Fiona sang as she tended the hydroponic garden with Coralie. “Of thee I sing, O tyrant king, the boy who sought to soar…”
“What’s that you’re singing?” Coralie asked.
“Lucian’s latest song. It’s quite catchy.”
“I suppose if we’re doing extra chores under Varian’s new schedule, then we ought to have fun doing them. How does it go?”
Fiona sang the song for Coralie. “Nessa’s been singing it all the time. It’s really lifted her spirits. She’s made herself Lucian’s unofficial assistant and he’s teaching her how to write songs. She tells me she wants to grow up to write songs like him.”
“That’s funny, considering they’re the same age.”
“Nessa’s always been a bit immature for her age. But I find that endearing; I almost don’t want her to grow up.”
“That’s your mothering instinct talking. Have you ever thought about choosing one of the guys and having your own child?”
Fiona laughed, “Don’t be silly.”
Coralie frowned. “Why is it silly?”
“I’ve spent my whole life with everyone in this bunker. We know each other too well to become intimate with one another.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. We’ve only seen the sides others have chosen to share with us. People can surprise you, revealing aspects of themselves you never imagined.”
Fiona gave Coralie a quizzical look. “That doesn’t sound like something you pulled out of a book; it sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Coralie blushed.
Fiona’s eyes widened. “I’m right! You’re in a relationship, aren’t you?”
“Sort of. Early days; we’ll see where it goes.”
“Coralie, that’s fantastic. I always thought of you as a loner. I guess you were right about people having hidden sides. So, tell me about this special someone.”
Coralie smiled. “It’s someone who makes me feel safe… someone who makes me feel special. We speak honestly, openly. When we’re together, I feel like I can open up, and when we talk I know I’ll hear the truth, not what someone thinks I want to hear.”
“Protection, honesty, openness, communication… it sound like you lucked out. Who is he?”
Coralie glanced down. “It’s not exactly a he.”
Fiona’s eyes widened again.
Coralie looked up at her. “It’s Dax.”
“Dax?” Fiona frowned. “But she’s always so arrogant and aggressive –”
“Not really. Not once you get to know her. In fact, spending time with someone has improved my outlook and made me more cheerful. I’ll even sing with you while we work: “Of thee I sing, O tyrant king, the boy who sought to soar…”
Varian and Esme passed a couple of teens humming Lucian’s song as they walked through the bunker. “What is that annoying tune?” Varian asked Esme. “I’ve been hearing people humming it all day.”
Esme shrugged. “I don’t know. You could ask Blaine – he’s supposed to be keeping his ears open to what goes on, isn’t he?”
Varian nodded. “Find him and tell him I want to see him.” He saw Keiana heading to the library. “I need to have a word with Keiana right now.” Esme gave him a peck on the cheek and went off to look for Blaine. Varian entered the library. “I’d have thought you’d have read every book in here by now.”
Keiana looked up. “I have. But I enjoy reading, so…” She selected a book from the shelf.
“I need to speak to you.”
Keiana smiled. “This should be good. What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“Security. Aside from Destine, you’re the most learned person in the bunker. In order to brainstorm with someone, I first need to find someone with a brain.”
“What an awkward compliment. How like you, Varian.”
“Whatever you may think of me, I am in charge of the bunker now and protecting everyone is my responsibility. It occurs to me we now have four of us wandering about the outside world, assuming they still live.”
“Hopefully they do.”
“And if the environmental conditions are capable of supporting their lives, then others may live outside as well.”
“Quite possibly. It’s a large planet, I’m told.”
“What if these inhabitants, these plague survivors, are hostile? What if they learn of our existence, and even our location, from any of our four adventuresome friends and show up on our doorstep? Will we be prepared to defend ourselves?”
Keiana’s flippant demeanor changed to one of concern. “Our bunker may be a sprawling complex but it’s underground and thus effectively hidden. If there are any survivors on the surface, they wouldn’t know or suspect we were here.”
“Unless someone tells them. Corona, Kai, Covid, or Destine could encounter a survivor and casually mention the existence of a bunker stocked with survival supplies housing only children. It would make us a tempting target.”
Keiana came to a realization. “We need to formulate a defense plan.”
“You see, we do have something to discuss.”
“I’ll consider our options and then we can meet again. In the meantime, the titanium hatch should keep any outsiders from getting into the bunker.”
“Unless they come with drilling or blasting equipment. We have no idea what sort of technology or access to equipment such survivors might possess. Oh, don’t mention this to the others. We wouldn’t want to worry the young ones and there’s nothing they could do about it, anyway.”
“For once, I agree with you, Varian. We’ll talk again soon.” Before leaving the library, Keiana replaced the book she had selected and chose another one from a lower shelf: The Art of War by Sun Tzu.
In the social area, Dax and Ian each held a mug of fruit punch while singing cheerfully along with Tristan, who provided his guitar accompaniment (such as it was):
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.”
Blaine stood a few feet away, listening to the lyrics and slowly absorbing their meaning. “Blaine!” Tristan called out. “Come join us in some song, cheer, and reconstituted punch.”
Blaine walked over and poured himself a mug of fruit punch. “What are we singing?”
“My buddy Lucian’s new hit, The Tyrant King,” Tristan said. “You can learn the lyrics in no time.”
Blaine joined them, delighted to be included in a group activity. Ten minutes later, Esme stepped into the social area. “Blaine,” she called out from the entrance. “Varian’s looking for you.”
Blaine stood. “Sorry guys, I have to go.” He joined Esme as they headed to Varian’s room.
Varian, having left Keiana, was also en route to his room. As he passed others he heard them singing various bits of Lucian’s song. He stepped into his room and found Esme and Blaine waiting for him.
“You wanted to see me?” Blaine asked.
“What I want is for you to find out what this damn song is that everyone keeps humming or singing.”
“Oh,” Blaine said. “You must mean Lucian’s new song. It’s catching on with everyone.”
“You’ve heard it, then?”
“Just a few minutes ago. It’s pretty easy to learn. It’s called The Tyrant King.”
“And what exactly are these lyrics?”
“I don’t have it completely memorized yet, but it sort of goes like this:
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.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s it, unless I missed a verse.”
Varian turned livid. “Get me Arlo and Nico. Now!” The forcefulness in his tone sent Blaine scurrying from the room.
“What’s wrong?” Esme asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? That little troublemaker Lucian is trying to stir up the others against me.”
“Varian, it’s just a song. Let them have their fun. It’s meaningless.”
“Songs, slogans, chants… They’re more powerful than you think. That’s how it begins. They stir up discontent and dissent. What seems like an innocent song soon becomes a rallying cry. I’ll have to nip this in the bud.” He calmed down and caressed her face. “Go wait for me in your room. I’ll join you after I speak to my enforcers.” He kissed her and Esme left.
Blaine returned a few moments later with Arlo and Nico. “Thank you, Blaine. You may go.” When Blaine had shut the door behind him, Varian addressed the enforcers. “Lucian’s damn song is ringing in my ears. I’ve been hearing people sing it constantly all day. He’s trying to undermine my authority and I can’t allow that. I want you to teach him a lesson. I don’t want him writing any more songs directed at me. Take care of this immediately.”
Arlo and Nico nodded and left his room. A frustrated sigh escaped Varian’s lips. He hoped this would be the end of the matter yet he knew it was likely only the beginning.
Lucian heard the knock on his door. Nessa was early, he thought. He appreciated her enthusiasm for learning to write songs but he was discovering being her teacher cut into his time for songwriting. Nonetheless, he found he couldn’t refuse her innocent requests for lessons and he found the attention flattering. “Come in,” he called out.
Arlo and Nico entered his room and closed the door behind them.
“What do you want?” Lucian asked as they approached him.
The two larger boys towered over the 13-year-old. “Varian doesn’t like your new song.” Nico said. Arlo placed his hand over Lucian’s mouth. “You’ve said enough. It’s my turn to sing now. My song is Ten Little Indians. Arlo grasped Lucian’s forefinger. “Here’s the first Indian. I’m going to break each one of them until there are none. After that, I don’t think you’ll be writing any more songs.” Lucian struggled to break free but Arlo was too strong. He tried to scream but only a muffled sound escaped Arlo’s hand. One by one the sound of finger bones snapping and cracking reverberated through the room along with Lucian’s stifled cries. “And that was the last little Indian,” Arlo said. “And then there were none.”
Lucian had never felt such pain. As much as he struggled, he couldn’t free himself from Arlo’s grasp. He bit down on the hand covering his mouth.
“Ow,” Arlo said. “He’s still got some fight left in him.”
“I’ll fix that,” Nico said, slamming his fists into the smaller boy’s torso. “Hold him steady. He makes a good punching bag.” Arlo kept his hand over Lucian’s mouth and held him down while Nico rained blows down on him.
“Okay, he’s had enough,” Arlo said. “He’s stopped struggling.” Arlo removed his hand from Lucian’s mouth.
“He’s not singing now,” Nico said, chuckling.
Arlo placed his hand inches from Lucian’s mouth and nose. “He’s not breathing, either. I think he’s dead.”
“All I did was punch him.”
“Maybe you punctured his lung? See for yourself; he’s not breathing.” Blood trickled from Lucian’s lips. Arlo backed away.
“What do we do now?”
“Let’s go, quick.” They slipped out of Lucian’s room and raced away, leaving the boy lying on the bed.
Nessa knocked on Lucian’s door. “Lucian?” She pushed the door open and saw Lucien laying on the bed. “Lucian, it’s Nessa. You said you’d teach me about rhyme and meter tonight, remember?” She approached the bed. “Are you too tired tonight? You’re not sleeping already, are you?” She tapped his shoulder. “Lucian?” She noticed the blood dripping from his lips and realized he she couldn’t wake him. Nessa started trembling. She slowly backed away until she reached the doorway. She pivoted and ran to Fiona’s room screaming her name.