Apocalypse Before Finals, Julie Steimle [black authors fiction txt] 📗

Jafarr clenched his hands when the young man released his head.

"There, let it dry before you put on your hood," the seer said.

Straightening, still cautious, Jafarr blinked at him. "Uh, thanks."

The Seer Class man nodded with a peculiar expression in his eyes. Though they were deep blue like his mother's, giving him a familiar feeling, the man was also looking into his eyes as if to inspect them. Jafarr blinked for a second -  and in front of his eyes came a picture. Again he saw a dark tunnel and the hanging medallions. This time the wall was full. He heard the weeping of the seers with a crisper image, and with that a rush of guilt washed over him. When he regained focus, Jafarr realized he was staring at the floor. The young man was bracing him up and lifting him back to his feet. However the man's gaze on him now was one of complete wonder. "You saw something!"

Jafarr blinked and shook his head to get the picture out. "I'm fine. Just dizzy."

The young man shook his head. "You saw something," he whispered in Jafarr's ear.

Blinking while trying to regain focus, Jafarr moved to go back to the old men. "They'll leave without us."

It was true. The old men were walking toward the door. The young seer at Jafarr's side nodded. He held Jafarr up just enough as they both walked together, but the young seer didn't say anything for a long while.

 

Jafarr traveled with the group of seers to the uppercity of Arras. The trip into the elite sector of the city was a little uncomfortable as Jafarr had abandoned his stolen P.M. boots with the rebels as most seers wore a different kind of footwear - and he hadn't been able to find any in time. He was barefoot. The good thing was, he wasn't only barefoot traveler in the group. Some seers took an extreme bent to their religion and denied themselves the conveniences of life. His mother usually called them obsessive hypocrites, saying it was pretended piety. Jafarr wondered only a little at this as this pretended piety was the only thing keeping him from looking suspicious. 

They rode on the metro together like a herd of brown bears. After being on earth and seeing such things as animal herds, Jafarr could not get the image out of his head... and it amazed him how much his world view had changed. The general feel of the city was more oppressive than Jafarr remembered. He wondered if it was because things had gotten worse, or if it was simply because he had gotten used to a more relaxed and free lifestyle of the United States. Both seemed likely.

The young seer who had assisted Jafarr walked near Jafarr's side and hooded his head as they marched past the P.M. guards in the nearest transit sector to the Seer Class living areas. Jafarr had already hooded himself long before they walked out of the seer quarter. They did not speak much in the transit tunnels or in the metro station or on the metro car. The entire group of mourning seers walked with their heads down. And he did it too. Which made it easy for Jafarr to pass by so many People's Military officers.

After the long journey, the seer troupe arrived in the uppercity station where they stepped off the metro car and marched into the uppercity level transit hall. That luxuriant hall was rather empty. Shiny floors and shiny ceilings, rimmed with potted plants and bright artwork, it was starkly different from the middlecity. On this floor, most transit-goers were traveling to the other sections of the uppercity. Jafarr stepped onto the rising escalators with the other seers, passing another group of People's Military officers without notice. The soldiers were bickering with each other, almost bitterly - which under the circumstances seemed strange. Though he could not hear their words at first, Jafarr recognized one of them - a beefy shaved-headed officer. Dural Mezela, Dural Korad's partner and just as bad. Jafarr kept his head down as he continued to walk, knowing the man would recognize him the instant he saw his face.

"...And those wretched seers keep coming up here to moan," Dural Mezela complained angrily. He waved an arm toward their group. "Look at them! Don't they know the Tarrns are dead? Whining around that wall isn't going to bring any back."

"What about Zeldar? Isn't he Tarrn related? I heard he is still alive somewhere," a rather brash and angry P.M. bickered back.

Dural Mezela glowered at the man. "Dural Korad's on his trail. They sent a troop to the city where they located him."

"He's as good as dead." Chuckling coldly, the other PM leaned back.

Jafarr heard an agreeing 'uh-hum' from the other PM before his group finally walked out of earshot.

The way to the museum felt longer than Jafarr wanted. He kept feeling like they would be late, later than the Surface Patrol group from Zeta, and that would counter the plan. He needed to get in first. The young seer at his side sensed his urgency, but held him back with the group using a word. "Slowly."

Jafarr glanced at him.

"They will not let one of us in alone," the young seer whispered, his eyes affirming it.

Jafarr nodded and slowed his step.

They finally spotted the open doors of the uppercity museum. The doors were wide and transparent, but not likely glass. Stronger stuff, whatever it was. The official seal of the once proud Knarr nation was etched on it. At the entrance, a porter in a prim suit stood there with the ticket scanner just beyond him. With the man, talking were also three PM guards. They had undoubtedly guessed right about the museum. Unfortunately, one of the PMs was Dural Korad.

Jafarr hesitated to go any further, but the young man at his side grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "Just keep your head down."

He let go of Jafarr's hand, and they continued to walk to the doors - but Jafarr's insides tightened. He maintained a forward gaze, watching from his peripheral vision as the People's Military officer spoke glaringly with the museum curator. Jafarr heard as they drew nearer: "...Zeldar here. I heard he came back with Alea Zormna Clendar. I want them both. There is no doubt in my mind they will try to free the Kevin."

Jafarr swallowed, but he did not halt in his pace toward the door. Dural Korad walked from the curator, his eyes contemptuously taking in the seers. Yet he turned away to his vehicle. The People's Military officer climbed on his flying scooter and strapped on his helmet. Jafarr and the group of seers approached the museum while Dural Korad started his engine and took off back toward the transit hall, undoubtedly to get Dural Mezela. Once he was gone, Jafarr breathed easy again. The man at his side placed a hand on Jafarr's shoulder, sharing a gentle smile. Jafarr did not know what to think of it at first, so he put it into the back of his mind. They reached the doors in ten more seconds. The curator at the doors glared at them all.

Waving his arms, the curator declared, "No more! No more seers! I have had enough of you all coming here and filling my museum with your foul moaning. No more!"

The eldest seer in the group lowered his hood and stared straight at the man with a fixed glare. "We will come in and pay our respects as is our custom. The week is not out, nor is the month. We must have our month of mourning."

The curator shook his head feverishly his face changing colors from white to red to gray ash. "I am tired of your moaning. No more, I tell you!"

The young man at Jafarr's sidestepped forward. "Let me in to see Sir Banden. I must speak with him."

The curator still shook his head. "No more! Not even you! Sir Banden can come out if he wants to talk, but no more seers going in!"

Jafarr stood back and put his hand under his hood, clenching his hair. What could he do now? He had to get in before Zormna arrived, it was crucial to their escape.

But as he thought this, he could hear the hum of flight scooters approaching. Jafarr didn't dare look around, afraid it was Dural Korad coming back.

The curator's eyes grew wide. "No," he muttered. He then tromped through the seers to the flight scooters behind them. "No! You cannot be here!"

Jafarr looked back. He cringed. The Surface Patrol crew had come.

Alea Salvar took off his helmet approaching the curator with just as much fierceness as the curator did him. "I most certainly will be here! My father was unlawfully incarcerated, and I have it on good authority that he is here."

Jafarr felt like groaning. Alea Salvar lacked all subtlety. He was supposed to demand to see the curator then 'send his officers to fetch him'... but unfortunately the curator was outside and Alea Salvar was back to plowing his way into the facility, risking a brawl between the Surface Patrol and the People's Military.

"No, you don't! This is a museum, not a prison compound." The curator stood there with his hands on his hips, which was pretty much all he could do. He actually wasn't armed, except with perhaps an alarm button. His PM backup had actually gone indoors to wherever, and he was facing eight soldiers on vehicles.

But the seers around him replaced their hoods and walked in through doors of the museum without another word. The curator saw this of course and turned back to stop them. Yet halfway between the seers and the new threat of the Surface Patrol, he gave up. Keeping the seers out to defend the museum from the new threat was more important. Jafarr grinned to himself and went in alongside of the young seer, glancing back only once at the Surface Patrol troop.

 

Zormna, now dressed up as an Aver, stood in the middle of the group of Surface Patrol officers. She waited for her cue, said not a word, and listened to the curator's argument as she would most likely give herself away is she spoke. Everyone else had their lines to argue. Alea Salvar had planned that much. He didn't like being the distraction, but after Jafarr had left the compound to sneak around as a seer, Salvar finally admitted that Jafarr was right and that he was actually more of a threat this father's life than Jafarr's 'crazy plan'. Zormna could also tell Salvar was pleased that Jafarr required Zormna to stay with his crew, at least at first. Alea Salvar's possessiveness, as always, was really annoying.

But she could feel that Jafarr was among the seers at the door the moment they arrived. Unfortunately, so was the curator. She hissed to Alea Salvar, "Improvise."

But she should have known better. Salvar was a great soldier, but improvisation was not one of his skills. And he fell back to his old emotional instinct.

Jafarr went in the museum with the other seers, and she could tell that he would do everything to get them inside, even if he had to start a fire. But then, Zormna almost chuckled to herself, Jafarr was good at improvisation and it probably would not come to that.

"I won't! You will not!" the curator insisted loudly at Alea Salvar.

"Do you want me to force my way in, Mr. Arrd?" Alea Salvar growled back with hardened fervor. "Because I can. I have the power to."

"No, no, no...." The curator trembled, pressing his emergency button for his guards to come. They would have to dispatch them if they did not get in first.

"If I cannot go in, at least let my men go in." Salvar gestured viciously to the others behind him.

The curator shook his head stubbornly, but he looked up at the soldiers that had been inching their way to the doors. There was