A ray of light coming through the only window on the room and a far away singing voice disturbed Abdul's sleep in his small bed, that, as many things in the room, was also on the floor. The water heater that he had commited to repair lay beside him and so did his drool, as the warm blankets that covered him drew him back into sleep once more but not before identifying who was the man singing; a young man who had given him and some of the inhabitants a bit of hope inside the safe haven, to the cost of his mobility and, possibly permanently. His name was Waldemar, a thin kid with a scruffy beard and that looked like he could be broken apart in two by the touch of a feather, and not much was known about him aside from the fact he had been touring with a band. Waldemar had arrived to the Safe Haven before Abdul, for reasons unknown, just like many other strange faces that had suddenly found themselves crammed inside a relatively small space.<br/><br/>When the struggles with the military men started and the starvation and weakness, weariness carried over many months that demolarized even the strongest man, Waldemar had started gathering a small group of followers that would listen to him sing. The boy didn't have a particularly spectacular voice, nor did he wish to become a signer; he had even stayed quiet most of the time, as if afraid of acting up because of the authoritarian guards that took the inhabitants' freedom. But one day, he just stood up and started singing his heart out, and that woke up a glimmering ray of hope, that even though small, appeared due to the rythm and unity that music created between individuals with shared issues. However, Paul and the authorities didn't particularly want a wandering bard that could cause an uprising by creating the mood for rebellion; hope was something to be supressed if they didn't want weapons disappearing from the armory.<br/><br/>At first it was mere threats, which worked momentarily. But he grew more resilient when he saw that they were vague and empty, that they were not being enforced. People that flocked around him were threatened next, even lower suplies would be handed to the individuals who would find themselves around the 'Singing Voice of Tacoma'. Word spread around and the inhabitants of the Safe Haven, although weakened by the harsh opression imposed to them, banded together to protect what they saw as their rights to gather. Paul conceded but saw this as a spark, as a sign that Waldemar would have to be taken out.<br/><br/>And one night, in the midst of the dark and hiding in the shadow like bandits, they jumped Waldemar as he was walking down to his residence after singing. It was 9:45 and the screams of Waldemar did not emulate the harmony that had slowly been improving over time (and that to this day is improving). The dry sound that the baseball bats did as they made contact with his knees was almost rythmic, ironically. Waldemar was left a heap, on the ground, legs broken beyond repair. Abdul, after leaving the generator's main building, found the whimpering kid whose shouts for help had been ignored, whose counsciousness had been slipping away. And even though Abdul considered him stubborn, foolish and naive for awakening the ire of the guardians, he gave Waldemar a piggyback ride, which only helped to increase the pain on the way to a nurse that resided across town. The young man was no longer speaking when they arrived to the nurse's residence. It was 10:15 and Waldemar's voice was no longer screams but supressed whimpers due to the pain.<br/><br/>Abdul had to stay beside the young man as the nurse what she possibly could to decrease the pain; curfew had been long past and the nurse offered him a night's rest. She said he'd have to let it heal, that a wheelchair would now be his method of transportation but that he had to be thankful that he wasn't hit in the head. He just said that he had to be thankful to no man for what had happened to him, except to the man that had carried him. It was 11:30 when the nurse passed Abdul a small package and told him that Waldemar would need therapy not to stay paraplegic. That she'd be able to provide it to him but that he shouldn't take risks. And Abdul thought that it very well explained the curses and cries from Waldemar inside the room.<br/><br/>Abdul opened his eyes again. Waldemar was still singing in his wheelchair outside, perhaps a block or two away. Someone had donated to him a guitar (that he played badly) that wasn't looted from the high school. Support had grown around him but so had fear of being seen. Paul no longer considered him a large enough threat, now that he had all the power but nevertheless rumor had it that someday Waldemar would be picking the supplies, wheelchair rattling all the way as the husks chased after the young singer.<br/><br/>And Abdul took the package that Waldemar gave him that night, opened it and put the headphones in his ears. He pressed play, even though he still wasn't a fan of American music, he allowed the melancholic sound, that somehow mimicked the song that Waldemar was singing instead of the initially energic songs he had seeked to sing, fill his hears.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3L33OWl2eUQ">And so he slept again.</a></span>