Chester and the 24-hour Lottery
Chapter 11; Chester goes out with a bang

Although Chester wasn’t short, the cloak Ernesto Saldivar gifted him considerably longer than he liked, so before leaving the hotel room, ordered sewing pins which made Garth smirk in a manner meant to emasculate but he wouldn’t risk falling flat on his face in a crowd for anyone.

The council members stood in a row in the lobby entrance, all wearing the same stiff black robe with hoods drawn, covering their faces. Holding his head high, exited the hotel with the others slipping into step behind him, feeling like an old-time celebrity as people clamored for his attention.

The Ozark officers created a pathway, yelling and poking bodies with electric prod sticks, reminding Chester of how he’d electrified March. Thinking of his neighborhood council, he realized March the only one missing. How had he not noticed before?

Oh, yeah. He was busy trying not to get killed and later balls deep in a girl who thought bashing his skull in the ground an excellent way to end their fooling around.

There was no point dwelling on the absence of March as he climbed onstage where the manager was in a fit how Chester delegated his lottery hours. Everybody’s a critic. Asking for the man’s name, told Mick with a haughty sniff before forced to confront the public.

The mood was much different this time, nobody threw shoes and people were smiling, chanting his name delightfully. He smiled reservedly when Saldivar whispered encouraging words in his ear, but then Chester’s eyes fell onto the alcohol cart and anger surged through his veins.

“I made it clear no booze!” he hissed, pointing.

Saldivar nodded and patted his back awkwardly, “Do you want to run down there and take away the people’s libations? It’s Halloween. Look at the mob Chester, they are enjoying themselves, talking to others they would normally avoid. They’re here because of you.”

Chester didn’t appreciate his placating tone or the fact they ignored his order. Seems Governor Spell had won, and it bothered him. He gazed at the citizens as suggested, seeing contented expressions as they waited for him to get his shit together and talk. What could he say to them?

“Where is Vanyla?”

“Where’s Fred March?” he countered.

The man shrugged, “I sent word to March after his Virto-Frames didn’t connect. Are you sure when you electrocuted the crowd last night he was unharmed?”

When citizens are wounded, go to their neighborhood clinic but March wouldn’t have gone there, having shitheads for designated health technicians. If injured too severely and unable to return to your assigned station, soldiers snatched you up and dumped you at Fort Ozark or The Institute, never to be seen again.

“Get on with the speech,” Mick urged, waving an impatient hand towards the party-goers, “Meals are ready for distribution. I’m going to devouring a T-Bone, but you’re holding everything up. Hurry!”

Chester smirked, “You’re a high-strung individual Mick. I’m not sure what to say.”

“Is that your mother?” Saldivar asked, to which Chester turned, seeing her standing near the stage stairs, “Do nothing you’ll regret Chester. Remember this is about unity.”

Frowning, he felt sick to his stomach as he walked over to Marla. What was she doing here? He looked around, spotting Garth at the bottom of the stairs with Vid Frames, talking to someone he couldn’t make out.

“What are you doing here?” he cleared his throat when the words came out harsher than intended, “I thought they took you home?”

Marla stood stationary, her fat fingers entwined together and her dull brown eyes seemed to float in their sockets, sliding first up, then to the side and down, as if tracking something only she could see. Impatiently, Chester waited, knowing if he spoke again, it wouldn’t be kind and she wasn’t in any condition to understand what was happening around her.

“Mother!” he hissed after a few minutes of silence and hearing the crowd turning restless.

“Chester,” she muttered, staring over his shoulder, “Come home. I said I wanted riches, but in helping Ozark achieve plenitude everybody will become bountiful and blessed. I have so much to look forward to with my son by my side.”

He raked a hand over his face, refraining from shaking her out of the trance she was in. Her lecture sounded fake and sad, a forced propaganda pitch just before the lottery concluded. Only a few hours remained until midnight, and he needed to get this show on the road instead of watching his mother spew Governor Spells bullshit.

“I have shit to do,” he stepped backward, “Go home. After the closing ceremony I’m traveling to the mansion they gave me.” he didn’t tack on she’s not welcome anywhere near his new house because she stayed stock-still, resembling a creepy moppet.

“What’s the holdup?” Mick grabbed his upper arm, “Please, speak so citizens can leave.”

Chester surveyed Marla one last time, noting the thin line of drool running out of her mouth, and retook his place at the front of the stage. Saldivar and the other council members, including Mayor Susan Potter stopped behind him. The hairs along the back of his neck rose when everyone quieted, peering curiously at him.

He saw many costumes, but most people wore regular clothing. If he’d been a bystander this year, there would have been no way he’d have spent credits on a Halloween costume. Music played in the streets, coming from a nearby restaurant. He didn’t recognize the haunting tune, but it made him pull his shoulders back and focus on the first few rows. A beautiful dark-haired woman in a long black dress smiled at him, and he wished Van hadn’t deserted him when things were getting good.

“Hello Wayfarer City!” he spoke loudly, the Vid Frames casting his voice and image across the state, “In recent years, lottery winners had many reasons for vile actions such as murder, pillaging, destruction of neighborhoods we endured then later cleaned up. Hell, I’m guilty of such acts too, but then asked myself why? There’s nothing special about me or someone you’d note even if I stood next to you in a rail-car. I am a better person than what I set out to accomplish after winning the lottery and delighted to share with every individual here. There is no call for violence when we can have a party!”

People starting yelling, but he couldn’t distinguish words. He glanced at the beautiful dark-haired woman again to see her waving and nodding, as if agreeing. He swallowed and tried not to panic as Ozark Officers scattered in the crowd, wearing large packs on their backs holding what looked like hoses.

“Many years ago our government established the 24-hour oath as an act of faith and hope after segregating us into DNA hierarchies. We sign in blood so there is no mistake of genetic coding and that it is possible for us as a unified state to rise above our station and reform our planet. I haven’t seen a change. Have you?”

The horde roared NO, and he bit back a smile. The council members moved closer, and he felt threatened, not protected by their presence. Something was off but determined to say what citizens had the right to hear.

“When seven, like all children, sent to live in Neighborhood Saldivar and treated like a servant because of my DNA and told I’m not meant for anything other than menial service but when I visited the neighborhoods in the last eighteen hours witnessed the state keeping us oppressed, not unified. How is working twelve hours in a shitty pizza restaurant any different from others who herd and slaughter cattle, or working in the biotech factory where they’re forced to consume psycho-stimulants to increase production not to mention the fact they are probably test subjects for the mind-altering substance I had the unfortunate opportunity to witness used on my mother?

“You need to look around and stop pretending our society’s unified or we need these rigorous DNA profile class disseverance. If I decided in one day, I’d rather feed the entire state instead of blowing up your house why can’t you recognize Governor Spell is lying to you and has taken away your choices! They will poison your body and mind until you are nothing but a fucking zombie! Protect your children by stopping Fort Ozark! Take control of your destiny by embracing the truth! Don’t let them tell us what to do any longer!”

Chester knew he’d incited a riot when the crowd turned on Ozark officers. He watched a man shove a soldier to the ground before someone grabbed him from behind, the Vid Frames ripped from his face, a fingernail catching under his right eye. He swung at the arms pulling on his body, but there were too many for him to even move.

A loud explosion rocked the stage making those holding onto him fall away and Chester was free, running towards the back stairs. He heard his name being called before another blast occurred, throwing him off of his feet where he landed on the hard pavement, missing the stairs entirely.

“Oh, fuck!” he groaned, rolling onto his sore knees while making sure all of his body parts were still intact.

“Chet!”

He had never been so happy to hear his awful nickname as when Van called to him somewhere in the panicked crowd. He managed to stand before being trampled by the hundreds of citizens running scared. Without boosted glasses, his eyes had a hard time adjusting to the low light. Plastering himself against a wall as people ran by screaming and yelling something about Governor Spell being involved in an explosion, he tried to pick Van’s small form out. He shouted her name a few times not receiving a response, so eased into the mob where some immediately recognized him and latched on.

“Let go!” he growled as a large man grabbed his arm while someone else groped his chest. The cloak came off the more he struggled and once free broke into a jog, rounding the street corner where he caught sight of Van standing beside two council members still in their robes.

Picking up speed, he finally reached the group, throwing his arms around Van’s slim shoulders without hesitation. She whispered his name, holding on just as tightly. He acknowledged the relief and concern in her voice, but it didn’t lessen the fury he felt over the way she beat him unconscious in the bathroom.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, leaning back to peer at her dirty face, “What’s with all the explosions? Are you guys trying to kill everyone and start over?”

Van scowled at his attempt to lighten the mood but when upset he spewed sarcasm, which she should realize was his defense mechanism by now. Mayor Potter and Ernesto Saldivar ushered them into a darkened recess where the others waited. Chester’s anger was like a steam kettle about to blow as he realized they planned ahead, leaving him out. Did these assholes care if he died?

“They were about to disperse a drug into the crowd, I couldn’t wait,” Van reported breathlessly to the members, “Fort Ozark didn’t suspect the Vid Frames they confiscated from Chet held a bomb. It went off beautifully. I can’t say if the other states were as successful. We need confirmation Spell perished in the blasts.”

“We need to replace March,” Saldivar ordered, “Take Chester in the truck and we will meet up as agreed. Be careful, we’re all wanted criminals.”

“What’s happening?” he whined, “You blew up Fort Ozark? What about these innocent people you hurt in the blast? The city’s on fucking fire!”

The council didn’t even bother to respond, pulling their hoods over their faces, dashing into the chaos of panic-stricken citizens. Van took hold of his hand, sprinting to the vehicle. Once inside, he struck the dashboard with his fist making her jump.

“We required interruption of the broadcast,” she explained, “You gave a wonderful speech, Chet. It was heartfelt, and every citizen heard the legitimacy behind your words. You needed to be hauled inside Fort Ozark so they’d switch out your Vid Frames.”

“Fucking bitch,” he bit out, “They could have kept me a prisoner!”

“Not this year,” she smirked.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You inspired the other states to follow the same routine and with every zone exposed, Spell had no choice but to allow you to reach this far. Spell can’t disperse the drugs he intended to control us with. Can you imagine a day where you’re able to pick your own job or take time off to visit Neighborhood Crane where there’s a beautiful lake overflowing with fish?”

Placing a fist on her seat he snapped, “I hate fish. You fucking knocked me out, Van! Right after we... Garth saw the whole thing! I would have let you leave, without question. You humiliated me, for what?”

She bit her lip then looked out the windshield, “I needed them to see. Garth probably thinks I’m a whore and laughed at you, right? It was a distraction Chet, but I’m sorry I wounded you.”

Chester wanted to lie and say she could never hurt him, but the truth spilled out, “I don’t think you are sorry. You used me and I went along with it, but now you’ve made me an enemy of the nation. Deadman walking!”

“Nope,” she started the truck when people came close, “Nothing implicates you, which is why Governor Spell let you go. Not that he won’t seek revenge. We will shut Fort Ozark and its abominable ways down before the week’s over. We’re not alone since every state is doing the same thing. It’ll be glorious.”

Chester sat back and watched a woman crying, holding a bloody rag to her forehead as a man across from her pummeled an officer over and over in the face. Fire licked half the city streets, and no one did anything about it. His stomach roiled, and he forced his eyes away from the scene.

“I’m done, Van. Done with the lottery and Halloween.”

“Well, Halloween’s over but you’re an infamous 24-hour lottery winner now Chet. You might be the last winner in Ozark history if we’re lucky. The revolution’s just beginning, and it’s all due to your kind nature and intelligence. I’m proud of you.”

Chester snorted and shook his head, “Kind nature? You’re a strange girl, you know that? I wanted a UZI, a steak and to get rid of my mother. After seeing her so brain dead I suppose I can cross that off, but other than that you played me like a damn fiddle. Where the hell are you going?”

Van gave him a pretty smile and his heart squeezed at the sight. No matter what she did, Chester knew he would forgive her anything to have her beam like that. The last twenty-four hours had been the most terrifying of his life, but the most fun. Maybe he’s just as crazy as the tiny woman hauling ass down a dark road in a truck Garth was most likely tracking.

“I’m hungry and we’re running for our lives! Buckle up!” she giggled when he groaned, “Relax Chet, everything is fine, I promise.”

Smiling he sat back, knowing her words didn’t mean shit but replaceing comfort in them once again as they headed away from Wayfarer City.