JOHARI

The only strength I had left was holding my necklace together. One of the last pieces of Papa leaves marks of resistance on my hands, kissing every part of my calloused skin gasping for air. The harsh screams glue my eyes shut, and no matter how hard I fight it, the same memory plays in my head over and over again; Papa kisses me goodnight and asks me, “What do you think the world is made up of?” He smells like tears and decay, and his face is full of agony as if he knew something I didn’t. I smiled and said, “Papa, the world is just like you.” He fixes his face to smile and tucks me in, leaving the door cracked for only a stream of light to gleam into my room—one foot in front of the other, his loud thumps fade. I can hear faint whispers of his weeping. Time passes, and my room is filled with the calming screams of cicadas. I slowly shut my eyes and soon found myself embraced with a cold wind, left in the rain with his Heart-shaped locket trembling in my hands. Alone. Cold. Confused. That was four years ago.

My hands turn red and bleed, but I can’t feel the pain, just the emptiness that continues to fill me as I let go of the necklace while staring into the distance. The sun reminds me of him, and the sweat pushes me forward. I feel like I walk hundreds of kilometers a day, getting closer and closer to the end of the world. The sun burns my skin turning my back into copper.Papa left two things for me, his necklace and his journal. I’ve tried to read every page in detail. First things first, The world is not what I thought. It’s nothing like Papa. Screams fill the night, no one to trust, and every person I get close to turns into dust. I walk with sunglasses and a fully covered face protecting myself from what Papa calls, The Dredge. Mutants as small as sand swarming in the air with one job... to clear the earth. Mutants who first were created to clean diseased people and be a beacon of light are now being used to torture and work in the interest of TheResistence—clearing out the poor and spreading mutations of diseases that turn a friend into foe.

I’ve seen it happen. I only had one friend, Kofi. Before The Dredge, we did everything together; she was my everything. One day walking home from school, it began. I was skipping down the street with hopeful eyes. The streets were saturated by the light; the sidewalk was paved in front of us as we sang the song that always played on the radio “Surely I’m your baby, kiss me while we walk home, tell me tender love songs, love me all the way home.” Too young even to understand what we were singing. For some reason, we paused and realized the day had turned to night, and our singing masked the sound of faint screams in the distance. The Dredge was swarming and getting closer. Street lights flickered, and first Sam ran past us, then Marta, and soon the town was in chaos, escaping the unknown. Buzzing filled our ears, and what was summer turned into winter from one second to the other. Papa ran outside and told us to run. The sky filled with clouds and the first taste of rain hit my skin as we ran. Kofi, unable to tie her shoes, trips and gets tackled with swarms of dust turning bits and pieces of her hair into nothingness. Her eyes roll back and begin turning a color I will never forget. She forgets who I am and turns into a beastly thing, full of hatred, grey, and unable to mutter words, muted by foam and heavy breathing. She grew and became my nightmare.

Papa and I tried to save her, but she was consumed. I couldn’t even recognize her. The town was running, stampeding, and shaking the ground underneath us. The concrete began to crack, and the sound of hysteria filled my ears. In a blink of an eye, electricity is out, and Papa starts to tell me, “Do not be afraid; we are going to be fine. I know that this is scary, but (his heavy breathing and red eyes poke out of his head) listen to me. We do not have much time! You have to do exactly what I tell you. Do not trust anyone and do not leave this house without me.” That night he tucked me in, and that is the last memory I have of him.

The sun sets, and I throw myself to the floor, tired of walking, and the thought crosses my mind. “I’m tired of this existence.” I walk from a deserted town to another town, with fear at every Checkpoint. Majority of existing land has been divided into four factions. Atiena, Amne, Adea, and Asani. I live in neither, a nomad you could call me. Each land has certain qualities. Atiena is the affluent, the rich who have no reason to leave their compounds. They house the government and attempt to govern the other three lands.They are equipped with all that is needed to survive. So the lands set out to steal supplies, but the story goes, you can’t get in unless invited; even those who want to cannot leave unless they are banished. Amne is middle-class creatives who strive to keep the balance between money and happiness, but greed by a few party members has warped their principles as time has gone on. The Adea land is led by Kofi’s father, a Kenyan man who led our church before The Dredge. They are a group of people who thrive on community; there is no individualism, everything is shared. They live almost entirely harmoniously and only use natural remedies to aid the sick. Not that they have a choice, Atiena only has access to proper medication. And lastly is Asanii; they are the poorest faction. Asani is a land of hunter-gatherers and thieves. Their livelihood is based on the number of successful attempts to steal from the Affluent lands.

Steps away from the checkpoint I am met with bright lights piercing my pupils. The guards wrapped in black, red, and green suits sit in their watch towers increasing the lights brightness. Stunned, they stare for a moment as if they have been waiting for me.

“Hello, My name is Alyza Tedese and I am here to speak to Fredrick.”

The guards pause for a moment and intercom someone to come quickly.Their accents are so thick I could only hear every other word. I am met with stares from all four guards whose bodies are covered in thick spacemen like material. They seem timid to come down from their towers. Who I assume to be Frederick opens the gates with a clear shield protecting his head, and runs towards me, embracing me with tears welling in his eyes. He said “I thought you were dead!” He almost felt like my Papa. His scent was warm and welcoming, smelling of spices and cinnamon. I cannot believe he remembers me. He says “ I have been waiting for you, every single day. Your Papa told me you could help us.”

“Do you know what happened to my Papa?”

“ I am so sorry sweetheart. Your Father knew The Dredge was coming. He was actively working against TheResistance to stop it before it got rampant. TheResistance caught word and released it earlier than planned with your father as the first target. He ran to my house and told me Kofi had been consumed and that he had a feeling he was next. I was so distraught I couldn’t truly hear him. He cried with me for hours and told me that you would have a piece needed to stop TheResistance. I nodded but didn’t know how to process so he went home. That was the last time I saw him. I've been hoping you would one day come, and here you are.”

My body swells, and I feel heat traveling from my toes to my head. Every word I want to say is forgotten. My tears pour out with disappointment. I don't know why I thought he would be here. I look down to my chest and reach for my lockett and hand it to Fredrick. He smiles and tells me, "You have done a good thing; all three factions will finally be free."

I turn my body to him hopeful, but also unsure how this locket could hold any power.

"How can this necklace do anything? It is just scrap metal; how can this save us from this hypocritical world."

Frederick pulls open the locket and shakes it around. You could hear movement, maybe paper shifting between the grooves. He grabs a hammer and sits me down; and with an explosion of strength, he breaks it completely. Leaving no trace of what it was. He was saying goodbye to my Papa forever. Rubble and a small piece of paper are left. Frederick smiles, and the city gathers around us. Mothers are screaming and crying, babies are waking up from their slumber, and the feeling of relief cascades over us—a cure. My father wrote down all the ingredients to make the world immune. Fredrick calms the crowd and reminds us.

"We cannot be loud or boastful. We cannot tell a soul. This is a death sentence if TheResistance finds out we have this. The Dredge was created to destroy and hasn't run its course yet. So silence is our only friend. To stop it, we must start searching for ingredients tomorrow, get some rest. Salam"

The only sounds left are subdued cheering and footsteps to Hutts and homes. The routine night terror screams played distantly like a record, but the calmness was felt in the wind. My anxious heart wasn't ready to let go of Papa yet, but I know this is his legacy living through me.