by Kyle Andrews
“My mother is calling,” Geo told Marti.
“I can leave. Your father said that she was worried.”
“Stay. Please. This will just take a second.”
Marti nodded and looked down at her cup of tea as Geo pulled the cuff off of his arm and flattened it into a rectangle before putting it to his ear.
“Mother,” he said, with no emotion in his voice that would let Marti know how he felt about the woman.
There was a pause. Geo looked off to the side and then to the ground before saying, “It's fine. Father said that he would get me another job. You don't need to worry.”
There was a pause. Marti was trying to appear as though she wasn't listening to the conversation, but there was very little else she could be listening to at the moment.
“I will. Goodbye,” Geo said to his mother, before hanging up his phone and putting it back on his wrist. He then looked at Marti and said, “She was terribly worried about my losing the job that I came here for.”
“She didn't ask if you were hurt?”
“Why would she?”
For some reason, Marti had always imagined that the elite led normal lives, the way people had lived decades earlier. That they had normal families and cared about each other, and only imposed their twisted worldview on the civilians that they deemed unworthy. It was strange to catch a glimpse of that world and to see that some things weren't very different from her own.
Families weren't supposed to be important in her world. She loved her parents, but that was in spite of everything that she had been taught from a very young age. She was supposed to depend on the system, not the people who gave her life.
There were a hundred questions that Marti could have asked Geo about his life in that moment, but none of them seemed appropriate. So instead, she asked him, “What kind of work do you do?”
“I was going to be working in the Mayor's office, on education services.”
“Sounds complicated.”
Geo shrugged. He didn't seem impressed with the work that he was planning to do.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“They want me to go back home and work in my father's office.”
“Governor sounds more impressive than Mayor.”
Geo didn't say anything in response, which gave Marti the impression that he didn't particularly want to discuss his career opportunities with her.
Taking the hint, Marti took a sip of her tea and then smiled and said, “Is that a cell phone?”
Geo looked puzzled by her question and said, “Yeah.”
Marti put her cup down and stepped closer to Geo. She grabbed his arm and raised it, so that she could get a better look at the device that he was wearing.
She had seen cell phones before, on TV, but she had never seen one in person. The screen was curved to fit the shape of his wrist. It was black, until she tapped on it and it came to life, with all sorts of little icons that looked like gibberish to her.
“Cool,” she said under her breath.
Geo pulled the phone off of his arm and handed it to Marti. The phone slowly flattened out in her hand, even without her forcing it, like a flower that was blossoming in her palm. It felt light and delicate to her, as though she could snap it with a thought. People in her world never had use for such fragile things.
“So you can make phone calls from this thing. What else does it do?” Marti asked, looking up into Geo's eyes, trying to appear wide-eyed and impressed by his gadget.
“Internet. Email. It has an infrared camera, so I could use it to see at night if I wanted to...”
“I don't even know what I would do with something like this.”
“It seems more impressive than it is.”
Marti handed the phone back to Geo, still looking in his eyes as she said, “It seems pretty impressive to me.”
24
Rose couldn't remember how many times she had walked down the street with Paul, hand in hand. Sometimes with his arm wrapped around her. Sometimes with her head on his shoulder. She enjoyed those walks. They were calming for her.
After the Garden was attacked, Rose's world changed. Everything looked different, felt different and even tasted different. She couldn't sleep. She was angry. She wanted to do stupid things, putting her life on the line for half-baked schemes against the authorities. She wanted to feel as though she were getting revenge for those lives lost. She wanted to feel like things were changing. She wanted hope, but the world didn't always give her what she wanted.
Building an army that was capable of fighting back—really fighting back—took time. It took patience. It took supplies that they didn't have at the time. Even when progress was being made, Rose didn't feel like they were going anywhere, because every time she turned on the TV, she saw the authorities mocking her and the people that had been killed that day. She saw their smug smiles, their perfectly cleaned and pressed suits and their professionally styled hair, and nothing about the way those people lived gave her the impression that they were even remotely concerned with Freedom.
Hundreds of good people died at the hands of the authorities every year. When Rose looked into the eyes of her friends and allies, she could see their stress and their fear. She never saw a hint of that in the eyes of the news reporters, the politicians, or the celebrities who were allowed to lead privileged lives for as long as they were willing to spew the propaganda. When those people smiled, they looked happy.
Right after the attack on the Garden, it was rare to see even a forced smile from any member of Freedom. They were lost and defeated. A lot of them wanted to run back into hiding or abandon the cause entirely, but most were simply unsure of what would happen next.
Rose worked hard at changing her situation. She went wherever she had to go in order to become the soldier that she needed to be. She was willing to do whatever it took, but no matter how determined she was, she couldn't deny the fact that part of her was broken. In the weeks or months after the loss of the Garden, Rose didn't crack jokes or enjoy the experience of borrowing a car the way she used to. Nothing she did ever seemed like enough, but she could never figure out what more to do. It was a hopeless and painful way to live.
But there was Paul. Right after the attack on the Garden, he pulled his signature disappearing act—or maybe it was Rose who vanished this time. She wasn't really sure. All she knew was that she was alone and he was alone, and they were both miserable.
Over time, he started to come around again. She wanted to hate him for constantly popping in and popping out of her life, but she couldn't. The first time she sat down for a meal with him, the two of them barely spoke to each other and yet it was like she had stopped holding her breath for the first time since the attack. Suddenly, there was life again. There was a vision of the future, where nothing but darkness had existed for so long. That was what Paul did for Rose. She couldn't explain how or why, but when he was in her life, there was focus and reason. It was intoxicating, and that never changed. Even years later, after they had worked through so many of their problems and the thrill of new love was gone, there was nothing in the world that could make Rose feel like she did when she was simply in the same room as that man.
Part of her hated to admit it. She was not a person who depended on other people for much. She was not someone who followed boys around like a puppy-dog. She was strong and fierce, and anyone who dared to question those facts usually ended up regretting it. She saw some of those other people, latching onto someone because they couldn't stand on their own, but that wasn't who she was or what she did. He didn't make her strong. She didn't depend on him to do anything except make her the best version of herself that she had ever known. That was what love was to her.
Years passed, and that version of her became better with each passing day. She watched the same thing happening to him too. Together, they were unstoppable. They were a force of nature. She didn't just love him. She loved them.
It took them years to get to the stree
t corner where they were standing on that night. The sun had set hours earlier. The citizens around them were scurrying off to wherever it was that people went anymore. It didn't matter where they were going. That world and that life would be gone after that night.
Even the thought of it was electric. Rose couldn't wipe the stupid smile off of her face as she thought about the orders that had been delivered to the Underground by one of the Campus runners. There had undoubtedly been runners sent to every base across the city, because this wasn't a night for the soldiers of the Underground to rise up and take action. It was a night for every single person who had the will to be free to scream as loudly as they possibly could and drive a knife into the gut of the system that had held them down for so very long.
Minutes passed and the muscles in Rose's body were twitching, aching for that moment when the call would be given and they would begin their assault.
She had wanted this for years. She had dreamed about this for years. She had devoted her life to this night, and here it was. The thing that made it even more beautiful than she could have imagined during her days in the Garden was that she honestly and truly felt like they were ready for this fight. Her people had worked hard to get here. To take those first ideas of freedom and grow them into a beautiful, capable army. On that night, the Garden would be reborn, bigger and better than ever. It would not occupy one small, rundown hospital anymore, it would occupy the entire city.
Rose turned toward Paul, still holding his hand as tightly as she ever had before, and she saw the same silly grin on his face. He looked down at her and his eyes were filled with anticipation. Where there had always been clouds of gloom before—not just in Paul but in every member of Freedom, to some degree—there was now wonder and hope.
She couldn't help herself. She grabbed his head and pulled it to hers, kissing him as passionately as she had ever kissed him. She hoped that doing this would make it easier for her to focus on the work, but she didn't get her wish. If anything, she was even more excited than before.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked her.
Rose grinned and said, “Actually, I have a show on tonight. Think we could reschedule the revolution for tomorrow?”
Paul put a hand on his chin and said, “I'll have my people check with—No.”
Rose smiled and put her head on his shoulder. They crossed the street together, as though it were any normal day and they were any normal couple.
Glancing down at her wounded arm, Paul told Rose, “I don't want you getting hurt.”
“I won't.”
“You're fighting with one hand. Just remember where your strength is. Stay in the car.”
“The city is about to catch on fire and you're telling me to keep the engine running?”
“Yes,” Paul replied, and he leaned down to give Rose a kiss on the head.
Whether this was a way of winning her over or simply an act of affection, she wasn't sure.
Reluctantly, she nodded her agreement.
She then smiled widely, let go of Paul's hand and turned around so that she could look him directly in the eyes as she said, “I want a red one. Convertible. Maybe something with a racing stripe.”
She turned back around, and grabbed his hand. As they continued to walk, Paul studied the few cars that were parked along the street. He then asked, “Would you settle for an old van with lovely rust spots on the hood?”
Rose bit her lip and then, with sarcastic enthusiasm, said, “Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes!”
Leaning closer to Rose, Paul whispered, “I feel like you might be able to draw a little bit more attention to our stealing cars if you just raised your voice a little.”
Rose didn't care if the entire world heard her. She really didn't. The days of Freedom running and hiding were over. Well, they would be over soon. Paul was probably right, for the moment. Rose probably should have played it a little bit cooler than she was, but she couldn't help herself. This was it.
She wasn't sure how much time she had left to prepare. All she knew was that at some point, a signal would be given and that was when she and her fellow soldiers were supposed to go. Any second. She could barely stand the anticipation.
Looking down the street, Rose saw a HAND vehicle driving toward them. She and Paul both did their best to look inconspicuous, which wasn't very hard since they hadn't done anything wrong yet. If they were stopped by HAND and searched, the officers would find guns and knives on both of them, and this was before they had a chance to stop and pick up supplies.
Even the threat of being caught was exciting. Rose couldn't contain herself anymore. She wrapped her arms around Paul and kissed him once again.
Paul responded by pushing her back against the nearby van, with the rusty hood. He pressed his body against hers as he kissed her passionately and deeply. She ran one hand through his hair while pulling him even closer with the other. He had one arm wrapped around her and the other...
Click.
The van door popped open next to Rose.
“Your ride, beautiful,” Paul said with his face still close to hers.
“One handed, without looking,” Rose grinned. “Showoff.”
“Only when I want to impress the ladies.”
“The lady is impressed.”
He kissed her once again and said, “I need to find a car of my own.”
“I guess you should go then,” she replied, pulling him close for another kiss.
“I really should,” he agreed, still kissing her back.
After another few seconds of holding onto each other, Paul pulled away and opened the van door wider, so Rose could get inside.
“I'll see you at the party,” she told him.
Paul nodded and with a half-smile said, “And every day after.”
He couldn't have just told her to go and kick some ass? Instead, he had to leave her with one of those comments which made Rose's heart feel as though he were reaching into her chest and gripping the damn thing with his bare hand?
Rose climbed into the van and closed the door behind her. It only took her a few seconds to get the engine started, while Paul stood next to her window, keeping watch. Once she was ready to go, Rose rolled down her window.
“Will you marry me?” she asked him, for the hundredth time.
Paul shrugged and replied, “Guess so. I have nothing better to do. I mean, if there was a football game on instead, I might...”
Rose pulled away from the curb, leaving Paul behind. She glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw him watching her pull away. He then pulled the collar of his jacket up, took a quick look around the area, and started to walk off.
25
The Campus was a madhouse. Half of the people who lived there were preparing for Collin's broadcast and the other half were preparing for the coming battle. Everyone was yelling and running. The air was thick with anticipation. It was the best, most terrifying kind of chaos.
Meanwhile, Dor sat on the steps that led to nowhere, awaiting her marching orders.
She knew what everyone was going to tell her. They would pat her on the head and tell her that she'd done a good job earlier, but it was time for her to sit down and watch the show from the safety of her own home. They wouldn't want her in the thick of things when the bullets started flying. They—and by they, she mostly meant Collin— would want her to remain the quiet little girl that had come into the Campus years earlier.
“You coming or what?” Tracy asked her, moving down the hallway, toward the exit.
“What?” Dor replied, completely caught off guard.
“I figured you'd want to be there to see this.”
“I do.”
Dor got to her feet and started to walk with Tracy. She looked over her shoulder, to see if anyone was watching her before saying, “I'm just not sure that Collin will want me to go. And if he says no, Mig will say no...”
Tracy rolled her eyes and grabbed Dor by the arm. She pulled Dor into Collin's office, where about a
dozen of the Secret Citizen staff members were running around, trying to get the broadcast organized.
As she approached Collin, Tracy said, “We're heading out. Wish us luck.”
“Good luck,” Collin said without even looking up.
Tracy smiled to Dor and started to leave. That was when Collin finally looked up and saw who was talking to him.
“Wait!” he called to them. He went to Dor and said, “You need to stay here.”
“Why?” Dor asked.
“We have work to do. We have—“
“A dozen different people who are more qualified to do what needs to be done around here,” Dor told him.
“She is the one who made this all possible,” Tracy pressed.
“And she did a great job of it, but now it's time to hang back. Let this unfold before you dive into it.”
“That's great reporting,” Dor nodded. “Wait for the action to be over and then ask a bunch of people what happened.”
“You need someone out there,” Tracy agreed.
Collin shot Tracy a disapproving look and said, “Not her.”
Tracy turned to Dor and asked, “How old are you?”
“Old e-damn-nough,” Dor responded, in a tone that Tracy had been using on her for years.
With a smile, Tracy said, “That's my girl.”
Putting her emotions aside, Dor looked Collin in the eyes and told him, “We need someone on the ground when this thing goes down.”
“It's dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous. Everyone at the Garden stayed home that day! We have a mission to accomplish here, and part of that is getting the facts to the people. You can't be out there tonight. You have work to do here. I can do this.”
“We have people out there.”
“And you don't care about their well-being?”
Collin cocked his head and huffed, calling her comment absurd without actually saying it. To him, it was different. Dor loved the fact that he cared about her, but it was time for her to grow up. She had a right to this war, the same as anyone else. She had lost just as much as anyone.