Defying Terror

Chapter XII

August 12th, 2030, 11:01 am

Colonel MacTavish was not kidding to the Captain when he said that the traffic into town was bad this morning. It took us three hours to drive to the city's gate, only about fifteen miles from Manchester's house, through the bustling streets, and to the Imperial Guard headquarters on the western coast. It shouldn't take anymore than an hour to cross Oltima's capital city on a normal day, but you add in rush-hour traffic and the Imperial Guard ranking? It's a goddamn mess around here.

I missed the city a bit too much while I was with the Manchesters. Every night I would go to sleep to silence, or perhaps the low hum of the cars in downtown Stanville. I can see the moon and bright, twinkling stars through the tiny window above Hayes' bed. I would let the soft wind and cool air lull me to sleep as I lay on top of all the sheets. There was no reason to awaken at an early hour unless the Captain asked me to, and certainly no reason to rush anywhere.

Then, there's the metropolis known as Queen's City. Queen's City is the largest and center most urban area in the entire Empire, which is why it is the capital. I have lived here my entire life up until a couple weeks ago. There was never a night where it was entirely quiet. The moon and stars are covert amongst the constant glare of the lights, and all I can see outside of my window is the dim, orange glow of a streetlamp.

Every morning, at about seven o'clock, I would start to hear the rugged flow of vehicles outside my bedroom. Every now and again, you would hear a distant honk, and maybe even a screech. People would be walking quickly down the street, seemingly talking to themselves, but actually, to someone far away. I might even be able to hear the neighbors if it gets quiet enough or they start yelling. The noise of the city never seizes, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

The Imperial Guard headquarters is located on a miniature island about a half of a mile off the western coast of the city. There is a long bridge that connects the island to the mainland, but only certain officers can drive across. Captain Manchester is one of those few people. Anyone else who wants to reach the headquarters has to jump onto the above-ground, subway train that will take them right to the officers' parking lot.

I watch as the train churns on ahead of us, over our heads. The whirring vibrates the hood of the Captain's car. Sparks spit off of the rails at the end of the trail as the train slows to a rough stop. I twist my head to look out the rear window of the car, looking back at the city, where we came from. It looks so much smaller from over here. It almost looks fake.

"Cool, isn't it," The Captain suggests, turning to me for a second. "It never gets old."

A corner of my mouth rises. "It ain't bad."

Loads of people, ranging from kids my age to middle-aged adults, spill out when the doors open on the subway onto a metal walkway about thirty feet off the ground. They start marching down the stairs and onto the solid ground after a few seconds of stagnancy. The sidewalk they land on connects right to the glass front doors of the headquarters.

The Imperial Guard headquarters is nothing short of enormous. From what can be seen from the front parking lot, the initial view consists of a marble rendition of an eagle with its wings spanned out from its body, perched high above the door. A crystal-clear dome hangs over the big room at the entrance. The entire building branches off to the left and right, and to an unknown depth. Two vertical windows are on both sides and are as long as the alabaster walls around them. The roof, an emerald green, hangs slightly over the building as it shines in the morning sunlight.

The Captain takes a left upon reaching the officer's parking lot and takes an empty space against the metal fence, facing the beach. Before unbuckling my seatbelt, I stare at the skyline. This isn't goodbye.