“Where?” Rocke stared up at the metal ceiling, confused. Where was he? This wasn’t his apartment. He opened his mouth, but before he could cry out for his roommate, Marsh, his memories washed over him like an overwhelming wave.
Dear Solv, he’d almost murdered someone. A terrible guilt bore into his heart as his sore limbs rose from the bedroll. Never had Rocke spent a night on the floor before, and it cost him. His aches only added to the misery that was his constant companion as he rose for the morning.
“Finally! Do you lazy Uppies always sleep this late?” Kallane said, her rebuke harsh.
“What time is it?” Rocke rubbed his droopy eyes. He’d never been a morning person.
“Almost eleven,” Kallane replied. Much to Rocke’s surprise, only he and the Ottomon beggar occupied the tin house.
When she caught his surprise, Kallane explained, “Matthias is off doing errands. Mom is working in the mines, and won’t return until late.”
“And you?”
“The holy man made me promise to watch over you. Today’s my day off, so it worked out.” It sounded like Kallane wasn’t too keen on this task, however. “An oath’s an oath.”
“But breakfast!”
“Mom left some leftovers for you. You can eat on the way.” Kallane rolled her eyes. She opened a small icebox and pushed an even smaller Tupperware container into his hands. Through the clear plastic lid, Rocke glimpsed some thin strips of sausage. This was his breakfast? He’d hoped for some eggs at least.
“Why?” A jolt of fear stabbed through Rocke’s heart. Did the law already have some inkling where he was hiding?
“Some officers have been poking around the neighboring districts. It’s a big place, but they’re determined. If you stay here, they’ll bound to find you eventually. Wear these. They’ll help you blend in.” She pushed some ragged clothes into his hands.
“You want me to wear this?” Rocke wrinkled his nose. They smelled something fierce.
“It’s the best I could manage. Unless you want to draw attention to your Uppie clothes?” Kallane gestured to his t-shirt and jeans.
“Fine.” Rocke changed behind a screen. His cloth’s wooly surface scratched at him as Kallane led him outside.
The shantytown hadn’t improved much in daylight. People in shabby clothes went about their morning chores, exchanging the daily gossip with neighbors. Women used old-fashioned washbasins to clean their clothes while their children laughed and played around them. Despite their squalid conditions, these people impressed Rocke with their resilience.
“Life goes on,” Kallane said as they passed through the shantytown.
Everyone greeted her with a smile or a nod. The inhabitants eyed Rocke with curiosity, but were friendly enough. It surprised Rocke they’d greet a non-Ottomon with such friendliness, but soon he noticed his own race milling about. He’d forgotten not everyone in the UOP lived in fancy high rises. Some UOP citizens slipped through the cracks and lived in these shanty towns in destitution.
“Don’t stare, please, you’ll stand out,” Kallane said.
“Sorry.” He’d been eyeing a middle-aged woman of his race who was missing both legs. Rocke wondered if she’d fought in the last war against Vanderfall. “Where are you taking me?”
“There’s a terminal near here. It might have news about the scum who attacked the holy man.” It was a wise precaution. They’d track his connection to the network in nanoseconds if Rocke used his phone. Heck, it might be smart to lose it soon.
“Right.” A lump caught in Rocke’s throat, but he marched forward. His father always told him hiding from the truth would only hurt him later. It’s better to face bad news head-on than avoid it.
After a mile’s march, normal civilization returned, the roar of cars zipping through the air audible. As they approached the cleaner parts of town, more average citizens appeared.
“Excuse me,” Rocke said after accidentally bumping into a larger man. But the man only roughly pushed Rocke aside, not even acknowledging his existence.
“Why are you shocked?” Kallane said, amused by his expression. “This is our life. You must have seen people treat my kind this way a million times.”
Much to his shame, Rocke had. Only he’d ignored it, pretending it didn’t bother him. His father used to scold him for even looking at those people.
“Let’s g et going.” Rocke said, hiding how disturbed the encounter had left him. He beamed as he spotted a terminal attached to a grocery store.
“Okay.” He tapped at the screen, scanning through the various articles. The biggest news story was a scandal involving a business rival of his uncle. Someone discovered that the man was siphoning funds from his business to pay a blackmailer. Much to his disappointment, the article didn’t mention what the blackmailer knew. Still, this gossip would surely please his uncle, he thought idly. Then he caught sight of the nex headline and the blood froze in his veins.
“No.” he whispered, catching odd looks from passersby.‘Young Vladus Man Betrayed and Killed by Friend Near Taggar Bridge’ the words almost seemed to grow as he stared at them. A tiny school picture of Rocke sat in the corner, its blandness contrasting the violent nature of his crime.
Much to his surprise, Kallane placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She said nothing, but offered solace with her presence. His heart caught in his throat as he read on. Joven died of his injuries at three in the morning from a traumatic brain injury. The suspect, Rocke Ralss, was still at large. The article suggested people should report any sign of this person to the Vladus Police, claiming this person was armed and dangerous. But Rocke barely understood this part, too overwhelmed with grief.
“Joven’s dead.” Rocke slumped. He’d prayed and hoped the blow had been only a grazing one. Joven would laugh it off, he’d told himself. But no, Rocke was a murderer.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Here.” With tenderness, Kallane guided him to a bench and sat him down. When a sob escaped his lips, she grabbed his hand and squeezed. They sat that way as Rocke struggled to make sense of the nightmare he’d found himself in. Joven was a total jerk, but he never deserved death.
“Oh, Solv. I’m finished. My life is ruined.” His family would never support him again. A murderer in the family is bad publicity. Heck, his father might kill him on the spot for being a black mark on his family’s honor. What was he to do? He had nothing. Any dreams for his higher education were ruined.
“Wait, doesn’t that guy look familiar?” a man eyed his phone with a furrowed brow.
“Let’s go.” With surprising sternness, Kallane pulled him from the bench and tugged him into a nearby alley. Rocke didn’t protest.
“I know some places you can hide. I’m behind you, Rocke. Never forget that.” Kallane whispered as they entered the grimy alley. From the stench, Rocke guessed the cleaning bots didn’t enter this city district often.
“Why are you helping me?” Rocke said after a minute of silence. “Don’t you despise me? It’d make more sense to throw me to the wolves.”
“You might be a spoiled Uppie, but you still need help,” Kallane said, her words kind. “We Ottomon never abandon someone in need. Besides, you saved the Sovereign’s chosen. He brought us together for a reason.”
“Huh?” Rocke stared at the girl in utter bafflement. Didn’t she realize the risks of helping him? The law wouldn’t look kindly on someone aiding a fugitive, especially an Ottomon. But the girl’s determined face told him she’d accept any risk of helping him.
Catching his confusion, she clarified, “You’re one of us now. Unlike Uppies, we stick together.”
Was it really that simple? Rocke supposed that, when you had nothing, you watched each other’s backside. Still, her generosity surprised him.
Kallane clicked her tongue. She scanned her surroundings, making sure they were unobserved. “Let’s get you out of sight.”
“O-okay.” While his legs were shaky, Rocke managed to return to the slums with his new friend. Rocke felt aimless, like everything he’d known had crumbled to pieces. Did he even have a future anymore? He puzzled over this dilemma as they returned to Kallane’s hut.
---
“Bwahaha! Thought you could escape the law, criminal scum? Foolishness! Such foolishness! The law has eyes everywhere!” Phú said, amused by her prey’s naivety. When Joven’s car turned up halfway across the city, Rolf had been furious that the trail had gone cold. Phú, however, hadn’t been worried.
She’d predicted that Ralss might try to access news about the attack last night, so she’d created a virus that would trigger whenever someone accessed the article. Then it was child’s play to hack the device and access its built-in camera. Her digital avatar stuck out her tongue as the pair departed from the terminal.
“Yeah! Chief Rolf will surely give me a raise for this!” Or whatever AIs got for their hard work. Phú bubbled with excitement, eager to see what justice the Chief would inflict on this horrible, nasty criminal. For the greater good’s sake, Rocke Ralss needed to suffer for his crimes. He’d show everyone what happened to evil people.
---
“You’ve returned.” The prophet said, relaxing in a home-woven straw chair. His expression turned worried as he caught Rocke’s expression. “The news wasn’t great, I suspect.”
“No. Joven died last night,” Rocke said, his tone dull.
“I’m sorry,” Matthias said with surprising sincerity for the fate of his would-be murderer. Rocke worried the prophet would break into some platitude about the Sovereign’s will. Instead, the man offered a compassionate pat on the shoulder. “What will you do now?”
“I wish I knew.” While he had plenty of money in a private bank account, any attempt to access it would get flagged immediately. Were any options left available to him? Should he flee to Vanderfall?
Matthias tapped his chin in deep thought before nodding in satisfaction. “No other option, I suppose. I’ll pray on it. The Sovereign will tell us the best path forward.”
“Now you’re thinking of that?” Rocke asked, not hiding his sarcasm. Some holy man. He flinched as Kallane glared at him and muttered a muted apology.
“In the excitement, I forgot myself,” Matthias said, somewhat embarrassed. “Sometimes, even a prophet tries to handle everything himself instead of relying on the true Lord’s power. But everything is according to His will. He’s got a place for you, too, Rocke.”
“I hope so,” Rocke said with sincerity. Despite his doubts, it was unwise to be rude to those trying to help you. If the Sovereign aided him, he wouldn’t complain. He didn’t protest as the prophet extended a hand.
Kallane gripped the other, and Matthias united them in prayer. “Dear Sovereign, Lord of Heaven, creator of the universe and ruler over all. This wayward soul, Rocke, needs your guidance. He fought to protect your servant and is paying the price. Shield this young man from his enemies, which are your enemies, too. They claim they fight for justice and law, but neglect compassion and mercy for people who slip outside the law. Show Rocke the best path forward. In the name of the heavenly king, Amen.”
“Amen,” A wave of nostalgia passed over Rocke. He hadn’t prayed since childhood. His grandmother had insisted they pray together every night before bed. Despite himself, the prayer made him feel better. Would it help, though?
In sudden realization, Rocke got an idea. “That might be safe.”
“Oh?” Kallane asked, curious.
“My grandmother has a place outside the city, according to her, anyway. She disappeared after my family banished her. I could hide there until the heat dies down.”
“She lives off the grid?” Matthias asked.
Rocke nodded before deflating. “No clue where it is, though.” This was a stupid idea, anyway.
Matthias stroked his chin, tossing the idea around before nodding. “That should work nicely. With the UOP’s impending judgment, it’d be best to stay out of the capital.”
“Oh, right,” Rocke said, his tone neutral. An idea popped into his head. “You should come along. The police chief already tried to kill you. It’s best you split the city, too. Besides, my grandmother is also a Sovereign believer. You’d have plenty to chat about.”
“Is that right? What are the odds? What a tapestry the Sovereign has woven. But I must apologize. I can’t accompany you,” the prophet replied.
“Why not?” Rocke said, a stone sinking in his gut.
“In 39 days, the Sovereign will give His judgment. He needs his holy man here in Vladus to spread His warning,” Kallane said so matter-of-factly that it drove Rocke nuts.
“You’ll die!” Rocke said.
“The Sovereign will protect me. He used you to deliver me from His enemies, didn’t He?” Matthias said with a chuckle.
“I don’t believe this.” Matthias was throwing his life away for nothing! Fine then. Let the old prophet dig his own grave! Rocke stormed out in disgust.
“I can’t believe him!” Kallane said, fuming.
“Let him go,” the prophet said. “He’s not a believer. To him, I must seem crazy. But he’ll come around.”
“Fools, complete fools.” Rocke stomped around the metal hut, unleashing a mental tirade. His grandmother had suffered a similar fate for her beliefs, disowned and banished. His father had always said principles only hastened your destruction. What mattered was staying on top.
And Rocke’s own principles had destroyed him, too. Why bother caring about anything? Rocke put his head in his hands. Caring, not caring, both paths seemed empty and pointless.
And yet, his grandmother had been firm, even happy, after her public disgrace. She’d stood for something, and that gave her some measure of pride. Was he missing something? Could a person be happy in total desolation?
Troubled, Rocke wandered away to think. He had nothing better to do, anyway. He watched the Ottomon go about their day—playing, working, or chatting. Despite their bleak situation, these people found joy in what little they possessed. Like Maple, these people shared what that had without reservation. It baffled, yet intrigued Rocke. Were they not afraid they might lose everything? For some hours, he explored the shantytown. While some people gave him odd looks, most were friendly. Rocke returned the greetings with an awkward wave.
His stomach rumbled as the smell of baked bread wafted into his nose. It reminded Rocke he hadn’t eaten lunch, and it was getting dark. Thankfully, Rocke possessed an excellent sense of direction and found his way back easily enough. After swallowing his pride, he re-entered Maple’s home. Much to Rocke’s surprise, a muscular man filled the tiny room as he entered. The stranger’s Demon tattoos made him fearsome, punctuating the hard lines of his face.
“Are you Rocke?” the man asked.
“Who’s asking?” Rocke replied, pensive. The newcomer had arms the size of tree trunks. From his rough features, the man didn’t seem a stranger to physical labor or violence.
“There you are, Rocke.” Much to Rocke’s surprise, the prophet didn’t seem angry about Rocke’s previous outburst. Instead, he gave his rescuer a genuine smile. “This is Dallas. He’s helping you escape the city.”
“With His judgment coming, I’ve been helping vulnerable people leave for someplace safe. While the holy man says the outer districts will be safe from the Sovereign’s judgments, we can’t be sure what damage the Vanderfall invasion might cause.”
“Right. No harm in being prudent.” Rocke kept his skepticism from his voice. Matthias had mentioned Vanderfall invading the city in his prophecy.
“Believe it or not, but I actually know your grandmother, son.” The big man finally smiled.
“Huh?”
“But that’s a story for later.” Dallas tossed Rocke a thick gray cloak. “Put this on. Maple has already prepared a meal to go.”
“Only sandwiches, but they’ll suffice,” the woman said, nodding. Before Rocke could offer his thanks, Kallane burst into the room. Rocke’s heart quickened when he caught the sheer panic on his friend’s face.
“They’ve found us,” Kallane said. It wasn’t hard to guess her meaning as a harsh spotlight flashed into the hut’s window, its light blinding.
“Rocke Ralss, we have you surrounded!” A booming voice over a loudspeaker said. “Surrender or face the consequences.”
“But I hope you don’t,” a newcomer said, a massive man even taller than Dallas. Across his face stretched a thick handlebar mustache that made his already imposing scarred features seem like a demonic bull. He stood in the doorway, cracking his knuckles. Rocke’s heart skipped a beat, recognizing this man. It was Rolf Hayden, the Police Chief of Vladus City. “Either way, I’m going to enjoy this.”