People of the Nykia

Chapter One: The Desert Soldiers

CHAPTER ONE

The Desert Soldiers

 

"‘A little while' my ass,”Majari muttered to herself five years later. She laid on her back staring at the polluted sky, letting her memories run rampant. Kamau rummaged through the trash behind her, humming a peppy tune. He trotted over, bending down to poke her forehead. Majari slapped his hand away before he could.

“What do you want?” she moaned.

“To be entertained. This camp isn't nearly as interesting as the last one,” he replied, lowering himself next to Majari.

Majari sighed. “Seek elsewhere. I'm busy.”

“With what, exactly?"

“I put this time aside especially for doing nothing, Kamau. Now if you would please leave and allow me to do so.”

Kamau ignored her, laying down next to her to stare at the clouds. Majari closed her eyes, pretending she was alone. She inhaled deeply, soaking in every bit of sun she could before it weakened in the face of winter. Faint chatter of her comrades drifted in the background. It was almost peaceful for a moment.

“The sky sure is ugly. I heard it used to be blue once,” Kamau stated, breaking the silence.

Majari lifted one eyelid to look at him, then closed it again. “You’re so gullible. It was probably just like this, but a little clearer.”

          “Lakes and oceans too,” he added.

“Oh yes,” she replied sarcastically, “and I suppose the trees were blue as well.”

Kamau smiled and shrugged. They sat in silence for a small while, content with the comfort of doing nothing. Majari glanced at Kamau. The first few weeks she had been introduced to the rest of the Askari, she was glued to his side, not talking or accepting food from anyone other than him.

“I must be pretty special, considering how you won't even bother interacting with anybody else,”Kamau had once said to her.

 “Don't flatter yourself. It is just that I don't trust any of the other criminals.”

Kamau had just laughed.

It had taken months to realize she really didn't want to be with anyone but those criminals.

After her first encounter with the Messmorem, there was no where else she could belong. Those marked by them- physically or psychologically, were scarred forever. Ever since her encounter, she was plagued constantly with nightmares that only those who experienced their horrors first-hand could understand. Forever seared with rage, fear, and, the most constant, hunger. Hunger for reward and for punishment, for revenge and release. Majari concluded that there was no escape these battling emotions. The only thing that ever made it better was surrounding herself by those who were equally affected. She turned to looked at Kamau, ever smiling due to the scars on his cheeks. Majari never knew his full story. Never needed to. Being a living mark  of the Messmorem’s cruelty was a sign enough of what he had gone through.

“Do you think birds get their own melodies stuck in their heads?”

“Oh my god, Kamau. I was having a peaceful moment.”

“I know,” he said turning to her, “which is why I just had to intervene at once.”

She punched him in the arm.“I hate you, you know that right?”

Kamau only winced, used to being punished by Majari for his antics.  “All the more reason to bother you more,” he bantered, arching his back before sitting up again. He shot out an arm to Majari. She took it, (in a reluctant manner, as she performed most acts) and pulled herself to her feet.

“We probably should get going anyways,” Kamau pointed out. “Otherwise, you-know-whom will have our asses for not being ready.”

Majari winced at the thought of work. “I would really appreciate you not volunteering us for every open assignment.”

“What else can we do? This ghost town is boring!” Kamau dragged on the last syllable as long as he could.

      “We could- oh, I don't know-not throw ourselves into life threatening situations,” she proposed, fully aware that this may lead to a tediously long debate that Kamau would bullshit his way through to win.

      “That’s exactly what our job description insures,” he stated, as if his sources were were completely reliable.

       “We’re part of a gang wanted in an anarchal nation. We don't have a job description.”

      “Well, if you want to get--”

       “Shut up, Kamau .”

       Kamau laughed (one of his favorite things to do next to smiling, correcting people, and inflicting chaos) and picked up the pace to a jog, then to a sprint.

      Why? Why are you running? Majari refused to speed up, her bones still weary from resting. She rolled her eyes at Kamau's distancing sillhouette. She knew this routine, and it ended the same way 80% of the time. She counted down in her head: Four, three, two...

    Kamau tripped on his own feet and face-planted, a cloud of dirt encasing his fallen body. The wanted Voodoo Doll in his natural habitat; a grace in battle, a clutz pretty much any other time. Majari boredly strolled over to his unmoving body. He lay dramatically on his back,one arm draped over his eyes. Majari nudged his cheek with her boot. One gray eye popped open on contact.

    Majari was unimpressed. “You're wasting time. Like you said, Boss-”

    “Yes, yes, I know what I said. But you didn't even ask if I was ok, and quite frankly that offends me,” he pouted.

     “I didn't need to ask.”

     “Because I'm so strong that I'd be ok no matter what?” Kamau battered his blond eyelashes.

     “Because you've face-planted so many times that I'm not sure if you even feel pain in your face anymore.” She raised her foot to kick him. He rolled to the side and bolted up before she could, retaliating with a comeback immediately. Majari ignored his rambling, her ears zoning in on the scattered voices of her comrades. They were getting closer to camp, closer to responsibility and tedious work.

       She focused ahead, where a cluster of dilapidated buildings lay. The few houses that were still in tact were small and plain. Bullet holes dotted every roof, as if the guns were fired from the sky. She and Kamau had theorized that it had been attacked by the Japanese in the Kaiyrin Wars, the nation's downfall. Majari was never taught the reason for these wars, only that when it ended, everything was destroyed and they had channeled all resources into winning. Their farmlands had been replaced by factories and military bases. Acid rain and poor soil finished off the rest of the crops. The countries to the north stopped all trade after the nations’ treaty to never go to war was broken.  “Even if the agreement hadn't been violated,” her father had once told her with stormy eyes, “no merchant would be so stupid as to come down here. Not any merchant that valued his life.”

        The rest was anarchy.

        “Whachya' thinking about?” Kamau leaned in, smiling and cocking his head like a bird.

        Majari kept walking, staring straight ahead. A grey sky loomed behind them.

        “Not anything, suppose," she replied, her voice stoic. “Nothing that matters, anyways.”