by Kyle Andrews
At first, she was surprised to be asked for orders. She wasn't normally put in charge of other soldiers, but she was the one who had led the way through that door and she was the one with the training.
Looking toward the group that had become her own, Rose commanded, “Follow my lead. Keep firing and move forward. We need to get to the stairwell.”
She took a deep breath and readied herself before finally rounding the cart and charging forward, firing at every HAND officer that she saw. Some went down. Others ducked out of the way. Behind Rose, her fighters pressed forward, firing bullets that breezed past her and tore chunks out of the wall in front of her.
She moved to a doorway that provided cover, and then stopped to provide cover for the people behind her, until they could find something to duck behind. Her team moved from spot to spot, slowly making their way down that hallway and taking out HAND officers along the way. This was her plan. It would take them a while, but she thought that if they could just keep moving from one safe spot to another, they could eventually get to the stairs and make their way to a different floor, to search for Mandi Hollinger.
It was a simple plan. Too simple, as it turned out. Eventually, Rose ran out of safe spots. HAND officers were replacing their fallen comrades faster than Rose and her team could take them out. While many of these officers were injured and easier to take down than they might ordinarily be, they had the advantage when it came to numbers, training and cover.
Rose stood in a doorway. Behind her, there was an empty room, but going inside would only make her easier to corner, so she stayed close to the door and looked out whenever she got the chance.
As she reloaded her handgun and continued to fire on the HAND officers, Rose tried to think of her next move. She wished that she had brought grenades or maybe a rocket launcher with her, but the reality of the situation was that she and her team had guns, and that was it.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that this battle was not leaning in Rose's favor. She was trapped, and worse than that, she had led others into a situation that was looking more and more hopeless by the minute.
33
When Dor saw Collin's face on the monitors that surrounded her on the street, she froze in place. There was pressure behind her nose that built and built until she thought that she was going to burst into tears and make a complete fool of herself. Doing that probably wouldn't have gone a long way toward proving that she was a mature adult now, capable of following rebels into battle and documenting the whole thing for future generations.
The more she thought about the role that she had taken on, the more she felt overwhelmed by it. At first, she just wanted to be a part of the action. She wanted to see the world as it fell apart, as morbid as that sounded. Now, she was realizing that Collin was probably going to be one of the people that was referenced in the history books, along with the original founding fathers of the country. Her words on the subject could be quoted for centuries to come.
Watching Collin speak to the people of the city, she could see the future unfolding in front of her. She could imagine everything that was going to happen that night as though it were already written in the past-tense.
She listened to his call to action and she felt herself shaking. In that moment she knew that there was no going back to the way things were. Even after the Garden fell, life in the city had somehow managed to settle back into its regular pattern. Not this time. This was too big and too bold to be ignored. For some reason, Dor couldn't help but think about the pillow that she slept on every night, and she wondered if she would even bother going back to it. Was the Campus already a place from her past? Had it become a historical landmark without her even realizing it?
“We need to keep moving,” Tracy told Dor, before Collin's address had even ended.
Tracy was looking around the street as though she expected an army to open fire on them at any moment. Seeing that look of concern in Tracy's eyes snapped Dor back to the present and to the reality of the situation. History hadn't been written yet. People could die. The mission could fail.
The women started to walk again, faster and faster with each passing moment until they were at a full jog. Once Collin's address was over, the streets fell silent. The only sound that Dor could hear was the sound of four feet on the pavement, and two people breathing heavily as they rushed to make it to the HAND building on time.
They were late. The fact that Collin was finished talking and they weren't even close to the HAND building yet made it abundantly clear that Dor and Tracy were going to miss the initial surge of action. They didn't have a car to ride in, like most of the soldiers who were heading into battle. Technically, they weren't even soldiers. They were volunteers who were joining the battle without training, quite possibly headed toward their own deaths. There were many others from Freedom who were doing the same thing. People who had lost loved ones to HAND. People whose lives had been ruled over and destroyed by the authorities. People who could have made a simple excuse and stayed home that night, but who were tired of standing by while everyone else decided their fate.
As they hurried down the street, Dor wondered if those people would be enough. Were there enough members of Freedom in the entire city to wage a war against HAND and win? HAND had more weapons, more technology and more armor. Most of the people in Freedom didn't even know how to shoot a gun.
What would the history books say about this night if Freedom lost the battle? Would they be mentioned at all? Would Freedom disappear into the fog of forgotten past while the authorities went on oppressing the people and making their lives even worse than they already were, to prevent another uprising from happening? Would the people of the city who weren't members of Freedom care enough to remember the people who had fought for the rights that had been stolen from them? Or would they turn off their TVs that night, curl up in bed with their backs to the window, and pretend that none of it was happening?
The thought of those people made Dor mad. The idea that so many human beings could willingly allow their freedom to be taken away, just because fighting back was inconvenient or dangerous. It made her sad. It made her ashamed of humanity.
But then something changed. Dor realized that she didn't hear four feet on the pavement anymore. She heard someone running behind her. When she turned, she saw another man—a civilian—running behind her and Tracy. As she saw this man, she noticed the door to an apartment building open and two more people rushed out, carrying what looked like broomsticks.
Dor stopped moving and stood in the street as person after person poured out of their apartment buildings, filling the streets with the sound of running feet that echoed loudly off of the buildings around them.
From windows, elderly men and women yelled words of support. Children stood, watching as more and more adults broke curfew and charged toward the HAND building and hospital.
Dor couldn't help it now. As she took a deep breath, she felt tears streaming down her cheeks and a wide smile forming on her face.
Citizens flowed by her, creating an army that even HAND would tremble at the sight of. Those people knew that they stood a good chance of dying, but they didn't care. They were done watching as little kids were swiped up by the authorities and reprogrammed like old computers. They were done with shopping lists and assignment meetings.
Dor lifted her camera to her eye and watched those people through the viewfinder. She dropped to one knee and snapped pictures of them, which became images of silhouettes against street lights and giant video monitors.
There were a lot of roars and screams from the people who were rushing past Dor that night, but there was one voice that stood out against the darkness and the stomping of feet on the ground. It was the voice of a man who yelled into the crowd a phrase that had once been painted on alley walls by people who were too scared to speak them openly. It was a phrase that was quickly picked up by the others who marched and repeated as they made their way through the city, their voices echoing back at
them and turning the many voices into even more.
Three simple words that changed the world: “WE ARE FREEDOM!”
34
The camera was turned off. Collin stood in the middle of the room with bright lights shining in his face and a dozen people watching him. He expected that moment to feel amazing. He expected to feel as though he had driven a knife into the gut of the authorities, and that victory was now within Freedom's grasp.
Instead, he felt a little bit foolish. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. He didn't know if he should have highlighted the terror of Mandi Hollinger more, or maybe gone down the list of other people who had disappeared or died at the hands of the authorities. He had years of Secret Citizen back issues that he could have recited to an audience that would never know those stories unless he highjacked their TVs. He wanted everyone to know everything.
It wasn't enough. He was convinced of it. Every word out of his mouth was the wrong choice of words. His message would be lost. The people would ignore him, or call for the arrest of all Freedom members. The attacks on the HAND building and the hospital would lose their element of surprise and ultimately fail. Freedom would collapse. The war would be lost. The world would become an even more hopeless and miserable place to live than it already was.
Collin stood there, staring at the camera and listening to his own words repeat over and over in his head. He felt stupid. Who was he to speak for the entire Freedom movement? Maybe Aaron or Mig should have given the address.
He was even more nervous now that it was over than he was going into the broadcast, and there was nothing that he could do to ease those nerves. The fight was happening miles away. He couldn't go out there and help. He couldn't do anything except sit in the Campus and wait for news to start trickling in.
Turning away from the camera, Collin studied the wall behind him, wondering if there was anything on it that could be used to track him to the Campus. Was there anything in the shot that would reveal his location and bring forth the wrath of HAND? Did he just cause the next Garden incident?
Of course, a number of people had examined that room and the objects behind him before they allowed him to go on the air. There were a lot of books that were forbidden to the general population, but none of them would lead HAND back to him.
He wondered if the computer connection could be tracked. Surely, Simon and his team were aware of the risks and had taken precautions, but Collin couldn't stop looking for a way for his broadcast to have been a horrible mistake. Could it have been as easy as it seemed? Could it have turned out well and made a difference without something going horribly wrong? It didn't seem possible for anything to go completely right anymore.
“I would applaud, but it hardly seems appropriate,” Mig said, standing in the doorway.
Collin turned toward her, trying to get a feel for what she thought without actually asking her. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know.
With a slight nod, she said, “You did good. Don't second guess yourself. It's out of our hands now.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. It's a horrible feeling, but there is nothing that we can do to change what happens out there now.”
Collin walked toward Mig and the two of them left his office. They walked into the hallway and Collin had to stop and take in the view of the place. It was almost empty. There was none of the frenzy that usually filled the place. Everyone was out, fighting.
“I should go,” Collin told Mig as soon as he realized how useless he was if he stayed behind.
“What will you do when you get there?” Mig asked in return.
“Fight.”
“Are you good at that?”
“I've taken out a few people.”
“Okay, so you go. You take on HAND, and the second one of them recognizes you, they all decide to take you out. You're a priority target. You're famous. So, they shoot you in the head.”
“You're not great at telling stories.”
“Do you know what happens next?”
Collin shook his head, though he knew where she was going with this story.
“They drag your picture all over the media. They have a public viewing of your body. They have your face plastered on every one of those damn giant TVs on every street. You know why?” she asked, and he didn't answer. So she explained, “You are the face of this organization, whether you want to admit it or not. You called for the public to rise up, and if they have your body to wave around, they will show all of the people out there that when you rise up, you die. Is that what you want? Do you want to bring this whole thing down because you're bored?”
“You know that's not why.”
“I know. But some of us don't get to fight with our fists. When this night is over, the people who are left standing will need to see your face. They will need food and blankets. They will need doctors. They will need shelter. If we all ran out there right now, there would be nothing to come home to.”
“Is this the part where you tell me that staying here is the hardest job of them all?”
Mig smirked and replied, “Harder than getting shot a bunch of times? No.”
She led the way down the hall, toward Aaron's office. Though the door was closed, Collin could hear the commotion going on inside of that office before he was halfway there.
When they reached the office, Mig opened the door and walked inside, toward one of the computer stations where she would be working to organize the aftermath of the night. Collin followed her in, hugging the wall and trying to stay out of the way as members of the tech team moved back and forth across the room. He didn't have a job to perform there. All he could do was stand back and watch.
On the TV screens that Collin could see, most stations were broadcasting normally. It was as though nothing had changed. He had to wonder if the authorities actually believed that they could hide this massive assault on their system from the general public, or if they thought that by ignoring it they could somehow manipulate the public into remaining calm. Either way, their plan was foolish.
“I need traffic cameras,” Aaron said to one of the tech people who was passing by him.
Without stopping, that man replied, “I'm working on getting in now, but I need a couple of minutes.”
“We don't have a couple of minutes. I need eyes out there!” Aaron ordered.
Aaron turned away from the computers, obviously frustrated by what was happening. He looked directly at Collin for a moment, but didn't say anything.
Collin wasn't sure whether he should try to engage Aaron in conversation at that moment, or if he should try to remain as invisible as possible. The part that frustrated him the most was that he did have eyes out there. He had a number of reporters, including Dor, observing the fight and taking pictures. The only problem was that those people had no way of reporting back to the Campus.
If he were a member of the elite class, Collin could pull out a cell phone and call his people. They could send images and videos back to him within seconds. He could probably video chat with them and watch the thing play out live. But here he was, in a base that was deceptively quiet, while the battle for their lives was supposed to be taking place.
Collin had been annoyed by their lack of open communications for a long time. It would have been convenient for them to be able to pick up a phone and talk to each other. Even normal citizens had that much, but Freedom couldn't talk openly without the fear of being monitored and captured. At best, they could speak in code. Even that didn't happen very often.
Now, their lack of communication was pissing him off. He wanted a report. For all he knew, the assault had already been smacked down and HAND was on their way to the Campus at that very moment, and who would warn them?
He added this to the list of things that needed to change in the world.
“I have traffic cameras,” a female member of the tech team called out, and Aaron went to her.
“Put it up on the big screens,” Aar
on ordered.
All of the TV monitors switched over to traffic cameras, from various angles of the HAND building and the hospital. Collin looked at the HAND building, and though the video was dark and grainy, he could clearly see a fire burning in front of the building. The steps where he once stood, waiting to be executed, were now being flooded by people.
He couldn't make out which of those people were Freedom and which were HAND, but there were hundreds of them, and the fact that the fight was still going on told Collin that there was a very real chance that Freedom could win this battle. HAND had better weapons, better vehicles and better technology, but if they couldn't wipe out Freedom within seconds, there was a chance that they couldn't wipe them out at all.
An explosion at the hospital drew Collin's eyes to a different TV screen. The view of the hospital was much better than the one that he had of the HAND building. The camera must have been located at the hospital's main entrance. Fires were burning in front of the hospital, lighting the scene. An ambulance was turned on its side in front of one of the doors. In the windows, Collin could see lights flickering.
“Can we still get into KCTY?” Aaron asked. “I want to put this on the air.”
Simon shook his head and said, “They pulled the plug. No antenna access.”
“Satellite?” Aaron asked.
Simon shook his head once again. Aaron took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. He studied the images on the TV screens.
“Can we help them at all?” he asked Simon. “Can we get into anything? Hell, can we turn off the damn sprinklers inside the buildings, so they can't put out any fires?”
“No,” Simon answered.
Aaron turned to Collin once again and said, “If you were being attacked like this, what would you do?”
“At the HAND building or the hospital?” Collin asked.
“Either. Both.”
Collin thought about it for a second before saying, “If I were in the HAND building, I would find the most heavily armed, most fortified position, and do whatever I could to hold onto it. In the hospital... I'd get the hell out of there. Tunnels, maybe?”