Let The People Speak

         “People, good people of our extraordinary sovereign City, I bring you opportunity. I wish you favor among the multitudes of the strong and the powerful.”
         General Worthe’s voice rumbled over us. I stood there like one sprout in a sea of grass, arms crossed, looking over my shoulder. There was a whole army of them. They were nuts and bolts of some masterpiece—they were the residents of The City. I saw the multitudes fixed onto each of his words as they rolled off his slithery tongue. I gazed at him in respect, but the crowd had worship in their eyes.
         A utopia it was. Mr. Jones watered his garden for food. He grew squashes, potatoes and carrots—a lot of them. He grew so many that he had more than enough left over. He fed his own family and everybody else’s by the bushel. He fed those people like it was his job and he was determined to do it, even if nobody said thank you. The City was his comrade.
         Women ate together, men too. At dinner time, the people would gather in the square. They sat at large tables, tables so long you had to shout for someone at the other end to hear you. The moment before they took their first bite happened like some type of crank. Their hands would all intertwine, fingers laced together intimately. Their heads would bow all at the same time. A group of murmurs would ring out. I saw their lips moving, slowly.
         “May God bless our food and our effort. May we ever seek unity. May we live as one body forever. Amen.”
         The sun cast a brief ring of light around The General’s face, fading him into a dark figure as he continued to speak.
         “We must protect ourselves, but most importantly we must protect each other. For protecting all is the same as protecting the self. We are each other.”
         He raised his hand above the crowd, his palm facing them. He slowly collapsed his fingers until they were balled in a fist, then he shoved it in the air. His beady eyes focused on one person, then another. He was searching their faces, expecting something. The rest of the people mirrored him, imitating his fist in the air with a shout. It was the strangest thing I’d seen people do. I wondered if I would ever be one of them.
         I had been discovered by a little puffy-haired girl who smiled at me with a few missing teeth. I was huddled close to The City wall, hoping someone would open the gates one day and find me. I was expecting a jackal to appear out of the tall grass and tear me to shreds. It was in those days I would cry to Mother in my feverish chills, grown weak from fending for myself. My stomach churned from the wild berries I had eaten. I didn’t regret eating them, for the pain was better than the hunger.
I looked up and squinted.
         The little girl grinned. “I am Dartha.”
         Her parents thought I was adorable. They pinched my cheeks, held me under the metal pump and tried to wash the dirt out of my hair. I sputtered out of my nose and mouth, shivering as the cold stream flowed into my ears. They wanted to keep me safe from the outside. I did not refuse.
         The City had wonderful things—things I had never seen before. There was a special force that caused lanterns to shine without candles. Sounds boomed from big black boxes. The General spoke into a little stick and his voice was multiplied unnaturally, as if the boxes were speaking for him. Mr. Jones said it was a microphone.
         “Tell us, where do you come from?” Mrs. Jones curled up on the cushion by the fireplace. We had polished off some squash, venison and soup in the center square, and now we were settling down in a small circle in their living quarters. They called it an apartment. Mr. Jones sat in a wood chair that rocked back and forth, smoking a pipe like Uncle Emmet used to do.
         “I don’t know,” I whispered, my knees drawn to my chest. “We’ve been many places.”
         Dartha stared at me curiously. She whispered something to her mother.
         “Have you ever met a bandit?” Mrs. Jones drew the word out long, like it was something she never said before.
It was hard for me to answer them. Part of me wanted to stand up, run off to someplace safe from their questions, where I could wake up from the nightmare and collect myself. The other part of me knew their apartment was safe as I had ever been.
         “They took Mother…” I began, then I lost my desire to finish.
         “Go on…”
         I swallowed. “A long time ago. I never seen her since.”
         "And were you by yourself all this time?” Mrs. Jones leaned closer.
         I shook my head. “I was with Uncle…and Ren…and Blair…and Rachael…they took them only days ago.”
         “Were those your only kin?”
         I nodded, keeping my eyes on the swept floor.
         “Oh you poor thing!” Now it was Dartha who found her words. She threw her arms around me and moved her hands in a petting motion.
         “Now, now,” Mrs. Jones said. “I think that’s enough questions for now. You’re tired aren’t you?” Her voice was very sorry.
         Mr. Jones snored from his rocking chair. Mrs. Jones led Dartha and me into a smaller room apart from the fireplace. It had two beds stacked on top of each other.
         “Ever slept on one of these?” Dartha bounced onto the bottom bed and sat cross legged.
         I shook my head.
         “It’s okay. Mommy told me these are City things. It’s called a bunk.”
         Mrs. Jones smiled and pulled the door closed, tip toeing away. I sat next to Dartha awkwardly, stroking the soft quilts that were spread over the bed. On the Outside, certain people had fine linens like these. It was the well-off families, ones with mothers that could weave pretty patterns. Or it was bandits because they would steal them away.
         “My big sister used to sleep on this bed, but she got married to a skinny fellow. They live in another apartment down that way.” Dartha pointed through the open window. The breeze blew over us, almost strong enough to fade the candles.
         “They took my big sister,” I sulked.
         “Was it Rachael?”
         “Yes, she was real pretty. She would have married a fellow too if she wanted.”
         Dartha was quiet for a moment, then she shifted to her knees and put her hands together.
         “Come, do like me.”
         “What are you doing?”
         “Praying.”
         I stared blankly. “What is that?”
         “It’s a special thing you must say to keep you safe.”
         “What if I don’t?”
         Dartha shuddered. “You must. If you don’t, something bad will happen, like what happened to your sister.”
         I wrinkled my eyebrows.
         “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
         Dartha prayed every night. It was the same one each time. “God lay me down for all’s sake. I pray my soul to break. Make us fight for justice war. Make us loyal forever more. Amen.”
         I watched while her eyes were tightly closed, her pudgy hands clasped together. When she opened her eyes, I was still looking.
         “You didn’t say the prayer with me,” she whispered.
         “I don’t know it.”
         “Well now you do.” Her grin revealed the gaps between her teeth. “I won’t tell Mommy and Daddy, but only this time.” She climbed into her top bunk and pulled the quilts up. “Good night, friend.” She said softly.
         “Good night,” I lay awake in my bunk. I had hoped I was in a nightmare all along, and that when I closed my eyes, I would wake up. Mother would take me in her arms and rock me back and forth. Uncle Emmet would be cleaning his shot gun, Blair and Ren chasing after each other. Rachael would be braiding her hair, using the cracked looking glass to see her reflection, making sure her braid was straight. She might do my braid next, while Mother cooked dinner.
         But when I finally let my eyes shut, I saw terrible things. Rachael’s face was twisted in horror, and I was looking down at her. The bandits held her on the ground and bound her hands. Uncle Emmet was thrust to his knees, his chin pressed against the barrel of a shot gun. He looked like he didn’t care if the bandits blew his head clean off, but he would stand right up if they twisted Rachael’s arm the wrong way.
         Camp things were turned over, all guns piled into their wagon, Rachael slung over some burly shoulder. Blair and Ren had eyes full of tears but I was high up behind the leaves with the rough bark rubbing against my skin. I covered my mouth terrified, my eyes stinging. They all got smaller and smaller and there was nothing I could do until they were gone away.
         I trembled, my eyes bursting open in the darkness. I choked back sobs, realizing none of it was a dream; that it was terribly real. And it was I who was lying in the tiny City room with some other family, and I would never see mine again.
         The next time Dartha said her prayers, I neglected to join. She glared at me, surprised.
         “Have you ever thought about not saying it?” I asked.
         She shook her head, no.
         “Where I come from we don’t say a prayer at night. We never did say a prayer.”
         I remembered the constant running, the fighting. At night, we looked for places to sleep that were not exposed. Jackals might attack us, or worse, bandits would capture us and turn us into some terrible shell of ourselves.
         Mother told me about God once, but I didn’t understand. I thought he was hiding. And now I suspected he lived inside The City. For on the Outside, people were scared, running about, killing. Jackals and bandits roamed freely and there was nobody to rescue us. Yet somehow, Dartha’s prayer was supposed to keep me safe.
         Her eyes got big. She began to inhale like she was about to scream. Before she could make a sound, I lunged toward her and held my hand over her mouth tightly. I used my other hand to pin her down so she couldn’t move.
         “I’m not going to hurt you,” I whispered. “I just meant that your prayer is kind of funny.” I noticed her eyes were still filled with fear. I knew I couldn’t stay.
         “I’m going to go now,” I said, eyeing the open window. A second floor landing would be just fine. In a quick flash I was balanced on the window sill, legs contracted like a frog. Dartha watched in awe as I disappeared.
         My feet hit the stone pavement with a thump. The pressure shot through my ankles and shins. I began to walk fast, and then I broke into a short run. I felt like a stallion in the night breeze, my raven hair flowing behind me.
         Outside, abandoned streets were the worst places to be at night. They were crumbling, filled with lurkers, bandits. But The City was quiet and the windows were darkened. It was a strange feeling, roaming under the stars, over smooth pavement, past houses with neatly swept stoops and troughs full of flowers.
         I heard footsteps. I paused when I saw a light flashing in the distance, then it grew dim. The footsteps sounded important, like they were patrollers. They were quickly approaching. I ducked into a doorpost, hoping my shadow couldn’t be seen. But they found me pressed against the white washed wood.
         “Where are your parents, child?”
         I glared at them with wide eyes. I stammered. “I…I don’t know. They were taken.”
         One of the patrollers leaned into the other. I heard him whisper, “Must be from the Outside.”
         They both grabbed me by each of my arms and dragged me out.
         “Come with us,” one of them ordered. They dragged me for a long while. My arms started to get tired.
         “The curfew is sunset, child. Don’t you know that?”
         “The kid is from the Outside, Neil,” one said to the other.
         “How’d you get in, through a service door?”
         I didn’t reply.
         They brought me to a big house where all of the lights seemed to be lit. We turned down hallways and doorways. They dragged me up stairwells until we reached a set of double doors. They knocked.
         “General Worthe, we have here an outsider,” one of the patrollers announced. There was a moment of silence before his deep voice bellowed in reply.
         “Bring ‘em in, friends.”
         The patrollers pushed the double doors until they gave way and thrust me onto the hard floor inside. I heard the doors latch behind me. General Worthe was standing at a distance, gazing out of the large windows. He began to pace slowly.
I caught my breath and looked up at the high ceiling and all the gold fixtures. Never in my life had I seen a place so grand.          Flames danced on the logs in the tall white fireplace. General Worthe walked towards me and squatted. He grasped my chin in his big hands. I felt like my jaw would break. He breathed out a long sigh, studying my face. His was old and filled with tiny craters. His breath smelled like sour milk.
         “I’ve seen you before,” he said gruffly. “You came in from the outside a few days ago. Dartha Jones brought you in when they opened the gates.”
         I nodded, too afraid to speak. The General pushed my face away and continued pacing by the window.
         “I’ve been watching you. I’ve noticed at every meal, you’re the only one who doesn’t bow your head.” He paused, his stiff back facing me. “You got something against prayer, child?”
         The question sounded more like an accusation. I knew it commanded an answer.
         “No, no,” I muttered. “Just don’t know much about it.”
         The General chuckled. “What is there to know but what is required of you? Never mind the reason. Reasons are for questions. And here, we don’t question. We do what needs to be done.” He paused.
         I kept my eyes on the floor.
         “For each other, for our protection, for God. That is what the people want. That is the difference between in here and out there.”
         It was warm in the room, but I was shivering. General Worthe walked to his arm chair that faced the fireplace and sat down.
         “Our strength is in our unwavering devotion to our people and our traditions. You must adhere, child. I will be watching to see if you are worthy of the freedoms we have built here. You may go.”
         His freckled hand motioned me away. I backed up, out of the double doors. The halls were still, if not for the stirring behind the closed doors. Without the help of any patrollers, I found my way back outside. I hung in the alley ways, doing my best to stay out of the sight of the patrollers until day break.
         In the morning, the utopia sprung to life again. Children played in the streets. Mothers walked together, laughing. Fathers met in the shops and worked with their hands.
         At breakfast, the city people gathered at the center courtyard, filling up the long tables. I found a seat and noticed that Dartha was sitting a few seats away from me. She was watching me with her dark eyes. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Perhaps she was also beginning to wonder why she was expected to pray, since terrible things may or may not happen, and since prayers may or may not be said.
         Their hands began to intertwine. I bowed my head, remembering that General Worthe was watching me. I didn’t see him anywhere around. Maybe there were others watching me too, like spies. I kept my eyes half open, looking at people’s faces. I moved my lips in ways that seemed to match their words but no sound came from my mouth.
         Something in me wanted to go back to the Outside. Facing wild jackals seemed more promising. By noon I had planned a strategy. I overheard someone say the gates would be opened that day for hunting. I would slip out and never come back.
         When the people gathered in the square again, I thought they would sit down at the tables for midday meal. But they didn’t. Instead, they stood around chatting like they were expecting an announcement from General Worthe. His voice boomed from the loud speaking boxes.
         “People, good people, we know that we must triumph together at all costs. We must fight injustice. We must fight the terrors that parade themselves in the form of those who do not share a spirit of togetherness.”
         I saw them nodding in agreement. Little girls rested on the shoulders of their fathers and gazed at General Worthe. Little boys had stars in their eyes as they clasped the hands of their mothers. Some wore stripes, or plaid, others wore faded white.          The sun was growing hotter as faces began to turn red and beads of sweat gathered on their foreheads. Men had handkerchiefs hanging from the back pockets of their blue jeans, which they used to wipe away the sweat.
         “Terrorism will not stand,” the General shouted.
         I had trouble listening to his speech. I was busy with scanning my surroundings for a way out. The air had changed, suddenly. I was doubtful if the hunting would still take place. Their fists were held high and they were cheering for The City. And then the crowd calmed down.
         “I want you all to meet someone,” The General said with a gleam in his eye. Someone grabbed me by the shoulder. I looked up to see it was one of the patrollers from the night before. He smiled, encouraging me.
         “It’s alright, child,” The General said through the speakers. His beady eyes squinted at me, and now everyone else was looking. “Come on up,” he coaxed.
         Trembling, I moved towards him. I couldn’t help it because the patrollers were guiding me, my shoulders tightly in their grip. When they had lifted me up high to where the General stood, I saw the sea of people with their eyes fixed on me. They looked dull, emotionless. They were waiting.
         “Now tell everyone,” The General leaned over me, drops of spittle landing on my forehead. His voice was partly sweet and partly bitter. “Tell everyone about the one thing you questioned concerning our customs and our traditions.”
         I looked at him in silence. I didn’t quite understand what was happening. I had many questions about their customs and traditions, not just one.
         “Go on, it’s okay, child,” The General pushed.
         When I still hadn’t replied he kneeled down, covering the microphone for privacy. He whispered to me.
         “Last night you told me something. You said you didn’t know about one thing in particular. What is it that you wanted to know about, child? Tell the people.”
         He handed me the microphone. I cleared my throat nervously. The speaker boxes squealed out loud before I heard my own voice through them. The people stood like empty bowls, waiting to be filled.
         “Prayer,” I said with a small voice.
         I heard a rumble of muttering erupting from the crowd. They exchanged between one another. Their lips were moving fast but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. General Worthe snatched the microphone from my hands.
         “Now, now,” he interrupted. “This is a testament to one of the most dangerous entities we can face. This shows us what the outside can do to us. This child—this outsider—is incapable of faith.”
         The people gasped, their eyes grew wild and the murmurings increased. I saw Dartha push her way to the front row, piercing me with a still glare.
         “The faith we share must never be broken,” the General continued. “A serpent can weave its way inside our great walls, but we must recognize it in whatever form it may take.”
         I began to back away, but a patroller steadied me.
         “Questions about prayer mean questions against God, and what a terrible sin!” The General came alive with a strange excitement, his black eyes flashing. “This kind of selfish abomination will threaten the very fabric of our community,” he continued. “We cannot allow it to spread any further.”
         My heart was racing out of my chest. Warm tears began to form in my eyes. They made my vision blurry. I wiped the tears with the palms of my hands.
         “People, good people,” The General continued. “Today I bring you opportunity. This opportunity is for justice. What shall we do with this terrorist? In the power of this democracy, let the people speak.” The General lowered his microphone and waited for the crowd to determine my fate.
         Dartha never took her eyes off of me. Now fear covered her face. The others had fear on their faces too, only it was for their community. But at that moment, everyone had grown silent. Dartha was still looking up at me. I knew that the fear on her face was for me.
         Suddenly, a voice echoed from the crowd.
         “To the pits!” A teenager cried out, his fists flailing in the air.
         “To the pits!” The crowd echoed. They were jumping and shouting, cheering loudly. Children were bursting with delight. Little girls swung their fathers’ handkerchiefs around in circles. Little boys whistled.
         Dartha was breathing hard. She covered her ears.
“No!” I saw her scream out. But nobody else could hear her. Only the shouting of the rest of the people flooded the square.
         “To the pits!” They chanted.
         General Worthe stood, amused. He breathed in the energy from all the voices, echoing together. I choked back tears. The patrollers were holding me so tightly I couldn’t move.
         I wondered what the pits meant. I wondered if Mother and Rachael were still alive. I hoped they were better off with the bandits. If not, maybe we were all paying for some oblivious wrong doing. I wondered if Uncle Emmet was still strong, if Blair and Ren were crying too.
         General Worthe raised his hands to quiet the crowd. He lifted the microphone to his lips and said with a sober voice.
         “The people have spoken.”
         At once the crowd re-erupted with cheers. A patroller stepped towards me. He was carrying chains in his hands. I squirmed away from them, but the other patrollers held me still as the warm metal clamped around my wrists.
         They yanked the chains, dragging me down into the crowd. As they pushed me through, the people divided before me. I looked at their faces. Some scowled, others were smiling. The shouts were shattering my ears. We walked for miles it seemed, a trail of people following us. I saw Dartha struggling to keep up a few paces behind me. The procession continued until we reached the outskirts of the city.
         We entered a white building that looked like it was preserved from the old times. Before she was taken, Mother had told me they were called grade schools. She said children once learned from books—thousands of words written on many pages. Even in The City I had never seen a book. Perhaps if I had read from one I could have learned enough to survive times such as these.
         They led me through the dark halls and out to the crude field. It was barely a pit, if not for the cinder blocks stacked high all around the field with little openings on each corner. I watched as they filed onto the metal seats. Mothers balanced babies on their laps. Some used linens to shade themselves from the blazing sun.
         I heard growling coming from the dark holes in the corners. The patrollers unchained my hands, and then retreated back through the entrance. When I turned to follow them, they had already closed the gate and locked it. The roars grew louder.
         Dartha peered over the cinder blocks. Tears streaked her face. I saw General Worthe standing near the top of the crowd with his microphone.
         “People, good people of this great and sovereign city, you have spoken. Your majority has ruled in favor of the safety of our community against terrorism and unsightly sin.”
         The people in the seats started to look like animals, hungry and ready to devour me alive. Their eyes were glistening like jackals in the night. General Worthe continued.
         “For each other, for our protection, for God,” He toasted.
         All at once there was a metallic shriek that came from the four corners. The gates had been opened. Deep growling and barking echoed from across the field. Out of the shadows, four beasts appeared. They had the face of wild jackals, but they were larger than any I had ever seen. Their growls were terrible. Their teeth were showing like big white knives.
         Almost frozen, I backed away until I was pressed against the locked gate behind me. The jackals looked angry, like they hadn’t been fed for days. I closed my eyes.
         I cried hysterically. The crowd cheered.