Paradise Burning (The Virtagwalla Series Book 2) (17 page)

34

              Oscar considered himself lucky to have a job. As he watched many of his buddies receive their pink slips from corporate, Oscar found that his job at the Winter shaft gold mine was an exceptionally easy one. Day in and day out he would wake up, climb into his beat up sedan that had been retrofitted so that it could be operated free from fossil fuels, and battle his way to Winter’s entrance on Mount Sallis. His responsibilities included many custodial duties, however his primary function was to regulate those who had access to the shaft. Traffic to and from the shaft had decreased greatly in the proceeding weeks. Ever since the massive layoffs from VirtGold, the shifts had shortened for the mineworkers, and there were fewer shipping trucks entering and exiting. 

              The day had finally come to an end. Oscar had accomplished quite a bit during his day. In the morning he did some shopping online. During his lunch break he walked from the office, down the street pass the mine access all the way to Highway 100, and then back along the road till it hit Highway 100 again. The total walk took him little over a half hour, but his hour long union insured lunch was quite long for him. His favorite part of the walk however was that the mouth to the mine was right on the access road. He would walk up to the gates and stare. Oscar had always dreamed of one day being a miner and striking it rich.

However as he packed up his lunch box to go home, he noticed out of the little hut’s windows a large truck driving straight for his fence. Sighing he put his wind breaker on and hardhat, and ran out to the truck.

Waving his arms he bellowed, “What do you think you are doing? This is private property!”

The truck came to a stop by the mine’s mouth, and as Oscar approached he noticed the driver side window rolling down. Slowing his pace, Oscar screwed up his face and commented, “Bud, you know better than to drive your truck all the way up to the fence without proper clearance,” he paused as he gazed at his friend, “How long have you been driving for this company? Ten years?”

“Eleven actually,” the scruffy man replied, “I have a special delivery that needs to be placed at the very end of Winter’s shaft by morning.”

Oscar sighed. Disappointedly he reached for his back pocket where he kept the schedule of delivers for the day, ‘I thought we were done for the day?’ he thought to himself. Pulling the sheet out, he scanned it. Finding nothing about a special delivery, Oscar turned to Bud, “I don’t have anything on my schedule about a special delivery. Do you have any paperwork? Authorization?”

Bud hit his head, “Oh yes, I’m sorry they said you probably wouldn’t have the paperwork.” The truck driver leaned over to the glove box, rummaged around for a few moments, and finally produced a folded up sheet of paper. Handing it to Oscar, “I think you will find everything you need.”

“What are you carrying anyways?” Oscar inquired grabbing the paper, and walking to the bed of the massive truck. Lifting the tarp, he found dozens of crates labeled in viciously font, reading “EXPLOSIVE” on the side right above a smaller printed word, ‘Aurum Corp.’.

Walking back to the cab of the truck, Oscar confusedly unfolded the paperwork. Instantly the breath was taken out of his lungs, and he looked up at Bud, “You’re pulling my leg Bud. There is no way the COO of VirtGold would sign a packing slip and authorization form.”

“I found that to be weird too. But I was handed that by my supervisor, so I have to assume that it is legitimate,” Bud exclaimed.

Lifting his ball cap and scratching the top of his head Oscar continued to look at the form. All the signatures were in place, but it just felt weird. ‘Why would they be moving explosives into a shaft that was deemed hazardous and nearly tapped of all its resources,’ he thought to himself. Then he noticed the other signature on the sheet of paper and became even more confused.

Holding the sheet of paper up he pointed to the second signature, “Is that from who I think it is, signing for this Aurum Company?” Oscar asked shocked.

Bud nodded, “I suppose so.”

Oscar shook his head. His night was just getting weirder and weirder. Attempting to grapple with everything going on, and struggling to sort it out in his head, he couldn’t justify denying his friend access. He glanced at Bud and nodded his head. “I guess all of this checks out. I will go ahead and unlock the gates for you. Have a good night Bud, and be careful with this stuff. They say this mine isn’t that safe no-more. Has something to do with weak walls, or something. Talk to you soon!”

Walking back to the hut Oscar didn’t feel right about what had just unfolded.

35

              Xavier Rove had to get out of his office. He had to get out of Capital Tower. For the first time since being elected President he actually drove a car. “Borrowing” the official Presidential SUV, Xavier Rove pushed recklessly to the one place he knew he would be able to find peace. The masses on the Eastern lawn of Capital Tower had escalated to full on settlement status. Cardboard shanties had popped up, as foreclosures skyrocketed across the island. Especially since the currency collapse, the percent of the population unemployed quickly overstepped the percentage of employed. There were rumors of people having to hunt in the Jungle for food, and that a shadowy blackmarket had raised in the encampments across the island of homeless citizens. The growing community on the Eastern Lawn was by and far the largest. Each day, Xavier couldn’t look at the families that had gathered at the foot of the tower. The scene hurt too much.

              Life for the President only became more complicated since the collapse of the United State’s economy. Senator Teasdale barged into his office just hours after the actual collapse occurred rambling on and on about how the push for statehood mustn’t stop. “Economies can be fixed! Time will mend these wounds. You just wait till those damn Brits piss their fortunes away, and those Chinese. They are next to fall!” He insisted slamming his fists on Xavier’s desk. Xavier didn’t see too much of Artimus Zhang. The Parliament had rebuked his suggestion of replacing General Laurels with Lieutenant General Zantha Carson, voted against Zhang’s proposal to continue to restrict Finance Minister Sensado’s hands when it came to making expedient decisions on financial matters, and it crushed him that the Parliament had awarded President Rove with the emergency powers, over him. In fact, Rove struggled to think of something the Parliament was actually agreeing with their leader on. Instead, they countered the usual trend and stood with the suggestions spewing from Sensado and Rove’s offices more than Zhang’s.

              Rove came to a sliding stop in the parking lot of Park Giza. Stumbling out of the car, Xavier’s mind was blinded. He reached back into the SUV grabbing a brown paper bag. He couldn’t think straight. Stress had finally gotten to him. The devastating weight of the Presidency was beginning to shatter all confidence and sanity he had left. Xavier ambled aimlessly through the park. He could hear the sound of rushing water. The events of the days and weeks prior were wearing on his conscious and he could not shake them. Laurels and Bush had broken the news to him that there was growing distrust with the government amongst the unemployed. They were banding together and calling for something dramatic to happen. They were willing to rise up to fight through their pain. Virtagwallan flags were burned right on the lawn, as he, the President, their elected leader watched painfully from his ivory tower.

              He did not want it anymore. He didn’t want the job, the responsibility, or the life he was leading. He wanted to wash his hands of it all. The wind began to pick up as Xavier, on the verge of mental collapse, fell onto one of the benches by the fountain. He wheezed, grasping for air. Closing his eyes, the world sounded so brutal around him: the roaring of the fountain, the howling of the wind, and crashing of the branches above him. His breathing became short, and he felt the tears rolling out of his eyes. Control was gone, and the waterworks activated at full blast. Xavier’s lungs shuddered, and he coughed attempting to settle his breathing. After a few desperate moments of struggle he was able to smooth it out. Sitting up he glared at the Chernobyl Fountain in front of him. Shaking his head, tears being flung, he opened up the bottle in his hand, and began drinking from it. The sting of pure alcohol brazed his throat as he drank to kill. Pulling the bottle away he gasped for breath. Pausing, he then took another tug, putting down half the bottle in two drinks.

              The stomach does weird things when a large amount of alcohol is introduced to it in a very expedient manner. Xavier reveled in the pain. He smothered his breathing, allowing the hurt to fill his body. He hadn’t felt physical pain in so long. The pain of his mind, and the nagging stress of his title invoked the type of pain that when endured for a long period eats away at a person’s soul.  He didn’t care anymore about anything. Nothing in the world did he view was worth living for. All of a sudden the image of his son filled his mind. It was quiet but it was stinging. His entire body fell limp. Through all of this he had forgotten about the proudest achievement of his whole life. He began crying harder, and he attempted to wipe his tears with the hand holding the bottle. The wind around him picked up, and he felt the chilling pain of his tears on his face.

              Rove sat limp on the bench for many long minutes. The alcohol was slowly beginning to seep into his body. He was on the verge of passing out when he heard his name being yelled. It was quiet and distant but very quickly it grew louder and more powerful. Xavier instantly knew who it was.

              Hampton Ray dashed through the park, his jacket furling all around him. The sky above was growing greyer and more dismal by each passing moment, as the young man entered the plaza around the fountain. He dashed over to Xavier, and in a panic asked, “What the hell do you think you are doing?” he reached for the bottle, and pulled it out of the bag. Shocked to find alcohol, he pushed the half empty bottle into Xavier’s face, “Did you drink all of this?”

              Rove nodded his head slowly biting his lip. Hampton dropped his head in disappointment, and then powerfully spun and threw the bottle, shattering it against fountain’s cement base. Xavier opened his blood shot eyes to watch the liquid spread out on the stone around the fountain. Hampton turned back to Xavier grabbing his shoulders, and looking down on him, “What in God’s name are you doing? You stole the car, and came here? What were you thinking?”

              Breathing hard, yet not seizing any air, he moaned, “Because Ray I can’t do it anymore. I can’t handle this anymore.”

              “Can’t handle what? Can’t continue doing what?” Hampton scorned scanning his friend’s face.

              Rove swallowed painfully, and flung his eyes from side to side. The alcohol was consuming his mind, and things were firing more slowly than usual. Looking up, he shut his eyes and shook his head whispering, “I can’t be President anymore. I have failed. Move back to New York. Take your beautiful wife and just go!” Xavier stood up, and teetered around. Finding support on a light pole, Ray didn’t rush after him.

              Shocked Hampton gazed at his oldest friend. He could tell he was suffering, he was struggling – and couldn’t blame him. Walking up behind the struggling drunk he said more calmly, “I will not desert you my friend. I am here with you till the very end. Regardless, Whitley is already gone. She went to visit her mother. Left earlier today,” looking back at the bottle, “Rove why are you here? What were you thinking?”

              Xavier pushed Ray’s hands off of him, and he staggered around a little more, “I have destroyed this place! They trusted me. THEY TRUSTED ME. And I pissed it all away,” he crossed his arms, and then began screaming again, “I have destroyed the economy. They say I have ruined our culture, our society. People, my people, are leaving this island in massive numbers. The light rail is bankrupt, the power company is falling apart, we can’t pay our National Guard members, the police are on furloughs, we are on the verge of having to shut the prison’s down. To top things off, the only thing people on this island can agree on is that I am the one to blame for destroying this place!” His breathing studdered, and he moaned, “I’ve burned our paradise down.”

              Hampton didn’t know what to think or say. He was processing the information as fast as he could, but Rove just needed the time to vent. He knew his friend was to the point where nothing could be rationalized. Nothing could be explained. Rove just needed to let it all out. Vent the tension building up inside. After a few moments of pause he continued, “I ran to be President because I didn’t like Artimus. I hated Zhang. I still hate him,” he scowled and spat, while glaring at Ray with swollen eyes, “I had a dream that I could be that President that people loved, that did his job well, and left office after five years with the people wanting more,” he grabbed his shirts collar, “I wanted that! I wanted that!”

              Hampton couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “But you couldn’t control what has happened over the past couple months. No one could have!”

              Rove shook his head, “No. No! I was their President. I was not Grover Chipulta. I was loved. People approved of me. I could have done anything and people would have supported it,” he paused and then bellowed, “And now they want my head on a stake! They are declaring mutiny. And who’s to blame them? This island is falling apart and we can’t do anything to help them,” he clenched his teeth out of frustration, “Because we are too God damn preoccupied attempting to keep ourselves from falling apart!”

              Taking a step forward, “Xavier you can’t blame yourself for everything. It isn’t all your fault. Maybe its time for a change.”

              Rove began to laugh an evil, out of control sadistic laugh. Ray hated to sight of his friend rapidly slipping into madness. Rove bit his lip, and scrunched up his face. Opening back up he started slowly, “And that’s the worst of all. I am the President that pissed away our nation. I am the President that sat idly by as we forfeited our freedom for a king thousands of miles away in a White House,” he spun shaking his head, “The worst part is,” he turned back, “I didn’t sit idly by, I assisted! I helped in all of this. I am the President that gave away the people for whom he presided over!”

              Hampton stepped forward this time viciously, “You did not make this decision, the people did,” he yelled, “Rove you are the President that reined on the eve of a revolution. In less than 48 hours the politicians in Washington will be taking their vote. If approved we could become the newest state in the United States. What an unfathomable concept that is!”

              “Oh so I should be celebrated for leading our nation to be just another star on a silly banner?” Rove screeched. He paused, and then looked at Hampton, “You really want this don’t you? You’ve always wanted all of this to happen!”

              Hampton struggled for a moment. He knew the strategic advantage for the decision, and there was intrinsically something attractive to the idea of joining the union. However he was first and foremost a Virtagwallan. In the end, the only thing he could say was “I trust the democratic process.”

              Rove dramatically rolled his eyes and sighed, looking away. Attempting to take hold of the conversation, “Xavier, I think you should just go home. Be with your wife. Be with your beautiful son. Be happy you have your health, and your family.”

              Rove fell to his knees just feet from the fountain’s base. His mind opened up and pain flushed through his body. Hampton ran up and kneeled next to him, the wind whipping his coat all around. Xavier began to sob and he fell onto all fours. Hampton attempted to give him support, but was failing. Rove looked at Hampton and sat back up looking into the sky, calming himself down. He then spoke softly, so as to tell a secret, “I think Rachel is having an affair.”

              Ray couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He viewed Rove puzzled, “What do you mean? Your marriage is fine.”

              Rove shook his head; “She won’t even touch me anymore. She stopped letting me kisser her in the morning. She is always in bed before I get home,” he paused and clenched his teeth, “We haven’t spoken in two weeks.”

              The breakdown just became so much more understandable. Hampton wanted to sooth his friend, wanted to help him. But he couldn’t. Rove took a few moments, “I have never loved anyone else but her. Every time I see her, even still, I get butterflies. And she won’t even look at me anymore,” Rove’s eyes filled with tears again, “I have lost everything Hampton. I have lost everything I ever held as important in this world. My marriage is gone, my presidency is in shambles, my relationship with my son is nonexistent, and for what? To serve people that don’t even want me anymore?”             

              Xavier glanced over to Ray, and something caught his eye. Behind Ray was a woman in a long blue coat. She was tall, and very beautiful. He snapped his eyes at Ray, “What is she doing here?” he growled, embarrassedly.

              “She was worried,” Ray said still holding his friend, “She saw you leave in a hurry, grab the keys to the car, and dash out. She was the one that told me where you were.”

              Rove dropped his head. The world was spinning as the alcohol continued to take its effect. Xavier shook his head again, “I am sorry my friend but I have failed you. I have failed everyone. These people, my people, are lost and I am not the one that should be carrying the torch,” he stopped, hanging his head.

              Ray bit his lip and glanced away for a moment. Turning back to Rove, “Xavier, your wife loves you. Your son adores you. Go home.”

              Slowly Rove asked, “The day after tomorrow is the end of Virtagwalla, isn’t it?”

              Ray patted his friend and stood up. Pointing to the plaque at the base of the fountain he said strongly, “Trust the words of our dear friend Chernobyl. Xavier, I will see to it that you are taken home safely. Good night friend.”

              Rove drunkenly turned his attention to the fountain; the water triumphantly spraying into the air. The clouds above now growled with anger and moved about, just as lost as the drunken man on the ground below them. He struggled to read the plaque. After a few passes, he collapsed to the ground sobbing.