X1.2.6 - For Justice and Truth

  The other clerics, unable to say anything, pointed their fingers as they screamed a most frail of shrills. Before the crowd could react, however, Roa’s body pivoted, delivering yet another powerful punch, sending a second bigot flying out of a window. The locals gasped again, unable to believe their own eyes. The Desert Father’s head ended up buried in the sand of a dune, his legs dangled and twitched, robes flipped over, revealing a pair of pure white underwear stained with a long, dried, brown mark.

  The crowd swarmed and overwhelmed the boy. Rosso jumped into the fray, swinging fists in every direction, giving it to anyone and everyone equally, without asking any questions. The furious flock pummeled the Sunflower and his companion, thoroughly, for almost an hour, bringing them to an inch of their lives. Their bodies laid lifeless inside a tight hole in the ground that was covered by metal bars. The heretic’s face was swollen like a balloon. He turned over as he groaned, tugging at Roa's shirt, as he struggled to flip his friend over to check if he was still breathing.

  "You crazy fool," he said, letting a laugh out that turned into a cough.

  Blood spilling out of his mouth, he passed out, not receiving an answer from his bludgeoned buddy. Hours passed, then days. They were given little water or food. The angry locals urinated inside their cell from above, spitting at them and kicking sand down on their heads.

  "We are going to die here, aren't we?" Roa asked, sitting against the wall of their uncomfortable enclosure, trying to stay clear of the filth falling from above.

  His friend nodded, as a grin appeared on his cut, swollen lips.

  "I think that—perhaps, if we had come up with a plan to break those women out at night, or something, it might have been more effective, but— " he looked up, his smile revealing a crooked tooth "I bet punching those two baboons felt really good, didn't it? I always wanted to do that myself."

  The two laughed, holding on to their sides in pain, as Rosso pulled out an incisor from his mouth, causing them to chuckle even harder as he threw it towards the boy.

  One morning, they were dragged outside of the oasis to a stone altar. Five wooden pillars jutted from the sand, their weathered surfaces scarred by the elements, standing silent in the vast, empty desert. The harsh wind whipped across the expanse as the crowd gathered, their faces hidden behind tattered clothes. The head Desert Father stood tall before them, his robes flowing, his gravelly and commanding voice echoed through the hot air, reaching every corner of the assembly. The two captives, along with the captured women, were tied to the posts. Roa’s gaze drifted across the crowd, feeling the weight of the moment, the tension rising with every breath. Rosso stood beside him, translating the holy man’s words at a fast pace and in a mocking tone.

  "The one with the dirty underwear says—that as intermediaries between the Human and Divine, we, the Fathers of the Holy Desert, speak for the Author in the Sky, the powerful and just God of Letters," the crowd listened to the sermon, quiet as their heads bowed. "The Perfect, Holy Word of the One Above states in chapter one—" the robed man cleared his throat, and Rosso paused. "It is all women's fault.”

  Roa glanced over at his friend, his eyes sharp with scrutiny, as he scoffed. The heretic continued his translation.

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  “The bigot who can’t wipe goes on to say that—the world is terrible because women are not to be trusted, as the first chapter of the Holy Word teaches us that Eebh plunged Humanity into darkness with her disobedience towards the One Above. In the same way, these three, insolent women have disobeyed our laws, thereby disobeying the God of Letters."

  The old man smirked as his eyes narrowed. The crowd continued to nod, their hands together, their eyes closed.

  "He’s talking about us now—these two outsiders have done the unthinkable, and attacked two holy men, sealing their fates, as well. An attack on us, is an attack on the Author in the Sky!"

  The crowd roared, rotten fruit and vegetables flying, as a half-eaten date splattered on Rosso’s head. Shaking it off, he went on.

  "For this, now upon the Altar of Fire they shall burn for their profanities. We, the Fathers of the Desert, shall attempt in our perfect morality—and out of endless mercy, to put out the flames by throwing rocks at the guilty, until either they, or the flames, die out."

  Rosso scoffed as he finished his translation. He turned to his friend and rolled his eyes.

  "What they really mean—is that to make sure we're going to be dead, super dead, not only will they burn us alive, but they are also going to stone us, while putting their rotten hearts at peace. Oh, the hell with this—"

  The red heretic raised his voice and spoke directly to the crowd.

  "I’m Rosso, son of Red, the great scientist. I’ve argued that death anxiety and anthropocentrism drive religion—Humans want to escape mortality and wish to see ourselves as important. My father’s philosophy challenged this, suggesting that if Existence is immense or infinite, Humanity loses its privileged place. His gift was undermining our narcissism and the religious worldview that defends it. Religion’s sin is pride, creating a ‘god mirror’ to make us feel like favorites. My father urged humility, and for this, he was silenced—burned alive, as was my grandfather. It seems that now—I too will join him in the fires of truth."

  The crowd exchanged confused glances before erupting into shouts, resuming their barrage of rotten food toward them.

  "Great speech, my friend. It was insightful, well-spoken, and based on some profound observations. Although, I think it was wasted on the wrong audience. Plus—they don’t speak our language.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just wanted you to hear it before I die.”

  “Well, it was nice knowing you. Sorry for getting you killed," said Roa, resting his head against the pole. He turned around again. "Wait, your grandfather too?”

  Rosso sighed.

  "Yeah—I guess it's a family tradition at this point."

  The pyre was lit as the clerics chanted their prayers. Roa's feet began to burn, great pain shooting up as panic set in. Rosso screamed as he closed his eyes, lifting his head up, accepting his fate.

  “For truth!” he screamed.

  The Sunflower’s eyes darted around, scanning everything around him.

  "There is always a solution," he thought, his mind racing as fast as it could.

  The answer presented itself at last, and not a moment too late, when a page storm began to fall from the sky. The priests scrambled. The gales were strong, and the fire had grown wild. In a moment of luck and a stroke of ingenious thinking, Roa managed to grab hold of one of the pages the wind had pushed into his hand.

  "Look! The words of your god will burn, unless you let us go. Let us go!"

  He shook the page, his hand tied to the post, catching the clerics’ eyes which opened wide at the sight. One of the robed men tried to snatch the scriptures out of his hand, but the boy crumpled it up into a ball, sealing it inside his tight fist. When the robes began to catch on fire, the cleric ran away screaming, rolling onto the sand, as he attempted to put it out. The sight caused the rest of the people to panic. Fearing divine retribution, the people cut the ropes of all five prisoners, allowing them to escape at the last moment. Rosso suffered burns on his left leg, but the captives made it out of there in one piece.

  As the people attempted to save the scriptures from the very fire they had started, the two travelers grabbed their things and mounted the large bird with the rest of the captives. Before leaving, however, Roa stopped, turned around and yelled to get the priests' attention. He pulled out the page that had gotten them out of that situation and tore it to shreds, throwing the pieces up with a flick of his wrist. As they fluttered into the air, they erupted like confetti at the end of a parade, spinning and tumbling in the wind as they scattered in every direction.

  "For justice and truth,” he thundered, as the bird turned, and the prisoners escaped to freedom.

  Find out on Saturday, March 22, 2025, in the next exciting chapter of The Greatest Fight!

  X1.2.7 - The Hideout