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Short story: The profet's son

Jayden went out of his way to appear confident and bossy. The convoy that accompanied him helped a little, but now that he was inside he understood that nothing had changed...

It was finally his time. Jayden Fireman had taken weeks to get a squadron of Protectors all to himself. Of course, he had been forced to give something to the stormtrooper in chief and bring along the pyromancer twins, but all in all he had got what he wanted: a small army. Serenity was exactly as he remembered it: a quiet and sweet corner, immersed in the pluvial vegetation that now haunted all the lands he had been able to rediscover. But what about the people? Were they really what they expected? At the sight of the sentry on the gate, he got a little knot in his throat. They could have resisted.

"Open the stockade now." Jayden yelled to the sentry.  "If you don’t play, no one will get hurt". Against all expectations, the sentry obeyed. They were really so stupid.

"Call me the Prophet and gather everyone near the totem pole." Jayden did everything to appear confident and authoritarian, evidently he was doing well. The convoy that accompanied him helped a little, but now that he was inside the walls he understood that nothing had changed: the Survivors, or Los Niños as they called themselves, showed no fighting spirit. After a few moments a man appeared to him, behind him a small crowd followed. He was not old, but his face was hollowed out and his hair was half bleached. He seemed aged early.

"Here you are at last, Prophet." Jayden smiled.

"Jayden, you are back." replied the Prophet.

"That’s it, but I’m not who I was anymore, Dad." Jayden’s voice shook slightly.  "Now, give us the gifted. We know they’re here." He’d get what he wanted, one way or another.

"Have you really fallen so low, Jayden? This is your people, your friends too. You won’t hurt them, I feel you don’t want it."

"Put me to the test." It was too late for sentimentality.  "I’ll repeat it once: where am I?"

"I am no longer among us, in a way." The Prophet looked enigmatic.  "This New World is more than a disaster, it is a prison. But they are the key."

"Let it be, old man." Jayden snapped his fingers and flames blazed all around.

[…]

After a few days there were few houses left to demolish and the gifted had not yet shown up.

"Damn, where are they?!" Jayden thought to himself. He was tapping his foot like a little boy.  It was then that, almost as he heard it, he was interrupted by the ringing voice of Zira, his second in command. That woman had the eyes of a panther, and she hadn’t figured out if it turned him on or scared him.

"Report, sir. The gifted have been spotted. Actually, they’ll be here any minute." Zira reported.

"Very well, let’s proceed. You know what to do." thundered Jayden.

The Protectors activated in unison, they had devised an extremely detailed plan in advance. They dressed survivors and prisoners in leather jackets before mixing with each other. 

"And get in a semicircle, it will be a sight not to be forgotten." Jayden stroked the assault bracelet and clicked the power button.  "We are ready to receive you."

[Photo © wallbase]

Autori Diventi Published on 11/12/2022
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