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this fic has probably got something even more imaginative and mysterious going on.
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I wouldn't bet on that.
I hate to get expectations up.
Anywho, I left the longest gap between Chapter 4 and 5, and what happens? I get the most replies after Chapter 4! I think there's a message in there somewhere.
Thanks again for all the compliments and encouragement!
The main reason I haven't wanted to post this one so quickly is that I'm simply not too happy with it. I had an idea of splitting it into 5 and 6, but I wanted to get these events over pertty quickly. What happens here has to happen, I'm just not keen on it.
It's also unnaturally long, but to compensate, 6 and 7 are probably the shortest yet.
So, without further ado, let us rejoin Guy and Tom...
C h a p t e r F i v e
The Unclean Mudokon
‘You’ve got to help me,’ I whisper, staring at the body.
‘What?’ Tom looks at me, revulsion on his face. ‘You… You killed it. No, no, you
can’t kill it… We’re both going to be killed…’
‘It was you who said we should use it on them.’
‘No, no, no, that was a joke… just a joke…’
‘Please, Tom, I need your help.’
‘Help with what?’ he also lowers his voice to a whisper, and now looks more suspicious than anything.
‘We’ve… we’ve got to hide the guard. And Ian… we’ve got to get Ian as well.’
‘No. No way. I am not helping you with this.’
‘Please Tom…’
‘Look! Can’t you see – they already know
you did it. Look behind me, Guy. Stop being stupid.’
I look; fear and dread fills every inch of my body – I had forgotten about the security camera. It’s making that weird noise as well. I should have seen it earlier. I should have thought about it.
‘You’ve got to help me, Tom.’
I notice that Tom has edged further away from me. He looks scared, petrified. He seems to be shaking, and most of his bandage has come loose, showing a somewhat deformed and bloody nose beneath.
‘Tom?’
I move closer to him, but he moves even further away, now holding his legs in his arms. He looks like he’s swallowing sick, for he gulps a few times. Why aren’t I feeling sick? Hadn’t I seen my best friend die, before killing someone else?
‘Okay’, says Tom, seeming to find enough courage, ‘I’ll… I’ll help you, but… but we need to see Hop first.’ He rearranges his bandage, recovering the wound.
‘W-why?’ I ask. I didn’t want to see Hop. I knew how the others would react: just as Tom did. They would be frightened, they wouldn’t help me… us.
‘He’ll know what to do, that’s why. We can’t stay here anymore.’
I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to find out what happened to Ian. Where had he been for the last few days? Why was he shot? What happened to him? Why was a guard chasing him?
‘Okay,’ says Tom, replying to himself. Standing up shakily, he says, ‘Come on! We best be off!’
I gape at him, but climb slowly to my feet. He must have pushed the events out of his mind. I try to do the same but I can’t. The image of those two collapsing bodies will very probably haunt me forever.
I bend down, and lift the gun up. We’ll need this.
Tom recoils backwards involuntarily, fear etched once more over his face. It lasts but an instant, however, and he is soon composed once more.
‘Yes… good idea. We’ll probably need it. We can’t come back here.’
Completely ignoring the body of the guard in our doorway, and keeping our heads held high for fear we will see Ian’s body, we move into the corridor and head along the zulag.
I had only seen Hop once, which is weird in itself seeing as we sleep fairly close to each other. He had become somewhat deified inside my own zulag, though I have heard that he is just as respected across
all the zulags. Apparently, he holds some type of spiritual power. I knew for a fact that the sligs fear him, for when I did see him, it was because they were running away from him. I don’t know what Hop does. I doubt he actually works with the rest of us, but the room he lives in is nothing special – I’m told it looks just the same as all of ours.
This time we get to Hops bedroom much more quickly, either because our thoughts are entirely focused elsewhere, or because all sense of caution was lost. The small patch of light is already open, waiting for us, and the same voice as before says, ‘Yes?’
‘We need to see Hop,’ I say.
‘Now,’ Tom says, ‘open the door, Nile.’
The patch of light disappears.
‘I knew this would happen,’ Tom says wearily, and then he kicks the metal. Instantly, the door flings open, one of its many hinges breaking off.
‘You’re not to come in here!’ screeches the mudokon I assume is called Nile, but we ignore him.
Looking over the room, it does indeed seem very similar to ours. There are pipes all over the place, but, I notice, none directly over the beds. A mudokon who I recognise as Hop sits on the bed that would be Tom’s, while Nile moves and sits on his own bed, the bed that would be Ian’s. The third bed is empty, and looks unused.
I look at the faces on the two mudokons; they are both contorted in fear and outrage. They look me and Tom down, lingering their eyes upon my gun and ignoring the blood that had splattered us both with disdain. Looking to Hop, I see that he has pushed back right against the wall, fear still contorting his features.
‘Hey,’ says Tom conversationally, ‘we came to speak to Hop –
you must be Hop,’ he adds, looking towards the more frightened mudokon at the end of the room.
‘We have this problem, and we were looking for some advice. You know, your reputation precedes you.’
Hop doesn’t react. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on me and barely whispers, ‘you’re bloodied… impure. There is purity you can never return. You have murdered somebody.’
I suddenly grow uncomfortable and the gun feels heavier than ever. I had heard Hop was spiritual, even mystical, but how could he know this? Unless, of course, he heard the gun shots and put two and two together. Now I think of it, everybody must have heard those shots.
‘Yeah, that just about sums up our problem. Got any ideas for what we should do?’ asks Tom.
Hop seems to just notices that Tom is there, and looks startled at his voice.
‘Ideas? He has killed someone… He’s a murderer… No one can help you. Get out of my room!’
‘Yeah, I think we better go,’ I say, grabbing Tom’s arm.
He doesn’t budge, however, and says, ‘Look, we’ve heard you have powers, you know, that you can use against the guards. I’ve heard stories. Can you teach us? Can you help us?’
‘NO!’ shouts Hop. I see that Nile looks more fearful than ever. He has moved and now sits next to Hop on Hop’s bed.
There’s a glint in Hop’s eye that I don’t like the look of.
‘Come on...’ I mumble, once again pulling Tom’s arm. This time he complies, and as I swing the heavy gun round to leave the room, the room’s inhabitants whimper in fright.
They’ve both edged even further away.
We head towards the door, but somebody walks in the room: another mudokon, undoubtedly the owner of the remaining bed. It takes only a second; he looks at us, spots the gun, and is last seen recoiling out of the room in fright.
It would be like this with every single person we met… repulsion, fright, horror.