#adversaryproject

He knew the man wouldn’t make it. As soon as the bishop was within sight and the man didn’t move, he was doomed. It takes drive to get away from Dema. You have to want to leave with every last bit of who you are. Even as they threw the petals over the side of the Trench offing a distraction as a last resort to save the man from the bishop’s grasp he had hesitated. It wasn’t until the end that the man had really fought, but it was too late.

So why? Why couldn’t he look away from him? What was it about him?

“Clancy,” her voice was barely above a whisper, “Clancy, we need to go.”

What was it about the man in the Trench that had called to Clancy? Everyone else had left. Why couldn’t he?

“Clancy, please.” She was being a good partner. She wouldn’t leave him behind and head to safety without him. But the waver in her voice gave away her fear.

“Sorry,” he muttered turning away from the ravine, “you’re right, we need to go.”

Her face was obscured by her hood, but the bright yellow tape on her shoulders and down her arms marked her identity for him. He followed her back into the tree line, out of sight of the edge of the Trench and away from the threat the lone bishop posed.

“I don’t understand,” she slowed her pace so he could catch up, “why didn’t he run? It seems like so many of them get caught because they don’t run.”

“I think,” he sighed and pulled his mask down around his neck. “Sometimes they don’t want to enough. Some people the bishops have such a hold on that they stop running. It’s all in their heads and they can’t escape their own minds, but sometimes to stay alive you’ve gotta kill your mind.”

“Makes sense,” she nodded. “I suppose we got lucky coming from Keons’ district.”

“It definitely made it easier,” he offered a small smile. “That and the fact that we left as a group.”

They continued onward, the trees grow denser as they traveled deeper into the forest. The only sound was their footfalls and the dead foliage crunching beneath their feet. The trees were so compact here that any light that managed to filtered down through the leaves became a soft green. He loved the green. It was everything Dema wasn’t. Alive, full of energy and movement. The only splattering of color in the tomb-like city was the crimson of the bishops and the punishments they served to deserving citizens.

His mind wandered back to the heavy cloaked bishop and the man he was standing over. Like many of the people from the Nico district, the man had failed to escape. Clancy had been out for almost a year and he had only met one person who had made it out of Nico’s control, Gordon. Something, besides the huge gash on her head, had been different about her escape, but she refused to talk about it. Her silence on her flight from her district wasn’t abnormal, many of their new group refused to talk about life before making it out, opting instead for codenames and a fresh start at being alive. Even his partner, Porter, had been reluctant to share her past with him despite their growing friendship. He found himself doing the same with those around him. It was an unspoken idea.

The less you know, the less you can give away if you are caught.

It seemed as though even out here, the Bishops held sway over their lives.

It wasn’t long before the smell of the fire burning in the center of their camp filled their senses. The burning metal frame from some unknown thing had become the focal point around which their tents had been built. It provided warmth during the cold evenings, a place to cook their food, and a beacon to those who got lost in the forest. There had been talk of leaving it as it could potentially call unwanted attention to the area, but ultimately they settled on staying as long as they could.

Porter’s pace slowed as she came to the edge of camp. She pulled her hood back, letting her shoulder-length auburn hair see the sunlight. Clancy adored her hair and often found himself staring at it when she wasn’t looking. It reflected the warmth of the forest around them and caused the feelings of home he had developed to flare in his chest. He loved it best at sunset.

“Based on everyone’s glum looks that whoever was in the Trench was smeared,” Sheridan’s voice jerked Clancy away from staring at his partner’s back.

“Yeah, uh,” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “Nico got him.”

“Ah,” Sheridan nodded in realization.

Sheridan, along with his partner Birch, had been liberated from Dema the longest out of their group. For three years the two of them lived in the forest near the Trench before anyone else joined them. After the group gained a few more members they moved away from the edge of the Trench, towards the ever burning metal frame. The pair was from the Lisden district, the district of mask-wearing - of hiding one’s true self, so it was only natural that they set the precedent for hiding your past once you left Dema. They had proven themselves capable leaders and did their best to care for newcomers. However, they seemed complacent in their place in the forest, uninterested in progression. This bothered Clancy.

Sheridan broke away from the pair, no doubt seeking out Birch to share the news.

Clancy turned back to where Porter had been to see her standing further away with two other women, Lincoln and Gordon. The partnered girls had been assigned to the tent next to Clancy and Porter, leading to a strong connection between the four.

“Clancy,” Porter’s brown eyes turned to meet his, “we’re all off duty tomorrow and Gordon suggested that we should go swimming.”

“Yeah,” his spirits lifted. It would be good to have a day to relax. “That sounds good.”

“I’m going to go help with cleaning dishes before the evening meal,” Porter smiled, “let me know if you decide to leave camp.” She made a fist and pressed it into his shoulder. “Stay alive.”

He nodded before she turned and walked away.

“What does she think you are going to do?” Gordon chuckled lightly, her hazel eyes flashing with the same amusement as her smile. “She’s always telling you that.”

“Oh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s from when we first got here.”

“Now you have to tell us,” Lincoln smiled and threw her hands up.

Clancy sighed. “About a week after we arrived I went for a walk outside of camp on my own,” he pointed just beyond their tent, “everything was just so overwhelming and I wanted to clear my thoughts.”

“Yeah?” Gordon laughed, “don’t tell me… you’re the reason we can’t leave camp alone.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “that was a rule already, but I ignored it and headed into the forest on my own.”

“Something must have happened,” Lincoln put her hands on her hips, “there’s no way she would say something like that to you if nothing happened.”

“I twisted my ankle,” he laughed, “it took her almost two hours to find me.”

“Clancy!” Gordon’s mouth hung open, “a twisted ankle out in the forest alone is all it would take, man!”

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up, “she reminds me all the time not to leave alone.”

“Remind me how long you two have been partners,” Lincoln rubbed her nose, “I forget.”

“A year,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, “we were assigned to each other when we arrived.”

“I was in their tent with them until you got here and we were given our own,” Gordon smiled. “It was nice, but it was crowded with three people.”

“I imagine so,” Lincoln’s eyes were wide, “and you’ve been out… seven months total, right?”

“Yup, so I’ve been with you almost as long as I was with them,” she hugged her partner.

“And you’ve managed to keep your sanity somehow,” Lincoln laughed.

Clancy smiled. They were different from anyone he had ever met. He was surprised by how heavily a given district could impact a person’s personality. Like Porter, he had come from the Keon district and as such, they were both somewhat reserved and religious when it came to their duties and commitments. Lincoln had come from the Andre district and was quick to withdraw like the others from there. Gordon was the outlier. As the only person in the group from the Nico district, there were no others to compare her personality to. She was happy and bubbly most of the time, but quick to turn, it didn’t take much for her to shut down and push people away. But still, he enjoyed them. They were becoming part of his family, and he wouldn’t have them any other way.

“I’m going to go try to rest for a bit,” he motioned towards their tent, “if Porter asks, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Yeah man, rest up,” Lincoln waved as he walked away.

Clancy pushed back the canvas panel that acted as the door to their tented living space. There were two small bunks, one pushed to the left and one to the right, the gap between them no more than three feet wide. They were each provided with a crude shelving unit that sat against the foot of their respective bunks and they shared the trunk that rested between the heads.

Porter’s shelves were filled with odds and ends. Things she had collected from the Trench and the surrounding forest over the year they had been here. A rock shaped like a bird, a leaf that had stayed a beautiful burgundy color, and the dried remains of a flower he had given her to commemorate the year they had been free from Dema. The bottom shelf held her spare boots and jacket.

His shelves sat mostly bare save his extra jacket and a drawing Porter had done of him while sitting near the center fire. They were indicative of his time here. Porter tried to connect with people, to create a home for them while he had spent his time writing in his journal and trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something was missing.

His bunk creaked as he sat down on the side, the wooden frame giving slightly under his weight. He reached under the thin mattress and pulled out his beat-up journal and pencil. He turned to a blank page and began to writhe.

Today there was a man in the Trench…

He had tried to sleep. He really had, but thoughts of the man’s body lying in the stream at the bottom of the Trench wouldn’t let him. So he stared at the canvas roof and kept asking himself the same question, ‘who was the man in the Trench?’

The sudden opening of the tent’s flap startled him from his thoughts.

“It’s time for the evening gathering,” Porter pulled on the toe of his boot. “I’ll hold a spot for ya.”

The sun had finished dipping below the horizon, leaving the forest wrapped in a blanket of darkness. But still, the center fire burned. Its flames stretched high into the sky throwing sparks towards the stars.

“Today many of you witnessed the smearing of a fellow Bandito,” Sheridan’s voice was raised so all those sitting around the fire could hear him. “While we did not know him, or his name, we mourn his penance and the loss at his return to Dema.”

Clancy found his seat next to Porter who handed him a plate with the dinner he had missed.

“We offer up a moment of exaltation for him and his failed escape,” Sheridan pressed his lips together and began to hum softly. The single, extended note was joined by the hums of everyone else around the fire. Clancy joined. He reveled in the feeling of the vibrations that seemed to fill his being. Whenever the group offered a moment of exaltation for a lost member it seemed to fill the circle they sat in with the same life that the forest hummed with. It was an offering of life in the honor of one who had lost theirs.

The hum ended and after a short pause, Sheridan began again.

“We would like to take this moment to remind you all to stay with your partners when leaving the camp,” he was walking around the fire, trying to make eye contact with everyone he could. “With the runners getting further into the Trench, the Bishops are coming out further and further from Dema, and we don’t want anything to happen to any of you. Stay safe, stay alive.”

“Stay safe,” the group echoed the mantra, “stay alive.”

“Sleep well everyone,” Sheridan returned to sitting next to Birch.

Clancy finished his dinner and returned the plate to the mess area. Porter was already laying in her bunk when he got back to their tent. Her pants were folded neatly on top of her shelves and her boots tucked under her bed.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” he sat on the edge of his bunk and pulled off his shoes, “everything okay?”

“I can still hear him calling to us,” she mumbled, “he used words that only members of our group should know.”

Jumpsuit! Jumpsuit! Cover me!

The memory of the words sent a shiver down Clancy’s spine. There had been something deeply unnerving about the events in the Trench.

“He called to us and all we did was stand there and watch,” she rolled onto her side so she was facing his bunk. “Now he’s back in the Nico district, alone.”

Clancy dropped his pants unceremoniously on the floor by his boots. “I didn’t realize today bothered you so much.”

“It’s not that today bothered me,” her voice hitched in her throat.

“Then what is it?” he laid down under his covers, facing her. He could barely make out her features in the dark, the space between them beginning to feel like a cavern. “You can tell me anything, Porter. You know that.”

“I hate the idea of being alone,” she finally breathed, “when we lived in Keons I had a roommate. When I left Dema, I did so in the group. Since we have been assigned as partners…”

“We’ve never really been apart,” he realized. Aside from the one time he had ventured into the forest alone, she had always been around. Only in camp did she allow herself to stray from his side, and even then she was always with someone else.

“I fear isolation,” he could hear her struggling to hide her anxiety, “what if that had been you in the Trench?” Her voice was beginning to rise in pitch as she struggled to fight back the emotions that had been building all day. “What if you were gone and I was alone?”

“Hey, hey,” he stretched out an arm from under his covers, “take my hand.”

She sniffed and slowly began to reach towards him. As soon as her fingertips brushed his he grabbed her hand, holding in firmly wrapped in his.

“You’re not alone,” he gave her hand a squeeze, “you will never be alone. I am right here, and I will always be right here.”

“But-” she began.

He squeezed her hand again, “no buts, I will always be here. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded from under the pulled up covers.

“Now go to sleep,” she tried to withdraw her hand from his but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m keeping this for awhile, so you know I’m serious.”

She gave his hand a squeeze in return. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, it’s what I’m here for,” he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Good night, Clancy,” she smiled softly.

“Night, Porter,” he returned her smile.