Obliques

Light protrudes my sleepy eyelids. This boat has been sailing for days. And now it halts. I wake up groggily and watch the unknown bandit tie the boat up upon a rock. I observe the new world I’ve come across. Translucent sand shore leads to a green corral. In the distance there are chains of russet mountains hiding between mists. Immediately a handful of people approach us, one’s that look similar to the bandit I know. They jump and call off like hyenas. I take step back, making the boat rock sideways. They wear dark black and khaki polyesters with hoods and buckles and belts. The bandit collects his stolen goods and showcases them to the men.

The tall one pats him on the back, “Good, radio moderators. Just what we need.”

Suddenly, he shoots me a glare.

“Who’s that?” he motions his head my head.

The bandit explains, “She came on the boat with me. If I wasted another second, the Sentries would be on my trail. I had to go with it.”

I look down as they all eye me cautiously.

The tall one walks right up to me and pulls me off the boat.

“Name yourself!” he says aggressively.

Shock out of my wits, trying to process things, I stutter, “S-Sage.”

“What should we do with her?” one in the back calls.

I start to feel afraid of these strangers. Who are they and how are they here?

“She looks harmless,” another speaks.

“Yeah, but she could be a spy. I’ll take her to Werner.”

With that, he drags me up the shore and to the monotone concrete township.

“I’m not a spy,” I say, in my defense.

“That’s what a spy would say,” the short one grins sarcastically.

I frown at him, which only makes him grin some more.

“W-what is this place?” I ask, hoping one would answer.

I figure that if they haven’t killed me yet says something.

As we climb the rocky road, the tall one dragging me says, “You’re in Badok now.”

Bodok? I’ve never heard of this place. Though, I knew those mountains were what I saw in my memories.

We pass the concrete walls and enter the town. I look around me. The people are dressed in black, grey, and khaki dragged fabrics. They have weapons equipped on them. Most of them are hooded or have on a hat. Everyone is fit and well built. Their faces are indifferent as they roam around the dusty road. The walls are high. We then mount metal stairs.

“Werner,” the tall one says, “We have an intruder.”

A middle-aged man in a wheelchair looks up from his desk of writings. He puts down his glasses and looks at me carefully. The people in the office all look my way. He then chuckles lightly.

“Oh, but that is no intruder,” he says, “I could recognize those eyes anywhere.”

There is a pause in the air. I look at this strange old man. He wheels up to me with a larger than life smile.

“I knew you’d return.”