in motion.”
The
president then walked to the crowd of his party’s supporters. His face lit as
he listened to their song.
Ward
you are a messenger from God
Ward
the Lord sent you to save the nation
Ward
you are our savior
Ward
you are the father of the nation
Ward
you are our light
Drunk
with joy, he looked at the women who were dancing to the song and spotted a
young woman who was provocatively shaking her backside. She was beautiful and
about twenty years old. He was going to make enquiries about her. He wanted her
and he would get her. The country was his garden and he could pick any flower
he wanted, young or old.
Chapter 4
Freddie’s misery
kept mounting. He tried overworking himself but work didn’t help him forget his
problems. He had lost interest in his job. What was the use of saving wild
animals when the government was rounding up and killing people at will? What
was the point in saving polar bears from extinction when he couldn’t save
himself and those he loved from the predatory Ward regime? What was the point
in maintaining the balance of nature in the wildlife refuge when there was no
balance in his life?
He
opened a bottle of brandy and took a sip. He used to be a moderate drinker but
since Michael’s imprisonment, he increasingly took to the bottle. In the past, Freddie
rarely drank spirits but now he welcomed anything that contained alcohol. He
drank to forget but it didn’t help. The more he drank, the more he thought
about Michael. The only positive thing he got from alcohol was that it helped
him sleep.
As
the brandy got into his veins, Freddie felt that his world had come to an end,
that he had nothing to live for. Suddenly, he began to weep.
“Why
is this happening to me?” he asked. “Why is this happening to my country? Brandon
Ward, you bloodthirsty dictator, why are you doing this to us?” He sobbed. “Why
don’t you just kill us all and have the country to yourself?” He knew he was
treading dangerous ground but he was too drunk and too emotional to care.
“Policemen, soldiers, CIB agents, why do you kill your own brothers and
sisters? Why do you kill innocent people in the name of Brandon Ward?” For more
than ten minutes, Freddie let out his feelings between sips of brandy.
He
took one last sip from the bottle and put it on the floor. After a look at his
watch, he threw himself on the bed and waited for the CIB to arrest him. He
took another look at his watch. Nine minutes had passed and there was no sign
of the CIB. Fourteen minutes later, he took another look at his watch and fell
asleep.
He
woke up just after six, surprised to be alive and free. Although he didn’t
remember exactly what he had said last night, he knew he had said something
dangerous. Maybe he had escaped detection. He sighed with relief.
“In
the name of President Brandon Ward, I order you to come out with your hands on
the back of your head,” a voice said over a loudspeaker. “Freddie Young, we
know you are in there.”
Like
a sheep to the slaughter, he opened the door and went out. Nine CIB agents
pointed their guns at him. Six of the agents had assault rifles. CIB agents
normally worked in pairs when they went about arresting people. Freddie’s bold
challenge to the Ward regime had made them cautious. They decided not to come
at night, fearing an ambush.
“I
was wondering when you would come,” Freddie said, suddenly more angry than
afraid. “You have come to kill me to please Brandon Ward.”
“Shut
up and move forward!” the agent in charge shouted.
“When
will the bloodbath end?” Freddie asked. “Aren’t you tired of killing unarmed
civilians?”
The
agents looked at each other, unsure what to do. This was their first time to
face such open defiance from a civilian.
“How
many people did you kill since you joined the CIB? How many will you kill? You
are all―”
“Shut
up or―”
“Or
what? Or you will kill me? I am already dead. You killed me the day you took
The
president then walked to the crowd of his party’s supporters. His face lit as
he listened to their song.
Ward
you are a messenger from God
Ward
the Lord sent you to save the nation
Ward
you are our savior
Ward
you are the father of the nation
Ward
you are our light
Drunk
with joy, he looked at the women who were dancing to the song and spotted a
young woman who was provocatively shaking her backside. She was beautiful and
about twenty years old. He was going to make enquiries about her. He wanted her
and he would get her. The country was his garden and he could pick any flower
he wanted, young or old.
Chapter 4
Freddie’s misery
kept mounting. He tried overworking himself but work didn’t help him forget his
problems. He had lost interest in his job. What was the use of saving wild
animals when the government was rounding up and killing people at will? What
was the point in saving polar bears from extinction when he couldn’t save
himself and those he loved from the predatory Ward regime? What was the point
in maintaining the balance of nature in the wildlife refuge when there was no
balance in his life?
He
opened a bottle of brandy and took a sip. He used to be a moderate drinker but
since Michael’s imprisonment, he increasingly took to the bottle. In the past, Freddie
rarely drank spirits but now he welcomed anything that contained alcohol. He
drank to forget but it didn’t help. The more he drank, the more he thought
about Michael. The only positive thing he got from alcohol was that it helped
him sleep.
As
the brandy got into his veins, Freddie felt that his world had come to an end,
that he had nothing to live for. Suddenly, he began to weep.
“Why
is this happening to me?” he asked. “Why is this happening to my country? Brandon
Ward, you bloodthirsty dictator, why are you doing this to us?” He sobbed. “Why
don’t you just kill us all and have the country to yourself?” He knew he was
treading dangerous ground but he was too drunk and too emotional to care.
“Policemen, soldiers, CIB agents, why do you kill your own brothers and
sisters? Why do you kill innocent people in the name of Brandon Ward?” For more
than ten minutes, Freddie let out his feelings between sips of brandy.
He
took one last sip from the bottle and put it on the floor. After a look at his
watch, he threw himself on the bed and waited for the CIB to arrest him. He
took another look at his watch. Nine minutes had passed and there was no sign
of the CIB. Fourteen minutes later, he took another look at his watch and fell
asleep.
He
woke up just after six, surprised to be alive and free. Although he didn’t
remember exactly what he had said last night, he knew he had said something
dangerous. Maybe he had escaped detection. He sighed with relief.
“In
the name of President Brandon Ward, I order you to come out with your hands on
the back of your head,” a voice said over a loudspeaker. “Freddie Young, we
know you are in there.”
Like
a sheep to the slaughter, he opened the door and went out. Nine CIB agents
pointed their guns at him. Six of the agents had assault rifles. CIB agents
normally worked in pairs when they went about arresting people. Freddie’s bold
challenge to the Ward regime had made them cautious. They decided not to come
at night, fearing an ambush.
“I
was wondering when you would come,” Freddie said, suddenly more angry than
afraid. “You have come to kill me to please Brandon Ward.”
“Shut
up and move forward!” the agent in charge shouted.
“When
will the bloodbath end?” Freddie asked. “Aren’t you tired of killing unarmed
civilians?”
The
agents looked at each other, unsure what to do. This was their first time to
face such open defiance from a civilian.
“How
many people did you kill since you joined the CIB? How many will you kill? You
are all―”
“Shut
up or―”
“Or
what? Or you will kill me? I am already dead. You killed me the day you took
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