The Future Prediction
The day I turned eighteen was the end of the beginning. I discovered that in my final day on this earth, I would be hanged, drawn and quartered. I was never told when I would be hanged, drawn, and quartered. I was never told why I would be hanged, drawn and quartered, I was simply told that it would happen and it would be my demise. My father looked frightened when the headmaster told him. That sort of death was unheard of. My fathers death would come in the form of lung cancer. My mother had died several years prior to my eighteenth birthday in a bicycling accident, something that she had known since her eighteenth birthday. My friends had never shared their Futures with me, and I had never inquired of them. Later on that fateful birthday, I went out with my friends. In the wee hours of the morning, I asked my good friend Turner what his Future was. He replied and told me that he would bleed to death from a stab wound. He was very open about it, and so I decided to be open with him. I told him what the headmaster had told my me. He was aghast and quiet for a moment, but we moved on quickly. We both understood that death would come at some time or another, it wasn’t something to be afraid of. Even then, he seemed bothered for longer than he should have. We continued on with our night, but my violent Future had left me wondering if I too should be concerned.
Twenty four years later, and I knew that my Future was entirely true. The headmaster had been all too correct.
I raised my sword, screaming until my vocal cords were torn to shreds. I sprinted at the front of the mob, my own voice lost amid the cries of the those around me. Rows and rows of soldiers were lined up in perfect formation less than fifty yards on the road ahead. They carried rifles and the occasional machine gun. In our ranks, I knew that we had maybe ten to fifteen guns among the hundred or so that charged. But our chances of victory were high. We kept on charging. I could see the faces of the soldiers. Some were laughing a bit, shaking their heads at the fact that we were fools enough to try and take the stronghold. Others were serious, some were angry. One or two looked frightened. A moment later, the soldiers all heeded a command that we could not hear, and they held their rifles up to their shoulders. We kept charging. The King’s men fired once. Twice. Three times. Many of us fell. Those that fell were trampled by those behind. Many of us continued to charge. We reached the first line of defense but a second later.
We cut them down as if they were nothing but a line of brush that needed to be cleared. The other soldiers were all firing now, and our ranks were beginning to thin. We reached the second line and once more they crumbled beneath us. The third line was gone even before we reached them. Their terrified faces were pale and then I could no longer see them, they were off into the surrounding countryside where they were sure to be hunted down by my compatriots. Some of those around me slowed to scoop up guns before they continued in pursuit. The battle was over less than a minute after it had started. Nearly two dozen lay dead or dying on either side of the battle. We needed to leave the premises soon, otherwise we were sure to be overrun by the Fowlers. The Fowlers could sense death, and would be sure to attract attention from the surrounding villages.
I walked into the shanty that stood before me, the prize that the King’s men had been defending moments earlier. It was filled with grain, a rare commodity. The farmers here had given it to the King to be stored for the Great Winter. My men needed it more. Our carts had been brought behind my men, and several older fellows began loading the food. Among the men was my father, who couldn’t breathe without wheezing. He nodded to me and called out.
“A solid victory my boy!”
There was pride on his face. I smiled at him, genuinely pleased. Smiles and pride were a rare commodity these days. The old men were all bundled up in heavy coats, and it was difficult for them to keep up with the younger of us. It had gotten progressively colder in the last several months. The skies had become so choked with ash and dust that the temperatures on the ground had dropped to become even colder than winter. It was going to be a long time before we saw the sun again. I was not even sure if I would see the sun once more. The way things were going, even if I was able to keep my men alive long enough to make it to the rebels in the north and succeed in our war, it would be much too late to save what was left of the world.
I looked back over the men, whom were nearly done loading up the carts. I knew that for this heist alone, I was sure to be given the capital punishment if I was caught. Hanged, drawn, and quartered.
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