The Hajarta

I

When the bell rang six times, Wishla knew it was time. He would be coming for her, and he would be bringing everyone.

Everyone.

She sipped her warm cup of tulip tea and listened to the din outside the door of their home. Jak would probably be at the moving station mindlessly zapping everyone’s Trimium bracelets to check them in for the day. Wishla was surprised the thousands and thousands of infra-red zaps to those beryllium infused bracelets hadn’t killed him yet. However, Jak was Jak and everyone knew that his bloodline had been cleansed since “The Change”

However, that story is for another time.

Wishla slid off the chair and landed on the ground deftly catching her mug before it slipped from her hands. She could feel the ground gently tremble as if it was caught out in the cold without a coat.

The door burst open and Gethsemane’s eyes were ablaze with fear and anger.

“Wishla?”

“I’m here.”

Gethsemane’s frantic eyes looked around and found Wishla struggling to slide her mug into the sink.

“It’s happening. He’s coming.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“Jak will be here. I’ll be fine”

Gethsemane’s eyes tightened, yet she knew Wishla was right. She would be fine. Wishla was always fine.

“Please?”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

With a quick bow, Gethsamane opened the door and stumbled into the whipping froth of the street folk scrambling to safety.

*****************************

Eleven years ago, “The Change” happened. When the last Papilio desmondi (Desmond's green-banded swallowtail butterfly) was torn to bits by a Pityocona xeropis (the Gelechiidae moth) “The Change” happened quicker than imagined. The two flying species co-habitation within this eco-system was a twisted doomsday idea. Two innocent winged insects from two different parts of the world ending up in the same place was remarkable enough. The effect they would have on each other would be catastrophic.

The eradication of Desmond’s butterfly triggered an unforeseen ripple effect. Trees died, water sources were choked with algae, and the very air became unnoticeably toxic. The symbiotic relationship the winged beauty had with society was unknown.

Until they were all gone.

A dark take on the Butterfly Effect to say the least.

So, people changed. Deformities in both the physical and mental sense tore through the street folk. Some worse than others. Death danced on many doors and took some to her home.

Scientists were confounded. It had been seventy-five years since the Great Pandemic of 2020, and now this was the newest challenge to face mankind. Weeks into “The Change” caused society to fall into a dismal state of disarray. New roles were formed, lives were changed, and people evolved. Again.

Life stood at the precipice of pure dystopia, yet it was held together by threads of hope and order.

Birsha changed that.

“The Change” guided him to form The Orabas, a gathering of like-minded folk who viewed “The Change” as an opportunity to satiate their new power-hungry souls.

The Orabas brushed the world’s palate with their hatred, chaos, and disorder. However, the street folk refused a totalitarian realm that “The Change” could have brought upon. The brilliant scientists created “The Cleanse”, a systematic way to cleanse one’s bloodlines of the toxic holocaust.

Jak drew the winning card in “The Choosing” and in time was the only human to be unaffected from “The Change”. He became a figure of hope to the people, yet his reserved demeanor kept his status under the radar.

Civil wars began as The Orabas pillaged their once own stores and killed their once own kin. Towns, cities, and regions were taken over. The Orabas grew and Bisha eventually gave them the moniker of “Asatru’s Legion”, an homage to the followers of the Nordic neo-pagan religion. However, the guiding belief of enjoying the world and taking advantage of everything surrounding oneself was thrown astray. Birsha focused on the pillaging and violent history of the Nordic people which was the antithesis of Asatru.

The street folk lived their lives with the smoldering cloud of fear looming over them. Yet, they lived. They remained safe.

Until Wishla found the locket.

II

The Hajarta was nothing more than a symbol. An artifact passed down from generations. It had seen three world wars, five pandemics, the first animatronic world leader and of course the cure for cancer. The heart-shaped locket was the size of the time telling piece that musician wore around his neck in the late 1900s. It bore nicks and scratches from around the world. It had fallen in the coldest ocean and burned in the hottest desert. It was won by kings and lost in Old West poker games. Throughout time, the Hajarta had lived a thousand lives and currently sat atop a shelf in Wishla and Jak’s home.

The curiosity shop held so many wonders, thought Wishla as she rummaged through a box. Then, as she moved aside a sleeve that housed a black circle that used to spin music, she saw it.

The heart was gold and emitted a low hum. Wishla picked it up with her hands and held it to her ear. The coral clasp opened on its own and the heart opened into two revealing a hollow inside.

That hum.

She bought it and brought it into her life.

*************************

Wishla could feel the rumble on the ground grow as The Orabas would surely be charging across the “Broken Field” on their steeds adorned in makeshift armour. They’d be armed with weapons crafted for one purpose, pure annihilation.

He would be in front.

Standing at burly six feet even, Birsha chewed on barbed wire to quell the raging inferno that wove through his mind, body and soul. “The Change” reconfigured his DNA in a horrific fashion transforming the once kind-hearted storyteller into a real-life Grim Reaper. Death followed him at will and today, as his horse trampled across the field of deadened grass, he could almost taste her blood.

The two embraced as the crowd cheered their betrothal. Birsha and Wishla defined love and making it official was merely a nod to the custom. He held court at the “Book Center” daily entertaining the children and street folk with his yarns. Wishla created her own business of producing “Food Packs” for those wishing to travel outside the confines of their community called “Temperance”.

For years, the two lived harmoniously, sharing the wonders of the world with one another. The day Tiblo called Wishla to his store was when the pendulum swayed.

Birsha’s fist met Wishla’s face when she entered Tiblo’s shop. “The Change” had already consumed him and violence coursed through his veins.

“YOU. ARE. MINE,” spat Birsha as Wishla’s world spun in a red haze. Birsha went after her again and the large burly man leafing through a rack of Platinum Age comics in the corner acted quickly. Jak was not a fighter, however his strength was uncanny as he whipped Birsha into the cabinet sending a myriad of knick-knacks flying. A quick exchange of fists and Birsha was knocked out, courtesy of a bronzed statuette of “Tinkerbell”, an animated movie character from long ago.

“Are you okay?” Jak held out his hand, and since then Wishla never let it go.

*****************************

Jak left his post as soon as the sixth bell was heard and quickly mapped out the quickest way to get home. The toller of the bells would have had to have a visual of the incoming threat to sound the sextet of chimes. So, that gave Jak at least twenty minutes depending on how fast they were coming.

He deftly maneuvered his way through the teeming crowds as he made it to their block. His eyes stayed forward refusing to get caught in the misery or fear of the street folk. He raced down the middle of the street as their building came into view.

Inside their home, Wishla was extraordinarily calm. Bisha was coming, and he was coming for her. He didn’t wasn’t enroute to try and rekindle the flame that once burned brighter than a thousand suns.

He simply wanted to end her.

The trembling on the ground grew as Wishla could only imagine how many men, women and children were riding with Bisha. With two hands, Wishla dragged over the step stool and maneuvered herself back onto the chair.

He would come.

They both would come.

A race to either save her or put her into the ground.

III

The skyline of the once bustling city came into view as Bisha spurred his horse. His army of “followers” had grown to well over a thousand and in minutes they would completely take over “Temperance”, leaving ashes in their wake. He gritted his teeth and the barb of wire cut deep into his cheek filled his mouth with the taste of copper.

The synapses in his mind fired connecting just one message in his thought pattern.

“I’m going to end her”.

*******************************

The door burst open and Jak put his hands on his knees gasping for air.

“Wishla? Wishla?”

“I’m here.”

She sat cross-legged on the chair and Jak gave a meek sigh.

“We need to hide you. He’s coming.”

“I know. I’m ready”

“It’s too soon”

“It’s fine. It will all be fine”

She smiled as the bangs of her pixie cut wisped across her eye. She was still as beautiful as the day he rescued her from Tiblo’s shop.

“You may be ready. But, I’m not.”

“It’s fine Jak. It’s fine”

“But, we’re so close!”

“Open your hand.”

Jak moved toward the table and put his hands on his sides.

“No, there’s got to be another way.”

“Jak, he’s bringing everyone here right now. He will look under every rug, peek in every cabinet until he finds me. This is what we decided. It will work.”

A tear dripped from the corner of his eye and he sighed again. He opened his hand and Wishla leapt from the chair into his open palm.

He walked over to the Hajarta which lay on the mantle over their fireplace. Undoing the coral clasp, it opened revealing a doll-house sized room inside. A bed, nightstand, three miniature chests and a chair cozy enough to fall asleep in.

“There’s enough food in there for three weeks, and enough water for a month. I will find you again.”

Wishla smiled as she leapt off Jak’s hand and climbed into the heart-shaped locket. It was surprisingly quite roomy for her considering she was only an inch tall.

“Go. He’s going to be here and will rip this place apart.”

Jak kissed his pinkie finger and gently touched Wishla cheek. She smiled, climbed in and nodded her head. The Hajarta was closed and the clasp shut. The clasp wavered for a moment and then disappeared leaving the Hajarta looking like nothing more than a keepsake.

IV

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Jak sat at the table as Bisha stood in the doorway. Blood was sprayed across his bare chest, his eyes were ablaze and the madman filled his gaze.

Beneath the table, Jak gripped the scythe keeping his eyes on Bisha. Outside the world was filled with screams and the crumbling of life itself.

“WHERE. IS. SHE?”

Bisha advanced and Jak whipped the scythe in a skilled overhand throw. The tip tore a hole in Bisha’s cheek letting fly a stream of crimson.

Bisha roared.

Jak sneered.

Inside the heart-shaped locket, Wishla sat in her chair and nibbled on a piece of dried meat.

All would be fine.

It had to.