Wretched, Offer Reish [novels for teenagers .TXT] 📗

castle and Leonardo retracted his hand. And he looked at his opponent.

For a few seconds 462's eyes roamed the board far too quickly for it to be appraising Leonardo's move or calculating its next one. (Leonardo had learned to follow 462's eyes from across the board even under the bushy hair that engulfed it). It was surprised, not by the brilliant defensive move that denied the black queen its craved victim but by the fact that the white hadn't taken the opportunity to win the game. After all, in the context of the white rook under threat, it was obvious that the white would defend it, ideally with the other rook; there was nothing surprising about Leonardo's move in that aspect.

Here was the crucial moment. For a player as skilled as 462 to truly not have noticed the threat on its king in the first place was highly unlikely. For it to ignore the potentially deadly plight of its king for the second consecutive move would be impossible and therefore necessarily premeditated. There were ten different ways for it to prevent the obvious peril to its kind without conceding its positional and material advantage, and it could likely spot all ten in a matter of seconds.

The queen could return to the 8th row; the H- and G- file pawns could step ahead and provide their king an easy escape route; the white-squared bishop could position itself so that it could block the white rook's potential death-threat; and both the other bishop and the black knight could quite comfortable block the A-file and deprive the white rook its chance at glory, but 462 chose none of these. Instead, it advanced its B-file pawn two squares ahead so it threatened to capture the white rook. It was almost daring the white rook to move forward and mate the black king!

It was indubitable.

"Why are you doing this?" Leonardo whispered to his opponent, and he looked around him though he knew there was nobody in the kitchen or the living room. They were alone there, but what he was about to undertake, speaking to a Wretch, felt so inappropriate- it felt indecent, despicable, bordering on illegality- that he had to make sure.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand", his opponent replied, keeping its eyes on the board.

"I know that you're letting me win", Leonardo said accusingly, his voice rising in volume and startling him as though he had no control of it.

The Wretch nodded reluctantly, apparently terribly averse to confessing its ruse but unable to lie.

"Why?"

"You're playing very, very well. You deserve to win." 462's eyes ever never left the glass board, and its voice never rose from its pit of despondency.

"But- you're better", Leonardo said, no longer reprehensive but feeling grateful instead.

"But I'm just a Wretch."

Leonardo trembled all over at the sound of these inexplicably terrible words. And although there was no reason for him to take it to heart, since he knew full well that 'Wretches were just Wretches', hearing 462 say it that way moved something inside him. It made him feel bad somewhere so deep in his stomach that he'd never felt anything there before. The thing that seemed most reasonable and appropriate to do five minutes earlier- to stop talking to the Wretch, and land his rook at the 8th row- was now unthinkable.

"Do you have a brother?" Instinctively came out from Leonardo's lips.

462 nodded clumsily.

"Do you know its name?"

Its name? Was it possible to use the word it to refer to someone's brother? Or was it something's brother? Could something have a brother: Leonardo's mind was swirling.

"463".

"I saw him the other day. He said they were treating him well", Leonardo said, now speaking softly but fearlessly. And though 462 knew as well as Leonardo the value of such testimony (namely that it was almost worthless), a meek 'thank you' left its large mouth. Its eyes climbed slowly from the board up toward his opponent's face, and they almost met Leonardo's eyes when a shrill beeping sound startled the both of them.

The Wretch got out of its chair with haste and left the apartment.

 

Recounting this occurrence to Francis and Sue- confiding in them the emotional hardship and the confusion it generated in him- wasn't a courageous act but an impetuous one. His two best friends- at one time the most avid supporters of The Existents that he'd known, with whom sharing his own avidity on a daily basis was a natural part of their relationship- not only didn't understand it but felt he'd committed a very immoral and offensive act. They didn’t limit their ridicule of him between them, and Sue was quick to circulate the story around class. Leonardo hadn't born such derision at school since his first days there as an outsider with a weird disease.

But this wasn't what truly hurt him. In this occasion Leonardo found that he'd grown stronger. He still felt awkward in the presence of others, especially if it was a large group of hostiles, but only to the extent that every normal boy would. He had better control of his feeling and of how and at what timing he wished (not) to express them. He still couldn't bring himself to lie almost under any circumstances, but that wasn't something he felt he wanted to change. To what Francis did the next day, however, Leonardo was as sensitive as he'd ever been.

In order to prove the grotesqueness of what Leonardo had said and done, Francis proudly and joyfully marched into class the next morning and, having verified Leonardo's presence, declared his previous night's actions to everyone. He'd ordered his family's servant Wretch to make him a cup of chocolate milk, and though he usually liked it tepid he asked for an especially boiling one. When the Wretch passed him the cup, he'd intentionally spilled it over the Wretch's face. When Francis tried to imitate the tsss sound that he reported the hot liquid produced when it'd come in contact with the servant's skin, a sickening tingle went through Leonardo's body, like a thousand worms crawling inside his skin.

"Then", Francis continued. "I accused it of spilling the cup, and it had to apologize and make me another one. That must've hurt!" And he burst out in a carefree laughter that infected the entire class.

Leonardo didn't respond. He didn't yell or even try to hit Francis like he couldn't help imagining and yearning to do. He simply sat there and stared at his friend in a mix of anger and pity. And that's when he decided to do what he'd been thinking about ever since his last chess match with 462.

He passed the entire afternoon counting the seconds, calculating how many were left and trying to picture what it would be like when the time came. And would he have the courage? Yes, he had to!

It was 19:05 exactly when it happened. The beeping sound came just as it did every day, but to Leonardo it sounded different. It was a relief from the unnerving wait, but also a terribly anxious realization of the boldness of what he was about to do. 462 left the apartment in its usual hurried and indifferent way, but instead of watching it leave and wondering where it was headed as he tended to do when he wasn't concentrated on the chess board, Leonardo started walking toward the door. There was nobody there- he could slip out unnoticed. One more step, and another, he was almost at the door…

"Leonardo!" His mother suddenly called.

No! Not now! If he left now she would notice his absence at once. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be- perhaps tomorrow…No! He was going to do it that same night and nothing would stop him. His mind raced for an excuse to go out. He looked around, hoping to find an answer in one of the house appliances- the living room, the kitchen… Yes! The garbage can. It was almost full and had to be taken out.

"I'm taking out the garbage", he called back to his mom.

"That's okay baby, we'll leave it for the Wretch tomorrow."

"It's alright. He just left- I'll catch him outside", Leonardo said, catching himself too late. He'd called it he. This would surely raise his mother's suspicion, or at least entitle him a sermon that would destroy his plan. His heart pounded in wait for his mother's response, which would determine the fate of that evening. A part of him wished she'd stop him, of course, and spare him the fear, the risk, the nervousness of what he was planning on doing, but there was another, stronger part that knew this was the right thing to do and the right time to do it.

"Okay", his mom said, apparently engaged in some other activity which made her overlook his slip of the tongue.

Okay! He took the garbage can with him (he was obligated to so as not to turn his excuse into an outright lie) and hurried out the door.

It was dark outside. Not pitch black, but a kind of gray that was just light enough to allow Leonardo to see where he was going and who or what was in front of him. There was almost no one out in the streets- in fact it was the first time Leonardo could remember being outdoors at this hour. He'd made up for some of the time lost by darting down the stairs and he could now see 462's back as it rushed toward its daily rendezvous point. He couldn't get too close, because- well, he didn't know what would happen if he did, but he had a strong feeling that it was a bad idea to be detected. He quickly pulled his black mask on, which gave him an extra ounce of much needed confidence. They took a left turn, then a right. They were about to leave the neighborhood, in which case Leonardo wouldn't be very familiar with the area. He wasn't very good with directions.

As they neared the rendezvous point the he could see even less people, but the number of Wretches was growing rapidly. They were coming together from different directions, funneling toward the same route like a million different streams joining at a single confluence. He was having a hard time distinguishing 462 from the other Wretches- they were impossible to tell apart if he couldn't see the numbers on their backs.

Suddenly one popped out from an apartment building right beside Leonardo and jumped into his line of sight, completely blocking his view forward. He edged left and then right, craned his neck and stretched his chest, crouched and jumped as high as he could up in the air, but to no avail.

462 was gone.

In a burst of panic Leonardo froze, spun around and timidly faced the stream of Wretches coming his way. He suddenly felt all alone out there, though in fact he'd been completely alone from the moment he'd stepped out of the building. He managed to draw in some deep breaths and calm himself, then, acting out of reason rather than emotion, he turned back around and continued. It made no difference whether 462 was there or not; there were enough Wretches to show him the way, and they were all going to the same place.

He knew he was close when, having moved away from any apartment building or any otherwise populated area, the relative quiet of the night was broken by a jumble of unnerving noises. There was the rev of multiple engines, the clank of metal, some yelling and cursing, and above all an incessant bloodcurdling symphony of moans, groans and wails that could originate only in pain or despair. Or both.

He reached a clearing, barren and desolate with giant piles of debris scattered upon the otherwise empty land. It was hard to believe that such a place existed within ten minutes' walking distance from his home. It was as though there were some invisible wall hiding it out of sight. And now he was on the