The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (35 page)

“They won’t get far,” He assured them. “Nobody ever does.”

Wringing the towels and sheets out as she pulled them from the boiling water with her gloved hands, Maryanne was making all the preparations necessary for the birth of Sofia’s child. Covering the floor with the stained, thin cloth, she attempted to make the room as clean as she possibly could within such a filthy
environment.

With both of their cots situated alongside each other forming one large bed, Sofia had a much larger area to spread out on. As she lay on her back, the long shadows cast upon the ceiling by Maryanne as she moved past the lantern and through the room, busy at her work, appeared like alien clouds gathering in the night sky. The pain was growing stronger and more frequent. With the cloth removed from their only window to the world outside, Sofia could see the dispersing haze of light gathering in the sky as the Savior was about to make his entrance.

As they rounded the base of the mountain, the tracks to the escapees’ vehicle were quite lengthy, and it appeared as though they may have had more fuel in the vehicle than the Sergeant had anticipated. As his team leader lifted the visor from his face, John had his first glimpse of the man. He was middle-aged, probably in his late thirties, with facial hair that seemed far grayer than he would have expected. By the creases of his forehead and the scowl of his brow, he was as equally hardened as Crawford and Michaels, perhaps even the Monster himself. Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, the Sergeant peered at the horizon in the direction of the bluish-purple sky, beyond the red sand hills, where pillars of black smoke arose from the ruins. Placing the viewing apparatus on his lap, he closed his face shield and ordered Roberts to continue
driving.

The clarity of the redness of the sand was becoming more pronounced with each passing minute as the brightness over the hills indicated the nearness of daylight. The ruins, according to Goldman, who had been incessantly blabbing into his microphone, were situated on the other side of the ridge.

“I’ve only seen a few stragglers actually make it out this far,” he commented. “They’re usually too dehydrated and beat to continue fighting, though.”

The trail of rubescent dust following their transporter was too easily marked out from a distant vantage point. Knowing that there was a possibility that the deserters would be waiting in ambush, the Sergeant ordered Roberts to stop the vehicle: they would be hoofing the remaining distance to the targets.

With all the preparations complete, it was now only a matter of time before the child would be entering the world. Maryanne had pulled her wooden-box seat under the sheets, situating it at the bedside near Sofia’s head. Sweating profusely under the dense, moist heat of the room, Maryanne used a soft, damp cloth to cool Sofia
down.

“We’re getting so close now,” she smiled.

Dipping the cloth into the can of cool water at her feet, Maryanne flinched under the sharp pinching of Sofia’s hand as she took hold of her wrist. Her contractions were now only a few minutes apart.

Low crawling to the peak of the hill, the four men kept a safe distance from one another, preparing to return fire should it become necessary. They had reached the edge of the ruins, and John could see what had once been, in the distant past, a thriving metropolis similar to Labor, only much greater in extent and height. Although it may have been awe-inspiring at one time, it was now an empty shell of a city under the unforgiving hand of war. Still used for urban battles to entertain the powers-that-be, the fires and billowing smoke of destruction seemed to be in a perpetual state of burning.

Retracting the face protectors back, as ordered by the Sergeant, each man pulled his gas mask from the pouch hanging upon his hip before sliding it into place. Inhaling and exhaling, the seals of their masks were complete. At his further command, the team members retrieved a single canister from their vests, throwing them into the nearby buildings.

At the sound of the popping explosions that indicated the release of the poison into the air, the agents were brought to their feet and ordered to commence the hunt. Stalking in a “V” formation, they existed as a single unit, a single entity: a killing machine. Somewhere hidden in the skeletal remains of the ancient city, the four men were running for their lives. Their bleeding hearts were the trophies of Sweeper society.

Picking up the embedded tracks left by the feet of the deserters in the ash and sand, the team members cautiously peered around every corner and over every wall. Wherever the boot prints led them, the team would follow.

The distant thundering of explosions and snapping machine guns, the local crackling fires of burning vehicles and gelled fuel, these were the only sounds audible in the city. The blood gurgling coughs of the choking escapees that they had expected to hear never materialized. The Sergeant ordered more canisters of the fatal gas to be administered in the streets and alleys ahead of them. He wanted the poison to fill the air, to fill the buildings, to flow on the rooftops, anywhere that was a potential hiding place.

Wandering deeper into the city under the cloak of the thin, hazy smoke, the rising complexes surrounding them appeared to have been built steadily taller. A portion of the inner hub of the city became visible between the walls of the rising structures that lined the streets as they made their way through another cross-section. The rotted frames of the skyscrapers, packed together at the central aspect of the long-deceased metropolis, were still several kilometers inward. It seemed to John as if their prey could be anywhere, and yet nowhere. He was feeling the frustration and anger of defeat, knowing that the deserters had got the best of
them.

The heavens above were beginning to change to a lighter shade of blue, leaving the purple haze of the early morning behind and blotting out the last remaining stars. The Great Star of the sky was soon to be presenting itself, and with it the discomfort of the heat that would build up under the agents’ armored gear.

With the crack of a rifle, and the ricocheting buzz that accompanied the bullet as it bit into the concrete wall next to Goldman’s head, the Sergeant yelled into his microphone, “Everyone down!”

Grabbing Goldman by the shoulder, the Sergeant pulled him into a building on the opposite side of the street.

Taking cover beside Roberts, set between the walls of a narrow alleyway, John attempted to peek his head around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shooter. The concrete exploded into a chalky puff of dust and debris as another piece of lead slammed into the wall only a few centimeters from his mask-covered face.

“We need to split up,” John whispered through his microphone. “Let me take Roberts. We’ll move along this side of the street. We might be able to take their flank.”

Hidden deep within the debris of the old apartment complex, Goldman and the Sergeant sat in silence. Contemplating John’s suggestion, the Team Leader tried to consider the possibilities of the action.

Leaning against the wall, John and Roberts slid down to the rubble-covered floor of the alley. While awaiting their orders, another crack of a rifle rang out, and the bullet embedded into the corner a meter from their position. The crackling of their earpieces indicated that the Sergeant was about to give his command.

“We’re pinned down in here,” he said. “See what you can do.”

With a thumbs-up, Roberts patted John on the back.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

Duck-walking to the end of the building, they made their way through the alley. Climbing through a hole that had been blasted into the side of the structure at one point in its long exhausted past, the two of them entered in.

Working their way towards the shooter’s direction, the two-man team scuttled through several rooms before reaching their exit. Out through the window frame they climbed, back into another alleyway. Another shot fired, apparently directed towards Goldman and the Sergeant. It would take time, John thought, but with such amateurish gunplay at work, he and Roberts would soon make an end to their annoying targets.

Screaming under the intensity of the pain, Sofia’s head was beginning to spin.

“You need to slow your breathing down,” Maryanne urged. “You’re going pass out.”

“Okay,” she panted. “I’m sorry. It just hurts so much.”

As the squeezing of the contraction faded, Sofia rolled onto her side, attempting to stand upon her feet.

“I need to get up, my back’s hurting.”

Maryanne wrapped her arms around Sofia’s waist, placing most of the pressure at the small of her back. As the contractions began again, Sofia began her tachypneic breathing while Maryanne increased the force against her lumbar region.

The Savior was just peeking over the edge of the hills, bringing its warming rays of light upon the city’s cardboard rooftops. The women of the town had long ago busied themselves with their daily routines. The crowds of the streets were now openly visible. From the direction of the flatlands, the cottony rise of dust from the speeding transporters heading into Basket Town were an unusual sight at such an early hour of the day.