Chapter 28 - Side Story: George (2)

As we walked to the library, we saw many of the street elements fading away; they were being replaced by checkpoints, government bases, and a surplus of guards wearing dark maroon-colored uniforms. The smell became a little cleaner and the sight of poverty faded from view. Dad elucidated, "See, this location of the outer sector is on the border of the middle sector, so they obviously take precautions so that people won't just randomly enter. For us, that means more safety for free!" We both nodded our heads along to the notes of his voice. Dad was like a snake charmer; he would be able to pull anyone into hypnosis just by talking about casual, everyday things. He was amazing. His smile would draw people to walk over to him and share a drink with him; they would even stick with him even when he told them that he was from the outer sector. He was a magnet.

There was a wide-open space that lay before the library. Dad paused in his tracks to look at it. His slight protruding belly was visible. I wouldn't say that he was fat by any means but compared to other men in the outer sector, he was more relaxed and less sturdy built. Although his brains make up for almost all of that superficial stuff. Dad spoke to us again, "Do you know why we are able to run a library in the outer sector without getting vandalized, attacked, or stolen from?"

I tried to answer this, "Is it because of the guards right outside of the whole place?"

Dad chuckled, "Nice try, but it's because of the law." Bill nodded his head like a cute little puppy. "It's because the law protects those who are like us. Many believe that having power is tantamount to being a god. They are true." We looked at him with great confusion on our faces. "But, gods can be slain. Manipulated evidence, corrupt officials, and twisted truths don't erase the truth. They only obscure it. Remember that, got it?" He permeated a warm presence. We both raced past the short distance and hugged him.

Bill said, "Of course we know that!" I excitedly shook my head in agreement. My dad had the ability to galvanize people with his words and actions.

Maybe, my entire life, I've taken him for granted.

Like a flood, a swarm of cars broke through the checkpoints. They raced the streets; they switched lanes and increased their speeds. Six cars in total. Three white with red stripes that were in the lead, and three with black and blue stripes laid over a blurry grey underbody. The cars were blurs as they zigged and zagged from street to street. Multiple light poles were hit, and many pedestrians were injured. Before I understood, the sportscars were all lined up on our side of the road. They were getting closer each second. My father yelled, "GO! GO!" His arms grabbed us and tossed us to the other side of the street.

I screamed, "DAD!" My voice seemed to echo in the almost empty field of the grass. I felt every breeze tickle each bald of grass that Bill and I were standing on. Time slowed to a crawl; I looked a dad and saw him facing us. His mouth twitched before presenting us a kind, delicate smile. His eyes softened, his body relaxed, his aura of confidence ignited as he stared back at the upcoming cars.

***

The guards in the nearby checkpoints and government buildings rushed over quickly. Bill and I slunk to the ground as our eyes traced the white line that surrounded our father's body. His once amiable face was flooded with blood, and his torso was ripped open. Bill tried to make his way over, but I held him back. We hugged each other with hollow feelings. We were too shocked to have feelings, opinions, and assumptions on any of this. The wide-open field felt colder now. The expanse of the field felt like an isolated prison. Distanced from all the citizens that stared at my dad. For them, he was nothing more than a dead body. Some, who were better off, snapped pictures and others phoned their friends and family and showed off what had just happened. Bill whispered coarsly under his breath, "Fuck all of them! I hope they all die miserable deaths." For once, I was thinking the same thing.

***

We made it home. Or house. It didn't feel like a home anymore. Our mother was in the kitchen cooking up dinner. Bill and I looked at each other with teary eyes. I told him breakit to her; he's good those things. We walked up to her and Bill said, "Hey, Mom!"

She was a little startled but gave us a wide smile as soon as recognized us. She asked us with her sweet voice, "Where's your father?"

Bill looked at me. He was holding back tears. I couldn't make him do it; I just couldn't. I started, "Dad..."

"Is working over time today. He wants to finish up everything today so that he has more time for us tomorrow. He said that we could meet him at the library tomorrow." Bill finished the sentence for me.

Our mom looked a little disappointed, but then said, "Well, that's alright I suppose. It just means that you two will have more this AMAZING chicken that I cooked!"

We bothakwardly smiled. Bill faced in the opposite direction when he felt tears coming down his face. I put up a brave front and said, "That's great! Hopefully we'll be able to save some for dad!" I ruffled Bill's hair like how my dad used to do. He looked up at me, wiping his tears on his sleeve. Luckily, Mom was preparing the plates, so she didn't see. I leaned next to Bill and whispered, "We'll tell her tomorrow. But, you NEED to get your act together, now." He tried to smile but failed. I felt bad.

That night, we ate to our hearts content and went our bedroom. I let out soft tears, and Bill must have heard me because he climbed on my bed and started to console me. We both lay there, facing the ceiling. I whispered, "Is Dad really gone?" Bill didn't say anything. He had fallen asleep. I also fell into my own realm of nightmares.