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The Death Toast The queen termite would bite, feeding day or not
A single hall room could no longer conveniently contain all of them because they were no longer one thousand people. The room was filled with ten thousand people in orange uniforms, choked up together. The prison was Boorbunk and it had been one month since Dale left.Each of the fifteen wards now had about four times the number of inmates they used to have. Since the terrorism attacks had increased, it only made sense that more arrests had been made and more people had been locked up.Definitely, brutality had increased. The wardens wouldn’t fail to make them feel the heat of what was cooking outside the prison and to reassure them that real fire hadn’t started burning yet. In the Death Toast rooms, there were three skulls hanging on the walls waiting to be replaced weekly. Weekly! The wardens were no longer patient with people like Dale who spoke back at them or refused to do their bidding. They no longer moved around with clubs or batons and no longer repeated orders, they moved ar
The Death Toast What Yates' letter read
'Del, set the lines straight’, Astor yelled from the other side of the rail. Dale had spent little to no time in understanding how to be a railway construction worker as specialised as that sounds, or at least be useful with some of the work that required less skill. Just as he had spent little time getting his feet back on ground and learning to survive again in the new town of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He had dumped the gloomy extradition clothes into a refuse bin and the only clothes he had were the two dirty, always-unwashed work clothes. He lived in a tavern; a tiny room that was only a bit larger than the prison he had once stayed, it had a stacked bed that he shared with one of the workmen, his two work clothes hanging from the wall facing the bed and his only footwear - brown muddy work boots – laying beneath the bed. There was little or no space to walk around in the room. For Dale, ahead of the claustrophobic restraints of the room, there was the bigger problem of nostalgia that
The Death Toast The dark side of the planet
Dale carefully carried his food tray to avoid hitting the obese sole waitress in the pub, that he figured out to the pub owner’s wife, as he walked to his seat. He found an empty table at the corner of the local restaurant where he hoped people wouldn’t find him, and where he could have a good view of the television. He took one peer at the TV, relieved not to see or hear anything that would make him lose his appetite, the way he had done yesterday and refused to eat ever since.He opened the free Guilder that he had refused to collect yesterday and took two full gulps, rendering the bottle half-empty. It made him remember the days of The Humour Sect back at Crawdown, they had spent the midnight together at a table, very much unawake. Their table would be filled with tens of alcoholic bottles; a benefit that they enjoyed from the sellers for free. Dale had learnt to drink including how to finish a Green Bear bottle in just four gulps. They took approximately ten bottles every night bu
The Death Toast The alpha man named Vince
Philip Hundred straightened up his blazers and placed his forehead on the wall staining it with his sweat. He had always been a coward, that kind of man who wore his emotions on his capes and didn’t exactly know how to say no. Him not saying no to Sawer seven years ago was one mistake that he knew that he was never going to forgive himself of and even bigger, a mistake Dexter would not forget.People had turned out at his campaigns, ecstatic and trusting him to the point of holding on to his every word and he let everything go down the drain when someone finally came and offered him a juicy offer, too juicy he forgot it was a poison. He who had thought himself a great strong pillar of society was now sitting one of the chairs, having a conclave with the other members of The Blazing empire. He groaned and hit his forehead against the wall numerous times, it was unreal and now it was a nightmare for him.In the next ten hours, he would be leaving the presidential home, having resigned a
The Death Toast Back to the furnace
Dale wasn’t sure the exact time that the bus was going to arrive but he was certain that it was going to come that day. It was exactly three months since he was carted away from Dexter and brought to this road with the Welcome to New Mexico signboard. Since The Redemption happened every month, he was expecting to see the Platini truck drop another ex-prisoner today – who would think he was free, until he sees a sniper chasing him around town.Vehicles from Dexter were not difficult to spot. Platini was the only truck manufacturing company in the whole of the Island and its trucks came in only one colour: avocado-green. Although Dexterrans didn’t really like the brand colour of creamy green, The Platini industry would not change it for any reason and everyone was too poor to start their car factories and reject the unfair monopoly of Lloyd Platini, the Reckdettean billionaire. The masses of Dexter just never had it their way. Everything was too tough, they would say and Dale was not ha
The Death Toast In, You Go!
Dale sniffed beneath his mask. He tried to walk as confidently as he could and with the long strides that those rifle-men usually walked, not forgetting the slant way he was meant to hold his rifle with both hands. Humphrey carried the weapon bag at the side of his leg where it could stay undetected.There were two men dressed the same as Dale waiting at the gate of the prison, and Dale didn’t take a stop before walking through the open gates. Humphrey rushed along, so scared that the men at the gate had recognised him and were going to kill him the brutal way The Death Toast victims were killed.‘What do we do now?’, Humphrey whispered to Dale.‘Do you know the way?’, Dale asked as they walked through a lighted hallway.‘No. How am I supposed to know?’‘How are you not?! You left this place only few hours ago’, Dale protested. There were two doors to the sides of the alleyway and one at the entrance.They were in one of the four buildings guarded around the first ward, that was the l
The Death Toast Ten thousand escaped men
The complete journey from Boorbunk Prison to somewhere in the middle of Gollogher where a large farm stood took three hours. The trucks pulled up at the side of a rugged road on one side and a farm – that was so well-organised it was hard for an average Dexterran from Tifftam or Yorkyashire to believe such place existed in Dexter – on the other. Clearly not Dale who had come from Baskers where wheat farms were more than houses.It was deep into the midnight and half of them were asleep. ‘This is where I live’, the farmer said who had driven the first bus said. ‘Who helped you tend your farm when you were away?’, one of them asked.‘Weeds do not exist on this part of the state if that’s what you’re asking. And I only got arrested last week’, he replied. The lucky farmer, who had lied to his wife that he was going to return home when he was found innocent – as if there was going to be such a time – would be at least make it home and fulfil his promise to his wife. He hadn’t stayed long
The Death Toast The colour rooms
The diamond on Sawer’s ring made scraping sounds as he brushed his palm over the wall. It was the Colour Room and he came here frequently for celebration. Little wonder why he had come that day. Why shouldn’t he celebrate? The president was killed, all the other governors and politicians who had thought they were partners realised they had been disposable pawns seconds before their heads were blown off, Reckdetteans who had thought they were invincible from the terrorists had now being invaded three times and the butchering was going to continue – only few of them who had private jets escaped the country. The apocalypse was on, everywhere was agog and the pressure was mounting on for everyone just the way he wanted it. The more chaos he saw and caused, the more internal calm he felt. That was why he was here to do the exact same thing as celebration. The Colour Room was in reality, torture rooms with each colour representing different forms of punishment and also different heights of
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