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their
weapons on him. They were rarely approached by civilians and itched to show
their resolve. “State your name!” The closest guard shouted with his weapon
aimed at Abels’ chest.
    Abel froze and started unsteadily. “I am Abel, Loun’s son.”
He pointed toward his
    Father.
The guard was still menacing, but did not respond. Abel lowered his hands and
began walking towards his father. The Guards barked in unison adjusting their
guns. “Stay there!”
    Frozen, Abel looked at his father and knew this encounter
would not end well. Loun could see the fear in his son’s eyes. His father spoke
slowly and with a calm that belied the situation. “Abel, did you bag something
on the hunt? If so, maybe we can appease the Xonox Family with a trade for our
insignificant use of water.”
    Quickly scanning from Loun to Distor, Abel seemed assured
of the situation. He had forgotten the hunt and the buck he left behind. Maybe
there was a way out of this, he thought. They were going to use it for medical
supplies, but now they could trade for the consumption of water. His demeanor
began to brighten. “Yes...about a few yards back. I’ll go grab it now.”
    Before Abel could dash off, Distor motioned for him to stay
still. The situation was getting out of hand and he was not going to let the
monkeys run the zoo. It was time to restore order.  “Boy, there is no need!
Your father has knowingly taken from the Power Generation of the Xonox Family
and this act will not go unpunished!” Distor stalked towards his victim. “The
crime has been committed and by the power of the House of Vancrew I will meter
out the sentence.”
    Distor could have accepted the animal as penitence, but the
situation was far removed from negotiations. Besides, once his pistol was drawn
it had to be used. Showing mercy would be deemed as weak and nothing would stop
his ascension. Abel felt the words fall from his mouth in a frenzy.  “No!  My
mother...please...show compassion!”
    Abel tried to determine what went wrong. In his mind a deal
was imminent, but now his father was facing death. Stepping forward to assist
his father, he felt the butt of the guard’s rifle strike him in the head. The
world went black. As he collapsed to the ground he could hear the shot and
Distor's words trail off in the distance. “There’s....your....compassion.”
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 4
    BOURDAIN
     
     
    The town of Bourdain was ten miles south of Gravope and
more secluded. Whereas Gravope laid outside the city walls and the towering
Vancrew Houses could be seen in the distance, Bourdain was more remote. The
people there were akin to late eigthteen hundreds North American settlers
possessing better fields and wildlife than Gravope, but in constant search of
water. Residents often traveled to the Water Facility to trade. In these small
communities the inhabitants banded together. It was essential to survive
against marauders and gangs on the outer limits. Unless you were a member of a
House or ready for war, it was dangerous to travel deep into the barren areas.
Gangs were becoming an increasing problem. Taking what they needed, while
trading and sometimes wasting the rest. Gangs were another thorn grown out of
this harsh world. One person in particular was always on the lookout for
suspicious people in Bourdain, Isnor Profik. Isnor ran the local trading
store.  As expected, his water rations were low, but he kept a steady supply of
items that made him a popular man. In a pinch he would get water from the man
named Warden, but that came at a steep price. Isnor worked with four other
gruff men, who hunted, traded and guarded against bandits. Peering out of his
shop-home he was shocked to see a single Xonox truck pull up. He rarely saw one
truck alone. Was there trouble, he tought? Had someone broken the Water
Protocol? The guards never came to help or inspire, but to oppress and instill
fear. His thoughts were getting away from him as he prepared for