The Last City of Refuge

“Cigar, Enoch?”

“Mr. Doherty, you is full of surprises.  But if you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy mines under the open sky.”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea.  I’ll save these for later.  You nervous about tomorrow, Mr. Enoch?”

“Tomorrow?”

“The beginning of our journey.”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Well, there’s gonna be an expert hunting us down soon.  And if he finds us, we’re dead.”

“Mr. Doherty, you sho’ know how to bring down a mood.  I been so focused on the paradise ahead that I forgot about the hell pursuing us.  What do you know about this Gaucho fellow?”

“I know if he catches us, don’t call him Gaucho.  I studied his file.  Enoch, he’s a monster straight from nightmares.  Don’t care about money or nothing else, except killing.  So, if he catches up to us…”

“It’s we or he?”

“That’s about the whole of the matter.  Ain’t gone be no bribes.  Are you prepared to kill?”

“If I have to.”

“I’m not sure that I am, Enoch.  Don’t want no more blood on my hands, truth be told.  Not even a psycho like Gachevska.”

“You’ll do what you need to do to survive.  Those military skills will kick back in.  Let’s put that man far from our minds.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Enoch thought for a second, “What’s the first thing you gonna do when we make it to the Island City?  I’m gonna get me a funnel cake with an ice cream sundae on top…first thing. Yes, sir.”

“I’m gonna find my daughter.”

“Yo’ daughter?”

“Yes.  The Council took her to force me into this.  So, I gotta stay alive for her.  When I find her, both of us will sit down and have that funnel cake sundae with you.”

“I change my answer.  My first thing to do is to help you find your child.  What’s her name, Mr. Doherty?”

“Oasis.”

“Oasis.  I like that.  Downright pretty name.  From this point on, yo’ daughter is my daughter.  We’ll get her back, safe and sound.”

“I knew I chose right with you, Enoch.  You’re a good man.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m getting awfully sleepy…and we got a big day tomorrow.”

“You ain’t wrong about it.  Good night, Mr. Doherty.”

Romulus yawned as he stood, “Good night, Enoch…and thank you.”

“For what, sir?”

“For being you.”

“For being me?”

“Yes, Enoch.  And I don’t say that about many people.  See you in the morning.”

“Alright, Mr. Doherty.”

∞

The morning came and Enoch awoke to the smell of coffee.

“How’d you sleep, Mr. Doherty?”

“Not too well, Enoch.  Embarrassing secret: I have a hard time dozing off at night without my meds or a bedtime story.  So, most times I sleep during the day if I can.”

“Is that the plan?  To sleep during the day and travel in the evenings?”

“Yes.  With the heat index, that’s the only safe way to travel without a vehicle.”

“I suspose so.”

Romulus smirked innocently at Enoch’s incorrect vocabulary, “How do you want your coffee?”

“With Italian sweet crème if you got it.”

“Coming up.  I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for us: scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, grits, and silver dollar pancakes.  We’ll stuff the leftovers in our packs.”

“Boy, boy; look at that spread.  I don’t know where to start.”

“Eat up.  We got a long day and I don’t know when or if we’ll have another hot meal.”

“How much time we got?”

“Couple of hours till they take us down.  Figured we could eat, then shower.”

“Sounds good. Pass me those grits.”  He put some in a bowl and took a bite.  “These ain’t real, cooked-on-the-stove grits.  Somebody’s been at the microwave, and them eggs look suspect too.”

“Like carton eggs?”

“Exactly.  All this processed stuff is killing us.  There isn’t even eggs in it.”

“Well, when we make it to paradise, we can have everything as real as we want it.”

“I like that, Mr. Doherty.  I won’t know how to behave myself with my freedom.”

“Well, figure it out cause bad behavior can get you banished from the island.  And for us…that means returning to Geronimo Bay.”

“Oh, I don’t want that at all.”

“Neither do I, Enoch.  Not one bit.”

 

​

“Alright, Doherty; you know the drill.  Spread your legs and extend your arms out to the side.”

“I don’t understand.  What does it matter if I have contraband?  You’re releasing me out into the wild.”

“Gaming rules state that you aren’t allowed any additional advantages: weapons, tools, or supplies other than those that are already stipulated.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Blah, blah, blah.”

Mancini frisked him, “What’s this?”  He removed the forks and steak knives.

“A man’s gotta eat.”

“You know I have to take these, right?”

“God forbid we eat our possums and prairie dogs with proper utensils.  You didn’t find an Uzi…or a bazooka?”

“He’s clean.  Alright, Enoch…same drill.”

Enoch spread his legs and arms while the warden examined him for possessions.  He began to laugh.

“You tickling me, warden,” he chuckled.  “Cut that…cut that out.”

“I’m not tickling you.  Quit fidgeting.”

“I’ll stop fidgeting when you stop tickling.”

“This is like a bad comedy act in the worst part of Vegas,” Romulus shook his head.  “He ain’t got nothing, warden.”

“I still gotta check him.  The world is watching.”  He looked at the camera.

“You mean, the Council’s watching?  That’s funny, warden.”

“How’s that?”

“I can’t even see your puppet strings.”

“If I were you, I’d shut my damn mouth before I lose my head start.”

“And have the Hunter kill me before we leave Vegas?  They’d fire you on the spot.  Oh, I know you don’t like me, warden…not in the least.  But, you do need me…more than you know.”

Mancini looked at the camera again, which the Council despised, “Alright, Mr. Enoch’s clean.  Guards, check those bags.  McMahon, bring over the pack mule.”  The guard brought him.  “This is Wally.”

“What a beautiful john mule,” Romulus approached him.  “He’s a big one.  I bet your mother was a draft horse mare.  What a gorgeous palomino coat.  You don’t see that very often.”

“That beast was trained in Pakistan at a hefty cost,” Mancini added.  “Quite frankly, his life is more valuable than yours.”

“Probably looks like your mother,” Enoch mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, sir.  Just admiring Wally.”

“Bags are clean, warden.”

“Load ‘em up, boys.  One more thing, Romulus.”

“What now?”

“I gotta put in your contact cameras.  The people need to be able to see what you see.  These things are water proof, so you can cry as much as you want.  They also have audio, so be careful what you say.  The nation is watching you.  Alright, left eye first.”  He put the contact in.  “Now, the right.”

“You know, I’m leaving you a gift, warden.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bought a gift for one of my favorite people.”

“How could you?  You don’t have any money.”

“Where there’s a will…”

“Studio, are we getting a visual from the contacts?  Then, turn them on, idiot.  How about now?  We’re good?  Alright.  No, don’t broadcast yet, just record.  We’ll edit it when I get in there.  Keep those cameras rolling no matter what.  Later.”

“Trouble, warden?”

“These studio hacks are complete morons.  I swear, I’ll fire the whole lot of them if I get the chance.”

“Weren’t you saying something about being careful of what you say around these cameras?”

“Oh, God.  I was just joking, guys.  When this is done, I’ll make sure you all get big bonuses.”

“We tied Wally to the back of the cart, warden.”

“Thanks, McMahon.  Ah, here he is.  Romulus, this is the Help…Ignatius.  For the next twenty-four hours, he will escort you east until your time is up.  Then you, Enoch, and Wally will be on your own.  Feel free to sleep, eat, rest, relax, or whatever because when that time is up, you’ll never rest again.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Excuse me, Enoch?”

“Now that I’m leaving, I can say it freely.  You’re a jackass.  The prisoners know it.  The guards know it.  Your wife and kids.  The Council.  Hell, even that pretty little airhead girlfriend of yours knows it.  None of us like you.”

“We are recording, Enoch,” Romulus smiled.  “The world knows it now.”

“We’re not live yet, Doherty.  I mean, I’m not a jackass.”

“Sure you are. Hell, Wally likes you.  But, that’s probably because you remind him of a dad or uncle.”

They all smirked.

“You think that’s funny, Ignatius?  What are you laughing about, McMahon?  I’ll have all of you scrubbing puke off the solitary floor.  Get these bastards out of here!”

Enoch, Romulus, and Ignatius loaded up with Wally following behind.  Ignatius took the reins and clicked his tongue twice.  Mr. Ignatius was a cautious elderly man who had been a volunteer driver candidate for the lottery for over three decades.  He was well into his sixties now, skin full of wrinkles and liver spots.  One ride covered what he normally made in a five-year span.  The wind whistled through his white, wispy mustache and his frazzled hair as he led the team away from Geronimo.  He pulled a ball cap down on his head and removed his bifocals for shades as the sun began its ascent in the eastern sky.

“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer!  Boys, whatever you see in the next few minutes, don’t let your hearts be dismayed.”

“What do you mean?” Romulus leaned forward.

“It’s nearly dawn, now.  He loves to make an entrance.”

“Who?”

“What in blue heavens is that, Mr. Doherty?”

“I don’t know, Enoch.  But, it’s not good.”

A large mass came trotting through the murky backdrop.  The bashful sun was just beginning to creep over the eastern horizon to guide our mystery guests.  It soon became evident that the beast was part human, part horse, and part dog.  Romulus stared through the mist and tried to distinguish what approached them.  It was then when they heard the laugh.  It started off low, like a hum from a gospel choir.  Then, it grew into a sound that chilled their bones.  Soon it was so loud, they couldn’t hear their thoughts.  It seemed as if it couldn’t get worse.  Then, the barking began.  It was such a violent, rabid bark that even Dasher and Dancer were jittery.

“Easy, boys; easy.”

Soon, the day was just bright enough to see what was coming.  If they could’ve dimmed the sun, they would’ve preferred the darkness.  The first thing they noticed was the horse.  He was a grizzled stallion of the finest.  The disturbing part was the World War I gas mask on its face.  Across his back and mane, the dog yapped at them.  His owner held his collar so he couldn’t hop down.  They noticed foam dripping from his mouth.  Then, the man and Romulus locked eyes.  His dark, thick mustache sloped into his long, bulky beard.  He possessed the eyes of a man who either cried too much or slept too little.  His wide-brimmed, ten-gallon hat plummeted over his thick eyebrows.  The man stopped laughing just long enough to spit a wad of tobacco in their direction.  They finally passed each other, leaving them once again with only the sound of barking and laughter.