by C. J. Harper
‘Yes, thank you, Blake,’ Ven says, from his corner of the office. ‘So kind of you to enquire. I am entirely unhurt. Don’t tax your limited emotional intelligence by worrying about me further.’
My hands are shaking. I put down my gun and press my palms to my face. I can’t believe what just happened.
‘I dropped my bag,’ Ven says. ‘Give me some ammo, Blake. Kay, check they’re all gone.’
I toss my bag over to Ven. Kay moves to the door, stepping over the bodies. There must be a twenty of them. She pulls the door open a crack.
‘I th— Ah!’
The guard lying nearest to Kay has grabbed her by the ankle. She swings her gun around, but he knocks it flying out of her hand. Kay twists and shakes, but the guard scrambles on to his knees and grips her arm.
‘Get off!’ Kay shouts.
I run towards them. The guard lets go of Kay for a second to pull a revolver from his waistband. Kay sees him. She spins round, flicking out a leg to kick the gun from his hand, but he pulls back and she misses. The guard snatches at the back of her jacket and, as she continues to turn, it rips right across the back. Something falls out of the lining and on to the ground.
‘STOP!’ yells Ven.
Everyone freezes.
Ven is still in his corner, holding my bag.
The guard clutches his gun centimetres from Kay’s stomach.
I am near enough to reach out and touch him.
And we’re all staring at the flashing red light on the bomb that has just tumbled out of Kay’s jacket.
Oh God, Nard did want to blow everybody up. He just wanted to make damn sure that Ven, Kay and I were right at the heart of the blast.
Nobody moves.
‘As I’m sure you are aware,’ Ven says to the guard, ‘that is a bomb – and I think it’s safe to say that it’s set to go off as soon as The Leader comes on stage.’
Outside the crowd are applauding someone.
‘Which must be soon. You’d better stop waving that gun about, because this young man,’ he points to me, ‘is the only one in here who can disable it – and he’s not going to like it if you hurt his girlfriend.’
Efwurd. Ven wants me to disable the bomb.
The guard stares at him. His eyes flick from Ven to me and back to Ven. ‘Then I won’t hurt her,’ he says, ‘for now.’ He doesn’t move the gun.
‘Blake . . .’ Ven says.
I’m regretting ever having mentioned my theoretical understanding of bombs. ‘I think it would be better if you did it,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘Unfortunately, Blake, I know so efwurding much about almost everything that there just wasn’t room for a few things. This is one of them. You’re up.’
King hell, it’s all on me. I crouch down and take a look at the device. Out of the corner of my eye I see the guard turn and look at the door.
‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you,’ Ven says to him.
‘Doesn’t matter how fast you run now, if this goes off you’ll be dead. Or we’ll shoot you as soon as your back’s turned anyway.’
I’m afraid to even touch the bomb, but I reason that Kay brought it all the way here without it exploding.
When I get it open, I’m relieved to be able to identify most of the components. The design is fairly simple. If I can just disconnect the timing device then we should be okay.
‘I need a knife.’
‘I don’t have any knife,’ Kay says.
‘Nor me,’ Ven says.
The guard clears his throat. ‘I’ve got one.’
‘Then you’d better give it to me.’ I put out a hand.
‘You get it,’ he says. ‘Top pocket.’
He doesn’t want to put down his gun. I reach inside his breast pocket and pull out a flick knife. Now, I just have to cut the connection to the timer. I pull up the wire and position the knife. I touch the blade to the wire.
Wait.
I need to be sure I’m doing the right thing.
Outside, the opening chords of the Leadership anthem blare out.
‘Blake . . .’ Ven says. We both know that the music means The Leader must be seconds from appearing on stage.
Sweat gathers under my arms. I imagine Nard’s smirking face. He wouldn’t have made it this easy. There’s bound to be a trap. I take another look. I think I’m right. It looks like he’s wired it up so that cutting off the timer will trip the explosive. So first I need to break that connection. But there are two possible wires . . . Which one is it? What do I do? Sweet efwurd, we’re all going to die.
I tilt the device towards me so that the guard can’t see. I don’t know which wire to cut. There’s no way of knowing. Either one could be a secondary trigger. The anthem rises to a crescendo. If I don’t decide soon, we’ll all be dead anyway.
Red. I’m going red. My hand moves in front of me and . . . I cut the yellow wire.
I wince.
Nothing happens.
Quickly, I cut the connection to the timer, too.
The flashing stops. I’ve done it. I’ve disabled it. But I don’t look up and I keep fiddling with the wires. The moment I stop, the guard is going to shoot Kay. Without moving my head, I use my peripheral vision. The guard’s gun has drooped. Kay’s knees bend very slightly. If she’s moving, maybe she’s got a plan.
I sigh loudly to keep the guard’s attention on me. I keep prodding at the device.
From outside we clearly hear the announcer say, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please give a very enthusiastic welcome to the cause of our celebrations . . . It’s The Leader!’
‘What colour does that wire look to you?’ I ask the guard. ‘Is that blue or green?’
Kay sinks lower.
The guard leans for a better look. ‘Blue. It’s blue. Come on,’ he says in a thick voice. ‘They’re introducing The Lead—’
He doesn’t finish because Kay snatches up one of the guards’ guns from the floor and shoots him in the head.
Blood splatters across my face.
The crowd are going crazy.
‘Blake—’
‘It’s done, Ven. It was done two minutes ago. I just couldn’t let the guard know that.’
I turn to Kay. She’s staring at the messy remains of the guard.
‘Well done,’ I say. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m okay.’ She drags her eyes away from the guard. ‘Well done for you. Doing that bomb.’
‘Yes, you’re both efwurding heroes,’ Ven says. ‘Of course it might have been simpler if any one of us had been ready with our guns when he came back from the dead.’
It’s true. We’re a disgrace. I wipe the blood from my face with my sleeve and exhale slowly. The last ten minutes are a terrible blur.
The smooth tones of The Leader penetrate my fug.
‘. . . celebration of our nation and of our achievement.’
‘It’s him,’ Kay says.
‘Get to the window,’ Ven snaps.
We rush back across the office.
I pick up my gun and run to the left-hand window, but my view of The Leader is obscured by a lighting tower. This isn’t how it was supposed to be; this is not the floor that we planned to shoot from. I dash to the next window. It’s the same problem.
Then it happens. The Leadership logo displayed on the big screen at the back of the stage changes to an image of The Leader’s angry, jerking body at the Academy. The Leader’s voice coming over the speakers is replaced with Ven’s, saying, ‘Our Leader is a man who encourages the use of starvation and electric shocks to control our children.’
‘It’s starting,’ Kay says.
‘Efwurd, there’s no clear shot in here! Next door,’ Ven says.
We run out of the room and down the corridor. I’m aware of the complete silence of the audience while Ven’s voice runs on.
‘Our Leader sends teenagers to work in factories with conditions like these . . .’
As we run across the room towards the windows I see the screen cha
nge to footage of the factory, featuring the twisted and melted face of one woman and the missing limbs of another. There’s an audible gasp from the crowd.
I can see The Leader now. He seems bewildered by what’s happening; he continues to speak into the microphone, even though all the crowd can hear is Ven’s speech.
I reach to open the window. Where’s the catch? Where’s the efwurding catch?
A man scuttles on to the stage and starts fiddling with the microphone, but he can do nothing to bring back The Leader’s voice. The Leader has now turned around and is watching the brutal images on the screen.
These windows are computer controlled. There is no catch.
‘We can tell the Leadership that we will not tolerate child abuse and enforced slavery. We can tell them that we demand to be heard.’
Ven is effing and blinding at the next window along.
One of The Leader’s assistants runs on stage and rips down the fabric screen. The image of an emaciated Academy child disappears.
‘Break it!’ Kay says, and she slams the butt of her gun into the glass. It holds.
Ven’s voice continues. We must all rise up and take back our country. Factory workers – down your tools. Learning Community students – refuse to be indoctrinated. Academy Specials – break out of your prison. We must say no to a government that hurts our children and attempts to control our minds. Fight for your freedom . . .’
I grab a chair and slam the legs into the window. It cracks.
As I pull back, I catch a glimpse of the motionless crowd. How are they going to respond to Ven’s call to arms? They don’t seem angry. They just look stunned.
I hurl the chair forward again.
The glass shatters.
Kay and Ven are still hammering at their window with their guns.
Ven’s commentary is lost to a high-pitched squeal of feedback. Someone somewhere has succeeded in stopping the broadcast. As I lift my gun, the insider at the media centre flashes into my head and I wonder if he is already dead.
I take my aim.
The squeal cuts out.
I fire.
In the same instant that I move my finger, a man from the crowd rugby-tackles The Leader and he hits the floor. My bullet tears through the screen behind them.
To my right, Ven’s window finally shatters. Two guards rush on stage to pull the rugby-tackler off and more follow them to create a wall between The Leader and the audience.
I reposition my gun, but I can’t get a clear shot at The Leader.
One of the guards jerks backwards, followed by the presenter. I look round in surprise. Ven is taking shot after shot; he’s not bothered by who he hits in order to get to The Leader. I see a flash of black suit as The Leader is hauled off stage by the guards.
‘Bastard’s getting away,’ Ven says. ‘Jesus! We’ll never catch him now.’
In the distance I hear an explosion.
Some of the crowd seem frozen, unable to take in what’s going on, but others are surging towards the exits. People are being trampled underfoot. Why are they running away? Didn’t they hear what the recording said? There’s a small knot of people crowding around the stage, shouting. They look angry, but everyone else just looks terrified.
There’s another explosion, this time much closer. I hope this means the teams sent to cause havoc at the power plants and the water suppliers have succeeded. I take my binoculars from my pocket and scan the crowd. A guard at one of the gates is bellowing at the people as they try to leave. A kid, shoved forward by the movement of those behind him, bangs into another guard and without hesitating the guard hits him round the head with a pistol. The boy’s father grabs the guard by the collar and the mother punches him. The people around them shout and gesticulate too. I scan across the square. All over, the guards are treating families as if they’re all proven revolutionaries and at least some of the crowd are reacting angrily.
The crowd are shaken up and appalled by the horrible images from the screen. The worst thing the guards can do is to treat them roughly, because they can’t help responding in the way their adrenaline-filled bodies tell them to – fighting back.
‘Why aren’t they doing anything?’ Ven asks.
‘They are. Some of them are,’ Kay says.
Shouts reach us through the broken windows.
‘How can you treat children like that?’
‘My brother’s in a factory!’
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
But they’re in the minority. I realise that most of the public are simply terrified. I don’t think we’ve generated nearly enough anger. It’s all gone horribly wrong.
Nevertheless, a pocket of the crowd has descended on a Leadership car. It seems unlikely that The Leader could be in there, but it serves as a representation of the whole government.
A man with thick sinewy arms starts banging on the window. ‘Get The Leader out here now!’
People surround the car and start rocking it.
A man flings himself across the bonnet of the car. For a moment I think that he’s trying to shield whoever is inside, but then I see the red splatter on the white shirt of the woman next to him and I realise that he’s been shot. The woman’s mouth opens in a scream that I can’t hear above the shouting and shrieking around the square. The others circling the car realise what’s happened and start to back away. Some people are still trying to get to the car and the result is a horrible crush of bodies. I see arms grabbing at anything, trying to stay upright, and I see several people lose their footing and get trampled underfoot.
And that’s when the guards open fire.
This is not what is supposed to happen.
I swing my binoculars, but I can find no sign of The Leader.
‘He’s gone,’ I say. ‘What are we going to do now? How will we find him?’
‘Less talking, more shooting,’ Ven says. He’s picking off guards one by one.
‘We have to go,’ Kay says. ‘They’re going to come for the shooters. They will be looking all places.’
Ven reloads and lifts his gun to the window again.
‘Kay’s right, come on,’ I say.
‘I’m going to finish what I started.’
‘If you stay, you’ll get caught. You’re more use to the revolution alive than dead,’ I say.
‘It doesn’t really matter. I’m staying.’
There’s a roaring in the sky and people’s flags and paper cups are sent blowing across the grass. A helicopter has appeared overhead.
A bullet hits the window between myself and Ven and shatters it.
‘Blake!’ Kay drags me backwards by the elbow towards the door. ‘Ven, now,’ she shouts.
‘There are officials all over the grass,’ he says, without pausing in his shooting. ‘I’m not missing this opportunity.’
Kay pulls me across the office.
‘Ven, come on! Please,’ I say.
‘I SAID NO!’
Kay pushes me out of the door.
‘We shouldn’t just leave him,’ I say, but I let Kay drag me along anyway.
We get one floor down before we hear footsteps on the stairs.
‘Hide,’ Kay says. We duck through a door. Kay slips down the corridor and through another door, but I turn around and crouch low so that I can watch the guards coming up the stairs, through the glass window in the door. They stream past. There are six of them.
Before I know what I’m doing I’ve pushed the door open and I’m following them back up the stairs. Shoot them, shoot them, my brain is saying, but there will only be time to shoot one or two before the others turn around and shoot back.
I’m almost on their heels when one of them throws open the door of the office Ven is in. Someone must have seen him taking shots. They know exactly where to find him.
I see straight away that Ven is in the middle of reloading again.
‘Hands in the air!’ one of them yells.
Ven doesn’t move.
‘
Hands up or I’ll kill you!’
Ven looks up. He clocks me. Slowly he shakes his head. He’s telling me to go. They still haven’t noticed me right behind them. I could creep away now.
The guard takes the head shake as defiance and lifts his gun.
Ven stares right into him. Doesn’t he even care?
‘Don’t shoot!’ I shout.
All six guards swing around to face me. The one with the raised gun frowns at my sudden appearance. ‘You going to give me a good reason why not?’
I speak without thinking, saying the first thing my desperate brain comes up with. ‘I’m The Leader’s son.’
‘Of course you are. That’s why you’re taking potshots at your daddy.’
I draw myself up. ‘However things may stand between myself and my father, I think you’d better check things out with him first before shooting me or my friend.’
He thinks about it. I’ve seriously annoyed him. He’s clearly unconvinced, but he doesn’t want to get himself into trouble.
‘Put your gun on the ground.’
I do as he says.
‘Cuff him,’ he says to another guard who does so, pinning my arms tight behind me.
‘Let’s get back to the enforcement centre.’ He sneers at me. ‘Just remember; as soon as someone tells me I can shoot you, it’s done.’ He turns back to Ven. ‘And you—’
But Ven has disappeared.
‘What the efwurd?’ The guard starts kicking over desks and chairs, but Ven is nowhere to be seen.
‘He’s gone out the window,’ one of the guards says.
‘Well, get down there and find him!’ He strides back to me.
I don’t get to hear what happens next because he presses a stun baton to my neck.
When I come round I’m lying in a dimly lit cell, still in handcuffs. My head is pounding. I feel sore all over. Oh God, Kay. What happened to Kay? Did they find her down the corridor or did she get away? What about Ven? He must have been a right mess after jumping out that window.
I start to shake. Why can’t the people I care about just be safe? I bury my face in my hands and press my lips together. It’s all gone wrong. How did I ever think that I was going to manage to kill The Leader? And why did we think we could get people to fight for us after years of brainwashing from the Leadership? I should have known it would end up like this.