Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 35. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with chapters 1 and 2. Be advised that this work considers difficult subjects, including suicide. If you're in crisis, please seek help. Help is available here.
Tens of thousands gathered just outside an Ohio college town on the Kentucky border. The unmistakable outline of a nuclear power plant was visible in the distance. Humidity clung to the air. It was day one of a three day music festival, and everyone was ready to party.
Hunter Domino took the stage with Horace Gomez and the crowd went wild. "I guess you all know who we are," said Horace, laughing to mask his extreme anxiety. "So I guess you know that I went to jail for Strike 29 and knew the Chicago 9."
Wild applause erupted.
"What you might not know," continued Horace, steeling himself for this next part. "Is that the love of my life died of heart failure at twenty-one immediately after receiving a vaccine booster. This happened right in the middle of everything else I was involved in. So this last year's been tough on me, to say the least."
Horace had the crowd's attention. "What I'm trying to get across is all of the violence I've been exposed to," he continued. "Political violence. Medical violence. The violence of systems of repression. I was even cornered by a group of fellow activists intending to beat me up. And they would've if a friend hadn't come along and intervened."
"What has all of this taught me?" asked Horace. "It's taught me that violence sucks. The Chicago 9 would never have been arrested if violence hadn't been their intention. They'd never have been murdered in custody if the system itself wasn't violent. I'm saying no to that whole world. I'm saying no to violence. Harm should be met with healing, not additional harm."
A few people cheered.
"Now, there's a question I want you to consider as Hunter Domino takes the stage," said Horace. "How can you meet harm with healing in your own life?"
The crowd went wild as Hunter stepped out. Horace stood on the side of the stage while Hunter addressed the masses. "Legalize everything!" he began. "And give everyone free money!"
The crowd resumed going wild.
"Alright, so you like those ideas," continued Hunter. "Now what are you going to do about it? Do you know what I think you should do about it? I think you should do whatever you can. And together, we will make it happen."
"The movement we're building together is simple," Hunter went on, with the crowd mostly listening. "You say what you want on social media, and my organization tries to make it happen. That's simple, but it's also revolutionary. It's politics without the politics. A pure representation of the will of the people, working on your behalf."
"Right now, we're focused on Universal Basic Income and ending prohibition," said Hunter. "Drastic simplification of tax codes, modernizing the legal system, and fixing the food system are other areas we're looking at. We're not interested in temporary solutions. We're interested in transformation. Total transformation of the system. Is anyone still with me?"
The concertgoers emitted a fresh round of cheers.
Hunter's speech went on like that for a while, then he introduced the band that was to up next and joined Horace. They exited the stage, descending a small staircase. There was a path behind the waist high plastic barriers keeping the crowd at bay. Proceeding towards their backstage area, Horace heard a nearby voice shout. "Hey Go, this one's for Jam!" yelled the voice.
A shot rang out in the same moment Hunter jumped in front of Horace. Hunter's camera operator dropped his equipment and leapt the barrier to tackle the shooter. Horace caught Hunter and eased him down to the ground while more and more blood soaked through his shirt. Hunter's sound guy ran to help, opening Hunter's shirt and studying the wound before pressing a handful of medical gauze into it. "This is bad," said the sound guy. "Help is on the way, though."
Within three minutes, event staff medics arrived. They quickly got Hunter to an ambulance. At the same time, the shooter was dragged out into the open by the camera operator and held, face down on the ground. Horace walked over to see if he recognized the shooter, but all he saw was a stranger on the ground. "You get what you want?" Horace demanded.
"He'll get what he deserves," said the camera operator. "How is Mr Domino?"
"I don't know," said Horace, just as Special Agent Weaver jogged up.
"Horace, we need to get you out of here, now," said Weaver.
Horace didn't argue. Shaking uncontrollably, he followed Weaver to their tour bus, where Dr Winston was waiting. "Thank god you're okay," said the doctor.
"I'm not okay," said Horace, sitting at a narrow built in table. "Hunter took a bullet meant for me. The shooter said he was doing it for Jam. He was one of the 9. I guess they're blaming me for his death."
Weaver found a pen and notebook. "Here," he said. "Write down everything that just happened. Local police are going to need a complete statement."
"Oh my god," said Horace. "What if he dies? What if he died saving me?"
The next few hours were a blur. With Weaver by his side, Horace handed his written statement and bloody shirt over to sheriff's deputies. Dozens of cameras had captured the incident from all angles, so they were confident that the shooter would be charged and convicted. When word arrived from the hospital, the news was mostly good.
Hunter had lost a lot of blood and had flatlined in the ambulance. But they were able to bring him back. The 9mm bullet hadn't hit an major organs, though it had fragmented and the fragments were being surgically removed. The doctors were confident that their patient would recover.
The festival was canceled for the day. A few of the performers eventually came over to sit outside of Horace's trailer to play acoustic instruments and pass joints around. Joining them on a folding chair, Horace pulled a harmonica from his pocket and began adding to the music. Weaver and Dr Winston watched Horace closely, but didn't intervene. "I didn't even know he played," said Dr Winston.
The next day, they went to the hospital to visit Hunter, who had private security standing guard at his room. "They gave it their best shot and I'm still ticking," said Hunter weakly upon seeing Horace. "And man, you are not going to believe the trip I had when I was out."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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