Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2019 12:33:21 -0400 From: Purple Jubliee Subject: After Earth Went Dark; Part II: Chapter 9 Hey everyone! Thanks for continuing to follow this story. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think of it at purplejubilee17@gmail.com. I've also got a patreon that you can check out for some neat bonus content, patreon.com/purplejubilee. Major thanks to Rachel, Dan, and Quenton for supporting me there, you guys are the best! As always please think about donating to Nifty for all their hard work! Thank you so much for reading! <3 PurpleJubilee After Earth Went Dark; Part II Chapter 9 Nothing could have prepared Elliot for the size of the crowd that formed at the performance that night. It started out small, with only maybe ten spectators, but as Marcel and Ida launched into their signature sultry tango, people began to gather. Elliot didn't know how Ida dealt with all of the wolf-whistles and catcalls without becoming distracted. She seemed in fact to use them to her advantage. By sending a sensual flip of her hair or a sly wink toward certain men in the crowd she could get much more enthusiastic reactions. Marcel was a master of playing to the audience as well. His graceful and agile movements attracted a sizable female following. They were usually less vocal than the men, but occasional gasps could be heard when Marcel would let Ida fall almost to the hard concrete before catching her at the last second. As the crowd began to form for real, Elliot recognized several of the boys he and Jay had encountered. There were also a handful of other teens and young adults packed in around them. Before long, as the pace of the night's performance picked up, the audience had formed almost a full circle three or four rows deep around the small band. Finally, it came to Elliot's turn. Since his first appearance, he had refined his act a little bit to make it a bit more flashy. He juggled two of his knives carefully before catching them and revealing three more to the audience. Holding four knives in his right hand and his fifth in his left he quickly took aim at four wooden targets that he had painted himself. Firing off one knife after the other with less than two seconds in between, each one stuck fast near the center of the targets. Not hesitating for even a moment, Elliot whirled himself around, transferring the last knife as he did so and launching it towards a fifth unnoticed target behind him. The crowd erupted in applause as the fifth knife sunk quivering into the supple wood, and Elliot grinned and performed a small bow. He saw the kids from earlier and their friends looking quite amazed, but he knew it was only about to get better. Suddenly, four loud thwacks all within an instant of each other drew the audience's attention, followed by a fifth less than a second later. Elliot pretended to be surprised as he looked back at the targets to find that a second knife had appeared in all of them, stuck into the dead center, directly next to each of his own. A hush fell over the crowd. Nobody could see where the knives had come from. Even the music stopped as Jim and Carlos played to the suspense. A loud and low horn sounded from behind the wagon, and some of the members of the theater added fuel to the perimeter torches, causing them to flare up. The horn continued to sound at regular intervals and Louis's box drum began to beat in time with it from somewhere unseen. Carlos and Jim took up a slightly more elaborate beat, using their guitars as makeshift hand drums. "Tyr!" Came the low-voiced shout from a chorus-like group of performers waiting in the wings. "Tyr!" They chanted again. The rest of the group joined in the chant as the horn continued to blast in time and the powerful percussive background carried over it. A figure appeared, standing on top of the wagon, difficult to see in the dying light, only lit by the occasional flicker of the perimeter torches. Suddenly, the figure leapt from the top of the wagon and landed dramatically in the middle of their `stage'. It was Tyr, of course, but the surprising entrance had the desired effect on the audience. Without acknowledging them, Tyr quickly turned his back on them and threw three of his tiny knives into separate targets simultaneously with one hand. Elliot had used the distraction provided by Tyr's entrance to retrieve several of the knives already stuck into the targets and now whipped them directly at Tyr as quickly as he could. The crowd gasped, but with grace and ease Tyr plucked the flying knives out of the air as though they were barely moving. Following through with the momentum, he turned and sent them sailing once more toward the farther target. The four blades stuck in an X pattern radiating from the center. Not finished yet, Tyr hauled his two axes from his belt and launched them high into the air. At the same moment, Elliot threw two more knives at Tyr. Tyr jumped after his axes, caught them, and brought them sweeping across his body, knocking the knives out of the way. Although Elliot had seen this act before, it still amazed him every time when he saw the redirected knives fly directly into the wooden targets. The crowd, who had never seen this seemingly impossible feat before, predictably went crazy. Immediately the perimeter torches were doused and the music suddenly halted, leaving nothing but darkness and the sound of applause and cheering. Elliot loved this part. Even though being the center of attention was always stressful for him, hearing the shouts from the audience made it somehow all worth it. Tyr gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as they used the cover of darkness to slip away behind the wagon with most of the rest of the troupe. Out front, a spark was lit, and Marcel appeared once more holding a torch. This was the part where he usually gave his call to action. Elliot hoped he would be careful. He was fairly certain at least a few of the audience members were part of the town guard. Marcel started his speech with his usual series of encouragements and thank-yous before delving into the heavier material. He talked about the mission of the Traveling Theater, bringing gladness to a harsh world, but then turned as he always did to talk of hope and justice. "Noble Tyr is more than a skilled acrobat and a pretty face." Marcel implied knowingly. "His namesake was synonymous with justice, honor, and heroism. We of the Traveling Theater strive to live by this code every day. Our mission of cheer is a mission of liberty as well, for where there is tyranny there can be no real happiness!" Marcel began to wind down now, and Elliot hoped he hadn't gone too far. The audience mostly seemed to be in agreement. That was usually the way of it. After being whipped up by impressive displays of talent and athleticism, people were more open to hearing about noble goals and higher callings. It was difficult to tell by the dim light of Marcel's torch, but Elliot thought he saw one or two frowning faces in the audience as well. These belonging to ragged looking men the likes of which had demanded tribute from them upon their entrance. This was concerning, but Elliot saw that Tyr was scanning the crowd carefully, no doubt looking for potential threats. The quickest way to ease Elliot's mind was to see that Tyr was alert for any possible danger. The aftermath of the night's performance was hectic to say the least. Audience members swarmed around their little circle for several hours after the show ended, most hoping to get a chance to meet the talent behind the impressive feats. Elliot had multiple strangers want to shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder and offer an encouraging word. Pride swelled in him every time, and yet he never knew quite how to react to the praise. He alternated between a nod and a mumbled thanks to trying to downplay his role. Elliot could tell that Tyr was feeling similarly. In much the same way as he had been at the tournament, he was surrounded by fans offering their compliments. "Hey." A voice caused Elliot to turn. He recognized one of the boys that he and Jay had talked to earlier that day. Not the oldest one, but one of the few that had been sitting on the stairs. The boy was several years older than Elliot but seemed very unsure of himself now that his friends weren't around. "That was... really cool." The boy said, a little awkwardly. "I've never seen anyone do that." Elliot blushed and smiled. "Thanks! It just takes a little practice." The boy chuckled. "A lot of practice more like. I'm Erik." Shaking the offered hand, Elliot introduced himself too. "It must be great traveling around like this. Being able to go anywhere." Erik commented, looking around at the troupe. "It's dangerous sometimes." Elliot said. "And there's not always that much food." Erik shrugged. "Yeah, but the freedom though. Nobody here is allowed to leave without permission." "Wait..." Elliot stopped him. "You're not allowed to leave?" Shaking his head, Erik looked around furtively. "No. The leader of the New State doesn't let people leave the town they live in unless they get permission. And no one ever gets permission unless they're a trader or know someone important, or if they can pay for it." "The New State?" Elliot spoke the words with a foul taste in his mouth. "You're talking about Killian." Erik looked around again carefully and then nodded. "Yeah, but you're not really supposed to talk about him. If his men hear you, they think you're saying something bad about him." "And... that's not allowed either." Elliot finished the thought and Erik confirmed with a nod. "We're not from here so we don't know what's allowed and what's not." Thinking for a moment, Erik leaned in again. "Well, we can probably help you, so you don't get into trouble. If you and your friend want to meet us back at the stairs tomorrow, we'll teach you how to blend in around here." Elliot smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'll ask him. Thanks!" Erik said his goodbyes and disappeared back into the crowd. All the while, Elliot wondered if this might be exactly the kind of spark that Marcel was looking for. When the crowd finally thinned out, Elliot found Tyr to present him with this new information. "They want me and Jay to meet them tomorrow." He finished his explanation as Tyr waited patiently. Nodding eventually, Tyr spoke quietly. "Tell Marcel but be very careful. If any of them share the information with the wrong person, you could both be in danger. Don't hesitate to run away if you have to." Elliot promised that he would. Marcel was very interested when he related the story, and Jay's excitement was noticeable. "It's already starting." He said conspiratorially. Before sending them off to bed, Marcel echoed Tyr's concerns about safety, giving Jay an affectionate squeeze on the arm as he did so. The morning came quickly, and Elliot attended to his duties and practiced with his knives a bit first. The events of the night before still had him energized and excited for the repeat performance that evening. His accuracy was improving every day, and he felt a bit of pride whenever people stopped what they were doing to watch him practicing. He practiced more than just the throwing. He also worked in some fancy flourishes and tricky tosses and catches. Tyr would occasionally call out a bit of instruction but for the most part let him work on his own. In the early afternoon, Jay came to find Elliot. As they had the day before, they gathered a few of the weapons from the wagon just in case. Elliot took two of his knives that day since he knew there was a slight possibility of danger. He needn't have worried, however. They found the four boys from yesterday as well as a couple of new young people, two more boys and a girl, waiting for them behind the buildings. "Your show was cool." The oldest boy remarked. "Will you be doing it again? They want to see." He gestured towards the three new people. Jay assured that they would be performing again tonight. "We're not going anywhere for now." He told them. "Who knows if they'll let you leave." Erik commented, earning him several frightened looks from his friends. "What? It's true." "You shouldn't talk about it." The oldest boy told him sternly. "They'll let them leave, they're just travelers." "But did you see how much money people were giving them?" Erik countered. "They won't want to let all that go." The other considered this and frowned before turning back to Jay. "You all should be careful. Maybe think about leaving tomorrow. Bad stuff sometimes happens around here if people make too much money." "We shouldn't be talking about this." The girl interrupted, looking around fearfully. "They're watching close after what happened with Ken's family." This was obviously a sobering point to bring up because an uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Elliot could tell that it was a sore subject, so he decided not to ask. The same sensitivity appeared to elude Jay. "What happened?" He asked. "Who's Ken?" The group shifted uncomfortably. It was Erik that finally answered. "He used to hang out with us sometimes. He was about your age probably." He gestured to Jay. "Had a big mouth and liked to talk about how much better things were here before the State took over." Elliot didn't have to hear the rest of the story to guess that it did not end well, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What happened to him?" "One day he just stopped coming to hang out. His whole family just disappeared. No one knows what happened, or no one says anything." The older boy finished. There was silence in the little alleyway for a while as all considered the implication. Jay finally spoke up. "Couldn't they maybe have just run away?" He asked. "If he hated it here so much, maybe his family did too, and they just left." Erik shrugged. "That's what the guards and the State men say happened. But they left all their things behind. We checked out the house and almost nothing was missing. Nobody would willingly leave all that." "You think they killed them?" Jay asked just above a whisper. "Killed or took them away." The oldest boy confirmed. "Ken had a little sister too, probably not more than nine. It fucking hurts to think what probably happened to her." "Shut up, Corey." The girl complained. "We don't know anything for sure." "Sounds like either way you'd be better off without these scumbags." Jay commented idly. "Why doesn't anyone do anything?" "Shh!" The one named Corey hushed urgently, looking carefully around. "People tried when they first took over, but it got bloody fast. They want us here to pay tribute, but in the end, they'll deal with anyone they think is a problem." "But you outnumber them." Elliot protested, hoping that he and Jay weren't pushing too hard. "You could fight them." "With what?" Erik shot back. "They have real weapons, the most we're allowed to have is gardening tools. There's more than a hundred of them here, and even if we did get rid of them, they'd send more men, or worse." "Worse?" Jay questioned curiously. Again, an uncomfortable silence settled over the group. It was a solid thirty seconds before the girl answered with one word. "Carvers." The combination of hatred and fear with which she spoke the seemingly innocuous word sent chills down Elliot's spine. "Carvers are the ones the State sends when they're done trying to take over a town and just want it gone. They don't take prisoners and they don't leave survivors. Sometimes we hear them ride by and the State men tell stories about what they've seen them do to other towns. They're animals that kill for fun. And do it slowly." Even before Elliot heard Erik mention that they could hear these Carvers riding by, he had a sinking suspicion he knew who they were. He had seen them before, or some of them, on the road only the other day. "Why do they call them Carvers?" Jay asked. Elliot was not sure he wanted to hear the answer. Corey looked grim. "Because of what they like to do to people before they kill them." Elliot shivered as he remembered the dream he'd had after seeing those gruesome-looking men on the motorcycles. He imagined that if these Carvers caught him, then his nightmare would seem tame in comparison. Jay however, only seemed emboldened by the terrible depiction. "That's bullshit." He declared. "You shouldn't have to live like that." The girl shushed him again. "What choice do we have?" She demanded angrily. Taking a moment to look each one of them in the eyes and get a judge of their character, Jay eventually nodded. "Meet with us after the performance tonight. There's some things you might want to hear." Despite prodding from several group members, Jay would say no more. He promised that if they met up after the show that all their questions would be answered. Elliot felt a nervous energy running through him as they said their goodbyes. It was the kind of feeling of doing something he wasn't supposed to do and knowing that it was now too late to stop it. "If they turn us in..." Elliot worried aloud. "They won't." Jay promised. "They lost a friend to those men, so they're probably already under suspicion. They've got almost as much to lose by coming forward as we would." "Hmm, I didn't think of that." Elliot admitted. "If they all joined then that would make us a lot stronger." Jay nodded. "Not to mention, they know their way around the town better than us. When it comes to actually fighting, it will be good to have locals that know the best hiding spots and most dangerous areas." Elliot frowned in thought. It seemed like even Jay was thinking strategically these days. The quick observation almost made Elliot jealous, wishing that he had been thinking the same way. When they reached the camp, Jay eagerly informed Marcel of the results of the trip. Elliot saw Marcel quickly lean in and give Jay a gentle peck on the cheek. The brief glimpse of intimacy made Elliot suddenly feel lonely. When he found Tyr, he impulsively threw his arms around him in a tight hug. Tyr rubbed his back gently and said nothing until Elliot finally broke the embrace. Looking down, with his usual almost invisible twist of his lip, he smiled. "How did it go?" "The men on the motorcycles, they're called Carvers." Elliot informed him. "They come in when they can't control a town and they want to kill everyone... painfully." He tried to keep his report serious and emotionless, as if he was a soldier delivering important information to his commanding officer. It almost worked too, but the thought of the Carvers with their cruel weapons and mismatched armor made him shiver at the last moment, partially ruining the effect. Tyr met his eyes and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Well then, we will just have to be ready for them if they come. Marcel already has people scouting the roads into town. We'll know if anything happens." That surprised Elliot. Marcel was already making plans and taking precautions. It made everything suddenly seem more real. "Do you think we can really do this?" Elliot asked, suddenly fearful, searching for comfort in Tyr's eyes. With little hesitation, Tyr nodded. "I do. This first town will be the most difficult, but after that, word will spread. People will join more eagerly if we're successful here." "I think some of them are already willing to join." Elliot told him about the events of the afternoon behind the stairwell. "Marcel has a good eye for people." Tyr commented. "It was smart of him to send the two of you." "They also said if we stay much longer then they might not let us leave." Elliot said with a bit of worry. This drew an uncharacteristically emotive smile from Tyr, who put a hand to the side of Elliot's neck. "Let them try to stop us then." Elliot felt a sudden thrill run through him. Something about Tyr's implication excited him immensely. The idea that Tyr would fight his way through a hundred men to keep him safe made Elliot want to throw himself at Tyr right then and there. With enormous restraint, he sucked in a deep shuddering breath and spoke again. "How long do you think it'll take, you know to get enough people to take the town." After a thoughtful moment, Tyr responded. "To do it safely, no less than a week I would guess." Elliot bit his lip. Spending an entire week in hostile territory made him feel more than a little nervous. He softly rubbed his hand against Tyr's forearm as if trying to absorb some of his confidence through the contact. "It will be alright." Tyr assured. "Just be patient." "I know." Elliot smiled. "I just wish I wasn't so scared all the time." Tyr crouched down so he was at eye level with Elliot. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid. In this world there's danger everywhere. A bit of well-placed fear can help you stay alive." Elliot's smile widened, and he hugged Tyr again. Tyr returned it and squeezed Elliot tightly. It was comforting to feel the strength that Tyr put into the embrace. It reminded him just how much power was in those impressive muscles. Feeling more at ease, Elliot finished his chores and practiced with his knives until it was time for the night's show to start. The crowd this time was even bigger than the night before. Many of them were return viewers but a good number of them were new faces. The performance went even better than the night before, and the audience loved it. Elliot could hardly believe the cheers that he got when he demonstrated his knife skills, and when Tyr made his entrance the reaction was thunderous. When it came to an end, Elliot found himself wishing that there was more. He had discovered a craving for the spotlight that he had never experienced before. Similar to the night before, Marcel gave his speech about freedom and justice and this time the crowd openly cheered his motivational monologue. Standing a little way off, Elliot noticed that the group of kids from that afternoon had indeed shown up. They were obviously waiting until the crowd thinned out a bit. From a distance, Elliot guessed that their number had grown since their last encounter. Sure enough, when the excitement had died down, the oldest boy, Corey, picked Jay out of the crowd and approached him. Elliot couldn't hear what was said, but Jay looked serious and nodded several times. Jay then motioned for them to follow and moved discretely behind the wagon, dousing two of the torches as he went. The other members of the troupe kept the crowd fairly distracted while Elliot slipped back to investigate the secret meeting. Behind the wagon, he found Marcel, Tyr, and Ida, already waiting with Jay and the group of youths. Doing a quick headcount Elliot saw that their number had increased to nine. "What is this all about?" Corey asked with no small amount of suspicion in his voice. "I'm glad you asked." Marcel replied with a sly grin. "And I'm glad you are all here. The fact is, we may be a group of handsome, talented, and quite charming performers. But, that is only half of the picture." "Insurgents?" Erik guessed, piecing the information together. Marcel gave the blond boy a mildly irritated look for spoiling his big reveal, then he sighed. "Well... Yes. But you make it sound so terribly plain." "Would you prefer we call it suicide?" Corey put in, arms folded across his chest. A low rumbling chuckle drew all eyes to Tyr, who was leaning casually against the wagon. He pushed himself off to join the group and eyed the newcomers carefully. "Suicide, is it? What are you all living for that's so important?" "Tyr..." Ida cautioned, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's important for them to hear." Tyr insisted. "Are your lives so rich and fulfilling now? Living in a hopeless daze under the heel of tyrants?" None of them could meet Tyr's eyes, much less voice a counter-argument, so Tyr continued. "There are very few times in life when we are given a choice about our fate. And most often we don't recognize the choice given to us until it's too late. If you don't make the choice, then it is made for you. This here is one of those rare moments, and you're not likely to get another. So, which will you choose, the comfortable certainty of a hard and fruitless life, or the risk you might take to improve your lot?" No one answered. The small group looked at each other, shifting nervously. All of them were trying to gauge what the others were thinking. "We need to think about it..." Corey finally said with a sigh. "People have tried resisting before and it's never ended well." Marcel grinned wickedly. "They did not have a Norse god on their side." Erik scoffed. "Come on. That's just your show pitch." With a shrug and a wink, Marcel responded. "It could be. I am not so sure anymore myself. The things I have seen this man do, and the stories I have heard about him... I am starting not to doubt it. You've seen for yourself during the shows what eh is capable of. And that is not even half of it." The group's gaze shifted between Marcel and Tyr, each of them sizing up the leaders of the company. Eventually Corey nodded. "We'll talk about it and think about it. We'll be back tomorrow with an answer." "Fair enough." Marcel said with a winning smile. "We will be here." The groups separated, and Elliot felt the familiar tingling mix of excitement and fear that he had experienced earlier that day. There was no turning back now.