Crestfallen

Nightmare

Chapter Two

Nightmare

   Governor Stevedore doesn’t mind Zapp or the mother at all. He’s done with the show and it very well did entertain him. I can’t help myself looking at Zapp and his mother. What if I’m the one up there being punished? What will be the effect of this thing on me? In Zapp’s situation, what will be the effect on him after this, when all of us are just going to return to our own lives? Will he ever be the same again? Will his life be even normal?

The governor lowers his hand back in place and again turns his head to us. For a split of a second; our eyes meet. I feel a shiver through my body though it deadly hot even this time of the day. But then his eyes continue to travel around our group.

“I am telling you. As the governor of this city, I have every right to make decisions basing on what’s best for all of you. I will add this to the rulebook of the city and of the government, rule 158: no Churl will ever enter the Opulent again. You cannot deliver things there anymore. I will add more Sentinels at the Opulent and they will be the ones to dispense the product to an Affluent. Churls will only have to give the name and specific block and lot where the delivery shall be given. If so, you will be punished either by public humiliation or even worse; death. I will be going to the City Hall this afternoon to sign the papers and go make that rule validated. Have a wonderful day, people of the Ruins.”

He descends the stairs of the stage and enters his black limousine. It’s like nothing’s happened. The people then exit the Concourse. Of course, the Affluent try their best to have as much distance between us. It’s like we have some disease. It’s like all the Churls are culprits. It’s like all of us committed a crime.

I try to search for my brother, Jacob among the sea of people. I try to stretch my neck just to spot him, and I do. He’s not really hard to find. He’s skinny with pale skin, dark hair, black eyes; and a freckled face. He’s just thirteen years old. I’m five years older than him.

“Jacob!” I call him.

He quickly turns his head to me and sends me a smile. He runs to me and slips his hand in mine. I know that behind his smile, he just saw something probably hard to forget. I try my best to get off that topic. Maybe he will just cry late at night or he will just find it hard to sleep when I remind him about the thing that happened.

“Father didn’t come. The space beside his name at the attendance is blank,” I say.

He looks up at me as if the information I’m telling him is years old. “He told the Sentinels that he would stay home because of, you know.”

He doesn’t have to explain so I just nod.

We walk in silence on the way back to the Tumbledown. We just keep a straight face and ignore the Affluent people that are trying to say bad things about Churls like:

“They are all of them there are culprits!”

“All of them there are ratty and they find it hard to keep their hands in place.”

And: “They are all dirty and should not be allowed to exist.”

Well, all they say really dig holes in my ego as a Churl. What if I just can scream at their faces that not all of us are culprits? But they’re rich; we’re poor. They have the power to report us to the Sentinels and to the governor and we, Churls have none.

I tighten my grip on Jacob’s hand before I could slap or punch anyone from them. They don’t understand us. We don’t understand them. They are heartless. They are all of them are brainless. Just like the government: brainless.