Pearseus: Schism

Joe

Cyrus glared at his father with furious, wide eyes. “How could you, Dad?” he shouted.

Joe shook his head. Cyrus was a good kid, but had no idea how life really worked. “You don’t understand. I did it for you. Everything’s gonna be alright now.”

Azam, Joe’s wife, stayed silent, knitting quietly in a corner.

“But it’s wrong! You taught me to tell right from wrong, remember? And I’m telling you: This. Is. Wrong.”

Joe felt the blood rush to his head, but before he could reply, Azam interrupted them.

“Cyrus, don’t talk to your father that way.” Cyrus threw them both a burning look before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Joe clenched his jaw, looking at the quivering frame. “Can you believe him?”

“He’s right, you know,” she said, without interrupting her knitting.

“Don’t tell me you’re taking his side now?”

“I’m taking no sides, dear. But he’s right. Croix has finally lost it. He never had all his marbles, but since Kibwe’s death, he’s gone off the deep end. Did you at least ask him what he’ll do with Lucas?”

“I’m sure nothing bad will happen to him,” he rasped, sliding his hands into his pockets. He coughed to clear his throat . “He’ll probably be released in a couple of days.”

She sighed. “Let’s hope so.” Putting her knitting needles down, she walked to him and drew her arms around him. “You should have let them stop Croix instead of encouraging him. I’m afraid this won’t end well.”

Before he had a chance to reply, they heard shouts coming from outside. Exchanging a frightened look, they ran out.  A group of Armbands trudged in the thick mud, hauling Walker. Heavy chains covered his wrists. An angry throng of onlookers had gathered to yell at them, ignoring the downpour. Joe stared at the sight in confusion. A loud bang startled him and sent people to run away, while Richard screamed at his captors. An Armband, a terrified boy with a gun, gaped on as two others punched Richard, again and again, until he collapsed in their arms. They dragged him away from the muddy street and the fleeing people returned. Joe noticed them lifting someone from a puddle and approached.

“Well, I hope you’re happy, attacking the officers like that –” he started, then his breath caught as he noticed it was Cyrus they were carrying.

“He tried to stop them from arresting Richard,” someone said.

The boy turned to look at his father and tried to speak, then spat blood. Joe’s face turned white and his legs buckled. He dropped to his knees, splashing mud around. Azam screamed behind him and hurtled to her son.

For a long time after they had all left, Joe stayed on the street, staring at the mud with unseeing eyes while the rain soaked him to the bone. Reaching an abrupt decision, he bolted to his feet and rushed towards the hospital.