Ch. 5
It was pouring rain again. Black tears fell against stone. The sun was a distant memory. The winds picked up and struck anyone outside down. The only shelter was an abandoned factory, but the rain found its way in. And more black tears fell, covering the air with an icy coldness that killed the warmth from fires burning in large, metallic barrels, and the rain pounded against metal, which echoed across the factory walls. And dread and despair took a seat by the open doors, and the men inside huddled together, ready for another long, long night. But no hope shined in their eyes. Instead, it was defeat, chased by a touch of death.
The past year was not a good year. Many of his men died. Some died brutally. A few disappeared, but they probably just ran away. They must have seen the writing on the wall especially with the R.A.C. closing in, arresting those that they could for the warrant was all, and the rest of us were forced into hiding. But there weren't too many of us left, and now we live on a dismal piece of rock, where it rained all the time. But it wasn't just rain. The black tears that continued to fall were filled with acid, and if they touched your skin, it did more than burn you. It poisoned you, and last week, he was caught outside in the rain.
There were nine of us now including him and the young fighter known as Draon. For the most part, we stayed inside the factory, but last week, it stopped raining. We ventured out, scouting for food and supplies, but all we found were black rock. And our ship was grounded, beyond repair, so Draon and I killed time by fighting one another. In the beginning, Draon was like a brother to me, and he even taught me some fighting moves. That changed when we crashed here and our fearless leader spoke to him, and our play fighting turned real and turned bloody. And now he was eying me as he sharpened his knife, waiting for that moment to strike, where he would cut off my head for his were filled with lies and illusions, but he was a fool to believe the words of a wicked man for there was nothing left to rule. His reign of terror was finally over, and that wicked man was now sick and broken, coughing so harshly that it was a miracle that his heart had not yet burst.
I stood by the fires, trying to get warm. We burned everything. Wood. Clothes. Weapons. Food. I forgot when I ate last. I was so used to it by now, and I could go days, maybe a week or so without food, but not the rest of them. Not Draon. He continued to sharpen his knife, but I heard his stomach growl. And he couldn't wipe away the face of exhaustion. Neither could the other men, who cast deadly glares my way, but I didn't care. They were all dangling across the edge of madness. All of them except for me, and soon they would pass out, fall asleep on the harsh cement floor beneath them. All of them except for me.
Last week, when we were scouting, I was able to sneak away for a bit. That was when I saw the supply ships. They were flying toward these mining caves, where they were drilling this black ore. The black ore was priceless and could be harnessed for energy. Most of that energy was transformed into weapons, and now the R.A.C. wanted in. At least, that was what I heard two of the miners say, and then they mentioned that the R.A.C. was cutting into their supply, using the ore for themselves, and becoming a formidable force to be dealt with. Then, they looked my way, and I ran back toward the factory. And nobody seemed to notice my disappearance. Draon did, but at that time, I didn't care.
Every chance I got to sneak away, I noticed more and more supply ships were coming in. They had no idea that we were there, and I didn't breathe a word about it. It was my secret, but seeing how they had accelerated their pick-up schedule, I knew that my time was running out. And the R.A.C. must be closing in, so if I was going to leave, sneak onboard one of those ships, it had to be soon. I could do it. He wouldn't notice. Draon would, but what could he do to stop me? I could sneak onboard now. Disappear. Become someone else, but I had to do something first. I had to avenge her. I owed her that, and I closed my eyes, seeing my mother's face before me just as he cut her throat.
My mother was the one that incited the coup. She turned his men against him and stole all his money. If one man had not slipped up, he would never have known, and he would have been assassinated. And my life would have been different, very different, but one fuck up changed all that. And despite his love for her, there was no forgiveness, no mercy. Just a knife to the throat, and I was forced to watch. I was forced to see the life drain from her eyes and neck, and that moment still haunts me. So, no, I couldn't leave just yet. Instead, I reached into my pocket, making sure that the knife was still there, and it was. It was time, and his men wouldn't save him this time because their loyalty was broken. They wanted him dead, so that they could leave here. But they wanted Draon to do it and then for him to lead them, but Draon wanted the old man to first name him as successor. Again, he was a fool for he was never going to be named successor, and I waited long enough. I waited through enough harsh and long years and bitter nights for this moment, for tonight, and after tonight, I would finally be free. And the person that I was would be no more. Instead, I would be someone else, so the old man had to die. He had to die tonight.
