Prologue – The Story before the Story

I didn’t plan to write a prologue for this story, but that changed as I neared the end of the book. I felt some back story was needed. The entire book is written from a single POV—Jeremy. For the prologue, I wrote through Johinda’s POV.

Enjoy:


Johinda met the scrawny young man, Jeremy, a few days ago, although she noticed many people simply called him Jer. The practice of shortening people’s names struck her as odd and something people didn’t do at home—Dyra, the fourth world of the Designer. She didn’t actively seek Jeremy and his band of misfits, most of who were hardly more than boys, including Jeremy. They had found her and brought her to this hidden shelter.

She’d heard stories of Jeremy, which most people attributed to folklore. He fought against the Supremacy, the oppressive power that ruled New Paradise City, as did she, although for different reasons. Jeremy fought for liberty and justice, equality and freedom; Johinda fought for revenge. Jeremy fought strategically, waging a covert war, spreading truth and propaganda; Johinda fought impulsively, brutally killing members of the Supremacy, sending a message to the other members that hurt her. She muttered “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” a line Jeremy said to her when they first met. She believed he said such things to win people’s trust, as if trusting any of these wretched people of Earth were possible. If she could, she would burn them all.

The people had degenerated to little more than intelligent animals, unwilling or unable to control themselves. Many people slothed around in a drugged state, able to function, but suppressed of strong emotions. The one desire they all had in common was to stay in their state of feel good oblivion, a state meticulously planned and systematically executed on the citizens of New Paradise City. The Supremacy, on the other hand, differed. They ruled and appeared slaves to their wants and desires; to their hunger for control; to their unchecked, salacious lifestyles. She had been on Earth for five years and had witnessed nothing remotely comparable to the peaceful society she had left. Dyra was far from utopia, but it was nirvana compared to this cesspool.

Johinda believed she was sent to Earth as punishment. Why else would the Designer send her to this Hell?

“Have some, lady,” Jeremy handed her the sandwich, made from real bread. “It’s not from the city. We grow and make the food ourselves.”

This was only the second time Johinda had met with Jeremy. She nodded and accepted the sandwich, peanut butter and jelly. “Why s’ould ‘ha ma’yer?” Johinda spoke with an impediment, a result from the soldiers cutting off half her tongue. It was a form of humiliation and it worked. Johinda spoke very little. Slicing tongues was something New Paradise City soldiers did to whores that refused to work or worked poorly. She wasn’t one of their whores that exclusively serviced the Supremacy, as they had believed, but it seemed the physical body her energy slipped into was. She had damned the Designer for playing such a cruel joke.

“The city food and water is processed with the dope that keeps the citizens in a numbed state—malleable and controllable.” Jeremy eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t know this?”

“Wha oo you wan from me?” Johinda spoke slowly, struggling to make the more complex sounds.

“Will you walk with me?”

Something about the young man drew her in, something in his deep blue eyes that brightened whenever he looked at her. He didn’t fear her as his band of boys did. As they strolled across a field, Jeremy explained, “The doping began fifty years ago. Our government approved medicine for the good of the nation.” Jeremy glanced at Johinda, waiting for sign that she listened.

“I unhershand,” Johinda whispered. For the first time since the soldiers held her down and brutally sliced her tongue, she felt ashamed of the way she sounded. This tall, gangly boy made her feel more self-conscious of her speech, looks, and mannerisms than anytime she could remember. The soldiers had not stopped their brutality at her tongue. She quickly repressed the images of that event, not wanting to lose control of her emotions in front of Jeremy.

Jeremy eyed her as if recognizing Johinda’s internal struggle. He continued with a softer tone. “They worked to suppress the aggressive nature of a growing percentage of the population. The dope targeted the most aggressive emotions and suppressed them. It was hailed as one of mankind’s greatest achievements and for a short time achieved a sense of harmony within our society as well as societies around the world.”

“All gone now,” Johinda said.

“Yes. It took five years for the problems to start. People gradually developed immunity to the dope. Even those people who would never had acted upon their aggressive thoughts, began to lash out. They dope had been distributed in the water supply and affected most of the people. Not just here, but around the world. It seemed once people developed the immunity, they had no control over their aggressive nature. The government response to this was to develop stronger strains of dope to quell the rising violence. Of course, this worked for a short time, but the cycle repeated until the government could no longer manage. They knew they were only putting gauze on a gushing chest wound. The people of power hid while the rest of us exploded with unrestrained aggression. It took a generation for the effects of the dope to wear away. We devastated ourselves. That was thirty years ago. It seems that while in hiding, they perfected the dope, found the problems with it and fixed it. Now we have this Supremacy that tracks the millions of citizens and programs that control individual lives. They determine who will marry, who will have children and how many, who will work where, and who will die. They think themselves Gods.”

“A’ents of ‘he ‘ark,” Johinda whispered.

“Agents of the Dark? You know something that the rest of us don’t…I can feel it and I never doubt my feelings. I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re not from here and yet there’s nowhere else to come from.” Jeremy spoke in a steady tone that belied his youth. His eyes stayed focused on the distance as if contemplating life’s mysteries.

Johinda found him strange and intriguing. She opened her mouth to ask about his feelings when a sharp sound cut through the air like a sword swoosh, sending them both to their bellies on the field. Explosions roiled the earth and rang her ears. She looked at Jeremy who lay unmoving. She rolled him over. His chest rose and fell. She called to him. Jeremy fluttered open his eyes and smiled. He spoke to her and it took a moment to realize he spoke her native language. As he told her a fantastic story, she scanned the surroundings, knowing the soldiers would come soon. She felt incredibly vulnerable in the open. Then the things he said drew her attention. When she looked up again, a man approached, aiming a pistol at her. She stood, facing the man. She had become too complacent. She should have never come out in the open with Jeremy. A bullet slammed into her head before she heard the shot. She was dead before hitting the ground.