WESTERN SUMATRA, INDONESIA
SUMATRA BARAT

Objadu crouched in the weeds at the pond’s edge. The heat was intense, and the smell of burning vegetation thickened the air. The young Sumatran pretended not to notice the reflection of a soldier in the water. The terrorist sat atop the wall behind Objadu. The crack of a rifle and the orangutan’s cry confirmed that Al Amorta’s ammunition was live. Objadu listened for the thud of another noble creature being taken out by Jah Lo’s men. The soldier chuckled, gloating over his kill. Objadu wanted to take him out for good.

It’s a crime, Objadu thought to himself. While children play nearby, they kill innocent animals. To the youngsters, gunfire was a common part of the rainforest symphony.

The children’s laughter filled the air as they played beneath a massive acacia tree, nestled in the mountainous region near Padang. The Omega Compound, rich in Indonesia’s mysterious culture, featured houses built like exotic, stilted hats.

“Down in the valley, where the green grass grows, there sat Amarh, as sweet as a rose. Along came Malof and kissed her on the nose. How many . . .”

Amarh’s feet caught in the rope, and she fell into a giggling heap. The others followed suit, laughing along. After handing out a handful of candy, Dr. VandenHeuvel limped over to the pond.

The young Minangkabau native and the old Dutch doctor represented a clash of cultures. Objadu pushed the canvas bag further into the rushes. Nothing the old man said could stop his upcoming flight.

Dr. Erik settled onto a bench in the shade of a durian tree at the water’s edge. His escape plans consumed Objadu, but he tried to act nonchalant. The children still played nearby, but neither man paid them any attention. An Al Amorta Ujung soldier swung by, making another tour of the wall, and stopped briefly overhead. The silent vigil continued until the intruder tired and moved on.

“I knew I’d find you here, Obi,” Dr. VandenHeuvel’s tone was conspiratorial. “Your father said you’re eager to make a water garden.”

“Is this as close as I’ll ever get to freedom? The edge of these walls?” Then, seeing the old man’s pain, he recanted. “I’m sorry, I know this was a dream for you and my father, but it has become my nightmare.”

“I agree with you, Obi. When your father and I found this site, we both said, at the same time I believe, that we would build our clinic here.”

Objadu stifled a yawn. The heat of the sun made him sleepy. He’d heard this tale at least a thousand times.

“Now we are prisoners of the Al Amorta and their foolish two thousand gods. None of us can understand how we ended up prisoners in our own country.”

“It all started when . . .” The old man droned, and Obi sighed. There would be no escape from this retelling. “I was tracking an orangutan family, tagging them for study.”

“And this was a Catholic school?” He humored the old man out of love.

“Missionaries constructed it during the Dutch occupation.”

“I have heard many stories about those times,” Objadu looked away; it was hard to hide his feelings from the old doctor.

“The English were quite rude, and the Dutch were even worse. It was not a proud moment for my people. We built this research facility in 1952. You weren’t even a sparkle in your father’s eye.”

Obi smiled. It was a strange thought to imagine his parents in the middle of passion.

“I wanted to study the orangutan with the help of your people. In return, I would provide medical care. Our biggest mistake was trusting outsiders. First, it was the Americans. They weren’t so bad. Then, when they discovered my identity, they used us. Soon, Al Amorta came along and used them.”

The old man looked up with a menacing glare at the soldier walking the wall. “Two thousand gods, indeed.”

“The Americans certainly haven’t paid the price we have,” Objadu said. Erik could see he was a very angry young man, just as Manu had warned.

“It’s about oil, Obi. Americans will do almost anything for what they call black gold.”

“If you lie down with pigs, the smell gets on you.”

“You are so right,” Erik said tiredly. “But we never seem to realize that at first. Now, we’re in a tight spot.”

“You can’t reason with fanatics,” the younger man said. “You just have to wipe them from the face of the earth.”

“Omega began as an ambitious mission. The Americans said they supported technological progress to benefit the world. They provided funding, and we enjoyed our good luck.”

“In truth, we built our own prison.”

“It is said, Obi, that we are ultimately our own jailers. We tend to think the enemy of our enemy is our friend. More likely, the enemy of our enemy is also our enemy. When that band of terrorists discovered the Americans were cloning people, the response of the great United States was to get in bed with them. That was doomed from the start.”

“One of the soldiers told me that they believe their two thousand gods have named them as the chosen people. The Al Amorta Ujung are no more chosen than the Jews, Christians, or the martyrs who die in the name of Islam.”

“No man is above another. Even now, the Americans won’t recognize the threat the Ujung pose to the world. Al Amorta Ujung used American dollars to build their empire. They have enslaved their own people.”

“Is that really any different from what the Americans do? They enslave the clones in Sanctuary.”

“Not all of them. Some have been integrated into outside lives and don’t even remember us, Obi. Mind control is a magical science.”

“Magical? Or maniacal?”

“Perhaps both,” Erik conceded. “But American corruption cannot compare to the evil deeds of Al Amorta Ujung. They condemn Western culture and commit atrocities in the name of their many gods. Their master plan is to sway Indonesia and then the world away from the teachings of Muhammad.”

“But Islam is the foundation of Indonesia,” Obi said. “The Western world decries Islam at their peril. The Al Amorta makes the most fanatical Muslim seem as meek as a lamb.”

“You must be very careful, son,” Erik warned. A soldier was approaching, and he seemed very interested in their tête-à-tête at the pond. “They have sophisticated equipment, and they can listen to our conversations from a great distance. We must be stealthy to outfox the Al Amorta.”

Obi looked up to see the soldier spit deep into freedom on the other side of the wall.

“If it weren’t for the American lust for oil,” Objadu said, “the Al Amorta would have no power.”

“It’s the way of the world, Obi,” Erik said. “We can send a man to the moon, but an engine that runs on something other than fossil fuel seems out of the common man’s reach. Electric — not convenient enough. Recharging stations are few and far between. No one has a one-hundred-mile extension cord,” he chuckled. “Fuels from plants? Other than corn, the creators seem to always meet with foul play, or something blows up somewhere mysteriously.”

“It’s blackmail,” Objadu insisted. “If the Americans hadn’t dabbled in cloning, they wouldn’t be paying the Al Amorta extortion rates for oil.”

“Jah Lo’s men have become unbearable. The guards wear those silly camouflage uniforms, as if clothing alone could help them blend into the rainforest like chameleons.”

“Sometimes, in my dreams, I dive into the pond. I’m a fish,” Obi said.

“A huge fish,” Erik chuckled.

“And I swim through the culvert to Freedom. Nobody notices.”

“Nobody except the Al Amorta soldier who fries you up for dinner, Obi. This is all my fault. Now, the Americans send for children before they are old enough to leave. I lose track of them. It was never my intent to lose the children.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be free—I’d give my very life.”

“A man is never truly free,” Erik said. “After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.”

“Did you make that up?”

“No, an old gentleman named Nelson Mandela did. He concluded that thought by saying that he dares not linger, for his long walk is not yet finished.”

“Profound ideas,” Obi agreed. And they walked toward the clinic, shoulder to shoulder, an elderly doctor burdened by regret and a young man hoping for an opportunity to accumulate some.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………End

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