The Dystopia Chronicles (Atopia Series Book 2) by Mather Matthew

Author:Mather, Matthew [Mather, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2014-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

THE STRANGE MAN’S touch felt like cool water running into the boy’s veins. The pain disappeared, and the boy’s arms and legs unfolded. He smiled, leaning over to put his feet on the ground. Reaching up he pulled on his father’s hand, who turned to look down in amazement at his son, standing on his own feet for the first time in years.

The man cried in disbelief and began calling to his wife and friends. The boy stared silently at the disappearing silhouette of Bob. The crowd at the edge of the laamb wrestling circle was frenetic, screaming and thundering with the ongoing fight. Bob had to force his way in, past the men preparing themselves, their eyes, not seeing. He found the priest talking to two scruffy military men.

“Transportation into the African Union, no questions?” said a gaunt man dressed in threadbare khaki fatigues, an aging AK-47 slung over one arm. He was talking to the priest.

The priest nodded and pointed at Bob.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes, yes.” He turned to speak to another man in fatigues beside him. They both nodded. He turned back to Bob. “This is danger. Will be expensive. Much risk.”

“You will be rewarded,” the priest said. “I will make arrangements.”

Staring into Bob’s eyes, the man smiled with a mouthful of broken teeth. “At the main dock, tonight, just before the sun goes down.”

“Sure,” Bob replied, trusting the priest knew these men.

The gaunt man continued to stare at Bob.

“Do I know you?” Bob asked.

The gaunt man laughed. “We are all friends here. Good, we will see when the sun goes down, down by the docks.”

With a roar from the crowd, one of the wrestlers pinned the other to the ground. Bob heard the crack of breaking bones, earning another roar. The laamb wrestling match was over, and the crowd began dispersing.

Bob stood in place, in a daze. The men in fatigues were gone, the priest was gone. Something nibbled one of his fingers. He looked down. A goat had wandered up to him. It bleated and nudged him again, looking up at Bob with its slatted-pupil eyes. Bob sensed its fear. It was lost and hungry.

He was lost too.

Bob reached down and petted it. He decided to care for it, find it some food, some shelter. He’d always had a soft spot for animals. They were simply non-human people, with the same abilities to make conscious decisions, grieve and worry and love. And this went both ways; in humans, there was also the beast.

Then again, looking down into the animal’s eyes, even if he fed it and found it shelter today, what would happen to it tomorrow? The animal was a bag of bones, its fur mangy. Perhaps a quick end, to stop its suffering, was better.

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