Molly - Part 5

Chapter 24

Down there in one of the streets a large american flag swayed on the ground. Torn from its perch and laid there to rot. And from the folds of the city appeared men and women, climbing out of the holes, their arms and legs splattered with mud.

Tyrus raised a hand, and the others adhered.

Appearing from the opposite side of the city, the revolutionaries were a diseased-looking troupe, but they had survived.

"We come out of the rubble," a revolutionary called, a white skull painted on the red mask he wore. "We endure."

"That isn't good enough," Tyrus announced back.

The revolutionary reached back and revealed his face. Black, like the rest of them, like tar.

But Tyrus only shook his head.

"Not good enough."

"But a start. We know what it means to start the fire." The revolutionary put his mask back on. "Stay out here. Fight pointlessly. At least when you fight with us, there's music behind it."

"I don't like the genre."

"No one ever has. It asks too much of them."

The revolutionary pulled his gun back so that when he was walking away the gun was in plain sight. Tyrus knew the indiciation. Surely they all did at this point.

He turned to his people and raised the flat of his palm. After a while the revolutionaries were gone.

He studied their faces, the men and women he was responsible for. The children hiding behind them.

He smiled.

"Let us come out of the mud. Let's show our faces. It's been hard but we know how to get through it. Come out on the other side better. Stronger."

One of the men wept:

"We need guns, Tyrus!"

But Tyrus only smiled.

"I'd trade every gun in the world for one of you. We are stronger because we love each other. Better than any gun."

And they marched, and yes they seemed on-fire, a glorious indignation against the rising tide.

***

She climbed through a shaft running into the gut of the building, wires taped to walls as she landed with a thunk. Her fake arm ticking.

"What'd you tell them?"

He crossed his arms and leaned against a gray wall, looking down.

"I told 'em what they needed to hear."

"I need cores, dad," she said. "I need them quickly. Like yesterday quickly."

Tyrus knew his daughter to be of two things: smart, and absolutely incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

"How's your arm doing," he said, gesturing towards the black membrane stretched around where her arm once was.

"Dad."

He blinked, coughed.

"Alright. Baby: I gotta ease them into it. We talking for real? They already don't like you. They see that arm of yours and think of the people, the babies they've seen killed. That's not good. You know that I will always be on your side, but if you want to be serious, okay."

He shrugged.

"I gotta appeal to them somehow. I know this is slower than just telling them the truth, but...well, we all gotta believe in something."

She blinked back tears.

"Okay."

"Okay. I love you. We gotta keep going."

She wiped away the tears with the back of her sleeve then fell into his embrace. He brushed up against the fake hand; he didn't care.

"I just don't know. It's so close, dad. And the way things are--"

He turned her to him. Releasing her then crossing his arms.

"This is how it's gotta be."

He let her be by herself. If anything he knew what it was like to be disappointed.

***

"So much death, so much everything. All of God's pitiful creatures."

The old man dipped his head down, Tyrus walking among his people. His heart swelled with pride; they returned familiar stares. Shared in each other's company. Talking between the silence. They were living; they were strong.

"Would you please shut up," Nedaly said. "Old man, I swear to the lord."

"What, a man can't quote poetry?"

"That was not poetry."

The old man flashed his cut teeth but Nedaly only shook her head, Tyrus motioning her to follow.

"Do you ever miss," she started, "when everything was easy? Light? You could wear what you want, be what you want. You never had to hurt like this."

Tyrus raised a finger.

"Hurt is a part of life. You cannot run away from it."

"Still sucks--and wipe that dam grin off your face."

Tyrus laughed. "I'm sorry. I just enjoy your company."

They walked on for a little while longer. The wind coursing, their clothes drifting up, their eyes fixed ahead.

"They try so hard," Nadaly said, shaking her head as they looked back at the others.

"They are of the earth. We are strong and proud."

Tyrus smiled.

"We'll be fine."

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

"You better start listening to that daughter of yours, Tyrus. Don't smile! Swear I know you too well. Might as well be married."

"Well, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. But look: I know that my daughter is the brains behind this entire thing. I'm listening."

Nadaly screwed her nose up at this. "Hope she never stops annoying you, Tyrus. She is the best of us."

"Of that, we can both agree."

He motioned for her to sit on the grass, to watch the stars. A hundred luminescence rolling across. Cascading across city skylines far and near.

"Look: all of everything. You can reach out and cup it in your hand. See?"

He did, and while the stars did not follow she laughed nevertheless.

"We have the future in our grasp."

Syla was beside him. Gone and then there. The fingers of her fake arm rubbing against her neck.

What dreams did she have, he wondered.

***

She lay in his arms as they watched the grass turn below them. Neither of them speaking. Watching the horizon groan.

Syla was watching him.

"What do you think is going to happen next?"

Tyrus closed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't know."