“Carlos Thompson, for repeated crimes against the community and residents of Free Town I sentence you to death by hanging.”
My head snapped up as the guards cut through the rope connecting me to the older boy and drug him to the suspended harness. Carlos was screaming, his voice as high pitched as a woman’s and he struggled against his bindings. Just like Sarah had struggled against hers….
It didn’t take long to secure him within the rope sling and I watched as he was hoisted into their air. Within moments he’d been pulled to the top of the platform; but then the entire contraption swiveled with a squeal only matched by his own. His feet kicked in the air as he dangled over the other side of the wall and he cried out for his mother over and over. And then he was slowly lowered like a human pinata into the crowd of rotters below.
When his screams finally faded, the Emperor nodded and a second, smaller rope, was pulled. This must have somehow released the harness, for it was quickly followed by a dull thud that could only have been Carlos Thompson’s body plummeting to the ground. Gas was poured through the pipe. A match sparked and then a great, black cloud of smoke arose from the other side of the wall… the Burning Ceremony had finally been completed.
Tommy and I were kept standing in the middle of the crowd until the last lick of flame had finally burned away. I can’t really say how I felt then: every cell of my body was numb and even thoughts were few and far between. It was almost like back in the tent, when I had that sensation of existing somewhere outside of my own body.
“Thomas Ballister… Johnathon Smith… for your crimes, I sentence you to banishment from this great city. May your shadows never darken our walls again.”
One by one, Tommy and I were hoisted into the harness. One by one we were dropped into the cinders and smoking ashes of the dead on the other side. No supplies other than the clothes on our backs. No food or weapons. Just two teenage delinquents turned loose in a wilderness ruled by the living dead.
IX. FRESHIES & ROTTERS (
Tommy didn’t last three days. We were running from a pack of rotters, scrambling up a hillside so steep that even the trees seemed to be struggling to keep their grasp. One moment he was right behind me, panting and crying as his hands reached out for the next root, the next rock… and then he was gone. Tumbling downward, screaming my name over and over even as the first rotter grabbed his shirt in its decaying hand.
But that was three cycles of the moon ago. And I’m still out here. Running. Hiding.
Staining my lips and fingertips with berries and occasionally eating the raw flesh of some small animal I’ve managed to spear with a sharpened stick.
And, sometimes, I think I can see her in the distance: this pretty young girl with shy eyes and chapped lips. She seems to be beckoning to me, urging me to come to the arms in which I’d always dreamed of being held. But, by the time I get there, she’s always just a little further away. Always so distant and unobtainable.
But I’ll make it to her eventually. I have to. I need to look into those beautiful eyes of hers, need to hold her cheeks in my hands, and let her know how very, very sorry I am. I need to somehow make things right, to purge this sadness that taints my soul and makes me punch at my own reflection in the stream. Without her, I can never forgive myself. Without her, I can never be whole again.
And maybe that’s why she’s always just out of reach. Perhaps I haven’t suffered enough yet. Perhaps there are still years of atonement in my future before I can know the warmth of her touch.
I won’t give up. I’ll pursue her to the ends of the earth if I have to. And I know that I’ll eventually reach my dear, sweet Sarah. After all, I was always the best… I was always the last of the refugee team left alive. But even then, I still know in my heart that the game is not truly over until the last survivor has been cornered.
I just need to make sure I can find the redemption I so desperately need before I’m called home.
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