boy named Rat: Prologue

Hansing Republic. The land of Ayer, a mysterious fluid-like substance that's been powering the nation for centuries. It's running out. It's up to 13-year old fugitive Thian Mann to save his country.

PROLOGUE:

A slender woman of thirty sashayed around a large white-walled bedroom, the morning rays of sun dancing on her frilly dress. The towering bow windows loomed over her graceful figure gliding around the newly furnished room, cooing nursery rhymes to the bundled mass wrapped in her arms. Her long silky hair

Unsealed cardboard boxes stacked up neatly beside the massive four-poster king-sized bed, the magnificent centrepiece of the room. The ceiling fan whirred gently overhead and the crystal-encrusted chandelier swayed slightly in response. The mahogany armoire and teak vanity rested against the wall. 

Everything in the room carried the scent of newness, but the woman remained absorbed in less materialistic things.

She was enjoying the soft woolly carpet beneath her feet and the wide inquisitive eyes of the infant she held in her arms. Her first son gurgled when she lightly touched his button nose with her finger.And the hymn she was floating to continued.

Eschew and Eke,

Little one goes to sleep,

In the arms of the morn,

You’ll find yourself as a newborn,

 

So engrossed was she in her two-month old and the nursery rhyme that she failed to hear the knock on her bedroom door.

Knock.

She swept to the bed and laid her son down on the cerulean sheets. The finest cotton she could find for her finest achievement thus far-her baby.

Knock.Knock.

The hazel-eyed baby gurgled every few syllables. She couldn’t stop grinning.

Knock.Knock.Knock.Knock.Knock.

She pursed her lips and began another verse-

“Madame Norma! Are you alright in there? The movers are here!”

The hoarse little voice emanating from behind the door startled the new mother. She whisked her baby back in her arms and hurried to the door. I swung open and she looked down to see a hunchbacked elderly woman of 73 years, lines and creases like dried riverbeds on her weathered face. Her wiry gray hair was tied in a tight bun and she looked up at the mother with a clenched jaw. It was Madame Bituin.

“Oh fudge! I’m so sorry Madame Bituin! I just got so carried away with the little one here,” Norma explained, traces of her grin still on her face.

Madame Bituin relaxed her jaw and hobbled into the bedroom, her little eyes taking in the sunlight swarming in through the windows.

“Fudge fudge. Sputtering nonsense.,” she muttered, pausing in front of a window, ”You need curtains,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Y-y-yes of course, Madame Bituin. The movers are here yes? Would you mind tending to the baby while I make sure everything’s alright downstairs?”

The older lady nodded without turning to face Norma and continued to survey the room. She peered through the window, overlooking Executive Road with its neat rows of two-storey houses and white fences. The glare of the sun nibbled at her patience. Finally, she spoke again.

“Where is the cot?”

Norma placed her infant tenderly in a nest of soft blankets on the bed.

“What?”

“The cot, Madame Norma. The cot you ordered?”

“Well, Sam only just made the deposit last week so it should arrive later today. Or tomorrow. It’s only morning, Madame Bituin. But wait ‘til you see the cot! The way he described it to me! Sam’s having the carpenters paint it cerulean blue. Says it’s the color of Mahren and all. I told him he’s just a little baby. He shouldn’t worry too much about Mahren and all that rub-

“Madame Norma?” Madame Bituin drawled. Norma, looked at the only other woman she trusted with her son.

“I suspect the movers have been waiting downstairs for almost ten minutes now,” 

Norma quickly bounded to the door.

“Oh fudge! Why didn’t you let them in? Make tea or something?”

Madame Bituin shook her head slowly.

“Strangers. I do not trust strangers.I allowed them to park their truck outside and they are waiting inside the compound. They need to be supervised,” A little shudder creeped across her shoulder. 

Norma shook her head and picked at her dress, checking for stains and whatnots you wouldn’t want strangers letting their eyes wander to.

“Ha! You worry too much! Sam thinks so too! Miss Bituin, do I look okay?” Norma gave a little twirl at the doorway. Miss Bituin shrugged and tottered over to the bed where the baby lay.

“That’s good enough for me!” she chuckled. Her descent to the first floor was very audible, each step landing with a clumsy thud. Madame Bituin shuffled over to the newborn and stroked the baby’s soft porcelain cheek with her index finger. The contrast between her wrinkled finger and the baby’s untainted skin did not surprise her, but it did elicit a small chuckle. The baby gazed up curiously.

“Your mother’s waited years for you,” she whispered, “do you know that?”

The baby gurgled back.

Norma adjusted her dress, worried it would be offensively high above her knees for the visitors. Just the act of bouncing around the newly purchased house, frantically hunting for a hairpin before presenting herself in front of the movers gave her a thrill. She loved her expansive new house. Sam had taken great pains to procure it. Imagine scoring a house on Executive Road where all the bigwigs from the Abaddopolis city council and prominent members of the United Front settled down! In fact, the only thing Norma felt she would mind was the border collie barking up a storm in the neighbouring lawn. Annoying dog. It had kept her up all night. She wanted to speak to its owners. She’d bring brownies or muffins of course. Bought, not baked. Norma couldn’t bake to save her life despite Miss Bituin’s diligent efforts in trying to teach her.

Her husband had been clocking in a great deal of overtime with his post in the city council. It must have paid off because after years of toiling away at mountains of paperwork, he was finally promoted. And she had refrained from pursuing her education when they discovered the little life growing inside her.

11 months later and they were finally on the cusp of progress.

Looking around her brand new spacious living room with its high ceiling and twinkling chandelier, Norma beamed. She couldn’t be more proud of Sam. She only hoped he’d be home in time for dinner so she could show her appreciation. Once all the kitchenware was unpacked, she planned on concocting the best meal her husband would ever lay on his taste buds. With Madame Bituin’s assistance, of course.

Stacks upon stacks of unsealed boxes littered the house, creating a cardboard maze for Norma. She found her purse on the kitchen countertop, fished out her hairpin, snapped her bangs in place, and proceeded to greet the movers. The purse swung around violently on her arm, in tandem with her hectic movements.

The gap under the door revealed two big pairs of boots. Those boots had better not have dirt on them. I’ll chew off my own arm to protect the new carpets she thought to herself as she opened the door slowly, hands still fussing with her hair.

Two burly broad-shouldered men Norma assumed to be in their forties stood in front of her, clad in cerulean dress shirts and white khakis. The one on her left had a mat of thin brown hair with visible bald spots and his companion was completely devoid of hair atop his scalp. Both sported black sunglasses and both blocked the sunlight from Norma, their shadows collapsing onto Norma’s slender frame. They looked like Easter Island statues with their gravelly skin and angular faces. Yes, they looked like statues, but they sure didn’t look like movers. She was accustomed to the presence of movers as a child and these men were anything but. Their clothes were too crisp.

“Hello,” she chirped, brushing away her observations momentarily and extending her hand, “you can call me Norma. Are you the movers Sam arranged?”

Both ignored her extended hand but the bald one stepped forward, the proximity causing Norma discomfort. She held her breath. The man reeked of rotten crustaceans, like something the sea spat out.

“Are you the legal spouse of Samuel Mann?” he asked, deep voice rumbling her eardrums.

She nodded.

“Then we need to have a word. Let’s have our discussion inside Madame-

“Norma,” and she frowned, “it’s Norma. And if you’re not the movers, then who are you? What discussion? What needs to be discussed?”

The bald man spoke again, “don’t make this difficult. Your belongings are in the truck outside. Don’t concern yourself with them for now.”

He gestured his hand towards the enormous white 18-wheeler parked crudely in front of her new home, blocking a large portion of the narrow road. Norma’s frown deepened. I’ll bet the neighbors won’t be happy. First day in our new house and the neighbours will already be annoyed with us.

The bald man had already set one foot inside and the ensuing thump of his boot snapped her back to her situation. Norma was puzzled, but these men wouldn’t take no as an answer. From their cerulean-themed attire, she suspected they were councilmen. The delicate hawk-shaped pin, the seal of Abaddopolis, on their collars confirmed her theory. The men began to shuffle inside but Norma cleared her throat.

“If you’re going to invade my privacy, you should be courteous enough to at least take off your shoes. I will not have dirt spoil my new carpeting,” she said coldly. The two ‘movers’ seemed to disregard her authority at first, buteach paused, shared a glance with each other, and pulled off their boots.

She shut the door and ushered them to the living room. The pillars of boxes were too heavy to just shove aside so she gestured for them to sit on the poufs she had unpacked the previous night. Madame Bituin had urged her to spend a night at the house first as Sam was wrapped up in work. He had assured her that the bedroom and kitchen were furnished, save for a few pans and pillowcases.

“The rest of our things will arrive tomorrow dear. You take Madame Bituin and the baby and get yourselves acquainted with Executive Road and our gorgeous new home first. I’ll come straight home-our new home-from work tomorrow,” he had suggested over the phone, “don’t you worry.”

Norma stared down at the burly men adjusting their oversized behinds on the tiny poufs. Like boulders on a pebble. She held back a snort.

“I’ll be back with drinks,” she said,” and we can discuss whatever it is you want to discuss.”

The bald man held out his hand.

“There is no need Madame Norma. Please seat yourself as well.”

She did. Well, this had better be good, she thought to herself. And my mother’s oak cupboard had better be in that truck.

The bald one spoke again while the brown-haired companion refused to sit still on his pouf.

“My name is Shang and this is Malem. We are Samuel’s,” he paused slightly before ,”colleagues.”

Norma crossed her arms and legs.

“Then how come Sam’s never mentioned you two before? He tells me everything that goes on at work you know.”

“Everything?” Shang raised his eyebrow, catching Norma off guard.

“Well, not exactly everything. He has never spoken of you two before. Shang and Malem? Those are names you give to  rats or someth-

“Rats are the filthiest lowliest creatures on this sacred planet the Mahra has blessed us with. You shall not insult the names given to the caliphs who sacrificed their lives for the Mahra,” Shang interrupted matching Norma’s sour sarcasm with iciness.

Partial silence. Malem had a wristwatch ticking away furiously. He glanced at it and then at his partner.

“Well then, I apologize. Mr. Shang, what is it that you would like to discuss?”

“Your husband, Mr. Samuel Mann has been charged with,” and he paused before the word, “smuggling drugs into the Hansing Republic.”

Norma shook her head in disbelief. There was absolutely no way her goody two shoes of a husband, proud devotee of the Mahra, would submit himself to such a heinous act. No way.

Shang pretended not to notice the fusion of shock and anger in Norma’s expression. He went on.

“We do not mean to alarm you, Madame Norma. We are merely here to ask some ques-

“Then why come with the moving van at all? Where are the actual movers? I don’t understand. And you’re accusing my husband of smuggling? Mr. Shang, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but I refuse to answer any of your questions until I get some legal advice. From a lawyer, thank you.”

And she had the ideal expert in law as well. She had a cousin in the city slogging through law school. Norma had been looking for a reason to ring her up and now she had it. There is no way Sam would smuggle she thought, this time to reassure her suddenly restless nerves.

Unperturbed, Shang cleared his throat and nodded to Malem who seemed relieved as he got up from his uncomfortable perch.

“Excuse me, Madam. I really need to use the toilet,” he spoke. Norma was slightly taken aback by the high pitch. He sounded like a Saturday morning television show cartoon character being strangled.

“Down the hall, to the left, right before the kitchen,” she responded, and the big man with the squeaky voice lumbered off to settle his ‘business’. Norma swivelled around to face Mr. Shang once again. She studied his expressionless face. He still hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. She pouted her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. How disrespectful.

“Now then, Madame Norma,” Shang spoke, “We will unload the moving van outside. Do not fret. Investigations are underway and we would appreciate your cooperation. There is no need to panic. 

There is no need to cause an unnecessary ruckus. Should your husband be found innocent, we shall return all your belongings. Should he be found gui-

“What do you mean our belongings?”

“As part of the investigation, we have been granted a warrant to search your things. Standard procedure. That is why we have the moving van in our possession.”

Norma was attempting to absorb all that Shang was explaining to her to no avail.

“So what did he steal? I mean, what drug is he accused of smuggling?Coffee beans? Caffeine’s a dangerous drug you know.My husband is not interested in another drug. He’s as clean as-

“Madame Norma! For a grown woman, you sure are childish. I will not have insult the Mahra. Why any devout Mahrem would taint himself by marrying you is beyond my compre-

“Excuse me?!?”

“Oh if I were given the opportunity to excuse you and your traitorous husband from anywhere near the vicinity of Abaddopolis, I most certainly would take advantage of it! If you insist on seeking a lawyer, then you may do so before we proceed with further questions.”

CRASH!!!!

The sound came from the back and Norma whipped herself off to the kitchen to investigate. The tower of boxes blocking the laundry room entrance had toppled and Malem was beside it, cheeks flushed red.

“I’m sorry Madame Norma. I’ll stack them back up,” he apologized in his high pitched voice.

Norma shook her head. What a bizarre morning she thought as she stooped to preen at the mess. The boxes had been stuffed with mostly clothes and curtains from their previous apartment in Abaddopolis. Some of the contents had peeked through tears in the bulging boxes.

“Never mind that. You and Mr. Shang need to leave. If it’s true that you have a warrant to sort through my things, then I ‘d like to see proof before you go rummaging through everything like the rats you are.”

She trotted back to the living room to find Shang groping one of the boxes. It was obvious the man was attempting to find out what was inside. She cleared her throat loudly as Malem came up behind her. Shang, slightly taken aback, attempted to recompose himself. Norma gritted her teeth.

She was not amused.

“Where is this warrant? I may not be an expert in law, but I’m certain a councilman caught invading a woman’s privacy is not an article subject matter you’d appreciate reading in the city newspaper.”

And she knew her former classmate from high school was always ravenous for stories to be printed. She worked as a journalist for The Mahrem Gazette.

Shang clenched his jaw. Norma was a woman who knew her way around snide remarks and his patience was grating itself against his desire to clamp her lips shut permanently. With super glue.He finally gestured at Malem who was nervously picking at his trouser zippers.

“Come, Malem. We shall return tomorrow with the warrant,” he said before adding, “and Madame Norma, we trust you and your husband will not be leaving Hansing Republic while our investigations are being carried out?’

Norma shook her head vigorously, her pin snapping out of place causing her hair to be strewn about her face and neck. She pointed her shaky finger to the door.

“We have nothing to hide. Sam and I aren’t going anywhere, Mr. Shang and Mr.Malem.Now see yourselves out and get our belongings out of that big van outside and into this house. Then leave. I have things to do.”

“Will do, Madame.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. It failed to register the first time. The old apartment in Abaddopolis ad a buzzer for visitors. The doorbell rang again and her anger at the two men screeched to a surprised 

“Oh!” and she hastened herself to the door.

She yanked the door open and saw a short man in a yellow uniform and matching cap. He had a clipboard in his tiny hands. She crinkled her nose in disappointment. She was hoping it was Sam. It was probably too early for him to rush home. Or maybe he was being held up by investigations. Just the thought of those investigations being carried out by councilmen in the vein of Mr. Shang returned her to her angry state.

“What in the flipping world do you want?” she yelled at the yellow-shirted man sending him into a frazzled state.

“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry m-m-madam, but I’m here w-w-ith the cot you ordered?”

“Oh fudge! I’m so sorry for my rudeness!” And she really was. The cot had finally arrived!

She slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and hurried to greet the nervous man. She slid the gate open and he pattered over to her with his clipboard.

“Is t-this t-t-the residence of a Mr. Samuel Mann?”

“I’m his wife,” Norma replied. She loved the way it sounded bouncing off her tongue.

The little man thrust the clipboard into her arms.

“S-s-sign at the bottom line p-p-please?”

And she did. Then she watched as he disappeared behind Shang’s unsightly van and returned with a burlier man of massive proportions, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he heaved the cot on his back. Norma led them up the driveway to the front door. The sight of Shang and Malem’s boots sent a jolt of alarm through her and she bounded into the living room to find them sitting on the poufs. Her nostrils flared.

“I thought I told you to get my stuff out that van and then get out of my house!”

Both men shared a glance and got up. Shang extended his hand which Norma brushed off like one would a fruit fly. Without saying a word, Shang and Malem shuffled off to the entrance before bumping into Norma’s latest guests. The little yellow-shirted man let out a shrill ‘eek!’

‘Eek!” It was another shrill emission but this time from Malem. Shang stayed rooted to his position at the door. If Norma could see through those pesky shades of his, she would have noticed him glaring at the new arrivals and the grand looking blue cot. The yellow-shirted man and the hulking human with the cot seemed to have stunned both councilmen.

“You have a baby?” he asked. Norma detected a tone of alarm.

“Yes, two-months old, beautiful eyes, and he has more of a right to search my belongings than you old farts until you show me your warrant, Mr. Shang. Now please do as you’re supposed to and then leave. I need to tend to my new visitors.”

“I don’t see him.”

“My baby boy’s upstairs, hopefully sleeping, though with all the ruckus you’ve been making,” and she glared at Malem, “I suspect he might be awake.”

The councilmen slowly weaved their way between the short man and the bigger mass of muscle, their gazes glued to the cot. Malem whispered something to his partner who shook his head. Both began to 

slowly walk back towards their van. Norma stood at the door, hands on her hips. Something was off. Something smelled of rotten lobsters. Shang.

She returned to the cot-bearers and ushered them upstairs. She pressed her finger to her lips and whispered ‘quiet’ to the two men behind her. Slowly pushing the bedroom door open, Norma found Madame Bituin rocking the baby in her elder arms, cooing the same nursery rhyme she had been singing earlier.

The old woman looked up from the baby’s gaze.

“He is not asleep. Too noisy.”

Norma apologized and the men walked in; one muttering to his clipboard and the other trying his best to set the cot down as gently as possible. The succeeding ‘thud’ was still very audible. The two men went about ensuring the cot was not damaged.

Norma’s eyes began to explore the cerulean blue cot being fixed in place by the big bow windows.  Teak painted blue. It looked solid. Hawks, the official bird of Abaddopolis, had been carved into the wood. She smiled. Sam must have requested for them. And what detail! The hawks were carved in various states-perching, soaring, clasping swords-and each one meticulously chiselled into the grains of the wood and painted different shades of blue. Even the vanes of the feathers could be made out.Her son’s new bed shone gloriously under the sheath of sunlight. Norma squinted. The warmness of the morning sun had become scorching rays of noon. Madame Bituin was right. Curtains.Definitely.

“They did a commendable job,” Madame Bituin remarked. A compliment from the uptight old lady! Norma grinned, the first time she did so since those two councilmen had barged in on her morning.

“Where are those two? I want my things!”

Those fishy men.Those fishy men and her fishy morning. She decided something wasn’t off about them. Everything  seemed off about their presence. And the way they reacted to the cot, asking where her son was, the nerve of that Shang…how did he know she had a son?

The little yellow-shirted man spoke.

“M-m-adam, the rest of t-t-the payment p-p-please?”

“Oh fudge! Of course! I’ll be paying in cash,” and Norma rummaged through the purse on her shoulders. 

The two men stood by the cot, still nitpicking over minor details while Madame Bituin swayed the gurgling baby in her arms. The neighbor’s collie had started barking up another storm and the roar of an engine outside failed to register as Norma turned her purse inside out on her bed muttering “where is my money?”

And everything that followed was a blur.

The yellow-shirted man squealed.

His companion leapt backwards, crash-landing on the collapsing floorboard.

Madame Bituin emitted a hoarse scream.

The baby began bawling.

The neighbour’s collie barked more furiously.

And Norma swung her head to the big bow windows. Her eyes widened. Her mouth agape as the massive moving truck came seemingly out of the sky, crashing through the windows into her bedroom. Shrapnel and shards of glass sputtered in every direction and she found herself yelling for her son. Madame Bituin was on the ground unconscious. So were the two men. Where was her baby?

The beautiful cerulean cot was no more, in its place the grotesque head of the 18-wheeler which had been parked outside. Through the shattered remains of the windshield, in the driver’s seat, Norma saw, to her horror, Shang, strapped in by his seatbelt, sunglasses askew to reveal a stretch of burnt flesh where eyes should be.

And all she witnessed and felt seconds after was the bright angry burst of red-orange flames as the ensuing explosion engulfed her new home. 

Author's Note

I've got quite a few chapters in my laptop. I'm tentative about putting out there. I'll post the prologue and maybe the first few chapters. Feedback makes me nervous but I know I need it to improve and grow as a writer. So...bash away! Be brutally honest!

Reviews

[CecilA]

Hazim,

This is very good. I didn't stop reading until the end of the chapter. You have a gift for writing with intrigue and honesty.

I would like to read more of your interesting story.

There are a couple of grammatical issues but you will discover and corrrect those when you do your next rewrite.

Keep writing; that's the only way to be a writer. You have promise.