The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (52 page)

The scanner to access the elevator was lying on the floor beside the cracked and jagged threshold leading to the empty shaft. With the sliding doors having been removed, John peered upward into the emptiness through which the lift had once run its course. The blueness of the sky gazed back at him. The roof of that section of the building was no longer there.

Bringing his head back inside the crumbling, dreary lobby, with its stained walls and morbid past, John stepped aside as Sofia took his place. She curiously took in a peek to see for herself what had become of their old ride. Several of the floors above appeared to be missing the elevator’s doors, as well. Feeling a tug upon her arm, the child was desirous of her attention. Pulling her towards the stairwell, he urged her and John to follow him further up into the structure’s remains.

The entrance scanner to the stairway was, as the previous one, a mess of rusted metal and tangled wires torn from the wall. Glass from its lens and screen scattered across the dirt of the floor. With the electrical generators of the city appearing to be non-functional, John expected to find the stairway hidden in the blackness of its enclosed design, but the holes of the walls provided enough room for the Savior to find them, allowing His light to reflect off of the high volume of dust floating in the air, illuminating their steps.

Walking into the hall of the top floor brought back a mix of emotions. The roof over their heads in this portion of the building still existed to some extent, but the apartment in which John had grown up was no longer there. Along with that entire side of the building it had been torn away and thrown into the streets below. Looking out at the city from, what used to be, a blackened hallway, but now existed as an open view, was in his mind, a much more comfortable image, as he truly did not want, in his heart, to return to the Monster’s lair ever again.

Passing by Mr. Sander’s old home, the frame of the door appeared to have been blown open, perhaps by explosive force, or some other destructive means. The floor of his living room had collapsed into the apartment below it, making it too dangerous for them to consider going inside.

Leading them further down the hall, the child pulled on their arms, as if to hasten them to their destination. The hallway leading to the Forbidden Room was dark and damp, its walls dripping with moisture. Lit up at the other end by the Savior’s light, the red hue that they remembered so vividly was no longer present. Although much of the roof above them was missing, the door leading up to their paradise, to their once secret place above the city, was still intact.

As the child continued to lead them up the steps, he released Sofia’s hand and pushed the door aside. She could feel the deep and heavy thumping of her heart beneath the bony plate of her chest, as if she was experiencing the discovery of the rooftop for the first time.

The brightness of the Savior was blinding as they passed through the doorway and ascended the final steps leading to the platform-like structure above: a portion of their hidden world, a few meters across, that had not fallen into corruption.

The highest structure of the City overlooking the distant hills, unhindered by the ugliness of the Corral or the bustling noise of the peoples below, held them aloft once again, as it had done so many times in the past. Their journey seemed to have taken a full three hundred sixty degree turn, bringing them back to where they had first begun. Only this time around the circumstances were altered to suit them better.

Releasing John’s hand, the child allowed them to walk together without his interference. Holding each other, the first thing Sofia did was to instinctively look to the sky for a wishing star, but there were none.

John could not believe the view. With the city in such decay and overgrown with the vegetation of the wilderness, the metropolis itself was no longer a point of contention. He wanted to ask Sofia to renew their vows, to return with him to their home in the forest. But vengeance was still on his mind, pushing him to find a means to fulfilling its devious end. It was holding him captive, just as the desire for knowledge had once held him many years ago, when it forced him to take Sofia far from their home, far from each other.

He tried to fight against it, but the burning anger of the wall of fire struck back. Why could he not control it, he thought. Why would it not leave him alone?

From their location above him, neither John nor Sofia could see the child waiting at the bottom of the stairs, alone and saddened by John’s inability for self-control. Sitting down and closing his eyes, a teardrop, as if it were pure light, rolled down his cheek, falling into his open palm. A rumbling in the sky, like an approaching storm, proceeded to shake the City’s foundations. The shadows of the hills, the blackened bars of the shades of the trees, began to stretch and accumulate. The Savior flew across the sky from its eastward perch, fluttering to the west, where it suddenly set behind the mountains, bringing an immediate blackness upon the land.

In the streets below, the movement, the voices, the sounds of the City coming to life were everywhere. Generators across Labor were turning over, allowing the orange lights that littered the walkways to flicker and shine. The darkness of the skies above filled with the bluish glow of hundreds of wishing stars returning home, descending upon Labor.

As the ground beneath them quaked with an increasing energy, their rooftop platform began to crumble and fall into disarray. Pulling Sofia behind him, John led her back down the stairs and hoisted the child up into his arm. Leaving the Forbidden Room behind, they ran through the darkened hallway, stumbling and reeling as the building swayed and convulsed. Turning the corner and heading towards the stairwell, they could hear voices blaring throughout the metropolis through strategically positioned loudspeakers, repeating over and over, “The terror and his army have returned. Prepare yourselves to fight in the war to end all wars. The child among you must be destroyed. Only then will his army fall.”

The stairwell was once again lit up with the dim, pumpkin orange of the terrible lights of the old days, allowing John and Sofia to descend it with minimal interference. Entering into the lobby, they could see through the threshold leading to the streets that the City was still equally as populated as it had been long ago, perhaps more so, now. But the peoples of Labor had changed. Although equally hateful and full of rage, they were now armed with weapons of war. They seemed to be eagerly awaiting the arrival of the airships, as each person’s face was reflecting the bluish-white light that emitted from the transporters as they looked to the skies.

“Destroy the child, destroy his army,” the voice of the speaker proclaimed. “Long lives the Savior of the Island!”

Destroy the child, John thought as his eyes met the young boy’s.

“Who are you?” he asked him, but the child did not answer.

“John,” Sofia whispered, motioning to the boy. “Are they talking about him?”

“I think they are.”

“Why would they want to…?”

”I don’t know, girl,” John interrupted, as she broke through his chain of thought. He had to think fast. He had to make a plan, a way to sneak them out of the compound.

Pulling Sofia by the hand, he carried the boy into the shadows of the orange lights, taking them out of the apartment building and edging them along the ruinous piles of concrete debris. The forest was just a few hundred meters away. As long as they were not spotted, they could easily escape without harm.

Crossing along the unlit, blackened paths in the middle of the street, they quietly headed towards an alleyway that ran alongside a gathering of the Labor’s citizenry. Entering between the two buildings, they scurried along the walls, eventually reaching the exit on the other side.

John held Sofia and the young boy back while he continued ahead, peering around the corner. It appeared that the way was clear. But as he proceeded to take the first step onto the open sidewalk, two burly men, mumbling to each under the excess of alcohol of which they both reeked, exited the building through a doorway beside him, startling at the sight of the child. One of them, rather heavy-set and covered over with filth, appeared to recognize the boy, and in a fearful rage, he lifted the pistol from his waist belt, aiming it towards
him.

John lunged at the man, dropping him to the floor with a crushing slam of his fist against the man’s stubbly face. Grabbing at the barrel of the weapon, he forced the firearm’s line of sight away from the child in an attempt to disarm him. Pulling the trigger, the stranger blindly fired into the wall of the building, the bullet burrowing deep into it in a puff of dust and falling concrete particulate. Under the intense recoil, the firearm slipped from the man’s hand, falling to the ground.

As the attacker groaned on the pavement, dazed by the blow to his head. John pulled the wounded savage up, shielding himself with the man’s body. Taking up the handgun, he turned it on the other crazed citizen. The confused drunkard was fumbling about for the rifle he had slung over his shoulder.

“Stop,” Sofia yelled to the man of Labor, but it was too late. John’s bullet tore into the man’s head, dropping him to the ground.

Instinctively placing the barrel at the back of the head, John fired again, killing his captive, sending his life’s fluid bursting into the air. As the drops hit the wall, the child screamed out, seemingly bringing to pass another, more intense quaking of the ground.

In a sudden chaotic uproar, voices began to rise from the masses down the street, “It’s him, the child! Kill it!”

Several mobs began to run at them. John, taking up the boy once again, yelled out, “Sofia, run!”

Dark and confused, it was difficult to discern from which direction the hordes were closing in. The rumbling of the skies was beginning to drown out the noise of the streets, as the transporters of the air were now visible in their fullness.

Setting the child down, it appeared that they were surrounded. Taking Sofia by the hand John said, “I don’t know what else to do. There’s no where to run to.”

John covered the boy’s face and squinted as the dust kicked up wildly around them. The flaming blue teardrops of the heavens were getting acquainted with streets of the City and the forested lands upon its perimeter. The shadows of the mobs bearing down upon them through the smoke and haze were like the beasts of the forest, stalking and evil. Protecting their eyes, they huddled close together and waited.

Too difficult to see anything under an arm’s length, Sofia uncovered her face as she heard the distant screams of the young boy.

“John,” She yelled looking about. “Where is he? What happened to him?”

Drowned out in the roaring of the engines, John pulled Sofia towards the direction from which they last heard him. He dragged her into the swarms of faceless men and women standing in the gloom.

As the rumblings eased down to idling hums, the haze began to reconcile with the stillness of the air, settling out and allowing for the return to visible normalcy. The bay doors of the airships drew their mouths open, releasing their lights, and extending their ramps to the masses.

“The war to end all wars has come. Enter in to fight the fight,” the speakers wailed.

The City’s populace began to gather inside the transporters, roaring with emotion and energy for the battle, leaving the world of Labor forever behind. A group of men and women shouted to the approval of those within earshot, “We have drawn first blood! Their king is dead! Their king is dead!”

The rise of the city’s energetic life resounded with the chant, “The king is dead!” as Sofia and John pushed their way through the ocean of people and into the area from which the chant began. The concentration of the masses was beginning to dilute as the airships were being filled to capacity. Through the thinning remnants, laughing and spitting upon a bloodied pool in their midst, the crowds dispersed. Entering into the heart of the tumult, Sofia found the shoe of the young boy smeared and disturbed among the gruesome puddles of his lost life. There was nothing else left of him.

With her legs weakened under the strain of the moment, she fell to her knees, covering her face and weeping, for it was like losing her own child all over again. John stood beside her, his mouth agape with horror: it was as if he was back in his Room of Death on Raw, and had been partaker in the boy’s murder. He should have done more, he thought.

Turning his pistol upon those last few men and women that had spit upon the child’s blood, he pulled the trigger. But the magazine was empty, and the hammer fell to no effect.

Unaware of his volatile environment, too focused on his immediate concerns, John did not see that the Security agents were pulling up the rear of the crowds, forcing the stragglers to move into the awaiting ships.

A baton knocked the empty pistol out of his hand, while a gruff voice yelled at him from behind, “Get moving, the war’s waiting.”

Two men lifted Sofia to her feet and shoved her into John’s arms. Urging them to move with haste to an awaiting air transporter, the line of agents forcing the peoples into the airships stretched throughout the streets, disappearing around the corners and into the forests.

John assisted Sofia on the path that they were being directed, jostled about by the hordes of men and women surrounding them. He wanted to avoid all negative contact with the Security personnel, if possible.

“He’s gone, John. They killed him,” Sofia cried. “I can’t believe it. I couldn’t do anything to help him.”

John did not have any words of consoling for her, as he was as equally bewildered by the event. Finally reaching the top of the ramp of the rumbling machine, he could find no room for escape.

Once inside, John could see that the interior of the bay was packed with Labor’s citizenry. With men and women in a consistent stream ascending the ladder at the opposite side of the bay, he was certain that the upper levels were equally filled.

Stepping over the orifices of the bay door’s teeth, he pressed into the crowds, forcing enough room for him and Sofia to avoid being crushed under the lowering door of the ship’s hull. Outside in the City, the generators were powering down. The orange lights of the streets were flickering off in large sections throughout the dead metropolis until it became, as it actually existed in its heart, one with the darkness.