EYEHEARTZOMBIES

The light inside the tent made Jonas’ eyes water after the deepening darkness of the night outside. Must be done for the boy, he thought. Damned Lightspawn and their fear of the natural way. Eh, after the tales of the Dark Nights than his Gran had told him, he didn’t much fault them for it. Those were the nightmares and frights of children all through the Legion. Reason enough to stay inside, under the covers, with a lamp burning and a good book if you could. Pushing down an urge to look over his shoulder, to make sure no Dark Nights boogeyman was lurking behind him, Jonas stepped all the way into the tent. This one was taller than his own. He could stand up straight in it without his head brushing canvas. Two men sat at a small wooden table in the middle of the tent, flanking a much smaller man between them. That’ll be the boy, Jonas realized, still thinking of him as a child.

The tabletop was covered with candles, all burning brightly, spitting as they encountered unincorporated pockets of fat, adding a hissing sound to a room already filled with buzzing steam from a kettle on a small wood-burning stove in the back of the tent. The crackle of wood provided more than just noise and heat for the water; its molten glow added to the ambient light of the room, chasing persistent shadows out of the far back corners. An oil-burning lamp hung from the ceiling over the table, and two others sat on boxes near the front of the tent. The heat and the light were almost unbearable.

Jonas approached the table and cleared his throat. The young man looked up at him and his eyes widened. The boy had a small frame. His white skin seemed to grow paler, more translucent, as his green eyes widened at the sight of this gigantic black man standing before him. His mouth slowly opened an inch or two, and Jonas could hear the air pop and catch in his throat. “Don’t be worried, son, I’m no more trouble than the teddy bear you carried at your mother’s breast.” Jonas’ voice was low and deep. He hoped it would calm the boy.

The two guards both stood up and saluted Jonas. He returned it and they motioned to a fourth chair at the table. He pulled it out and sat down, his rear and back happy to be on something a little more firm than his canvas chair or sagging cot. He rested his elbows on the table and looked at the “spy”.

“So, I hear as you’ve been lost from the Light. That true?” The boy’s face quirked funny and he looked like he was about to cry. “What is it, boy? That not the true of the matter?” The boy still sat where he was, hands in his lap and his shoulders slumped. Either he was stupid or scared. Jonas’ voice took on a softer air. “Come on, son. We can’t help you if you don’t level with us. Where you kicked out? Did you do something wrong and get put out to be taken by the beasts?” He didn’t dare ask the question that was on all the minds of those in his camp that knew about the boy. Are you a spy? Did you come here to doom us? No, he didn’t dare ask that of this child before him.

The boy looked up, a slight fire in his eyes. Ah, some spirit after all, Jonas thought. The boy swallowed, then said, “No, I wasn’t kicked out. I’m not a criminal. I believe the Light as true as I follow the Light-Bringer.” His mouth closed with a slight snap and his eyes fell back to the flickering flames. “Could — could we get any more light in here. It’s still so dark.”

Jonas glanced at the two men, both wide-eyed with the idea of more light and more heat in this small space, especially with four bodies adding to the humidity. “Can you get by with how it is, son? I do believe we’d be might pressed to fit one more glowing lamp in this tent. Aside from the fact that I do believe we’d all pass right out from the heat and that wouldn’t get no talkin’ done, and that’s what we’re hear for.” The boy thought for a second, then nodded.

Lightning flashed outside, quickly followed by a clap of thunder. The boy jumped in his chair at the sound and shook for a few seconds. He’s never been out here before. Jonas realized just how scared the boy must be. He couldn’t imagine having to live in one of those Cities; it couldn’t be any better suddenly being outside of one. “It’s just thunder, it can’t hurt you.” That didn’t seem to help. Maybe get his mind off of where he is…or, rather, where he isn’t. “What’s your name, son?”

The boys eyes were still wide from the thunder, but his mouth seemed to work just fine. “By the grace of the Light, I’m Joseph DL429,” he said. DL429? What the hell was that? Jonas didn’t let his lack of understanding show, or did as best he could, at least.

“‘DL429,’ huh? How ’bout you tell us what that means?” He tried to smile and look as safe as he could, but he couldn’t read anything deeper than fear on the boy. The two guards both looked very interested in this bit of information, too. No one really knew much about the inner workings of the Cities, or even of the Republic as a whole. They kept people and secrets equally well.

“Well, the ‘DL’ is my job: Data Logistics. I make sure that news and other updates make sense. The government wants to make sure everyone understands everything. The only way people can be happy and productive is if they know and understand everything that goes on.”

“You make the news make sense, huh? OK, well, what’s the ‘429′ bit, then?” Jonas wasn’t sure he believed the “know and understand” bit, but maybe things were more transparent on the inside. He didn’t much care to find out firsthand, though.

“That’s where I live,” the boy continued. “I live on the fourth floor down, and the twenty-ninth ring out.”

“Can you draw, son? I’m not real good at coming up with these pictures in my head unless I see ‘em first hand or drawed out. Can you help me with that?” Jonas motioned to one of guards and the man got up and fetched a piece of yellowed paper and a thick, flat pencil from a small desk on the side of the room.

“I can try,” the boy said. He picked up the pencil and held it clenched in his fist like a dagger. He stabbed the tip down on the page and started to draw circles, each larger than the last. He drew thirty of them, total, then began to divide each into three sections. When he was finished, he put the pencil down on the table and stared at Jonas. “Does that help?”

Jonas slid the paper over to him and looked at it a bit more carefully. It was smudged in places from the boy’s hand and arm rubbing across the loose graphite, but he could get the idea of the ‘429′ location. “Why are the rings all divided? What does that mean, Joseph?”

The look on the boy’s face said only one thing: How do you not know this? He answered, though. “On most of the rings, the two large areas are dormitories. The smaller area is a public space, like for cafeterias or motion picture screens, or computers for playing games.” He waved his hands around to illustrate each concept, but the movements were lost on Jonas. So were many of the terms. Motion pictures? Computers playing games? He nodded, though, not wanting to appear stupid.

“And what about the other floors, Joseph? What’s on them?”

The boy looked confused for a second, then said, “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Haven’t you lived here all of your life?” The last question came out harder than Jonas had intended it, but it was out there already. He wished, not for the first time, that words came on strings that you could pull back into your mouth.

“I’ve never been on those floors,” the boy said. “I have no business there. And, yes, I have lived there all my life. Well, until yesterday, that is.” He dropped his gaze to the candles on the tabletop again and shuddered slightly.

“We won’t bring that up right yet, then, if it bothers you so.” He studied the boy over the flickering towers of wax and fire. He had dark hair to go with his green eyes. He was dressed in clothes from a Legion footlocker; his own had been too wet, muddy, and shredded to be worth anything as covering anymore. Jonas knew they had been taken to the camp doctor to be looked over and analyzed. There was absolutely nothing spectacular about the boy. Why would the Republic send him out? Maybe they didn’t, Jonas answered himself. He’d wait until the boy wanted to talk about it, though. No sense pressuring him and risking the chance of breaking him securing whether their future or their doom was in the mix.

“No, I don’t mind talking about it,” the boy said. His eyes had that fire in them again as he looked over the candles into Jonas’ eyes. “In fact, I want to.”