Since school has gone on spring break prematurely, I have had more time to work on the short story. Be sure to check out Part 1 before continuing your reading. I hope you enjoy a break from all the COVID-19 chaos!
Part VI: Destruction
We both wake up the next morning feeling hot and thirsty, so when my wife asks for lemonade, I depart quickly. On my way to the store, all I can think about is getting my order right: lemonade with 80% sugar and light ice. On the route back, the air feels strangely hotter than before. As my house nears, I start to have trouble breathing, my nose burning fiercely. Walking a short distance feels like running a marathon. The source of the bewildering heat becomes clear when I round the final turn, and without hesitation, I drop the beverages and sprint over, each step taking more effort than the last as my lungs rapidly fill with toxic fumes. Only my adrenaline keeps me going. Keep going. I’m almost there. The sight is much too bright to look at directly, even from several hundred meters away, but I already know what happened. I finally arrive, only to realize there is nothing I can do. This is no accident—only the Elite can afford the chemicals needed to produce this monstrosity of a fire. These people control nearly everything; I know a fire-extinguish drone would not come even if I called.
“Eleeaaannnoooooorrr…!”
Soon, my voice dies out as well. The heat begins to blister my raw skin even from such a far
distance. I know my beloved wife would have been incinerated before she even knew what was going on. In the end, the only object left standing amongst the black powdered wreckage is a small poster resting on a rusty stool.
“Do not even try. You will never beat us,” it reads.
The internal pain is a thousand times worse than when my face was disfigured. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. My heart is shredded to pieces; there is no remedy for my anguish. “There are not even any remains to bury,” I whimper. Soon, my overwhelming grief is replaced by anger toward the Elite. I swear from this moment on that I will avenge my wife’s death.
Part VII: The Mistake
Over the next few days, I begin to covertly contact others on my home planet, trying to explain to them my situation. I promise them that they will be able to escape inequality, should my mission be successful. Days and days pass by with no responses, leading to many sleepless nights. But I cannot blame the others—everyone is aware of the consequences of treason. Surprisingly, I am unbothered by the government’s rule, although they could easily kill me. They probably think I am too broken, lame, and weak to threaten them. Maybe if I show people that we have a chance, then I will gain support, I wonder. So, sheltered in my best friend Alex’s basement, I begin to secretly construct a powerful bomb which would have the ability to obliterate an entire government building. It was a difficult choice; many individuals who will be killed could be completely innocent, and I will probably be viewed as a “terrorist” through the eyes of the Elite. Yet, I also recognized that the sacrifices of a few could benefit the lives of many. In the end, I simply saw no other way of giving hope to my fellow low-class miners.
The last thing I want is to bring more people I care about into this mess, but eventually, I decide I must confront my best friend.
“I need to tell you something. Please just hear me out!” I tell Alex.
After I finish my speech about the need to cleanse the current corrupt and brutal government, he simply responds, “I’m sorry, but I can’t join this suicide mission.”
I plead with him again and again to join me, but to no avail. I thought that, out of everybody I asked, at least Alex, my best friend since childhood, would side with me. Instead, I receive the same response from him as everybody else. No. Exasperated, my instincts take over. Something inside me boils over and, before I know it, his neck is between my squeezing hands. I go from begging to accusation in a blink of an eye. “You! You are one of them!” I scream. Only after he falls unconscious, and stops struggling, does my rational sense come back. “Oh no! What… have I done?” I kneel by his limp, pale body, crying tears of shame. Eventually, his wife comes home and arrives at the scene. Words unneeded, she shoves me out of the house, the relationship between my best friend and I forever severed.
Part VIII: The Plan
With no family, no friends and no house, my life is the only thing left to risk. I know I am fighting against impossible odds, and with nobody willing to help me, my only option is mutual destruction, with the goal of weakening the Elite and blowing up their precious stone.
On my home planet, the Elite have two main buildings. As much as I would like to destroy the larger and more prominent structure, it is simply too well guarded. I decide to go for the smaller building, but I know that my rebellious act, however seemingly insignificant, would inspire many others to rise up. After scouring the available blueprints, it becomes apparent that my small bomb would do the most damage in the central control room. However, the room is in the middle of the building, meaning that I will need to break deep into the premise. My increased intellectual capacities working at their maximum, I figure out the ideal entrance point—the exhaust vent, where the shield is weakest. To the best of my ability, I also attempt to replicate the employees’ uniforms so that I can maintain my cover for as long as possible. After many days of preparation, I head out, knowing that this could be the day I die. All I can do is pray that my sacrifices will not be in vain.
Part IX: The Sacrifice
After breaking into one of the most secure buildings on my home planet, I do not stay hidden for long, as expected. In a few short minutes, I hear loud footsteps and shouting. Upon detection, the Elite guards split off, trying to flush me out of the building. As one heads in my direction, I finally catch a glimpse of what kind of power I am facing. At first glance, it is evidently not a regular guard; its protective armour is so thick it makes every movement robotic. The guard’s towering body seems much larger than the one who had visited me at my compound several weeks ago. Although its fists alone look as though they could punch a hole straight through me, this guard also displays intimidating weapons such as guns, blades, and other tranquilizers, most of which I had never even seen before. I try not to imagine what sort of damage these weapons could inflict on me.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, and I am almost certain that the guard can hear it. Instead of moving toward my target destination, I take one more peek at the terrorizing yet intriguing figure, but this time, I lock eyes with it. For my friends. For Eleanor.
With surprising speed, it sprints over while also calling the other guards for support. With each stride, it covers incredible distance, and soon it grabs hold of me, throwing my body to the floor as if I weighed nothing. In a last-ditch frantic effort, I wrestle my way out and scramble away using my superior agility. This time, my smaller size gives me the advantage. Miraculously, my backpack with the bomb is still hanging on my shoulders after the confrontation.
Exhausted, I finally reach the central control room. As I carefully take out and place my explosive down to maximize its destructive power, I feel a sizzling jolt of electricity pierce my back and I am quickly reeled away from my bomb. It feels as though each one of the cells in my body is boiling and ready to explode, though the cause is unknown to me. I scream out in pain, squirming and lashing like a trapped fish, desperately hoping to have my final revenge. A hard boot ruthlessly stomps down on my hand, crushing it effortlessly. The sounds of my bones cracking only amplify the Elite guard’s sadistic chuckle, as he swiftly takes away my bomb and diffuses it in seconds.
As the rest of the guards arrive, a faint smile emerges across my face. Finally, after countless painful sacrifices, I will experience a glorious moment of success—a moment of sweet revenge. With one last visit to my most cherished memories, the real bomb, still hidden in my bag, detonates.
Image source: 1
