Corpses of War.

Dinner went faster than it normally did, and whether it was due to the fact that I couldn’t seem to properly hold my fork because of how my hands shook, or because my head had seemed to have forgotten the simple mechanics of eating, I excused myself from the table.

“Oliver,” my mother began, a frown settling across her lips as she watched me rise from across the table, “Where are you going?”

Where was I going?

“I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, Mum,” I answered with a mumble, picking up my plate and glass before making my way towards the sink. I couldn’t tell her about my dream; she’d think me mad. Hell, if I told anyone they would probably get someone from the Empire to take me away. Just the thought of all of this made me shutter, and apparently that was much more obvious than anticipated.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” My mother asked now, brow furrowed as a slightly worried tone crept into her voice. Having observed my outward shutter, she added, “Did you get a chill? Should I turn the fireplace back on?”

My plate and silverware clattered into the scuffed, white sink that appeared to have experienced just as many hardships as we had these past seven years. Gently, I set my glass on the counter beside the sink, and with my back still turned to my mother, I found myself replying with, “No, Mum, I’m alright. I just… I’ve got to go see some friends.” With that, I pushed away from the sink, walking briskly past my mother as if to indicate that there was some sort of emergency-like urgency involved.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was heading for the front door, and the words my mother sent after me were muffled over the rushing of blood that sounded in my ears as it began to pump through my veins at what felt like an extremely unnatural rate. As I arrived at the door, I found myself reaching for my shoes, which I tugged on and laced up sloppily before getting to my feet. Snatching my overcoat, I exited, unintentionally slamming the door behind me and almost catching my mother’s hand in the doorway in the process.

It was colder now than when I had arrived home, and it couldn’t have been more than three hours since then. A shiver found its way down the back of my shirt, causing my thin frame to shake in slight, but soon it subsided as the protection of my overcoat was applied, and I continued onward.

My head felt heavy upon my shoulders as the events that had taken place in my dream became what held most of my attention and became a retardant to my ability to walk effectively. The sky held its ever gray hue and it was then that I wondered if the color ever meant it was going to rain, because years ago that was what such a color tended to indicate. Rain was seemingly impossible to predict by just looking up at the clouds these days, and most were caught off guard and drenched before they would put together the pieces as to what was happening. When was the last time that it had rained, that the clouds had opened up and showered everything in sight? I couldn’t remember, and it didn’t appear that the grass could either. Most vegetation was brown and wilted, as if it had been burned from the inside out. Perhaps it had been; we would never know the truth.

Turning down Musgrave Road, it wasn’t long until I found myself running along Shirecliffe Road and through Busk Park. The grasses reached out for the hem of my pants but I rushed onward, hoping the cold feeling that was taking over my body was because of the nip in the air and not a dread that had somehow built inside of me. The park was incredibly still, hold for a quick breeze or two, and it wasn’t long before I started breathing heavily and it felt as if my lungs were clenching up in order to prevent air from getting into them. Now my own damned body was working against me. Reaching the rotary, I hunched over, hands on my knees as I whipped my head from side to side as if to make sure there were no cars coming. Some old habits die hard, I suppose.

Herries Road was just as abandoned as ever, and it wasn’t long before a wind began to pick up, causing ash to spin along the sides of the road like miniature dust storms. They did very little to deter me from the task at hand, and I pushed forward, shielding my eyes from the ash that tried to blind me in what seemed to be any way possible. The last time something like this had happened was when the rebellion had broken out, and whether it was nature or the Empire trying to stop what was about to take place was unclear.

Traveling down Herries Road seemed to take much longer than usual, and numerous times I had to stop in order to keep from being blown over or drowned in the whirlwind-like ash. I felt like I was going insane, having thought to have seen various figures walking towards me only to reach where they once stood to find nothing. Most of the trip consisted of trying to convince myself that I wasn’t going insane, even as I turned onto Barrie Crescent and reached Lee’s front door, knocking in a furious manner that I hadn’t realized I was using until he came to the door, eyes wide.

“Oli,” he gasped, holding a hand over his heart as if to make sure it was still beating, “You scared the hell out of me!”

“No time, Lee,” I mumbled, pushing past him and into the house, “We need to have a meeting.”

A look of shock crossed his face and he slowly closed the door. “A meeting? Now? Are you crazy? No one has had any notice.”

Pacing back and forth across the foyer, I knew he was right, but I couldn’t let that stop me now. Nodding a few times, I looked up from the floor to face him, sighing. “Lee, it’s urgent. I had a dream—” His face was beginning to change and give me a look as if I was insane. Maybe I was insane, but it was all too real; the key ring in my pants’ pocket reminded me that it was. “… The Shadow Moses was there…”

He was listening now. Drawing closer, his eyes were anxious, wide with terror and wonder. “Well? What did he say?”

“Something… Something about me being the Sleepwalker,” I began, fumbling over the words as they became heavy on my tongue. “He said his men would work with me—He said the Crooked Youth would become vital to this plan—his plan—I don’t know exactly what is going on…” There was a pause and I made a face of my own that expressed confusion. Rubbing the back of my neck, I added, “He also said the Fox would come for me.”

I had never seen Lee look so pale before, not even when he had been kept in bed for days due to the effect the ash had on him. “Oli,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly as he moved backwards to lean against the door for support. “Oli, that’s… that’s pure madness.” Blue eyes looked up to my face then, wide as if he had just remembered something terribly important. “… You haven’t told your mother, have you?”

“No, of course not,” I mumbled, sighing as my hand dropped back to my side and slid inside a pocket of my pants. “She’d think I was mad.”

“Yea, well she wouldn’t be the only one,” Lee answered, “Look, let’s… let’s call this meeting, but, I mean, I can’t guarantee many people will show up. It’s pretty short notice and all—”

“I know,” I replied in a hurried sort of manner, making my way for the kitchen as he called after me; whether it was to stop me or doing something else of the sort was unclear, and I continued forward until the house phone was in my hand. Dialing a number I had memorized years ago, it was a relief to hear a close friend of mine pick up on the other end.

“Hello, Fish residence.” Damned, I should have remembered that caller ID had been removed years ago.

“Pray for plagues,” I offered in a hurried manner, my words already being to trip and spill over each other. There was a deafening silence on the other end of the line that was then disrupted by various static and a nervous voice that didn’t sound too pleased with my greeting.

“... Pray for plagues,” came the ever familiar voice, but soon it was followed by an agitated tone that was to be expected for saying such a thing. “What are you doing? It’s a little late notice, don’t you think?”

“We need to meet,” I replied simply, shaking my head despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “It’s urgent.”

A sigh filled the receiver; I knew he was nodding. “Alright… Alright, I’ll call the others. We’ll meet you in thirty.” And with that, the line went dead.

Unintentionally slamming down the phone, I turned back to Lee who still looked like he had seen a ghost. Walking past him, I made my way for the foyer once again, realizing just now that I had been tracking ash and dirt through their house. Apologizing quietly, I looked over my shoulder to see my friend at my heels, shaking his head as if to already disagree with whatever I was to say.

“Oli, this isn’t a good idea. Even if Jordan is going to get people to come it’ll be—”

“Lee, we don’t have time to argue about what has already been done,” I said, opening the front door and turning myself to look at him. “Just tell me… Are you coming or not?” Either way I was going, and he knew that all too well.

Shifting uncomfortably, Lee nodded, reaching over for his overcoat and shoes, which he put on hurriedly before following me out the door. I was already down the front walkway by the time he caught up with me, and before I knew it we were both sprinting down Herries Road. My head was spinning and I couldn’t understand why it hadn’t stopped since I had woken up from my nap this afternoon… evening. God, what time was it? It was late, that much I knew, probably too late to call a meeting with such short notice, but I had faith in Jordan and all those concerned. As long as the main members attended then I was confident that the information was going to be passed on to those who were not in attendance.

Never before had I been so happy in my life to be on Penrith Road. Being on this road generally meant that I was heading to school, which was evidently the last place I wanted to be during my free time, but that was also the street where the old music club was located, which was where we met.

Where the Crooked Youth met.

It had been burned half to the ground at the beginning of the rebellion, but the sky opened up and a rain doused the fire and what remained was kept as a silent reminder. The building was charred and black, filled with random items new and old, which made us believe we weren’t the only ones who were often here. Upon entering, I was surprised to find a friend already waiting there, flipping through a small brown notebook he always had with him. An ashen gray beanie covered unkempt brown locks, and blue eyes flickered up to meet us upon our entrance. A smile flickered across his lips as he nodded in greeting, saying, “’Ey, you know you’re a nut fo’ callin’ ah meetin’ at an hour like this, yea?”

“So I’ve been told,” I replied, chuckling quietly as I pulled up a half charred chair to sit next to him. He looked tired, more tired than he normally did, and the circles under his eyes looked like they were weighing down the rest of his face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him without a cigarette in his hand, for these days he did very little besides go to school and smoke. Often times he would skip religious services to smoke, which would result in him getting dragged off to jail for the weekend, and as much as we wanted to, we couldn’t pay his bail. “I’ll get straight someday,” he would tell us, pointing towards the sky with a cigarette burning between his fingers, “Someday He and I will get straight.” We still wondered when that day was going to come.

As suspected, only a number of members showed up, most of which were close friends of mine that had been a part of this movement since the beginning. There were eight of us in attendance, and the meeting was likely to go quickly with such small numbers. Standing up, I was at what could have been seen as the head of the circle if one had to mark a starting point, and I raised my left hand. The words of “High five?” were quite evident against my pale skin in the dull lightening provided from the opening above; the tattoo’s dark ink stood out more than ever.

“Pray for plagues,” I said, looking out over those around me.

“That they may wipe out the Empire,” answered the remaining seven, raising their left hands as well. It was the typical opening to every meeting, something we used to identify another Crooked Youth with. When trying to determine if another person is a part of the Crooked Youth, it is custom to raise your left hand and say, “Pray for plagues.” If the other person is in fact a member, they will reply with the second part of the greeting while raising their left hand as well. I knew how all of this worked, down to the most obscure hand gestures and greetings, I mean, I was the founder of the group.

The Crooked Youth had been created in part as my support of the rebellion, however it wasn’t something the Empire seemed to take seriously. Our members included various members of society, from young teenagers to parents of all ages. We were strong in numbers; however most of our support as of late was limited to emotional rather than physical support.

The meeting progressed as usual, discussing things we considered taking action on, as well as sharing stories concerning happenings that were likely caused by the Empire to try and stir up the uneasy members of the population such as ourselves. After having explained my dream to those present, I found that most believed such an odd occurrence and Matt even said he had heard stories of the Sleepwalker, but would have never assumed that I was the one that was going to save our people.

Matt Nicholls was never one to believe in such folklore, and that caused me to wonder what had changed him since our last meeting. Perhaps he had spent more time reading than smoking, but that sounded very unlikely and I turned my thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“I think we need to focus on this Fox character. The Shadow Moses said that he was going to try and… exterminate me whenever I’m asleep,” I informed them, glancing to the side before back towards the anxious looking men before me, “I want some information about him and who he works for by our next meeting.”

“When is that?” Jordan Fish, the same Fish I had called early, had been quiet the entirety of the meeting, and it was only now that he spoke up. Those blue eyes of his were clouded with concern and a hint of worry, each of which I could understand. Meetings like this were illegal, and the Empire was sure that anyone caught at gatherings such as these were properly punished. Jordan was a good kid, generally spending his days helping his ill mother get around the house while his father worked throughout the day and got drunk throughout the night.

“It won’t be on such short notice next time. I promise,” I replied, forcing a small smile to cross my lips. Glancing back towards Lee, who sat idly to the right to me, I added, “Lee will mostly likely be making the calls so be sure you don’t miss picking up the phone.” Scanning the pitiful number of present members, I ended the meeting just as we had started: “Pray for plagues.”

“That they may wipe out the Empire.”