“We’ll work it out,” I tell him.
“We will?” he asks, and I smile.
“Yes, we will. Regan has no control anymore, and neither does your father. You’ll have all the resources you need from now on.”
“How?”
“By bringing all four kingdoms together,” I tell him, watching his face carefully. I can see now that the monster he portrayed himself to be was an angry facade. He thinks he’s done wrong in making his people live the way they do, but there is no wrong in choosing to give someone a fighting chance. I realize now his intention to drive me away at first was merely based on fear. He’s no monster at all. He lets everyone believe he’s the villain because he feels like he deserves the hate for his sins.
Suddenly, everything he has done seems to pale in comparison to the lives he’s saved, even if he doesn’t see it. I may not forgive the pain he caused me, but I know I can look past it for the good he does for others.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The transition from wilderness to cityscape is almost instantaneous. It’s as if we passed through an invisible wall. Suddenly, we are engulfed by towering skyscrapers, iridescent moving frames on buildings, and snaking highways teeming with headlights. As I peer out of the window, the limo shields me from the chaos of the city but not from the sensory assault—lights, sounds, people. There are so many people.
“Welcome to my kingdom,” Zeke announces, his voice tinged with pride and a hint of sorrow. As the limousine rolls down the street, my eyes gravitate toward the towering displays—like TVs but on the sides of buildings. A colorful mishmash of images and symbols move and morph in ways that seem impossible.
“What is that?” I ask, pointing to the technicolor spectacle with its flashing lights.
“It’s a billboard,” Zeke explains. His words barely register because my attention is caught by a holographic figure dancing midair. Its movements are so fluid and realistic. I can see the wrinkles in clothing and the slight changes in facial expressions. It’s as if the holograms are real people!
I gasp in amazement as scenes unfold around it. A man walking his dog in nature. An ice-cream sundae with sprinkles that flash. Each one is more magical than the last.
“Wow!” I breathe, marveling at the incredible sights before us. Zeke smiles indulgently at me and points things out, explaining what different things are. Everywhere we go, there are more billboards featuring bright lights, vivid colors, and awe-inspiring special effects on display for everyone to see. There are even moving holographic ads for cars driving through busy intersections or floating above busy streets. Not to mention, the neon signs and computer-generated displays everywhere you look.
As we continue driving, I am lost for words. Everything I have seen today overwhelms me. This place is so different from anything else I have ever experienced. Worlds like Zeke’s kingdom should only exist in science fiction books, but it’s right here in front of me!
As we continue our journey, it becomes clear that Zeke’s kingdom is no ordinary city. It is a living, breathing entity, throbbing with life. Everywhere I look, there is extravagance. Buildings rise high into the sky with huge balconies flaunting large tubs and robotic servants. The streets are paved and lined with exotic trees that shimmer under the city’s lights.
Beneath the gleaming exterior, there is also a less charming reality. The city is bursting at its seams with citizens. People march through the streets like ants in a busy hive. Streets are clogged with pedestrians, sidewalks are crowded, and parks are overflowing.
When we reach the city’s underbelly, all illusions of glamour fade, and it’s shocking to see how many people live on the streets. The city may sparkle with a false charm at first, but the reality for most people here is heartbreaking.
The streetlights are dim compared to the neon colors and headlights flooding the city behind us. Weather-worn faces stare at the car as we move slowly through their camps. Their faces are haggard, peering out of tents made from found fabrics and torn pieces of nylon. Their hands reach toward the car with hats and cups, begging for help—begging for mercy.
They are a sordid blemish on the glittering cityscape of Covethollow, like smudges on a polished mirror. The parks in this part of town aren’t full of lively people or children playing in the cool night’s breeze because every patch of grass has been claimed as someone’s home. Backpacks and carts full of people’s possessions are littered in piles through the park’s overgrown landscaping.
“What’s that?” I point to a long line of people waiting outside a nondescript building.
“It’s a soup kitchen,” Zeke answers with a helpless expression. “The city is prosperous, but not everyone shares in the wealth. They will close once the food is gone.”
“But there are so many of them,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “Will they all eat?” I turn to Zeke, but he looks away in shame. The people in line are waiting for a meal, a bare necessity that they can’t afford in this city of abundance, and many of them will still go without.
The city continues to unravel before my eyes, each corner revealing a new facet of its character. There seems to be a line drawn between those who have everything and those who have nothing, but there isn’t much in between.
The city is black or white with no shades of gray. Wealthy families in high-rise buildings, eating at fancy restaurants, enjoying amenities like pools and clubs, and if you are not part of that world, you have nothing. Living out of a plastic cart, standing in line at a soup kitchen. There’s an abrupt shift between the sparkling avenues of shopping and the dank alleyways where people barter their dignity for survival. Zeke’s kingdom is a different sort of nightmare.
Further down the street, a protest is gathering strength as people rally, and looking at Zeke, I can tell their cause saddens him.
“Why are they protesting?” I ask confused.
“They have nothing better to do and nowhere to go. They are rallying against mass evictions and the lack of affordable housing. The wealthy live in high-rises, while others are forced to live on the streets or in overcrowded shelters. The new owner of the apartment complexes just outside of town decided to knock it down to build high-end skyscrapers they won’t be able to afford, leaving them on the streets, so they’ve come into the city to protest outside his penthouse.”
“And there is nothing you can do about it?”
Zeke shrugs. “What can I do when I don’t have the resources, money, or workers to build affordable housing? Right now, our priority is medical care. These people are angry, and rightfully so, but if it is a choice between a few getting a little wet in the elements or people dying, I have to choose the people who are more at risk.”
“Aren’t they at risk of dying exposed to the elements?” I ask.
