Dec 28 2008
Imperialism, Book One, Chapter Two (continued)
“Johnny!”
A cry split the air behind Johnny, and he whirled around, trying to not to think about his own safety. He turned just in time to see a man fall to the ground, a sword plunged horribly in his back. Behind him, the pale-faced man stood triumphantly, his right hand still extended in a throwing motion. All of the rebels gazed at the fallen man, no one caring about running any longer. The Imperials had stopped too, their eyes shift-ing nervously as they watched the rebels. The fallen man was lying facedown in the sand, but Johnny knew who it was without having to look.
“Dad…” he whispered softly.
The figure did not move, and neither did the sword in its back. The man’s right arm was thrust forward in a diagonal direction, the fingers of his hand curled slightly. The left arm was tucked underneath the body. His legs were bent awkwardly to the side, and a growing pool of blood seeped out from the figure’s belly. Johnny bit his lip to try and stop the flow of tears threatening to flee from his eyes, but the image of his dead fa-ther was still forever framed in his mind.
Taken from me…just like Yolen.
The bonds in Johnny’s mind broke, and the torrent of anger, fueled by desperation and sadness, urged him on. As he started forward, the rebels turned to fight as well. Time, which had momentarily slowed down, sped up once more, and Johnny rushed on, pulling the sword out from his father’s back as he ran. The bloodstained tip shined briefly, the falling sun casting its last rays upon the blade, and then the sword was buried in the flesh of an Imperial’s chest. Johnny pushed the sword in deeper, exerting all of his force behind it. Satisfied, he kicked the man away, pulling the blade out as he did so.
He cast his narrowed eyes about for the pale-faced man, and he caught sight of him, disappearing behind a row of Imperials. Johnny screamed an incoherent cry of rage, and he charged the second rank of soldiers, smashing into them with a vengeance. They were only privates, and they did not truly support this battle, and the government they represented had just killed Johnny’s brother and father. They never stood a chance.
The sword slashed through the air, and their half-hearted attempts to block it were pushed aside with ease. Deciding that they valued their life more than Imperialism, they dove aside, allowing Johnny to move on, his unceasing anger directed towards the pale-faced man.
“Johnny, no! Come back!”
Hans’s command was lost on Johnny’s ears. The only sound Johnny heard was an incessant buzzing, coupled with his father’s last cry, replayed over and over again in his head, driving him insanely onward.
Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.
The pale man retreated further back, running now, the look on his face quite evi-dently one of complete terror. As only a decent fighter, he knew he stood no chance against this boy, this epitome of everything he had come to fear about the commoners. When they had lost everything, they were unstoppable. And their losses, combined with their strange ability to strive forever towards a better future, led to riots, which led to re-bellions, and rebellions could not be allowed.
“Coward!” screamed Johnny. “You’re a coward!”
Lost from sight, the pale man crouched behind a wall of loyal Imperial soldiers. Johnny, breathing heavily, marched steadily closer, and the feet of the Imperials began to shake, began to quiver in fear.
But as Johnny drew closer, he felt a strong presence behind him, a presence that he knew to be Hans. Hans, though strong, had difficulty restraining Johnny and dragging him towards the midship. The boy was struggling with all his will against the older man’s grip, attempting to even bite his wrist.
“Johnny, remember our plan! Your father would want us to finish the plan!”
They were empty words, words that Hans, best friends with Johnny’s father, did not truly believe himself, but they were words of consolation and persuasion nonetheless, and that was what Hans needed. Finally, Hans reached the midship, and he tossed Johnny into its depths effortlessly. Most of the rebels were already crouching in the main room of the ship, drenched in sweat, tears, and blood. They did not know how they had gotten this far, how the shocked Imperials had allowed them to escape. They also did not know what would happen to the families left behind.
Hans wasted no time, helping the few stragglers up onto the ship and closing the doors, locking them securely. Admittedly, Johnny’s bout of anger had done a good job in creating a diversion. The Imperials on the beach were only now recovering from their stupor, rushing towards the midship like the angry but half-hearted demons they were. Johnny, sitting up resignedly, saw them through the scratched windows, watched them press up against the sides of the midship. He turned around to look for Hans, but the man had already started towards the piloting room, where two hapless Imperials sat waiting for their inevitable fate.
