BENEATH THE BURNING SKY

“My name is Noah. And I’m an addict,” a crispy baritone voice resonated through the placid space as two men sat opposite each other inside a lavish limousine with a brown-themed leather interior. One of them was lanky, the navy-blue bow tie of his velvet tuxedo hanging on for dear life as if a slight whiff of air would blow it away along with the wearer, while the other sat with crossed legs, his aura classy and exquisite, a sharp contrast to his counterpart. His face is well-contoured, and his features are sleekly defined in his all-white outfit. “N-Noah…” The lanky man stuttered, stifling his quivering fingers by clinging onto his notepad. “I am Doctor Kennedy. Your therapist. You can trust me.” “… It’s General Noah.” “Oh, F-forgive me, sir. Uhm…” He cleared his throat and took a glance at his note while wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeves. “What is it you are addicted to?” This question was followed by a lull as the General remained ominously mute, staring blankly at the window. If not that his best friend had insisted that these sessions were the most effective treatment for him, he would not have done it. Oh, did it take him down memory lane, to the things that haunted him at night — demons hiding in the crevices of his heart. He could still hear the shriveling screams, and see vistas of recollection of the night when the fire swallowed all he held dear. He could still smell the pungent scent of his mother’s burning. She cried for help! Goosebumps spread on his skin! Although he had indeed won many battles in his life, this one defeated him time and time again. A tear even lined his eyelids, an abhorrent aberration for a man of his cadre, yet a testament to his tormentous past. Ten years later, he could still hear that tiny feminine voice screaming his name. “Noah! This way!” He was pulled out of the collapsing building by a girl, their neighbor’s daughter. As fragile as she was, she couldn’t just stand by and watch a seventeen-years-old boy get burnt while standing on the terrace of his home, numbed by shock. He had slithered over to the neighbors’ that evening to play video games with the boys, and went on late into the night, only to finally reach home to the sound of sirens blaring, and a scene of maddening horror; a ravaging fire… “Sir!” The therapist called for the umpteenth time, pulling him back to reality. He shifted his gaze, focusing it on the therapist while struggling within himself to remain stoic despite the horror in his head. “You seemed lost for a moment, General.” Kennedy complained. “I'm fine, Doc.” “O-okay. But you still haven’t answered the question.” “War, and bloodshed.” The General's response is ice cold. It caused Kennedy's muscles to stiffen. “Please, sir, remember that this is a safe space. So, we can start from the very beginning, your childhood—” “Get out!” Noah cut him off with a low octave growl. Kennedy glares around, wondering if he was the one being referred to. “Yes, I am talking to you. Out!” “B-but, sir, the session is just getting started.” “It's over when I say it's over. Understood?” Noah's jaw tightened. “Now you go tell Doctor Peter that we are done here!” His voice grew louder toward the end, a testament to his murderous mood. The therapist swallowed hard. Unwilling to trigger the revered soldier any further, he let himself out of the limo in a jiffy. Noah heaved. Now alone, he pulled out a hankie from his pocket and dabbed his eyes. He knew this journey of redemption would not be easy, but never anticipated this type of pain. It was new, a variety he was unfamiliar with. Just then, the door of the limo went ajar and a figure peeped in with a wide, infectious smile. It was Peter. His best friend. And as usual, he was clad in caramel colored blazers, brown pants, and matching slides. “Noah, the King of Zanga!” He hailed his friend, his raised brows accentuating his fine face. Noah could not help but let out a weak smile. “I am not the King, Peter. You know this.” “Oh, but we know who put his ass on that throne. You are the king in the streets, the God of war. Everyone knows this.” Pete grinned cheerfully. “Don’t patronize me, Pete. You know I never liked this therapy arrangement.” “Come on, Noah. It is for the best, trust me. Remember how many times I saved your life in the past?” “Rub it on my face. Go ahead.” Noah retorted, and Pete released several cackles of laughter. “Alright, come now. Your hometown awaits,” he echoed as Noah slowly pulled out of the limo. However, as his feet hit the ground, his chest grew heavy. He was home to where his trauma began, and even now that he had conquered the world, it made him small. He glared around deliberately, taking in the view of the place that once defined his existence. The narrow streets and semi-detached houses lined by verdant gardens, trees, and interlocked walkways, were graced by children who were returning from school in groups, wearing brown checked uniforms with matching bow ties. A vague smile creeped up his face as he recalled that he was once like them. “Welcome to York, General Noah!” Pete hailed again. “Happy to be home?” “I don’t know, Pete.” Noah sounded melancholic. “What do you mean? We planned this visit for a long time.” Pete’s smile waned. Noah turned his focus to his pal. “Pete, there is something I must tell you.” His voice went many decibels lower. “Okay,” Pete’s brows crumpled. “Walk with me,” Noah began to stroll into the fifth avenue, Pete following closely while observing his sad demeanor, knowing in his guts that something was amiss. After a while of strolling in silence, Noah finally spoke. “This was my street. A few blocks away was where my father’s house used to stand. Now, not even a tree grows on the land.” His voice is laced with horror, as flashes of those painful memories whipped past him again. This time, he recalled his father’s smile… “The Zangi took it all.” He added, and Pete halted instantly. Noah stopped and swiveled in response, facing his friend whose eyes were now narrowed in suspicion. Tension creeped into their midst, Pete’s pulse breaking into a sprint at the thought that perhaps, the General was plotting mutiny. “Noah, you are a Zangi.” He whispers harshly. “Not anymore.” Pete forcefully grabs his friend’s collar, pulling him closer. “What the hell? You speak of treason! We all know the only way to leave Zanga is by death.” “Then I die today,” Noah growled. Pete’s pupils dilated in freight as he let go of Noah. “What nonsense is this?” “You heard me.” “No!” Pete snapped, placing his hand on his forehead as if trying to quell a headache. “Noah, we had an agreement to visit your hometown and return to the capital. The civil war has ended! This journey was to clear your head. It was even my idea.” “Yes. And I agreed to it because I knew I wasn’t coming back!” “Goddamn it, Noah!” Pete grabbed his shouters. “Please, tell me this is a joke. You are General Noah, the right hand of the king. The entire country looks up to you…” Noah’s heart stopped as he saw tears well up in his friend’s eyes. They had been close since the day he arrived in Zanga and joined the army, although Pete opted to become a medical officer in the military instead. From the days in training, both had been each other’s support system, even through the pain of the ten years long civil war against York. And now that York had finally been subdued, Noah was returning to become what? A Yorki? It would breed a new revolution since he was the strongest warrior alive in the known world. This would also mean their friendship has ended. The two men stared into each other’s eyes in silence, knowing the implications of this decision. Their gazes said a thousand things that words couldn't express. “Tell me this is not happening, Noah.” Pete finally let out, his voice heavy with grief. After all he saw on the battlefield, he almost never believed anything would make him cry again, except this. His brother from another mother becoming an enemy of the state? His sworn foe? No way! Noah’s face turned red as he fought back his tears. “It is.” He said. “Oh Lord!” Pete’s hands go akimbo and he looks up, unable to spare any further look at his friend, lest he break down into weeping like a child. “Pete, relax. I just want to disappear because I can no longer take the torture. I’ve been slaughtering my people for a decade in service to the very people that burnt my parents alive. Don’t you get it?” Noah leaned forward to hold Pete, but Pete retreated instead, avoiding him as if he were a plague. This annihilated Noah inside, forcing a tear to leave his eye which he wiped off immediately. “Was it not why I arranged this therapeutic journey for you?” Pete mourned, his voice almost ceasing mid-sentence. “All the money, cars, estates, and power we amassed in the war, what happens to them?” Noah did not answer. “And what happens to me now? How would they see me in Zanga? A friend to a deserter?” “Pete, I am dying, not deserting…” “With no evidence to prove your death? We are no fools, you know. They would want to see a body.” “Do something then. Give them a body. You’re a high ranking military officer. You can make me disappear.” “No! I will not be involved!” “You are already involved! You brought me here, remember? And the army does not forgive. Come on, bro. For the sake of all we hold dear, and our fortune...” Noah grabbed Pete’s arm, and their eyes interlocked again. Time stood still and the thunder rumbled in the sky, warning of the coming storm. “Brother, please…” He pleaded, then silence reigned as their chests rose and fell heavily. Both of them knew that the new government would cease their properties and funds if any of them deserted. It was merciless and ruthless. Pete broke away from Noah’s grasp, raising his chin as another tear dropped from his eyes. He wiped it off with his sleeves, then pulled out his wallet, sliding out some notes and cards and pressing it into Noah’s palm before giving him one last hard look. “Godspeed,” he said, hefty words that meant a billion things better left unspoken. Then he quickly pulled Noah into a warm embrace, whipped around with wicked urgency, and strode away, each step taking life from Noah’s eyes and drowning him in a sea of sorrows. “Pete…” He muttered as the sky rumbled again.