Power
1596 Words
The trucks moved silently through the wasteland.
Inside one of them sat Oma.
The silence inside was louder than that of a graveyard.
They soon hit a rough patch on the road, making the chains around Oma's ankle rattle against the steel floor.
A young Resistance soldier glanced toward her, his gaze shifting from her n*****s pressing against her overalls to her eyes before quickly looking away.
"Commander really believes she's worth all this?"
No one replied.
Another soldier sat cleaning his rifle.
"He never wastes lives."
Boris laughed.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
The men looked toward him.
"He doesn't bet on power."
Boris rested his hand on the holstered revolver at his waist.
"He bets on people."
The youngest soldier frowned.
"She's dangerous."
Boris chuckled.
"Humans usually call things they're scared of 'dangerous.'"
"I'm not..."
"Relax..." Boris adjusted his position to rest his back and closed his eyes. "....If you have to say something in your defense, it only solidifies the fact that you're weak…..and a scaredy-cat."
"Sir Boris, I am…."
In a flash, the soldier felt cold steel pressed against his head.
Boris—his eyes still closed—turned slightly toward him.
"Tatiana doesn't like people who disturb me when I'm trying to get some sleep."
The soldier swallowed hard and slowly adjusted his position as Boris withdrew the revolver and holstered it once more.
The truck continued along the dead highway.
Hours later, the convoy stopped, and everyone climbed down.
The hooded Commander walked toward Oma.
No soldiers followed him.
He crouched until they were at eye level.
For a long time, he simply stared into her eyes.
There was neither pity nor hatred.
Then he spoke calmly.
"You..."
Oma looked at him.
"...shall be the beginning..."
He paused, studying her reaction.
"...of our power."
Her eyes held twenty-one questions, but before she could ask a single one, he stood and turned away.
Oma stared after him.
For the first time since the convoy had taken her...she wished Boris had been the one speaking.
Behind him, one soldier smiled as his lustful gaze shifted toward Oma.
"Commander..."
He never stopped walking.
"...what about the girl?"
"Bring her."
The hooded figure disappeared into the drifting smoke that seemed to conceal the entrance to somewhere.
As everyone prepared to leave, one soldier climbed inside the last worn-out vehicle they had taken from the Ashens.
He found a small cloth bag tucked beneath one of the seats.
"...What's this?"
Oma answered quietly.
"My belongings."
"Tch."
He hissed with disgust before tossing it into the back of their truck.
She watched it land.
For what felt like another hour, they drove through the ruined cities of the Eastern Sector, passing along worn-out and secluded highways.
The convoy moved constantly from ruined cities to forests, and occasionally onto abandoned highways.
From time to time, medics brought bread and water to Oma, who ate quietly.
"You're... you're beautiful," a young female medic whispered hesitantly as she cleaned the cuts on Oma's wrists.
"Many of us met the Commander under similar circumstances," she added as she taped Oma's wrist with a glowing blue patch.
"Where are they taking me?" Oma whispered, leaning toward the medic.
The medic's hands paused.
She glanced at Oma for half a second before hastily shifting her gaze to the soldier inspecting the restraints around Oma's ankles.
A loose strand of hair slipped across her face.
She tucked it behind her ear, her fingers lingering there longer than necessary.
"I... I can't..." she whispered.
"You can trust me."
The medic looked back at her.
"My name's Oma."
Silence stretched between them before the medic finally answered.
"Viola….my name's Viola."
Just then, the soldier inspecting the cuffs around Oma's ankle moved to the front of the truck, leaving Viola alone with her.
A sudden rough patch rocked the truck.
The vehicle lurched violently over uneven ground, making Viola stumble forward with a startled gasp.
Before she could hit the steel wall, Oma caught her by the waist.
Everything stood still for a second.
Viola's fingers instinctively grabbed the front of Oma's overalls.
Her breathing became uneven.
Instead of pulling away, she froze, her eyes fixed somewhere just below Oma's chin.
Oma smiled faintly.
"You're safe."
Viola swallowed.
The warmth spreading across her face only deepened.
"If you tell me where we're going," Oma whispered, loosening her hold just enough, "I'll let you go."
Viola's eyes shifted toward the front of the truck.
She leaned in slightly, pressing against Oma's breasts.
"We're... crossing the Dead Zone," she breathed. "It's between the Eastern Sector and Crimson City."
Her voice grew quieter.
"They're taking you to the Redlands….It's Boris' Zone…..the Red Zone."
Heavy boots clanged against the metal floor.
Viola stiffened.
"The officer is coming back."
Oma released her immediately.
Viola took two hurried steps back, smoothing the wrinkles from her uniform with trembling hands.
She risked one quick glance at Oma before lowering her eyes again and returning to her medical kit as though nothing had happened.
Soon, night arrived, and the convoy stopped beside the crumbling remains of an old industrial district.
Campfires flickered as different soldiers laughed and drank around them.
Oma glanced toward the dark area just beyond the campfire.
Boris and the woman who had chopped off Larry's head could be seen tangled together.
A mechanic knelt beside Oma.
"Hm..."
He frowned at the final restraint around her ankle.
"Hold still, or we both might be dead in a minute."
He removed the locking plate.
Inside was a tiny blinking device.
He whistled.
"They tagged her, guys. I was right."
Another soldier sighed.
"The Government doesn't like losing its property."
The mechanic crushed the tracker beneath his boot before unlocking the final chain.
One soldier smiled.
"You're a free bird now."
Another corrected him almost immediately.
"No."
He looked directly at Oma.
"You answer to the Commander now."
She rubbed her wrists and sighed.
"Different chains….same prison."
While everyone relaxed, Oma looked toward the dark area again, but she couldn't find Boris or the woman with the scythes.
Shifting her gaze back to the campfire, she counted eight fighters, one sniper, one mechanic, one radio operator and two sentries.
Seven trucks, including the one carrying the Commander, had separated from them a while back.
She accounted for everything before curling up in her corner to wait.
An hour later, when only the crackling of the fire remained, she quietly raised her hand.
"Bathroom."
One of the guards on patrol sighed.
"Seriously?"
Another laughed.
"She's not going anywhere."
He unlocked the chain connecting her to the truck but left one cuff around her wrist.
"I'll walk with you."
They disappeared between the ruined buildings.
Oma stumbled and nearly fell.
The guard rolled his eyes.
"You're more sober than I am, and you still can't walk straight?"
"I'm dizzy..."
"Arrghhh..." The guard sighed as he moved closer to her. "...I'm no babysitter."
In a flash, the loose chain whipped around his wrist.
He gasped as Oma yanked him forward and drove her forehead into his face.
Blood burst from his shattered nose as he fell to one knee.
Before he could scream, she twisted the chain around his neck and pulled hard.
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
She stole the keyring, uncuffed herself, and ran toward the truck where Viola was sleeping.
Before she could reach it, a soldier shouted loudly enough to wake everyone.
"HEY!"
Boris looked up.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
"There goes our little lamb."
The entire camp exploded into motion.
Searchlights swept across the ruins.
Shouts replaced the silence.
Heavy boots thundered across the broken ground.
Oma sprinted through the collapsed buildings with only instinct guiding her through the darkness.
A bullet shattered a brick beside her head.
Another soldier spotted her.
"Over here!"
She tackled him before he could aim again.
The impact sent them both tumbling.
She kicked his rifle away before running toward the truck once more.
Her eyes locked onto the cloth bag lying just behind it.
She grabbed it and dashed toward an old building before opening it.
Wrapped carefully inside were two familiar blades.
She smiled as she drew them out.
Immediately, she stepped back outside.
A soldier lunged at her.
One slash
His rifle split cleanly in two.
Another swung a baton.
She ducked and drove her blade into his ribs.
A third soldier reached for her shoulder.
She spun and immediately noticed the smoke bombs strapped to his vest.
She slammed the hilt of her blade into his wrist while pulling the pins from three of the bombs before shoving him away.
The sound of his bones cracking filled the air alongside the hiss of smoke erupting across the camp.
One soldier yelled,
"STOP HER!"
Another raised his rifle.
"Should we shoot?"
Boris' voice came from behind him.
"No! The Commander wants her alive!"
The smoke swallowed everything.
When it finally cleared...
She was gone.
A young fighter looked toward Boris who fastening his belt and adjusting himself.
"Shouldn't we go after her?"
Boris stood in the darkness, completely unbothered.
Then he laughed.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
"If the Commander wants a revolution..."
He rested Irina against his shoulder.
"...let's see if she can survive one night."
The young soldier frowned.
"But what if the Government finds her first?"
Boris' grin widened.
"Then she dies."
The soldier blinked.
"...And if she survives?"
Boris looked toward the endless darkness where Oma had disappeared.
His laughter returned, softer this time.
"Zuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu..."
"Then perhaps...the Commander was right."
He turned and walked away.
The camp slowly settled back into silence.
Only the drifting smoke remained.
- Writer
