Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (21 page)

Beaver let out a loud and unintelligible howl, as he began pushing and shoving his way onto a passing transport. He had to get on, regardless of personal injury. Far too many lives were at stake. He knew that he could not set his heart upon the hope of Bobble or anyone else, warning Morgan and the others. In his mind, he kept the thought pulsating that Bobble was already dead and he was the only one that could save them.

“
But how--
” Beaver vocalized as he took his seat on one of the transports.

Other passengers gave him odd glances at such an outburst. Coming back to his rational self, he wondered how he would get past all of the Acad-soldiers. They were certainly on a high mode of alert, ready to kill anyone who seemed out of place.

“Oh my--” Beaver whispered to himself.

If there was anyone who seemed
out of place
--it was him.

He had to do something quickly, before the stop in Stowelowly. One step off of the transport with the ghastly look he bore, would set off a thousand alarms if such existed. Looking all around in panic, he suddenly noticed the grime, caked on the transport floor. It was left behind from the Nobles and their unsanitary, pestilent jobs earlier that day. Realizing what he needed to do; Beaver closed his eyes, and held his breath for a moment.

For the Revilers
—he thought.

He suddenly crouched down, and began to wipe his hands upon the floor. He then ran them throughout his bright colored hair. He straitened and relaxed each and every curl and spike, to a look of sheer nastiness. Then he swathed his face and oversuit in the dank smelling filth. His purpled cheek was now blackened with grimy defilement. He had to greatly refrain from throwing up and contributing to the rotting scum on the floor. Some of the nearby patrons had looks of disgust come over them, while others clearly thought that he was insane. Swipe after swipe, Beaver converted himself from a foppish clown for the Academy to a lowly vagabond, with the smell to match.

As the transport warbled along with his new camouflage in tow, Beaver tried hard to think of the most logical modus operandi. The dugout and its washtub entrance was far from out of question. There was no more passage through the caves that could be performed, no matter where in the system he entered. There could already be literally thousands of troops, searching throughout the massive subterranean area. In this time of enormous weight upon Beaver’s heart, the only form of solace he could find is the electromagnet thingy
.

If an Acad-major had it to show Mercurial on the surface--they couldn’t be using it at the same time in the caves--
He logically deduced.

They probably don’t know what it’s even used for
—Beaver contemplated with slight release. This lingering idea in Beaver’s mind gave him hope of an early warning.

All of a sudden, he had a stark revelation.

The Shop!
--Beaver ravenously thought, as his eyes brightened.

Bobble sternly warned him of the risks involved in using the shop hov-vator, but he knew that it was his only chance of making it in time. However, with the Acad-guard on high alert and all their weaponized playthings activated--to make it there was not going to be easy.

Chapter 16:

As Stowelowly began to breach the gaze of Beaver2416, his heart began to flutter in great anxiety. Troops were literally everywhere, going in and out of every crumbling building. Each one had a dunner loaded, and fitted to side of their hammersack. They stood ready to eradicate anyone at a moment’s notice. Beaver was overwhelmed with fear by what he saw next, as they came closer to the trackstop. They were scanning everyone with large bio-tracers, which beamed an orange hue of light at every passing transport. This made Beaver even more afraid. These scanners immediately could tell who someone is and where they should be. The troops watching the small holo-porta would know that he belonged in Westbrooke, not Stowelowly regardless of any disguise he wore.

Suddenly, the thought reoccurred to him of Mercurial’s offer. He could forget about everything, and live out his days in luxury. “Does all this really matter?” Beaver thought with an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. This was a dichotomy of wills. On one hand there was the glory of self, to dwell in opulence and luscious gluttony. On the other there was selflessness, to deny himself for the good of others. That one single step off of the transport was seemingly a gateway between worlds. If he made that step, everything would radically change forever. If he didn’t, he would still have great change take place in his life. Regardless if he stepped or not, his action or lack thereof, meant that his fate was forever sealed.

The transport motioned ever closer to the orange light. Beaver’s breath and heartbeat quickened rapidly. Once he was scanned, either he would stay or quickly bolt, hoping for the best. Suddenly, the transport stopped and the beam started at the front. It slowly began scanning, moving toward Beaver. It was mere ticts before the troops would see his bio information on the holo-porta.

What am I going to do!?
--Beaver shouted in his mind.

Without warning, a person’s head appeared from a building near the track street.

“
You looking for me? Ha
!” the figure bellowed in a loud voice.

It was Bobble
!

Shouts and finger points from Acad-troops, reverberated throughout the atmosphere. The military faction suddenly scrambled and began filing into the building. The sound of dunner ammo whizzing by the rotting window filled the air. In the commotion, Beaver noticed as the orange light engulfed him, that the soldiers monitoring the holo-porta had looked away to see what was happening. In that moment he held his breath, and by faith--he suddenly made his fate’s choice.

With his head down, Beaver quickly stepped off of the immobile transport, and briskly began to hobble down the pathway towards the bazaar. He stepped hunched with a swagging gait, to appear diseased like most of the Humbles in Stowelowly. In all of the spans of deception and lies towards the Academy, this was his greatest role ever performed. With each foot placement, he felt as if it were a mid-ancient minefield, and he could meet his doom with any misstep. As he moved down the path, he suddenly heard the sound of the transport starting up again. He could only hold his breath, waiting for the sound of an alarm or a dunner’s blow to his back.

Did they notice me?--
Beaver thought with macabre.

For him to meet his end now, would mean that everything was in vain. After a few more wobbled steps and several ticts of agony, he slowly retracted knowing that for now he was safe. However, his few breath filled moments of safety were soon dashed as he caught a glimpse of the Bazaar before him.

The Bazaar was overrun with troops, mar-bots, and mechanized sentries scrutinizing anything unseemly. Beaver knew that merely a simple scan from a common door sentry would give away his deception. As he finally hobbled to the edge of the area of commerce, he noticed different Humbles traipsing by. They were going right past all of the troops and sentries, without a single regard for their lives. (A lot of them were too stupid to know any better) While he was crouched down next to a building trying to conceal himself, Beaver rapidly thought that he would rush forward and walk beside one of them. This action would be his shield from any sort of scanner. After a few moments of intensity, a group of three Humbles materialized with their arms interlocked in some sort of companion ritual. They slowly came closer to Beaver’s proximity. With an un-feeble bound, Beaver dashed to the side of one of them. He crouched down, and awkwardly walked in their rhythm trying not to reveal himself.

As they strutted around the promenade in front of the bazaar, the autonomous sentries kept scanning and authenticating the Humbles, and luckily Beaver was not one of them. His prostrated trick had worked! When they finally made the first turn, Beaver noticed several troops bartering and shopping, rather than keeping surveillance. This made him smile with a downhill ease, knowing that now he was more than halfway to the shop. Upon sight, Beaver was even more overjoyed realizing that the other side of the bazaar virtually unmonitored. His one step off of the transport that sealed his fate, was seemingly going to bear fruit.

Suddenly, the trio unlocked their arms and cast their gaze at Beaver. In ticts, with one sound, everything was going to be destroyed! This dusty pathway of pestilence was going to be the only marker of his wretched existence, unless he quickly did something. His heart seemingly accelerated to the point of incineration. In a frenzied panic, Beaver could only expeditiously blurt out what he knew they would understand.

“
I’ll give each of you One Hundred thousand GP--if you just shut up and keep walking towards that building.
” Beaver gave his stifled plea, pointing at the unkempt store. The anti-genius fellowship looked at each other in excitement. Then, they quickly relinked their arms and gleefully skipped again, this time in the direction of shop. Beaver almost fell over, as he dizzyingly felt his heart rate drop, then return to acceptability. As they turned the final corner, Beaver could clearly see the entryway of the shop before him. These last few steps were much more to him than a locomotion in dead space, they were movements of life itself and the salvation of so many innocents.

With the careful ease of a serpent, Beaver quickly followed with the trio into the shop. Surprisingly, the place seemed barren, void of anyone. The shop was apparently looted and ransacked of much of its wares by Acad-troops. It was left unkempt and dirty, without any regard for the missing shop owner. Now, well inside and out of sight of the windows, Beaver turned around and looked at the threesome directly for the first time. They were a pitiful lot, filled with chemical burns and cuts and bruises. They certainly had suffered much abuse from the hands of the Academy.

In spite of their pestilence, he noticed that each one of them had a weathered and pitted ring of metal on their left hand. Morgan had told him about such strange and unknown tokens, in their last meeting. He said that it was a “
symbol of holy matrimony- an institution created by God.”
Most undoubtedly, if the Academy knew that such customs still existed in New Judah and what they meant--everyone that had such adornments would be vapor.

“You’re all
married
—
aren’t you
?” Beaver said inquisitively.

The trio could only nod in affirmative, because they had the inability to speak; caused by spans of wicked exposure.

“
Do you have any children
?”

One of them slowly raised their discolored hand and lifted two of his knurled fingers.

Beaver could only drop his head in shame, knowing there were people who were in worse predicaments that himself.

Beaver suddenly thought--
if anyone deserved such a large sum, it was them
.
And if they could hold to a marriage and family in the face of overwhelming odds—they would unselfishly help others as well.

With small metascanners that were attached to their tattered clothing, they were eager to receive their reward. Each one slowly set their small data machines at one hundred thousand GP.

However, Beaver suddenly prevented them, with tears in his eyes.

“
No—one million. Help your people
.”

The trio were suddenly dumbstruck with emotion. Their faces suddenly wrinkled and turned with overwhelming feeling. They looked as if they wanted to cry and bellow, but the spans of bad chemistry prevented them. All of a sudden, one of them produced a single tear that slid down his disfigured cheek. The other two turned to look at him, as if they were claiming his tear as their own.

Beaver too had to choke back his own emotions, in the sight of such pain. He knew that without a word, this was probably the first time that other than among their own kind; anyone ever done something remotely nice for them.

The trio recomposed themselves after a few moments and then set their metascanners to one million GP.

They softly chimed as Beaver passed his right hand under the three of them.

Understandably, the trio became
very
giddy at such an astronomical sum.

“
Ok now--go away. Help your families--and everyone you can
.”--Beaver said with stern derogatory, still trying to hide himself—“
Remember… you never saw me
.”

The trio nodded in jubilation and ducked out the door quickly. Then they shuffled down the pathway arm in arm, back to the bazaar.

“
Who’s your friends
?” The shop owner stated, as he popped up out of hiding.

“
Don’t even ask
…” Beaver huffed, ducking behind the counter with him.

“
I need to use the Hov-vator
.” Beaver barked at the shop owner.

“
Are you crazy
?!” The Humble sentry bellowed with authority—“
With all these troops lurking around?! It would alert every single one of them! They’ve already been in here once today!
”

“
There’s no time for that now!
”--Beaver resonated, as he grabbed the owner’s tattered garb—“
They are in the caves! I have to warn them before they reach the complex
!”

“
Don’t you get it
?!
THEY WILL FIND YOU
!” The sentry squawked trying to reason with him.

“
Then so be it
…” Beaver sternly stated, peering a hole through the keeper’s eyes.

“
Ok--you want to die? It’s the Bubble-Up. Now--Go quickly
!” the Humble said with a quiver in his voice. He quickly arose from his position and walked around the counter, towards the exit. The Sentry then turned over the crude sign hanging by the door from
open
to
closed
.

“
May Jesus be with you
…” he whispered and then darted out the door.

Beaver took several deep breaths then leaped from his hiding place, and jetted towards the back of the shop. Stacked in front of an interior wall was a display of old metal advertising signs from the former time. They were weather-worn and had elaborate beverages etched into each one of them.

“
Bubble up?! Where’s the--Bubble up!
”—Beaver said to himself with a frenzied sound. Quickly, he found a pinkish sign with a bottle tilted on its side. It had the words
Bubble Up
printed on it, with a young female smiling about her purchase.

“
This is no time for smiling Ma’am
”--Bobble said as he took hold of the sign’s corner.

He then pulled on the advertising and the sound of a lock snapping open could be heard in front of him. Slowly, the wall retracted into the celling revealing a metal door.

“
Locked?! What!?
” Beaver said in anger as he furiously jiggled the small door handle. This one obstacle that stood before him, was what hindered him from completing his mission. He was determined that nothing was going to stop him.

“
HEATHEN!
” Beaver shouted as his heart rate rapidly increased.

With adrenaline-fueled strength, he punched a hole through a wire filled, safety glass pane on the door. His rage quickly calmed as he grabbed his bloody hand that now pulsed in great pain. He could only take deep, silent breaths with his lips pursed tightly; trying to calm himself without screaming out loud. After a few ticts, he then reached inside and quickly threw open, the once locked entryway.

As he entered the hov-vator, he could see the control panel in front of him. He scanned the controls, and rapidly found the button that he needed to press. However, he hesitated for a moment from pushing that Blue
descend
button.

“
Whatever that happens from this point on, is in your hands LORD … not mine
”--Beaver said out loud in a crude prayer—“
Keep me there.
”

He then closed his eyes, and shoved the button not knowing what awaited him below.

The door to the far gone laundry room, suddenly re-shut and locked, closing the wall of soft-drink merchandising with it. Then the entire room began to vibrate violently as the floor disengaged. All at once, the platform began to drop rapidly in seeming free-fall. Beaver could almost feel gravity leaving his body in the swift descent.