Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (13 page)

The lock had a series of eight illuminated numbers. How they were still lit with an orange hue after all these years, was a great mystery to Beaver. Since he knew a mental tune and not the combination, he thought he should start in the middle with the tone of the
four
.

Higher
-- he thought as he pressed the six.

Obviously, it was correct because it changed colors from Pale Orange to Lime Green.

“
Ok … a little lower than the four
” he spoke out loud, as he pressed the three.

As the tone sounded, it too was correct.

“
Low … low
” he spoke as the one key was entered.

“
Correct!  Now two more… high… high
” he said in anticipation, as he pressed the eight key. However, his excitement quickly turned into grief as he could not remember the final note.

Ok … six, three, one, eight … was it higher or lower than four?
--He contemplated with intensity. It was merely one note away from the would-be end of his quest. He stared hard at the green illuminated numbers.

“
It would have to be different than what was already pressed … either two, five, or seven
”--Beaver vocalized, as he peered hard at the electronic lock. He believed that the correct one was the lower one, the two. However, Beaver greatly hesitated. If he was wrong, he was afraid that some sort of alarm would sound.

This was because of the mid-ancient home exhibit, he once saw in the Archive of Fact. It would sound an alarm, every time that someone would turn the brass door knob on the mock-up house and enter. Because of this, Beaver knew that the people of the former time had alarms on their buildings.
How many
was what he was most afraid of. And, if a building of such antiquity could have Orange and Green glowing numbers, it could also have an equally antiquated and working alarm system.

“
No turning back now
….” Beaver said to himself. He held his breath and closed his eyes, as he laid his finger against the numbered button two. He thought hard about the tune, that he had heard every decision day for spans. Suddenly, he let go of his breath and blurted out a resounding “
two!
” as he pressed the button.

His fears were swept away in an instance of calm, as he could hear the snap of the electronic lock opening. The two was changed to Green. With his crisis averted, Beaver serenely opened his eyes. He then, slowly turned the half-broken handle. The door creaked open, as he was entering forbidden territory. This was the first time that he was going to see the inside of James’s storehouse. As he walked inside, the mid-ancient door closer, quickly snapped the door shut behind him. From all of the Decision days James had been here, Beaver knew that it must be filled with a literal museum of junk. He would jokingly tell James how he would one day suffer injury from an avalanche of all his acquired swag. However, upon entry Beaver was quickly confused and filled with disbelief.

“
EMPTY!
” He shouted as he spun around the large entryway, looking for any nuance of Tim’s wares. Shaking his head, he quickly dashed from room to room. Like a mid-ancient police sting, he explored everything. He scanned every cabinet and closet. He furiously pulled on knobs and nails looking for something hidden. He moved faded pictures and dusty plaques, still hanging for life upon the yellowed walls.
There was nothing
--no residue or fragment of James Matthews and his many likes and dislikes to be found. Other than some mid-ancient medical supplies, the entire place had been thoroughly gutted.

“
WHAT?! NO! HOW CAN THIS BE?!
” He shouted in anger.

Beaver was
LIVID
!

The sight of this blighted shame sent him into a rage. These were his friend’s … his
only
friend’s things, and they had been shamefully stolen from him. This was to Beaver, a great dishonor and desecration towards his fallen companion. In his anger, he began throwing scraps of garbage, tossing rocks and fallen boards, and smashing pictures and windows. He had become like an insane lunatic, grasping anything that was in his path.

“
HEATHEN!
” he resonated with a primal scream.

He didn’t care if
all
the Academy had heard him. He wanted
revenge--
he wanted blood
!

Suddenly, there was the crunchy plink of broken glass behind him. Beaver quickly spun around to see a person, watching in another room. The figure was physically startled and began to run. Beaver sped towards this phantasm, like the rushing of a battle worn grav-tank upon the craggy wastelands. As he ran, the darkened figure began to materialize.
It was Bobble!

Trying to get away, the bum tripped upon the broken mess that Beaver left in his rage filled wake. He screamed in panic, as Beaver reached down and grabbed him by the throat. With a mighty heave, Beaver lifted him by the throat, high into the air and then slammed him against one of the wall’s faded pictures.

“
YOU WORTHLESS THIEF!!!
” Beaver screamed as he began to squeeze tighter.

“
Wh … wh … where … where’s yo … your frien … your friend?
” Bobble questioned in fear of losing his life.

With the inner pulsing of hatred, Beaver moved within millits of Bobble’s face and snarled with absolute sadism—

“
JAMES IS DEAD … AND SO ARE YOU!
”

Without warning, Bobble’s demeanor changed drastically as tears welled up in his eyes with intensity.

“
Matthew is DEAD?! No NO!
” Bobble throated in an accent that Beaver had never heard before. Beaver paused, as he tried to process what had just happened. Knowing deep down that Bobble’s tears were real, he abruptly loosed his grip.

“
I knew it! … I knew when you looked at me on the transport that something awful had happened! NO!
” Bobble breathlessly stated between sobs. His face was filled with tears, in so much that they began to drop to the filth below. Beaver too, began to choke back his sorrows as he observed this lowly man, grieving in the dust.

As he stood motionless, his thought processes fully returned. Beaver grabbed him by the clothes and picked him up close to his face.

“
Where did you hear that name?! Why did you say Matthew?!
” He said, still with an anger.

“
Matthew was his first name … James his last. He never corrected you, because he didn’t want you to know …
” Bobble meekly said, still crying.

“
Know about what?!
” Beaver growled.

“
He was so afraid of you--afraid of your workjob … afraid of your association with the Elites”--
Bobble said passionately, as his tears fell in waterfall-like profusion--
“he wanted to tell you a million times but just couldn’t … now--but now he’s dead!
” 

He was so distraught that he was unable to look at Beaver in the eyes.

“
You are not making sense!
” Beaver demanded, as he shook Bobble in frustration.

All of a sudden, Bobble wiped his eyes and slowly stopped crying. He then peered directly at Beaver2416. He sat for a several moments in contemplation, as if he were making a major decision. Beaver could only stand gazing with an awkward look, not knowing what was happening. With a seeming whoosh of air, he quickly stood to his feet, and grabbed Beaver’s hand.

“
Come … follow me. There is much to show you”--
Bobble pleaded, trying to lead him forward.

Beaver’s first instinct was to pull away, yet he paused from moving. After a few ticts had passed, he could only look in disbelief, as he found himself compelled to follow Bobble without regard.

Why am I doing this?
--He thought to himself. Yet, something unknown that was deep inside his heart could not let him separate.

He
HAD
to follow him.

“
Good … good--this way
.” Bobble quipped with a stutter.

He led him across the hallway to a crude mid-ancient bathroom. It had a chemically scratched and blackened tub, a crumbled toilet that had fallen on the floor, and a broken vanity with pieces of shattered mirror still affixed to the wall.

“
What you are about to see, you must never tell … even upon torture of death.”
Bobble spoke with a grave seriousness.

Beaver could only nod in affirmation, still languishing in a euphoria of difficulty.

Between the broken vanity and the downcast toilet was a small piece of wooden trim. Bobble pressed against it with his hand, and suddenly the bathroom door slammed shut and bolted from the inside. Then, the side of the tub slowly rose into the air, much like the mid-ancient
Murphy
bed on display at the Archive of Fact. Revealed to Beaver’s astonishment; there was an underground pathway below where the tub had rested.

“
Come … there is someone you need to meet.”
Bobble said, as he began his descent upon a crude ladder, into the darkness under the washing vessel.

Beaver took a deep breath, and followed with a great uneasiness; not knowing where this strange Humble from Stowelowly would lead him.

Chapter 10:

“
Hit the shovel
!” Bobble told Beaver2416 from the ground below. Half way down the rickety ladder, there was a shovel sticking out from the rock faced wall. Its spade was firmly wedged into the hard granite, and had a rope attached to the handle. Beaver pushed on the shovel’s handle, and suddenly the entire tunnel went dark as the stained tub retreated to its former position. As Beaver clung more tightly to the ladder in the darkness, he could hear in the distance the sound of the door above him unlocking and re-opening. After a few moments, the tunnel illuminated in rapid succession as mid-ancient light bulbs fired one at a time, traveling upward into the dank unknown.

“
You can come down now.
”--Bobble said with a snicker. Beaver cautiously loosened his grip and began the rest of his descent. As his feet reached the bottom, he looked around and realized that this was some sort of underground cave system, and not anything man-made. The incandescent lights seemingly danced upon the cascades of stalactites and stalagmites, as he stood in awe of nature’s creation.

“
They don’t make em’ like this anymore--aye
?” Bobble said in his strange, newly found accent. The aura of all the cave formations and their grandeur, kept Beaver from vocalizing anything. Then with a head shake, all at once he finally came to himself.

“
Why the disguise? I mean … your voice?
” Beaver inquisitively said.

“You’ll find out soon enough …
follow me
.” Bobble said with a smile.

The cave system and its grand expanse seemingly went on for an eternity. As they trudged through the dampness, Beaver noticed various relics of the former time, carefully preserved by the cave’s atmosphere. There were remnants of camp fires, crude tents riddled with holes, and many strange hand devices that had letters and numbers imprinted upon them.

“
That … that’s a truck
!” Beaver exclaimed, as he pointed at the partial wreckage of a mid-ancient delivery truck. It had a faded picture of children laughing and drinking extinct cow’s milk on the side. He suddenly remembered that he and Matthew had such vehicular devices in his childhood in the bunker, although they were much smaller and you had to push them.

“
Day Ree
?” Beaver slowly spoke in inquisition, with his head tilted to the side.

“
It says Dairy
!
Now, come along
! This
isn’t
a field trip!” Bobble barked, in a hurried anticipation as he kept walking far ahead.

Beaver quickly conformed to his command, desiring not to be lost in such a massive cave. However, he could not help himself but periodically stop and wonder at all of the artifacts of yesteryear that riddled the stony floor. Obviously to Beaver, it was the nuances of a former civilization that existed beyond the Academy’s grip. They were the markers and traits of another time. Perhaps, the cave was used in the Great Conflict as a hiding place, or for many spans after, he thought. Whatever timeframe they held, he could not tell.

With Bobble’s constant prodding, the duo walked a great distance away; far from the site of the crude ladder. To Beaver, they travelled throughout the cave system for what seemed like spans, until they came face to face with a craggy limestone wall. The smooth wall massive, seemingly without crack or seam to be found.

“Here we are!” Bobble said with relief.

Beaver, (still pondering upon what a
field trip
was) looked very confused.

“
Where? There’s nothing here!
” he spoke, looking at the dullness of the enormous limestone slab before him.

“
Good
… that’s what we want everyone to think.” Bobble quipped, as he reached his hand into his tattered clothing, revealing a hidden inner pocket. Suddenly, his hand reappeared clad with a small electronic device, attached to his fingers. Beaver was completely floored in disbelief! Bobble then, took his hand and rested it against the limestone wall.

“
Remember
… you tell
no one
, even on
torture of death
.” he spoke in a stern tone.

“
Agreed
…” Beaver said, in complete wonderment. Bobble then moved a small switch on top of the device with his free hand. The limestone wall before him began to rumble as a rounded outline began to form around his body. All at once, a bulk-headed robotic door began to swing open as he stepped backwards, with his hand still attached to the limestone. It revealed behind it, some sort of air-locked passageway.

“
Get inside
!” Bobble yelled, as he again flipped the switch and suddenly detached from the limestone wall. Almost immediately, the doorway began to reclose. The duo ran inside just in time, as the door resealed and locked.

“
Air way secured
”--a robotic voice echoed, inside of the chamber. 

“
What is this
?” Beaver demanded.

“It’s a surviving part of an old missile silo … built way before the Great Conflict. I think they called it
Atlas … whoever he was
. We added the limestone slab in front to hide everything about ten spans ago, after a couple of us invented this
magnetic locky thing
.” Bobble reluctantly told, with the strange device still on his fingers.

He knew that he couldn’t appease his child-like questioning and curiosity otherwise.

“
Us?
!” Beaver echoed.

“
Yes … us
. Now, press the
Red
button …” Bobble said, pointing at a crude control panel attached to the metal wall. Perturbed from his lack of answers, Beaver quickly slammed the red pushbutton. The floor started to quake and move violently.

“
Hold on to the rail
…” Bobble loudly stated, as the rattling increased.

Beaver had
no problem
obeying his command.

The floor unlocked from its positioning, and began to quickly rise up the ballistic tube. The greenish lights inside seemingly pulsated faster and faster as they traveled. The gravitational forces began to increase rapidly. With each passing tict, Beaver2416 started to lean towards a state of panic.

“
Are we going to get shot out!
?” Beaver cried as loud as he could, with a look of logical fear upon his face.

Bobble could not help but laugh uncontrollably.

Beaver suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment, as the floor started to slow in its assent. With a great puff of air, the locking mechanism engaged and they stopped moving.

“
Nope … I don’t guess so.
” Bobble stated, still snorting about Beaver’s child-like fear. After a few ticts, another doorway opened.

“
After you
…” Bobble said with an outstretched arm, like a door-andro greeting its customers.

“
Heathen
!” Beaver barked with a sour face, as he walked off the platform into the unknown before him. Bobble followed still giggling under his breath, as the doorway sealed shut behind him.

Within a few short steps inside the unknown area, Beaver was once again struck with wonderment. It was a large living domicile, much larger than anything in Westbrook or New Dresden. In the massive cave, the walls were struck with opulence, like the tinting of Mother of Pearl. There were enormous stalactites adorning the ceiling, filled with hues of red and purple. On the cave’s floor there were still the broken pieces where flowstone and stalagmites once existed, but were moved by men’s hands. By the level of noises, Beaver quickly estimated that at least a thousand people lived there. Or at least, the echoing that bounced upon each rocky formation gave the illusion of thousands.

The only word that Beaver could utter out loud was “
Amazing
.”

There was a massive food storage with enough to feed thousands right in front of him. It was just mere steps off the antiquated and retro-fitted hov-vator. There were also many workers tending to what looked like plants, with crude hand tools. Beaver marveled at how strangely each plant was set in rows, sticking into the tilled, rocky earth. Obviously, much of the blackened soil was brought here from another place. Or perhaps, engineered to be fertile from much trial and research.
How
and
where
boggled his sociopathic mind to its limits.

There were also many plants that Beaver knew by the pictures next to each row, were deemed extinct or poisonous according to the Archive of Fact. However, these fascinating rows of growing things looked much different—much more vibrant and inviting than that of the Archive’s catalogue.

Each one of the workers had a specific job—some were tilling, some watering, some planting, even some were harvesting. Nothing that the Academy had, resembled such antiquity in the growing of food. Throughout New Judah, nothing was ever grown in such a manner. Every sort of nutrition and sustenance thrust upon the people was made by androids in a chem-lab. Everything was synthesized from the rudimentary nuances of what once was. There was no
real
food to be found in the Academy lands. To see real food growing before his eyes was the euphoria of legends and dreams.

“That’s the
pantry
over there,” Bobble narrated, pointing at all the foodstuffs as he walked in the opposite direction, --“
Come this way
.”

As they went up the large hallway, there were several others that noticed and greeted Beaver with smiles, hand raises, and nods. Many, simply stopped everything they were doing to cast their friendly gaze upon Beaver. This too, was so amazing to him. No one working in New Judah, except for the Elites; ever stopped working for
any
reason. When the klaxon rang, you were to work, until the Elites or their superiors told you to stop. To see people stopping their labors, and not immediately being attacked by androids and Hachimen (like himself) was mind numbing to Beaver. He could only do the same, nodding to each one in return--with nervousness--not knowing what to expect next.

As they trotted together through the large domicile, Beaver noticed up ahead several large alcoves. They had people inside of them with whited coats, and strange masks over their faces. It looked like they were tending to the injured and infirmed. Each alcove was filled with steely colored tables and funny looking tools. It was all set up in a fashion that struck a memory of something he saw in the Archive of Fact.

“Is this called …
a hospital
?” Beaver sincerely inquired about the alcoves.

“
You could say tha
t …” Bobble voiced, without pausing in his stride up the hallway.

This too was fascinating to Beaver. There was no system of medical treatment in New Judah. Only the Elites had the privilege of treatment and recuperation in the face of sickness or disease. If you did not have such status in the Academy, any sickness was not an option for you. You had to work with sadistic perpetuation, regardless if you were nearing death itself. You had to eat whatever was set before you, no matter if you felt like vomiting. You were to salute the G.M., even if your arms were broken. To see common workers being bandaged, and young children receiving medicines gave Beaver an overwhelming feeling. What that feeling was—he did not know.

As they walked, the atmosphere seemingly morphed from the humanistic to the mechanical. The walled shelvers were overflowing with a vast inventory of the computerized and mechanized. There were robotic parts and other electronic miscellanea everywhere the eye could see. This large place where Bobble led was seemingly filled wall to wall, with all sorts of antique media and integrated circuitry. There were memory chips, mag-tape drives, circuit boards, and unidentifiable playthings scattered throughout. Gawking at the mountainous terrain of electronics before him; some of it looked to Beaver as if it were hundreds of spans old.

There were also what looked like rare and ancient artifacts lining the walls. Many of them were formed from crude materials such as woods, stones, animal skins, and earth. They were certainly from a time long before anything electrical. They were all neatly stacked into labeled bins and boxes, much like the mid-ancient hardware store exhibit at the Archive of Fact. Beaver could only wonder in awe-struck bewilderment, as to what civilization that could have been to produce such perplexity.

“James--
I mean
--Matthew would have
loved
this.” Beaver spoke as he looked at the massive collection.

“
He did
.” Bobble said as he finally stopped walking, right in front of a large pile of old motherboards.

“
This is it
…” Bobble interjected as he began to try to tidy himself, shaking the dust from his clothing. Beaver then knew, that whatever or whoever was around the heap of electronics must be important.