Chapter Two - Vox Populi, Vox Dei

Help- I'm falling, I'm crawling
I can't keep away from its clutch
Can't have it, this habit
It's calling me back to my home...

Lupe, a hunter of about 23 years of age, sat down on an old stone block. That was as close to comfort as an underground dweller could get. He remembered that day... the "clearance". He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment remembered the home he used to live in. He was only ten years of age, and had a nice house. He could remember people avoiding him and his family, but it had grown on him so much that he didn't give it a second thought. He used to ride his bicycle down the road. He was a paperboy, but received very little pay. Without the mark of Thought Wave, he had no right to purchase. His boss, Mr McGregan was a sympathiser. He believed that targeting a religion the way Malorum did was an act of evil, but kept that to himself and Lupe of course. He paid him a little, and gave him food to tide over the poor boy.

He would ride back home, right after the sun peeked its forehead over the horizon. If he was lucky, he could avoid the taunts. On some mornings, neighbours spat on him and threw fruit at him, yelling "Scum!" to him. The influence that Malorum gave was so brainwashing, that people forgot their morals and love for their neighbours. Mr and Mrs McKeenan used to be friends with Lupe's adopted parents, and often came over for a cup of coffee. And now, here they were, throwing bricks at their battered house, tearing out their fruit trees and vegetables and taunting them. Such hatred from a neighbour! Lupe used to think.

And then, the night came. A large group of Malorum followers carried sticks blazing with fire. Guns were strapped to their belts and backs. Knives gripped in their cold, calloused hands. His parents could hear the chants, the angry and drunken slurs of the crowd. Lupe peeked out the window, seeing the men from a fair distance. He ran to his mother's bed. "Mummy?" he whispered, tugging at her hand. She woke up, bleary eyed and weak. "Yes darling?" she mumbled. Lupe looked at her with confusion and innocence. He felt no worry, since he didn't know what was happening for sure. "Mummy, there are scary men at our window. They have fire!" Lupe's mother gasped and raced out of bed. She peeked out, only to see them setting fire to her beautiful shrubs. She gasped and shook her husband. "Trent! Trent, for the love of god, wake up!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. "Lupe! Quick... go find some food. I want you to hide" she begged. Lupe did not understand her, but understood the fear in her voice. "Mummy?! What are they doing?" he asked innocently. She gnashed her teeth and looked through her drawers. His father was in his clothes, holding onto a few essentials. "Darling... I'll be okay. I will see you soon, okay?" she trembled. "Right now, I want you to run. Please... go, just GO!!!" she screamed. Lupe nodded and ran out the back door.

They dropped their blazing sticks at the front of the house. Men threw 45 proof alcohols to the fire, cheering as the fireball started to surround the house. Both of Lupe's parents moved to the back of the house. The father embraced his wife and kissed her. "It looks like this may be the end for us both, my dear" he said to her. Both wept gently. A brick hurled through the window, denting into the floorboards. The mother leapt and squealed in fright of the brick. They tore through the window and cursed. Two men, reeking of alcohol took the mother and breathed down her neck. "Why hello, my pretty" they snarled, chuckling in their drunken stupor and perverted thoughts. She spat in their eye. The man on the left punched her in the jaw. The father, held back by some men yelled "No! NO!" at each attack to her. Lupe sat in the back yard, watching through the window, sobbing.

"Whaddya fink we should do with this fine lass, huh?" breathed one man. The other chuckled and molested her. She wept fearfully. The father grunted and groaned, trying to slip his way out of the meaty hands of the drunken men. "Please, for all things good and holy... do not harm her" he pleaded. The men chuckled. An adolescent, drunken with hate and rage took his pitchfork and raised it to the father's chest. "We can do as we please," he said. He knocked him in the temple with the handle. As he fell, the men laughed and kicked at him. His ribs began to split and snap inside of him. The mother wept, hearing her husband's painful cries and weak pleas for mercy. "Please" he wheezed. "Kill me... but... don't... touch my... wife..." A bulky man, 6 foot tall and coated in tattoos, took a shovel. "This ought to finish him" and struck the sharp end of the shovel to his neck. He was instantly decapitated.

Lupe, in utter shock of this, nearly screamed. He was so afraid of the men, that no sound could come out from his mouth. The mother screamed at the horror of her husband's death. The men struck her at the back of her neck. She fell forward. They taunted her and laughed at her. "You ugly bitch. Who here thinks its a cold night?" a gang leader yelled. She gasped as they cheered. They took her by the arm, tying her to a beam on the front porch. "Time for a nice little bonfire!" they slurred. They lowered the torches to the beam. She began to scream as the flames caught onto her legs. The pain was unbearable, her body jolting and bursting internally. She screamed as her insides began to cook, blood dripping out slowly from opening wounds. After twenty minutes, her life came to a painful end. Lupe, hearing his mother's cries, wept gently. "Mummy..." he sobbed. The men cheered as the house began to burn more so. "Now... where's the little runt?" one grunted. He heard footsteps. He began to run, he had to run.

He climbed over fences in the neighbourhood. Men could hear his tiny footsteps, and feebly threw rocks and shot to him. He ran to the street alleyway, a sense of frustration and hurt overbearing him. However, his instinct and persistency told him to keep running. He ran for what seemed like hours, the men giving chase for nearly forty five minutes. Due to their drunken stupor, his speed and the blinding light of the sunrise, he managed to escape with minor wounds and splinters. However, much more had damaged him. He was now a mute. The shock of a near death, his parents being killed brutally and his life ruined froze his mouth shut. Besides, he thought to himself. Nobody will speak with me. I'll be killed before I could speak.

Lupe lived for five years in the middle of an uninhibited woodland. He taught himself how to hunt, fight, gather and start fires. At times, people would look around for a stray stallion, or an animal that they could shoot. Lupe often robbed those men of either their weapons, their food or... even in desperate times, clothing. He had many kinds of weapons, but most of all was a prized compound bow. He used to use trees as target practice, and after some time became well adjusted to this. He moved from trees to animals. He never killed for the sake of it, but rather so he could live. He had a few skins of animals, and only wore them during the winter. He lived in an abandoned bear cave for a long time.

However, his way of life halted for a while. A group of scraggy looking folk took pity on him. He wouldn't speak to them, since he hadn't said a word in just over five years. He willingly went with them into the underground, after a few days of convincing him that they too, were not men who would cause harm, but rather were being harmed. They took him to a stone and pushed it to one side. A small opening revealed itself to a long, dark and winding tunnel. The men blindfolded him, in case he was a spy from the various Malorum followers. Once his blindfold was released, a massive underground room full of outcasts stood before him. A man came up to him with a strangely comforting smile. He was in rags, stunk of moist dirt and looked like he hadn't bathed in clean waters for years. His name was Reverend Michael, the same reverend who spoke at his old church. He and a team of men found this tunnel and worked on building an underground community.

He was taken under the wing of Reverend Michael for years, being taught about the scriptures in the Bible almost every day. Even after a year, he could not speak, no matter how much persuasion and pleading was given.

One day, foreign men came to inspect the tunnel. A child of three years of age could not stop crying. He was in pain from a sprained ankle, and the mother tried to calm him. Lupe, under so much stress, turned to the child. "Hush, child" he snapped. This mute sixteen year old had broken his silence, only to start the silence of another child. The child hushed, obeying him. After ten minutes, the foreigners left the cave. The people in the cave thanked the Lord that he could speak, and asked him many things. He spoke timidly, but opened up to the Reverend with ease. He told him the story of his parents, the way he lived before he was taken in. The reverend listened, the story jumping from funny to sorrowful throughout.

Lupe shed a tear and sniffed. He flipped his scarf over his shoulder and stood up. The room was so damp and moist. To a normal person, the moisture could almost flood a person's lungs, but to Lupe, it was fresh air. He hadn't stepped outside very often, but when he did, the air was breathtaking. A young girl, roughly 20 years of age walked into his room. She had long, flowing brown hair, green eyes and was roughly 5"7. Lupe smiled at her, stood to his feet and walked to her. She held him in a soft embrace and kissed him. Her name was Alexis, an experimental reject of the Thought Wave mind control experiment.

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They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...