepped out of the bus. He placed his hands on his. ‘Go and make your parents proud’
Dale nodded and jumped off the bus, wondering how many times the engine was going to need to be rerun before he got home. He was in a black polo shirt and black trousers that were Lampard’s and he hung his bag behind his back. The bag contained all of his guns and bullets; the ones that remained from the Boorbunk breakout.
He sighed poignantly as he waved one last time to Darius and headed down the farm to the farmhouse.
The hails from the swarm of people signified his presence. He got down from the ladder and entered the underground room where he could see just as many people as he had expected. He placed a giant smile on his face despite the tension battling him. Barry and Tristan rushed to him to give him a powerful hug. ‘Welcome’, Barry whimpered into his ears.
They were all dressed in the darkest, thickest, most-soldierlike clothes they could lay their hands on, some of them even had masks on. They all had guns, even Barry and Tristan had pistols with them. And seeing that made him feel less tensed; after all other people too were ready.
‘I welcome you all’, Dale said and he wondered why his voice had suddenly gone hoarse and raspy. ‘I welcome you all’, he repeated with a clearer tone. ‘I believe that we are all ready for this adventure. We are all going to be at the forefront of a new revolution of Dexter Islands’
Everyone echoed loudly. ‘But as we leave, let us all look at each other, greet each other, pray for our loved ones and for one another’, Dale said. ‘For amongst us, we will lose many men but the sacrifices would never be in vain. This might be the last time we will see one another’
At this time, everyone had fallen silent, muttering prayers. He could see Khelain tightening his arms around his tearful wife and pecking her on her head. Every man was embracing every other man that represented their pledge: No matter what our fate is, we will remain brothers in spirit.
Tristan, Barry, Ray, Humphrey, Peter and all the men of the fifteenth ward surrounded Dale. ‘We will all make it’, Tristan said and Dale nodded.
‘But first let’s go do what we have to do’, Peter said. Peter was one of those people who had returned home to meet tragedy. His wife had been abducted and he had found his daughter in the hospital in coma. The doctor said she had been in coma for three weeks.
The method of transportation was going to be the vans that they hijacked from Boorbunk. They were all parked somewhere behind Khelain’s farm. This time, there was no sprightful discussion as they went on. Everyone’s eyes were a full mirror of emotions, everyone was thinking about something, about someone or about where they were headed to. The only sounds that Dale was listening to was the sounds of the bus as it galloped over a bump in the street and the anthemic pop song: ‘I want to leave the world better’ by William Butterland. Barry who would have usually turned it to a karaoke had his mouth pressed to the sides in sobriety. Even when the song reached its peak: ‘I want to let the Baskers’ moors turn greener and paint the Red Balloon a whole cleaner’.
Dale sat nearest to the windows and he stuck his nose against it. He could see men sleeping under bridges and houses with faded paint and algae growing over the walls; a young man closing his shop for the day looking a bit bored. The roads were silent and dry and days were murky and rough. Barry, on the other hand could remember visiting the father of Michael, Graham and lying to him that his son was one of those people who were banished and wouldn’t be able to return home to him. Even at that, the old man cried bitterly.
Tristan still had the smell of Samantha’s hair when he hugged her, hanging in nostrils. The day before had been an interesting one with he and baby Moses. He could recall the toddler laughing as he ticked the sole of his feet. He had vowed to himself that if he would make it out of this war alive, he was going to get married to Samantha and fulfil his promise of giving her and her son a better life.
Khelain who was sitting at the driver seat couldn’t wait for the Order of the Quppis to completely get conquered, so that he and his family could leave the underground room they were living. He knew it was going to happen because he could hear the vehicle’s radio stating that another one thousand soldiers had arrived from the USA, and were heading for the terrorists’ mainstay. The only reason his hands were shuddering as he held on to the steering wheel was that they would all soon be at Singalort too.