THE LOST PARADISE.
by - R. Hasan.

CHAPTER 2

Nothing special happened after that letter came from some Lovewood. I said no and Pete seemed to accept it.

He didn't actually say it… but he didn't protest either.

I can't focus on my book.

Who sent that letter and why? Pete is pretty intelligent (though he does not show it). And it's totally normal that somebody wants him for some kind of ‘operation’. But what's not normal is what this ‘operation’ is about? What's their motive?

It's pretty intriguing. Never ever in my life I encountered such a thing.

And again… It feels like whatever the operation is about, it's against the OneGov. It's a rebellion. Maybe.

If it is a rebellion, then why would they want to recruit Pete? He is my best friend. Me. Who, most probably will be a Leader after my Mother dies. Surely they won't want me...

Then again… they probably do. If they have someone from inside, that obviously will be a huge advantage for them.

I'm not sure. I'm confused.

Pete is downstairs. Preparing dinner. It's always like this. He comes over to hang out and he makes dinner, I go over to hang out and I make dinner. No exception.

I feel proud of this fact that I am a better cook than Pete.

“Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames but still a paradise.”

Ah… Humbert and his paradise…

Do not turn the page.

The bookmark reads. My Dad's hand-writting. I place it on the epitome of Humbert’s paradise with hell-flame coloured sky and close the book.

The wooden stairs creak and squeak as I descend downstairs.

“Dinner's -” Pete coughs, “- Ready -” again cough, “- Mate!” he finishes.

Then coughs once more.

Smoke is everywhere in the kitchen. Nothing surprising. Pete says smoke likes to ‘learn’ how to cook from him.

Yea… I mean why not?!

“Whaddya cook?” I ask while drawing a chair and sitting on it.

“Uhhh… chicken with potato with onion with…” he says.

“Aww, it must be delicious!” note my sarcasm here.

Pete rolls his eyes.

“What do ya wanna do tomorrow?” I ask.

He shrugs. Then he serves dinner.

“Remind me next time to order something or to take out,” I say.

“I'll go visit Dragon Streets tomorrow,” he says.

“Dude, it's a bad idea.”

“Dude, that's why I wanna go,” he says, mocking me.

Something feels out of the order. Like I can't pin-point it… but it's there. I'm not sure if it’s good or bad. It's too vague. Too vague to understand.

“Seriously, why do u want to go there?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“You seem too eager.”

Pete takes time to reply.

“Look, mate, you don't have to come along. So what's the problem?” he says.

“You seriously expect me to sit here and suck lollipop while you will be meeting this Lovewood guy there?” I counter back, “There is no way in hell this is happening.”

“So you wanna go?”

I stare at him.

Maybe it's not a bad idea to go there?

★     ★     ★

“So, what's the plan?” Pete casually asks. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his gray coat.

It's cold outside. Last night, it snowed here. Roads and sidewalks have disappeared under white flecks of snow. Our every breath creates a small cloud in front of us.

I snort.

Pete glances at me, “you've been snorting a lot lately.”

“You've been acting like a stupid a lot lately,” I state.

We walk through a comfortable silence.

A child walks past us. Wearing a yellow tattered sundress on her frail body. Golden blond hair sticking up in every direction. She is visibly shivering. From the cold weather. I notice her feet are covered with a pair of soon-to-be-garbage boots.

Pete walks towards her. Shrugs of his gray coat. Then offers her the coat.

I stand there. Watching. And smiling a little.

The kid stops and looks at Pete's face.

“Here,” Pete says, “You can have it.”

The little girl glances at me and glances back at Pete. Examines the coat with her eyes. Then finally says,

“You keep it. You'll be cold.”

Pete seems surprised. I am surprised too.

A lot.

I expected her to take the coat, give us a smile, maybe, and case closed. What I didn't expect is her declining the offer.

Pete kneels in front of her and asks, “What's your name, kiddo?”

“My name is Scarlet,” she answers, “And don't call me kiddo.”

“Okay, Scarlet, you can take the coat,” Pete smiles, “I have many.”

Scarlet scrunches her nose, “Then go to hell with your coat, I don't want it. I don't live at the mercy of people like you.”

Then she runs away. We stay as we were. Pete kneeling, me, standing. Dumbfounded. And speechless.

“That was -” I begin.

“- totally unexpected,” Pete finishes while standing up.

He shakes his coat and shrugs it on.

“I never thought I'd face her wrath while offering her my coat…” he exclaims as we continue walking towards our destination.

I don't say anything back.

See, I told you. Sometimes, they do show emotions. I'm glad.

Comfortable silence again falls upon us. Both of us walk side by side. Absorbed in our own thoughts. Directed in the same way. Caused by the same blond haired little stranger.

“We're here,” Pete says. He glances back and forth. Right and left. No one’s here. A moment later, suddenly, a Black HoverCar passes us, making a shooshing sound in the air.

Dude must be rich. Who am I kidding?

We are really lonely here. I see the lamppost at the end of the street.

“There,” I point, “the lamppost.”

Pete starts walking towards that. I stand there for a moment and then finally join him, sighing.

“What time is it?” I ask Pete, then look at my own watch, “Eight past fifteen,” I answer myself.

“They would be here anytime now…” Pete said.

The lamppost is famous here. Only it stands as a souvenir of the old world. Typical style. A metal rod rises high in the air, a lamp attached to the rod. A solar panel above the lamp. Seriously? Solar panel? It's in museum nowadays…

Another HoverCar comes into our vision. White. If we weren't desperately in search of anything we wouldn't have seen it. Blended perfectly in the snowy background.

I thought it would fly past us. But it slows down.

The door slides open. Two people come out. One male, one female. Wearing masks and fur coats. White.

Both of them seem to be teenagers like us.

The male has shoulder length blue hair. He stands out. His eyes are blue too. Rest of the face is hidden under a white mask. Strong build body.

The female has bleach blond hair. Eyes gray and sharp. Taking everything in. Lean body. Moves like a predator. Sharp and precise. She is holding a gun.

A gun!

They told us not to bring weapons, now they are carrying a weapon? Pete looks unaffected.

“Get in the car,” The female orders. Slight British accent in her voice.

Pete steps forward to get in.

“Wait,” I say, then look at the female, “Why?”

She looks like she will rather pull the trigger of her gun than answer me. But Mr. Blue answers,

“We will take you to the place,” his voice is unbelievably cold.

“The letter said to come here,” I grit through my teeth.

“Hey, kid, get in the fucking car,” Ms. Blonde says and goes in the car.

Pete gets in without looking back at me.

Mr. Blue stares at me. Waiting.

★     ★     ★

The HoverCar is quite old from the inside. The leathers of the seats have lost their artificial smell. Since I got in, Mr. Blue has been driving without a word. The girl is looking forward. Pete and I are sitting on the backseats. Pete's expression can't be read.

After driving for what seems like fifteen minutes, the HoverCar smoothly comes to a stop.

“Come out,” the girl orders while sliding the door up and getting out herself.

Mr. Blue turns the ignition off and gets out at the same time as Pete. I get out of the car too.

We are in the downtown of the city. This part, I was totally unaware of existing.

Rows of houses are lined up one after another. Broken. Dirty. Shaggy. Dustbins outside these houses are overflowing with garbage. Thick piles of snow covering the roof of the houses.

The female walks towards one of the houses, yanks open the door (which makes a loud creaking sound) and then goes in.

“Follow me,” Blue Hair walks towards the house too.

Pete looks at me. I shrug. Then I follow him in.

The inside of the house is dark. At first, I could see nothing. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the outlines of the furniture… a bookshelf, a tea-table, a - then a light flashed. I snap my eyes shut. Then open them again. It takes a second or two to adjust my eyes.

Okay. This room we are in has a bookshelf, a tea-table, a couch, a plastic chair and a wooden armchair. The armchair is already taken. By the blonde. Her right leg placed over her left knee.

Mr. Blue takes the plastic chair. That leaves the couch.

I walk forward and plop down the couch. Pete follows my lead.

“Okay I'd love to recommend to skip the greetings and start the business,” I say, “But sadly, I don't know you two,” I point at the blonde and the blue, “So let's start with introduction.”

“My name is Alex Blueford,” the blue says.

“Helena Blackwater,” the blonde nonchalantly raises her hand, “You are Blake, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

She raises her eyebrow.

“Blake Austin,” I say again.

“Austin, huh?” Alex a.k.a. Blue says, “Why Austin? Your daddy is a Williams, isn't he?”

I don't answer.

“Answer me, punk,” Alex sneers.

I stare at his eyes. Hard. He pales.

“Do not ask me twice,” I say, my voice containing none of the anger I feel inside, “...and do not call me punk, punk.”

He can't seem to break eye contact. But clearly he is petrified. I don't know why. I take my gaze off of him.

“Did you bring any tracking device?” the blonde asks.

I look at her, “No.”

“Why?” she picks at her nails.

“Why what?”

She stays silent. For a few seconds.

Then she sighs and gets up from the armchair, “Search him,” she says looking at Alex.

I look at Alex too, “Wha-”

She suddenly grabs my right arm, yanks me off the couch. I'm shocked. Beyond shocked. She hits me behind the bending spot of my right knee, and my knee hits the floor.

“Ouch!”

She bends my arm behind my head and pushes my back. Hard.

And wow! In a timespan of 4 seconds, my position changed from sitting on the couch to lying on the floor. Face on the floor.

I feel something cold being pressed on the back of my head. Great. Now she will shoot me. I close my eyes.

“Search him, Alex,” she repeats, then moves her mouth closer to my ear and says, “Don't move or I'll pull the trigger.”

She releases my hand. Moves off of my back but still presses the gun on my head.

Alex stands up. Quickly comes near me and starts to ‘search’ me. How did he search me? I'll spare you the details.

After ‘searching’ me and finding nothing without a vaseline and a pen and a wrinkled piece of paper, he says, “He's OK.”

Helena releases me. Pete helps me to stand up.

“So,” I say while brushing my coat with my hand, “Your main target was me.”

They all, including Pete, stare at me.

“Do you know these guys?” I ask Pete.

“No, I mean yes… but,” he gulps, “I can explain?”

“Okay,” I cross my hands.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Helena interrupts, “That means you didn't tell him anything?” she asks Pete.

Pete doesn't say anything.

“No,” I say, “Sadly, Pete didn't inform me anything at all,” my voice steady and hard.

Helena snorts, “Pete?!”

She turns towards Pete, “For Pete's sake, he calls you Pete?” she laughs. Yes, ladies and gentleman, the girl with a gun can actually laugh, “I'm not forgetting this, Pete!”

“Not now, Helena,” Alex says. He has regained his composure.

Helena, God bless her, shuts up.

Pete is blushing furiously. Poor boy.

“What now?” I ask.

“We should sit here and inform you everything about the Academy,” Alex says.

“No, enough for today,” Pete says, “I'll inform him of the rest of the essential information he needs to know.”

“I want to know,” I firmly say, “Why do you want me and for what.”

They don't speak a word.

“Now.” I demand.

A.N.

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