Arlo and Nico strode through the bunker in an arrogant, imperious fashion. Nico shoved Tristan out of his path, knocking the younger boy to the floor.
“Hey!” Tristan cried. “What’s the idea?”
Nico shrugged. “You saw us coming. You should have gotten out of the way.”
Tristan frowned, looking up at the two husky boys. “Or, you could have walked around me.”
Nico turned to Arlo. “Did you hear something?”
Arlo shook his head. “Nah.”
Nico kicked Tristan in the stomach before the smaller boy could stand up.
“Oww!” Tristan doubled over in pain.
“Still can’t hear anything,” Arlo said.
Nico savagely kicked Tristan three more times, as the boy curled into a whimpering ball. “I thought I heard something but no one would be talking back to an enforcer, would they?”
Arlo ground his shoe into Tristan’s cheek. “Nah, no one would be that stupid.” Arlo and Nico continued strolling through the bunker. Fiona raced to Tristan, helping him sit up. “Are you all right?”
Dax joined them, as Tristan nodded. “He just knocked the wind out of me… and my ribs are sore.”
Fiona helped Tristan to his feet. “You need to stay clear of those two. They were always bullies but now they have free reign to do as they please.”
Dax eyed the two enforcers as they slipped into the classroom that had been unused since their teacher’s death. “Someone needs to have a word with them.”
Fiona looked at her. “They’re dangerous. They think they can do whatever they want.”
“Can’t they?” Tristan asked. “As long as Varian doesn’t stop them, they can.”
Dax clenched her jaw. “We’ll see about that.” She walked toward the classroom.
Inside the classroom, Coralie looked up when she saw the two larger boys enter. “What are you doing here? I came here to be alone.”
Arlo approached her. “You always want to be alone. You anti-social or something?”
“She’s a loner,” Nico said. “She doesn’t like people, do you Coralie?”
Arlo drew closer to Coralie. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you.” He brushed her hair with his fingers. “See, she likes me.”
“Go away,” Coralie said, turning aside.
Arlo pushed her against the wall and pressed his body against her. “Show Nico how much you like me. Give me a little kiss.”
Coralie felt his hot breath on her face and heard Nico’s raucous laughter in the background. She smelled Arlo's body odor and felt his lips touch hers, as his hands glided down her body. “Please, don’t,” Coralie sobbed.
The classroom door opened and Dax stepped inside. “Let her go, Arlo.”
Nico, standing nearer to the door, turned to her and grinned. “Looks like I’ve got one, too. Now we can both have fun.” He came toward her. “Get on your knees, Dax.”
As Nico neared her, Dax flung her leg upward, her foot catching Nico in the groin. Nico doubled over in pain, wearing a shocked and anguished expression. Dax grabbed his hair and smashed his head into the wall. Blood trickled from his forehead as he fell to the floor and curled into a fetal position. Dax stepped over his quivering form and gave him a more powerful kick to the groin. “That’s for Tristan.” Nico’s pained caterwauling reverberated throughout the room as Arlo and Coralie watched in astonishment. Dax knelt and whispered to Nico, “I’m on my knees and you’re right; this is fun.”
Arlo pushed Coralie aside and directed his attention to Dax. “Feisty, aren’t you? I never knew you were so frisky.” He took a step toward Dax as she rose to her feet. “You’ve got a bit of wild in you, like we do. That’s good, Dax. Real good. I like to play rough, too.” He took another step. “I bet you’ll be a lot of fun, after I tame you.” Arlo took another step toward her.
Dax picked up a student chair by its leg and smashed it against the wall. It shattered, leaving her holding only the splintered wooden leg, which she brandished in Arlo’s face. “Maybe. Or maybe I poke you in the eyes and impale your eyeballs on these long, sharp splinters of wood. How rough can you play?”
Arlo gulped, staring at the wooden slivers protruding from the chair leg.
“Touch Coralie again and I’ll show you how hard I can really play. Now take you friend and leave.”
Arlo sneered at her. “This isn’t over. We’re enforcers. You can’t do this.”
Dax stepped closer. “What are you going to do, complain to Varian? You do that. Run right to Varian and tell him his two tough enforcers just got their asses kicked by a pair of girls. The first thing Varian will do is find himself some new enforcers to replace you two losers. So go ahead. Tell him.” She stepped closer and scratched his cheek with the splintered chair leg, drawing a thin line of blood. “Or is it over now?”
Arlo gulped. “It’s over,” he said softly.
Dax leveled the splintered wood at his eye. “Before you go, I think you owe Coralie an apology.”
Arlo’s eyes focused on the sharp splinters. His lips trembled. “I’m sorry, Coralie.”
“You feel it, Arlo? That sense of terror, knowing someone holds the power to do something horrible to your body and you’re powerless to prevent it?” Dax inched the stick closer to his eye.
“Please, don’t,” Arlo whimpered.
“Now you know how Coralie felt.” She pulled it back. “Go. And take that slime Nico with you.”
Arlo didn’t hesitate at the opportunity to get away. He rushed to Nico and lifted him up, placing Nico’s arm over his shoulder and carrying him out of the classroom. Coralie was still trembling. Dax hugged her. “It’s all right. They won’t bother you again.”
“Thank you.” Coralie embraced her savior. “Why? I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I like you.”
Tears welled up in Coralie’s eyes. “I like you, too.”
“You’re still a loser.”
Coralie chuckled. “With a dumb name.”
Dax shrugged. “I could get used to it.”
Outside, Tristan and Fiona watched Arlo lug his injured companion down the hall. Tristan made sure Arlo saw him grinning as he stepped out of his way.
Fiona noticed Nessa sitting in the social area looking distraught. “What’s wrong, Nessa?”
Nessa gazed up with a forlorn look. “I’m hungry. I’m always hungry, lately.”
“Then go to the kitchen and…” Fiona saw Nessa shaking her head.
“I’ve used up my credits. I only have one a day and that doesn’t cover my meals.”
Fiona frowned. “Here, take mine.” She reached into her pocket and handed her several casino chips. “It’s not much after Varian deducted his fines but take it and get yourself something to eat.”
“What about you?” Nessa asked. “What if you get hungry?”
“I won’t. Now off you go.” She watched Nessa head to the kitchen.
Keiana approached Fiona. “I overheard you say you were fined.”
Fiona nodded. “All of Varian’s new fines and taxes don’t leave us with much more than the youngest kids.”
“I think that may be by design. Varian’s trying to subjugate the younger kids while shifting all the power to himself and his older followers. I’ll share my credits with you, since I get the same amount as they do.”
“I appreciate that. I’ve been trying to help Nessa and the other young ones but there’s only so much I can do.”
“Varian’s showing his true colors. We have to make everyone else see that.”
“How?” Fiona asked.
Keiana’s eyes fell on Lucian seated a few feet away. “I think I know a way.” She approached him. “How’s the songwriting coming along?”
Lucian looked up. “It’s not. Writer’s block. I can’t come up with the lyrics.”
Keiana nodded. “Historically, that was quite common among wannabee amateur writers. Of course, the professional writers – the real ones with skill, the masters of their craft – seldom had that problem.”
Lucian cocked his head, his interest piqued. “How so?”
“A true writer of songs or stories always has something important to say. Tales and fables have always been used to pass on a message to the masses, to spread the word. From Aesop and Uncle Remus to the lyricists who wrote country music, those writers never had trouble finding the words because they already had something they needed to say.”
Lucian’s eyes widened as if he were experiencing an epiphany. “Of course! Why didn’t I see that before?”
Keiana shrugged modestly. “I have read a lot more history and fiction than you. By the way, how’s your buddy Tristan?”
“He won’t be shooting hoops for a while. He’s still sore after the beating he took so he’s been resting in his room.”
“I heard what those thugs did to him. Poor Tristan. We all thought life with Varian in charge would be an improvement, but even little Nessa is walking around in a state of depression.”
“Yeah, things are worse with Varian in charge. You’re nineteen: you get seven credits a day. I only get one. And yesterday, Varian started charging me for paper.”
“That’s awful. It sounds unfair to me. Why would he do that? Unless…”
“Unless what?” Lucian asked.
“History’s filled with tales of men who rise to power and become tyrants. The masses must be rallied to overthrow a tyrannical ruler. Rebels used the printing press to spread their message of discontent through pamphlets, newspapers, stories, and… songs.” Lucian’s eyes lit up. “That’s why the tyrants had to silence the truth-tellers – destroy their printing presses or simply take away the paper supply.” Lucian’s eyes widened. “But try as they might, people always found a way to spread their message to the masses.” Keiana left that thought with Lucian as she returned to Fiona’s side.
“What were you two talking about?” Fiona asked.
“It wasn’t so much a conversation as a little bird tweeting in his ear.”
“Huh?”
“Lucian has a special gift and he can use it to stoke the flames of discontent. It won’t take people long to see how, in only a few days, Varian’s selfish thirst for power is making our lives worse.”
Fiona nodded. “Nessa’s been terribly depressed. She’s lost her sense of self-esteem ever since Varian declared only the older kids could have a say in matters that affect us all. She feels her thoughts and opinions no longer matter.”
“Under Varian, they don’t. He thinks the younger kids exist only to serve his needs. Varian believes the power he has should be used for his own gratification and not to protect the weaker or powerless among us.”
Fiona frowned. “He should never have been chosen as leader. He’s becoming more controlling every day. He no longer feels he needs to give reasons for his decisions. But there’s nothing we can do.”
“Stay positive. Smile more. And sing throughout the day. Lucian has written some fine songs; in fact, I believe he’ll soon have a new one that everyone will be singing.” A telling smile escaped Keiana’s lips.
Tristan knocked on Nessa’s door.
“Come in.”
He hobbled inside.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought you were Fiona. How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but otherwise okay. I was getting bored in my room.” He noticed a box of crayons atop some papers on her nightstand. “What’s that?”
Nessa reached for the papers and crumpled them up. “Nothing. I was making decorations to celebrate Covid and the others returning but it doesn’t matter. They’re not coming back.”
Tristan shrugged. “Well, they might.”
Nessa shook her head. “They’re probably all dead. I thought they’d come back and things would be better. But they’re not better, are they? They’re worse. You’re the most cheerful person in the bunker and look what happened to you.”
“I’m still cheerful. It’s just hard to see with the boot print on my face.” Tristan grinned, causing Nessa to smile. “You’re pretty when you smile. You should do it more often.”
“I haven’t had much to smile about lately.”
“I know what’ll cheer you up. Lucian told me he wrote a new song. Let’s grab the guitar from the social area and I’ll play it for you while Lucian sings.”
Nessa laughed. “You only know how to play four notes.”
“That’s okay. Lucian sings like a creaky door. But his songs are always good.”
Nessa laughed again. “All right. Let’s go.” A few minutes, later they joined Lucian in the social area.
Tristan held up the guitar. “We’re ready to debut your latest masterpiece.”
Lucian smirked. “Just don’t drown out my lyrics with your pitiful attempt at guitar playing. Better yet, wait until I finish each line before strumming your sour notes.”
“I’ll save my magnificent string plucking to accent each line.” Tristan struck a chord. “So what’s this one called?”
“The Tyrant King.” Lucian beamed. “It has a catchy beat. Listen:
Of thee I sing,
O tyrant king
the boy who sought to soar.
Promises to keep
made to all the sheep
lambs led to the slaughterhouse door.
The day will come, O tyrant king
And what a reckoning it shall bring
Your downfall has begun.
You lie, you cheat, you steal
with crooked friends you double-deal
all the while your people suffer.
You misuse your power
causing the people to sour
abusing their trust; making lives tougher.
The day will come, O tyrant king
And what a reckoning it shall bring
Your downfall has begun.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. “That's awesome!”
Hearing Lucian’s song lifted Nessa’s spirits. “Can you teach me to write songs?” she asked enthusiastically.
“Sure. We can start tonight if you want.”
“Sing it again,” Tristan said. “I want to memorize the lyrics.”
Lucian smiled. “Of thee I sing, O tyrant king…” The kids in the social area started gathering around him. By the third rendition they were joining in verse, their young, uneven voices singing:
The day will come, O tyrant king
And what a reckoning it shall bring
Your downfall has begun.”