Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Xavier - Day 853

Upon the dirt, their feet shambled forward, each resident edged one by one into the courtyard of River’s Edge Academy. A row of Second Alliance Guards formed a wall that corralled these lines of people into the lower half of the yard, ensuring they remained impacted. Shoulders pressed to bodies. Bodies to backs. One push and they would all topple over.

Without a choice, they simply stood there—astonished faces, solemn, much thinner now than in days past. Some clasped hands in preparation. Unnerved. Silent as they looked on.

“That’s all of them!” a Guard said before sliding back inside the door to the hallway and clicking the latch, prompting the Guard across the yard to do the same.

Collectively, the people’s faces twisted to see past one another—behind them—anticipating the death of one of their own. They knew it wouldn’t be long, dreading his arrival, the realization of a broken promise—sworn words taken back.

A clink of metal and the sharp gasp of the crowd sucked the air from the opened door. The prisoner stumbled forward, led by a noose around his neck to the scaffolding that had been arranged against the southern wall. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he pulled, fought from his forced path. “Quit your struggling!” A quick jerk of the rope and his feet fell back in line.

The Guards that encircled the crowd ensured no eyes were diverted from this spectacle. Three others that escorted the man kept any sympathetic hand from him. There would be no saving this prisoner. Nothing could go wrong. Not today.

“Keep your eyes on the grazing field,” a Sentry posted in a watch tower yelled to his counterpart. “Do your job, man!”

“And miss this?” His partner scoffed. “How often does something like this happen? It’s ‘bout time we get to see some action.”

“You’re sick,” the Sentry said while turning back toward the field he had been assigned to observe.

“It’s his damned fault. Treason they said. Not sure of the details, but I don’t really care.” His overzealous eyes watched every detail unfold. “Guilty’s all I need to know.”

A stiff wind cut across the prisoner, causing his balance to waver as he stood ten feet from the ground. The metal and wood creaked as two Guards moved about the scaffolding. Their movements were deliberate and rehearsed. Their hands worked to place the rope up and then over, securing the end to a lower portion of the frame. Another rope placed then tightened around his legs. The Guards jerked hard at the rope each time the knots were made.

The two Guards brought him upright, their arms interlocked within his elbows. With his knees bent, he practically hovered in place. The black hood that wrapped the man’s face puffed outward then in as his breaths sped forth.

The crowd maintained its silence while the muffled hysteria within the hood touched upon their ears—it was unknown to them what horrors were being said.

“Let him go!”

“He doesn’t deserve it!”

“Stop!” A Soldier—an iron man—raised his rifle as if to fire, but didn’t. “It won’t be too much longer.”

The sun crested the horizon, pushing morning light through the slits in the metal sheets that now covered the alcoves in the wall. Broken glass had been swept from the floor, and gradually, over time, bits of rubble flaked from the stressed concrete and brick replaced it.

A flickering dust danced through the rays of light as it moved across the stained linoleum floor toward Xavier. He began to stir from his dream as the light crept up the legs of his cot.

“Xavier, I have to go, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Mom, no. You have to stay. Please!”

“Brown County’s in rough shape. There just aren’t enough physicians to help with all the sick people out there. I have to go. I have a duty to help others.”

“You can stay here. People need help here, too.”

“Dad’s going to stay with you two. He’ll handle things while I’m gone. He’s fully capable of caring for you both.”

“But he’s not a doctor. What if we get sick? What if Dad gets sick? I can’t handle that. You know me and Tara can’t do that.”

“None of you are going to get sick, but if you do, I’ll come back, okay? Here’s the number for where I’ll be. Don’t worry. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a flu virus. It’s just giving people a cough.”

“But Matt said people are dying. He said that a lot of people are dying from this.”

“Matt doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve been following this thing for a while now. The folks that have died already had issues. They’re not dying because of this. Healthy people don’t die from the flu.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I do.”

“Please say it.”

“I promise nothing bad will happen.”

“You can’t promise that if you aren’t here.”

“Xavier, ju— don’t do this. You and your sister are both good, healthy kids. I’ll probably be gone a month. No longer than that. You have to stop worrying about this.”

“How can you leave your family to go take care of strangers?”

“Xavier, please! It’s already hard enough. You’ll understand when you’re older. Someday, you’ll have to stick your neck out there for something bigger than yourself. It’s just my turn do it now.”

“But we’ll miss you. It’s not going to be the same if you’re gone.”

“You know I’ll miss you too. I’ll never stop thinking about you guys. You better help your dad and mind after your sister. I’ll be back. I promise I’ll be back.”

“I believe you, Mom.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Xavier pulled a worn blanket, patched with old curtains and duct tape, over his head—just a little while longer before having to face life again. If only sleep could bring enough time to get through this, bring about the old, familiar world.

His eyes twitched in response to the alarm clock begging him to wake. He grabbed it from the floor and began to wind its crank. It had to be done carefully, replacing it would be nearly impossible.

The curled knuckles of his index fingers worked the sleep from his eyes. He loosely wrapped the ticking clock inside a t-shirt, slid it underneath the cot, and grabbed the only pair of shoes he owned. They rested side by side in front of him as he sat with his hands tucked underneath his chin. He sighed. Would today be the day they finally rejected him? He forced his feet, one at a time, past the tongues of his miserable shoes. A sense of relief curled his lips into a smile.

He stood from his cot, barely awake, with both feet pressed firmly against the floor, stretching his fingers toward the ceiling. The walls seemed to be pulled in by several feet—his personal space dwindling. It was only a matter of time until they started fabricating bunk beds out of old scaffolding or whatever scrap they could find. This is crazy. How many more people are they going to try and cram in here?

Xavier pinched two corners of his worn blanket, flung the other end forward, and floated it down over his empty cot as he eyed a few of the Second Alliance Guards doing the same. It doesn’t matter how many of them end up staying here. They’ll never be one of us. It’s not possible. Nobody wants you guys here. Don’t care how much protection you think you give us.

He glared at them a bit longer before starting toward the opposite wall of the sleeping quarters, moving past the cots of the other residents assigned there—each person waking to their own individual routine. Their groans and yawns acted as birds calling out, each one responding, growing louder, trying to outdo one another. The odor of sweat and moist bedding went unnoticed. Xavier had been there long enough for his nose to accept it as simply, air.