The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (5 page)

The sterile, white car sat parked under a dim, orange light, just one amongst a scattered dozen of the identical vehicle in the underground parking structure. Seeing it was a relief to John, as his legs could scarcely carry him much further. The Monster was trying to get as much anguish out of him as possible. This was verified all the more in John’s thoughts, as his captor had chosen the furthest vehicle he could find from the elevator.

“It’s going to be a rough ride from here on out,” the Monster commented with his head held high. “No more fun and games for
you.”

Glaring down out of the corner of his eye, he gave a snide smirk of success as he witnessed John moaning and grimacing in pain.

With only three cars to go before he could finally get some rest, there arose a familiar voice that prompted the three of them to put a halt to their trek. The voice reverberated off of the concrete walls and ceilings, disguising the direction from which it
came.

“It’s about time you teach that boy a solid lesson,” said Mr. Sanders. “He’s been asking for a sound beating for quite some time, has he not?”

Turning back towards the elevator lobby, the Monster grasped John by the shirt collar keeping him from falling over. John’s mother smiled and said, “Hello, Mr. Sanders.”

Her eyes then cast upon John to whom she scowled and said, “Mr. Sanders is one of the finest men in the City. You could only wish to grow to be half the man he is. He’s given his whole life to the work we do here, never complaining, always busy.”

Mr. Sanders belched out a laugh, saying, “We are all great men when we work for the cause.”

Like the blind patriot that he was, the Monster took comfort in the words, and John could clearly see it written upon his face.

“Our boy has been caught performing some of the most heinous acts today,” the Monster said. “Would you believe that he’s been on the rooftops watching the Great Star rise and set?”

Mr. Sanders’ feet fidgeted in discomfort.

“You don’t say. On the rooftops, eh?” he asked, clearing his throat. “What, in Labor, could you be doing up there, son? You, um, shouldn’t be doing that. That’s not good. No, indeed.”

John caught a glimpse of the suspicious glance that shot from the Monster towards Mr. Sanders, but, it was obviously only meant to be seen by his mother. The odd lowering of his brow coupled with the peculiar squint was quite queer, as if he thought the old man was acting strangely.

The Monster spoke, “We’ve had enough of his rebelliousness. We’ve tried our best. But, he’s going to the Academy today where he’ll be straightened out for good.”

By the puzzled expression that Mr. Sanders face was exhibiting, John was unable to discern the meaning of the bizarre communication transpiring among the adults. He had never actually seen them talking together in the past, nor had he ever seen them interact in any manner other than dropping passing salutations to one another. They were at odds with each other, yet they were
not.

“Oh, my,” Mr. Sanders said. “The Academy! You have been bad. Yes, indeed. Very bad, I must say.”

Gesturing with his hand to the Monster to step a little closer, Mr. Sanders took him by the arm, moving the man a few feet away from John and his mother. Huddling together, the two of them began to discourse in mumbles and whispers.

The audible murmurings taking place between them were mostly of a softer nature, but it was intermingled with several moments of course verbal encountering. Unable to comprehend any of their words, John could see that the conversation flowed back and forth equally between the two participants.

The old man’s hand gestures were subtle, refusing to give away any hints as to their topic of discussion. Suddenly the Monster burst out in laughter, patting his elder on the back. They both turned to John.

As he approached with a smile, Mr. Sanders said, “Come with me, son. I want to talk with you for a moment.”

Placing an arm around the young man, as if he were an old friend, Mr. Sanders led him back down the path from which he had come. Out of sight from his parents, he had brought the suffering boy back into the elevator hall.

A cloudy and disorienting effect was beginning to settle within John’s head as the pain began to wear deeper into his body. Feeling the weight of Mr. Sanders’ arm pressing upon his shoulder caused his stomach to churn. The old man, recognizing John’s frail condition, assisted him as best he could as he moved them towards the elevator’s retinal scanner. Looking back, making sure they were not being followed, Mr. Sanders peered into the security lenses.

It took a few minutes, but in a moment the door opened and John’s elder, anxiously looking over his shoulder, ushered John in to the elevator car. Nervously pressing the button to get the elevator moving to the top floor, Mr. Sanders began to grumble and curse under his breath as the doors refused to shut and the Monster’s voice, inquiring from around the corner, resounded with concern and distrust.

“Is everything alright Mr. Sanders?” the Monster called out.

The old man’s head protruded out of the threshold of the elevator, saying, “We’re doing fine. I’m just about finished talking with him.”

His shaking, wrinkled finger tapped upon the button once again, but there was no response. The doors continued to remain wide open.

With a frantic look in his eye, he pressed it several more times. But still the doors would not close.

“Alright, Mr. Sanders,” the Monster said with an obvious irritation in his voice, “we need to be leaving now.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Sanders,” John’s mother called out. “But we really must be going. It’s getting quite late.”

The brisk hustle of footsteps from within the garage began with a tone that meant business. Mr. Sanders moved John further back into the elevator, as if to shield him from an approaching storm. By the increased volume of the tapping of the shoes it appeared that his parents would be rounding the corner at any moment. The old man closed his eyes and began to speak in an eerie whisper to someone, yet no one else, besides he and John, was present. By the expression on his face and the tremble in his voice, it appeared that he was pleading for help. Unable to control his legs, John held on to the familiar, cold railing and slid to the floor.

The voice of the Monster was beginning to rise just beyond the entrance to the lobby when the vibration of the doors and the humming of the motors began. At the moment of the first motion towards closure, the Monster’s shadow became clearly visible, stretching forth with a ghastly display of elongated limbs protruding off of a thin trunk. The footsteps were now just within reach of the elevator car and closing in fast. The doors finally met, sealing the two parties one from another. Opening his eyes with a sigh of relief, Mr. Sanders looked down upon the broken young man, sickly and limp, at his feet.

“Okay, my little friend,” he said. “There’s no turning back now.”

With a pious lifting of the head, facing upward towards a sky of which he could not see, Mr. Sanders closed his eyes and said, “Yes, my dear, today I’ll be coming home.”

The screeching sound of the elevator doors opening from down the hall brought Sofia to an unnerving attention. Standing up and listening intently, she could make out the sounds as of an animal panting and struggling, which was fast approaching.

“Sofia,” came a soft, but strained, whisper.

Cautiously moving to the door, she pressed her ear firmly upon it, discerning the distinct groaning just outside.

“Sofia, open the door, it’s me,” the whisperer repeated.

Hesitating for a moment and thinking that, perhaps, maybe it was a trap, she refrained, not even daring to peer through the peephole for fear that the dimming light that was passing through it would give away the fact that she was actually inside.

“Sofia, please hurry. There isn’t much time,” the unfamiliar voice spoke with urgency.

With a trembling lip she closed her eyes, knowing that the Monster could be standing on the other side. Her mind began to wander as if she had lost control of her thoughts. Hovering above what appeared to be her body, she could see herself sitting upon the edge of a building, feet dangling above the streets below. The light of the Savior was caressing her face. And, although she was merely a spectator in this vision, there was a soothing blanket of heat passing through her on its journey towards her likeness. As a queer calmness began to grow deep within her, she settled her heart to accept whatever the consequences of opening the door
were.

The lock’s bolt was cold to the touch. As she began to turn it, Sofia heard a distinct thud. Something heavy had fallen to the floor just outside. She placed a firm grip on the dial, turning it clockwise. The door suddenly opened. Stepping back and nearly losing her balance, Mr. Sanders fell into the apartment, stumbling over John’s body and catching his arm on Sofia’s shoulder.

“What took you so long?” he asked, irritably out of breath.

“I wasn’t sure if…” she began to say.

But her eyes fell upon the horror of John, nearly limp and dripping with blood from his head. Sofia instinctively let the black box drop from her hands. Falling to her knees beside him, she took hold of her dear friend.

“Oh, John,” she cried, looking franticly to the old man. “What happened to him? What are we going to do?”

“We haven’t much time,” Mr. Sanders said, trying to catch his breath. “They’re right behind us.”

Gesturing with his hands to Sofia, he continued, “Quickly, pick up the box and help me move him to the fire escape. We need to get to a transporter and get out of here!”

With the virtual dead weight of John upon their shoulders, Sofia and Mr. Sanders stumbled awkwardly down the hall. With one of his arms dangling around each of their necks, the two of them were able to assist him by taking up just enough of John’s body mass so as to allow him to keep up a steady motion. The fire escape ahead was their only hope for making a getaway. They determined to press forward, knowing that there was not much time before the Monster would be catching up.

The screaming of the alarm tore through the hallway, drowning out all the ambient sounds of the City outside as they opened the apartment’s emergency retreat. Sofia’s eyes dripped with tears as the shrill sound cut into her ears, creating a tension throughout the muscles of her skull that throbbed and burned. Easing John through the threshold, she and Mr. Sanders worked together to make the transition as smooth as possible despite their worn and weak legs. As they proceeded to descend the skeletal frame of the fire escape, maintaining their balance with each step required an intensely focused concentration on their part.

Spotting a single, white vehicle parked at the end of the alleyway below, Mr. Sanders, wheezing and coughing, motioned with his eyes to Sofia that reaching it was now their primary objective.

“That one over there,” he yelled, his voice barely audible above the wailing alarms. “Come on, we can do it. Just a little further.”

Sofia’s spirit was beginning to feel the crushing blow of defeat. The numbness of her torso and extremities were assaulting her from every angle. Although she wanted to give in to the desire of her body, which pressed her to lie down and give up, she turned her back to such foolishness, closing the thought behind her veiling curtain of devotion to John.

Afraid to look back for fear that the Monster would be standing directly behind her, Sofia kept telling herself that everything would soon be over. The several flights of stairs from which they had already descended were an incredibly conquered feat. The final stretch was now before them.

By the heavy perspiration dripping from Mr. Sanders’ forehead and chin, the moist stains on the armpits of his shirt and the gasping breaths, Sofia was certain that he was as equally burdened as she. But with the hardship of her current discomfort, she continued to hold on to the hope that there could, perhaps, come some good from all of it.

Upon reaching the bottom plank, the three of them stepped onto the asphalt. John’s legs buckled under the strain, causing him to collapse to the ground, inadvertently bringing Sofia and Mr. Sanders to the pavement with him. Lifting her head to the shadowy alley, poorly illuminated by the dim glow of orange colored, overhead lamps, Sofia’s mind was spinning and reeling from the exhausting experience that she had endured just moments earlier.

Pulling herself alongside John, she raised up to a sitting position. Leaning back against a rusty, garbage dumpster. It took a few seconds, but she was able to reorient herself to their current position. The transporter was a mere stones throw away. Feeling physically and emotionally overwhelmed, she knew that, without John’s help, dragging him that final distance would be more than she and the old man would be able to accomplish.

“John, we need to keep moving,” Sofia pleaded. “We’re too close to give up now.”

Grabbing onto the side of the dumpster, Mr. Sanders pulled himself up to his feet, dusting off his shirt. Scooping up the black box that had slipped out of Sofia’s arms during the fall, he began to push ahead, leaving the two of them behind.

“Wait,” Sofia called out. “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting the transporter for us. Just stay there,” he yelled without looking back, painfully limping and audibly wheezing and hacking.

With his hand cool and dry upon her knee, Sofia wiped the red smears from John’s cheeks and lips with the sleeve of her shirt. The rise and fall of his chest was slow and deep. His eyes were half open, but he was, to her consoling, making eye contact with her, although he was not talking. As she ran her fingers through the blood soaked hair that covered his forehead she said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this. I just want us to be together, always.”

Her voice was completely inaudible due to the high-pitched wail around them, but the communication of the message was all too apparent as a smile formed at the corners of John’s mouth. She could see by his demeanor that he understood every word that she said. As the muscles of his forehead and cheeks relaxed, his eyelids fell shut. Having always been of a strong spirit, she knew that these wounds would not be the death of him.

A soft thunder, like a distant storm, appeared to be fast approaching. Its sound was rather course and artificial as it mingled with the fire alarm. Sofia’s mind was too caught up in the moment. The rainwater could shower upon them from off the overhanging rooftop without any notice.

The chaotic clamor stifling the usual noise of the City around them was like being in an enclosed structure. It was providing Sofia with an imaginary sphere of safety. She was unaware that the rumble of the vehicle that had driven up alongside her and John was the source of the new disturbance and not some distant formation of clouds unseen. Nor did she hear the driver’s side door open, from which appeared Mr. Sanders who had opened the rear passenger door as well. He was already leaning over John, awaiting her assistance with getting him into the transporter.

As she began to return to her senses, Sofia felt an unnerving feeling come over her, as she could hardly believe that she could be so captivated by the images formed by her own imagination that so little care of the present world could be noticeable. The voice of Mr. Sanders, struggling, and in need of help, was bringing her back into the present reality, and, along with it, the urgency to move!

Grabbing John under the armpits, Mr. Sanders had made an attempt with all of his strength to pull him towards the backseat of the vehicle, but he was too exhausted to complete the task alone. “Take his back and help me lift him up,” he yelled, shifting his body around and wrapping his arms about John’s legs.

Sofia took the old man’s former place, slipping her arms under John’s shoulders. Hoisting his limp body up to his knees, the two of them dragged him beside the opened, rear door. With a single motion, they simultaneously pushed and pulled, but the backward motion was unmanageably unsustainable and Sofia stumbled into the backseat with John’s upper body lying dead weight upon her. Leaving the young man’s legs drooping on the ground outside, Mr. Sanders ran around to the opposite side of the transporter. Opening the door, he took hold of John’s shirt, making one final attempt to achieve his goal. The body moved with ease, and he was relieved to see the ordeal coming to a closure. As he completed the task of dragging him entirely within the vehicle’s confines, he could see that his little couple was safe and secure.

Closing the doors behind them, Mr. Sanders missed the shoe that had slipped from John’s foot during the scuffle. It had landed upon the pavement and was kicked around as they struggled with John’s body. Eventually it found its way under the cover of the wheeled machine, out of sight and out of mind.

The old man sat down in the driver’s seat. Depressing the accelerator with his foot, they were at last set in motion. He did not bother turning the lights on just yet, so as not to be seen from above. But instead he chose to drive, hidden among the shadows of the alley in order to keep out of sight should the Monster, or anyone else for that matter, catch a glimpse of them making their escape. The alarm was sufficient enough for their purpose. It would definitely hide the noise of the transporter. Everything else was clean. Their tracks were concealed for now.

“Sit on the floor,” Mr. Sanders directed Sofia, as he pulled a safety harness over his shoulders. “We don’t want to be seen
together.”

Squeezing her body down onto the cold, rubber-matted space behind the front passenger seat, there was a sense of comfort being so enclosed and encapsulated from the outside world. The rumbling of the motor, the sensation of movement, these gave the affirmation to her that they were leaving the apartment behind and were now moving ahead into the uncharted territory of absolute non-conformity to their culture and all its laws.

With the temptation looming over her, Sofia took one last glance out the back window at the emergency stairwell high above. It was from there, the lofty structure that they had just descended, that he became visible, obscure in the dimness, but observable none-the-less: that evil man from whom they were running.

The Monster was rushing down the initial flurry of steps on the winding labyrinth of the fire escape, moving with speed and determination. Shrinking back down to the floor, Sofia tried to convince herself that it was too far for him to see them. Repeating over and over in her mind that they were safe, she mentally replayed the image of his descent. She was looking for any clues that could reassure her that he had not seen them fleeing in the transporter. But after a moment’s attempt, whether he had seen them or not, it did not matter. The fear began to crawl in. Sofia could not imagine how they could ever escape from their current predicament.

As they reached the long end of the alley, the screeching of the alarm began to fade away. Looking into the rearview mirror, Mr. Sanders could barely make out a figure, a person perhaps, standing at the approximate area of the rusty dumpster. It appeared to be picking something up from off the ground. Seeing the black box on the front seat beside him was a relief, as he
knew
that they had left no evidence behind as to how they had escaped, and to which direction they were headed.

Mr. Sanders’ forehead was decorated with beads of cool sweat that seemed to melt down his face and spread into a thin film that made his neck reflective and shimmering. His shirt was darkened at the collar from the moisture, and his eyes were pacing back and forth as the transporter exited the alleyway, turning onto the bustling streets of Labor.

Never-ending crowds of people moved along the sidewalks like a gentle, meandering stream, completely oblivious to the occupants of their automobile. Slowly, but steadily, their machine merged with the traffic. The apartment was now far behind, and there were no signs, as of yet, that the Security Forces were on the prowl.

From Sofia’s vantage point on the floor, she was able to lay back and look upward at the progressively decreasing heights of the buildings. At this distance from the Inner Square, the buildings were still too high to see the overhanging rooftops. But on account of her rooftop escapades with John, she was able to tell by the various designs of the pipes and cables that were strung between them that the structures were decreasing in size. It appeared that they were heading towards Main Street, the only road in the City that led directly to the Highway.

Recognizing many of the generic store names and street signs that were passing by at a consistent pace, it was easy to create a mental map of the order of their path. If they were, somehow, able to leave the city and actually obtain access to the Highway, Sofia had no idea how, exactly, they were going to succeed in getting through the surrounding walls to make their escape to the woods. It was all in the hands of Providence, now. There was no way to douse the fires they had started.

The drive felt slow and dully mundane as the transporter crept along with the traffic. Sofia had never paid any attention to the multitude of crated products that left the city on the larger transporters. With so much time on her hands, she read to herself the stenciling on the sides of the various units that passed by:
Golden World Crystals
,
Red M-15
,
Golden World Dresses
,
Raw Uniform
:
Women
,
Golden World Men’s Garments
,
Red Uniform: Men
,
Golden World Automobiles
,
Golden World Deluxe
,
Raw Mining
,
Red Uniform: Women
,
Golden World Appliance
, etcetera.

The names of
Golden World
,
Red
and
Raw
were such a common site throughout her entire life that she had never given her mind over to the thought of what exactly they were. Although a curious itching was growing within her as to what items were to be found inside the crates, she knew there was really no way to gain access to them from her current place. So, continuing on with her time-wasting activity, she read off in her head the next title that appeared.