The Lifeless Light: A Tale from Dema

Chapter Eight: Once and For All

Approaching camp, I flipped the hood of my deep green jacket over my head to shroud my face. The fabric still smelled like campfire smoke from the night before—it sickened me. I ripped the strip of yellow off my chest. While everything within me wanted to throw it on the ground, I decided to cut it in two. Placing the tape on both of my shoulders, I reconfigured my identity.

The morning was thick with clouds of fog, serving in my favor. If I was discrete enough, I could skirt the edge of camp and, perhaps, come even closer. It was a risky plan at best, but if Brenton planned to label me a traitor, like I expected, the last thing he would foresee is a bold return.

All I needed to know was the outcome. The endgame. What was Brenton's spin?

The Banditos had already risen, calmly bustling around camp like before.

My heart accelerated with every step closer. Worry whirled through my mind. But as Tyler said to Joshua yesterday, "You need to stop worrying ... I stopped a long time ago."

And indeed, I had no choice but to overcome my fear for once. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I pulled a camo-print bandana from my coat pocket and wrapped it around the bottom-half of my face. There was no going back now.

"Josh!" a familiar voice cried. Brenton.

I spotted Joshua among a small gathering by a tent. "Brenton," he replied. "What's going on?"

"Tyler's gone," Brenton's voice wavered with feigned panic. "Clancy too. I checked their tents."

The surrounding banditos began to fret amongst themselves as they listened in.

"What? How?" Joshua questioned.

"He was a spy," Brenton accused me, "There's fresh horse tracks just outside of camp. Clancy must have led the Bishops here."

I heard gasps. The Banditos were now quite agitated.

Brenton's voice trailed low, "Our camp's been compromised, Josh."

Soon, a nervous crowd formed around the group leader and his advisor. Joshua's face dulled with uncertainty. His brow sunk into a serious, disturbed glare.

They all looked to him. The pressure must have been overwhelming.

"Everyone," he spoke out. "I need a word alone with Brenton."

Talk amongst the group bolstered as Joshua and Brenton took a few steps aside and turned their backs to discuss. I lowered my head as the crowd thickened, realizing I was now surrounded by banditos with no escape. What once served as a comfort within the city had become a grave fear, yet again.

I took slow, deep breaths, yet my heart wouldn't stop pounding. "You must remain calm, Clancy," I reassured myself.

Joshua turned around, his now fervent expression commanding the attention of all. He stood up on the nearest supply crate, gazing out upon the crowd.

"Banditos!" he shouted. "We are no longer safe here. The Bishops have taken our loved ones, our shelter, our safety..." he trailed off. "...And now my best friend."

He paused with eyes of grievance, which reflected in each of the Banditos'. I began to wonder if I had made the wrong choice by going back to camp instead of immediately returning to the city for Tyler.

Associating with the Banditos must be considered a high offense. After all the trouble he'd caused, the Bishops were surely running out of patience. My stomach sank.

"By sending a spy into our camp, they have crossed a line," Joshua continued. "I have always believed in pacifist measures ... but sometimes, circumstances raise the stakes and leave you no choice. If they're going to reduce one of our best men to ash, they will have to go through all of us!"

"Yea!" the crowd shouted back. 

"If they want war, then so be it!" Joshua exclaimed with an unexpected fiery passion.

The Banditos roared with cheers, as their leader raised a fist. They reflected his gesture, chanting "East is up!"

"Let us reject Vialism once and for all!"

Brenton planned this all along—an incentive for Joshua to declare war. He must have sent a message to the Bishops regarding the whereabouts of the camp, so they could recapture Tyler and instigate the Banditos. I dreaded to think I unknowingly aided in Brenton's underhanded scheme as an unexpected scape goat.

His words echoed in my head, "It will require eradicating everything corrupted by Vialism."

Tyler. If he was spared by the Bishops one last time, I feared Brenton himself would see to his demise ... but why?

I bided my time as the crowd dispersed, preparing for battle. This was my opportunity to exit without being noticed and flee back to Dema.

My gate matched the hastened state of the Banditos buzzing around me. I kept my head low and tried to suppress my panicked breathing. It was difficult to navigate the camp without a full range of vision. I became so worried about the Banditos recognizing me that I didn't pay attention to my surroundings.

I slammed into something smooth and cold. Jumping back in sudden anxiety, I raised the hood of my jacket enough to view the object—and who might have seen my mishap.

It was the car, scorched and filled with soot from last night's blaze. I gazed into the front compartment, where the door and seat were missing. The steering wheel was a charred, melted skeleton of what it was before.

I touched the hollow frame of the front window with a sudden jolt, as if the metal sent electricity into my fingertips. In an instant, it unleashed another fragment of my memory, flashing before my eyes. I could see, hear, and smell just a few brief seconds of the past, as I backed up in awe. 

When my focus returned to my surroundings, I quickly shook off my wonder—knowing that the others would soon question why I lingered around the car. Hurrying out of camp, my concerns eased and replaced my thoughts with an endless loop of my revelation by the car. It wasn't much, but it meant more to me than 1000 words could express. 

I remembered the road, just like Tyler mentioned before. It was old and cracked, with faded yellow stripes. I couldn't see anyone else in my view ... or did I? It's hard to tell when you're the one driving the car—gripping the steering wheel and going much faster than you should. With the window down, I felt the wind whipping at my neck.

The more I focused in on the few seconds I could recall, another figure crystalized in my peripheral of the scene. I saw their blurry reflection in the mirror facing the backseat.

I didn't have to see the details of his face to know.

I needed to find Tyler, for more reasons than I first thought. If he survived the wrath of the Bishops, I wanted to warn him of what was about to happen ... I wanted to know the truth about my past.

If I was going to fight for something, I needed to understand who's side I could be on.

============

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! War is coming ... but can Clancy do anything to stop it?

If you enjoyed this section, please hit the star button and feel free to leave a comment or suggestion before reading the next installment.