Cynetic Wolf

The next day was a whirlwind; people coming and going, plans finalized, scrapped, and remade, scouts confirming locations. It was a rollercoaster for everyone.

Ganla and Zedda came to blows over a press release and Mico had a queasy stomach all day. Then there was Obowe. He’d risen in a strong honor culture, killing his first lion at twelve and his first cop at sixteen. When he’d turned fifteen, he’d undergone the right of passage every boy in his clan did, a brutal week alone in the jungles of Zone Four amongst nature’s toughest predators. He’d emerged a week later, a fully fledged man, a warrior through and through, built for battle, wise in his ways, and with the untempered pride of his people. He was devastated there weren’t any emulate facilities in Zone Four. His people “deserved the chance to prove themselves.”

He called the various tribes and rebel alliances all day to drum up support, twenty or thirty in total: loud, defiant and often slamming his fist to emphasize a point.

There was a passionate beauty in the way he spoke, in the way his deep voice begged, pleaded, and challenged local leaders to take up arms. “Will Africa contribute nothing?” he’d boom. “Will our children and our children’s children hear tales of foreigners freeing Africans from the shackles of history? Our people need you. Will you stand by and do nothing, or will you fight?”

Always some variation of that. And it worked. Our numbers kept rising. From hoping for ten-to-fifteen percent of Zone Two towns yesterday, to now, close to seventy-five percent committed, Obowe single-handedly united the towns and tribesmen in a way none before him ever could.

As he left the room to take another call, I stood and pointed to the door. “I need that level of conviction from you. Obowe’s done thirty calls today, spoken with leaders of every major town in Zone Four and quintupled our support. Tomorrow, two weeks from now, two years… will we regret not trying everything in our power? I for one, won’t take that risk. I’m guessing none of you will either.”

They were all nodding. Lars even gave me a thumbs-up.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be joining the rebels in the attack on the capital,” I said. “Lars, I need you there filming. If I have to be their warrior hero, so be it, but I won’t let my people die in the streets while I do nothing! If I can inspire others to join the cause, all the better.”

“I’ll be there, kid,” Lars replied with a grim determination.

“The rest of you,” I said. “What do you need help with? Lars and I can make calls or help with coffee, anything to make this happen. Are you with me?”

A brief smile touched Paer’s lips. “Yes, we are. Get to work, folks!”

A newfound fire blazed in their eyes as we separated, long nights ahead of us.

After a few hours with Lars and later Paer, I had to see Zedda. I snuck out under the guise of hunger, and headed to her room.

The halls were crowded this time of night, but with my hood, I slipped through with relative anonymity. Reaching her door, I paused. What if she didn’t want me? What if it was a one-time thing… the heat of the moment?

Should I be here? Who was I to assume? At last, I knocked, albeit timidly.

“One second!” She opened the door, looking surprised. “Oh, Raek.” Her face lit up.

“I wanted to see you so we could talk. Now a good time?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“Now’s perfect.” Her eyes gleamed with a devilish intensity as she grabbed my shirt and yanked me in.

I’d wanted to talk about us, about the future, about what might happen tomorrow. That didn’t happen. Instead, we found comfort, desire, and more in each other’s arms.

Time flew and stopped, ceased to exist at all.

After, I grabbed my shirt and slipped it over my head. “I wanted to talk about us. What is this, this thing between us?”

“Let’s just get through the next couple days,” she said with a crushing nonchalance. “There’s enough to think about and do without any distractions. This,” she gestured between us, “who knows what this is.” Our eyes locked. “I like you, Raek. But let’s not complicate things yet, at least until the fighting’s over,” she added. “Deal?”

“Deal.” I tried to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. It wasn’t easy. This was uncharted territory for me. The wait and see, laissez-faire-ness was killing me. And she meant something to me, a lot, actually.

But she was right, now wasn’t the time.