The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

steak on the plate by my feet. “He would have already scarfed it down, and started asking for mine,” he then laughed.

  We sat in silence as Chris’s laughter faded—shifting into sadness.

  “First Eric, now Spenser,” he said sternly. Then he muttered, “Death is everywhere,” and got up and walked in the tent.

  “They’ve been friends since grade school,” Toni told us, then got up to walk after him.

  Gabriel sighed as he put his empty plate on the ground.

  “I’m falling into a food coma,” he said rubbing his belly. He got to his feet and walked toward the tent. “Wake me in a few hours, will ya?” he asked. I glanced up at him, but quickly looked away for the sun blinded my eyes. I squinted back up at him and nodded at his request. He turned back toward the tent and walked inside.

  I breathed in a cool breeze that brushed my face. “Clear, blue skies,” I thought to myself as I looked to the heavens. The sun was making my eyes water, but I couldn’t look away. “Who’s up there? A smile stretched across my face, “I see you.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Alyse said—limping toward me.

  “Walking by yourself? Look who’s all grown up!” I joked. I scooted a chair to my side for her to sit down. Once she took her seat she punched my arm.

  “That’s for being a smart-ass,” she explained and leaned against me.

  I sat, continuing to soak the breeze and the sun, in my state of bliss. “So…” Alyse started.

  “So…?” I pressed.

  “We never really talked about what happened…you know…at the hotel,” she said hesitantly.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to push either. If she was going to ask, then she was going to ask—whether I answer or not, I still don’t know.

  “You should have seen it Paul. So many people cheered for you guys,” she said—straying from her true question. “But when Spenser…Well, everyone was in shock,” she added. I lingered in silence.

  She sat up and faced me but didn’t look into my eyes.

  “Paul…” she started. I picked her chin up—forcing her to look.

  “What happened?” she asked. “We saw Keith put the capsule in the container, and we thought it was over. But then the screen changed to an empty room with a T.V. What was on the T.V. we couldn’t see, but we saw Gabriel walk in…and collapse,” she said with a distorted countenance—trying to recall the strange event.

  “Is that all you saw?” I asked.

  “No…” she said. “We saw him go to the roof, and…hack away…” she acknowledged. “Then they ran where there were no cameras.”

  “Then that’s all there is to it,” I closed.

  “Bullshit,” she snapped. “The both of you come back with bruised faces—everybody wants to know what happened,” she implored.

  “We fought,” I shrugged.

  “Really? Like I’m not smart enough to figure that out for myself—it looks like you walked in front of a train.”

  “Hey now, I did a number on him too!” I contended.

  “Sure you did.”

  I sat in silence—thinking of the night I did not want to think about.

  “Ugh!” she grunted and leaned back against my body.

  “He’s fine now. Let’s leave it at that,” I told her. I could only hope.

  “Hey kids!” Anna called out from the tent—aiming the camera in our direction.

  “Let’s stand,” Alyse proposed and stood up.

  “Why?”

  “I hate taking pictures sitting down.”

  Weird. We stood up, and she leaned into me. “You better be smiling,” she said looking at the camera.

  “I’ll smile when you give me a reason to smile,” I told her.

  “If you don’t smile, I’m going to kick your ass.” An authentic grin shot across my face.

  The nighttime breeze felt welcoming to my skin. The clamor from other tents in our immediate area was gone. Everyone had left for the North Tent. Chris and the others already started walking for the tent. I wanted to give Gabriel some more time to rest—he has hardly slept at all lately.

  “Gabriel…” I said shaking his shoulder. He shooed me away and rolled over so his back was facing me. “Wake up man,” I said kicking his back. He grunted something incoherent.

  “Alright…” I said and picked up a small stick from the ground. I leaned over his body and carefully stuck the tip of the stick into his nose. I wiggled it around until he slapped himself. I stifled a laugh. Gently, I stuck the stick back into his nose, but he was alert. He grabbed my wrist and threw me over his body. Roughly, he stuck his forearm into my throat, but I couldn’t stop laughing. He started smiling then got to his feet.

  “Pansy,” he said helping me to my feet. He glanced around the tent, “Where is everybody?” he asked.

  “Already down at the tent,” I replied.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I just stared at him and shook my head. I grabbed the keys to the Mustang.

  “We’re going to drive there.”

  I parked, with the other group of cars, next to the tent. The tent was abnormally quiet for the mass of people it occupied. We walked in to see four massive T.V. screens set across the stage—the game against the Freedom Fighters and The Army of Apocalypse had already begun. We hurried to the rest of our crew in the middle section of the middle row—people turned and stared, but I’ve gotten used to it. Gabriel and I took the empty seats next to Chris and Toni—Alyse, with her mother and father, sat in front of us. I grabbed a lock of her hair and lightly tugged to let her know I was there. She turned around.

  “Recognize the setting?” she asked. I glanced at the screens, and I instantly knew—the four screens showed different angles of the University of Texas’s Darrell K. Royal Stadium.

  “Hook ‘em Horns!” I yelled. Alyse’s dad threw up a hand with his pinky and index fingers extended.

  “It just started. You haven’t missed anything,” Toni informed me. “It looks like a dead heat right now,” she started to fill me in on the details of the match. “Freedom Fighters must hold off an assault by The Army. The assault will last ten minutes—if the Freedom Fighters make it past that they win.”

  I continued to watch the screens. The four different cameras were positioned at four corners of the stadium—two in the stands of each end-zone, and the other two at the sides, in the highest part of the stands, aiming down toward the sidelines. I could see the various members of the Freedom Fighters scattered throughout the stands.

  Toni then added, “And it’s only handguns. No other weapons are allowed.”

  As soon as she said this, two rockets came into view—blasting the right side of the stadium’s stands. The people within the tent jumped up from their seats and screamed in protest.

  I watched in horror as two more rockets flew into the stands on the opposite side—where a Freedom Fighter tried to escape, but was engulfed by the explosion. The riot within the tent grew out of control. Gabriel slammed his fist against the table—he glared at the T.V. with intense animosity.

  “This was expected, remember?” I brought to his attention.

  “Saying it will probably happen is one thing, but actually seeing it…” he couldn’t finish.

  Seven Apocalypse soldiers came into view, on Clark Field, from the south entrance. The middle-left screen zoomed in to the soldiers—Russians. They held fully-automatic weapons—scoping the area.

  “Bastards!” Gabriel hissed.

  Two of the closest Freedom Fighters revealed their positions by opening fire—they took out two soldiers. The tent cheered, but quickly diminished as the two members of the Freedom Fighters were cut down to shreds.

  Another Freedom Fighter tried to retreat up the stadium, but was put down by a rain of fire from the five soldiers.

  “Look at them,” Gabriel grumbled as he watched the soldiers stand out in the open on the 50-yard line. “They’re proud of themselves—thinking they’re superior for destroying the oppositio
n.” Again, he violently slammed his fist against the table.

  All seemed lost when a fifth Freedom Fighter was shot down from across the stadium. The majority of the tent dropped in their seats and hung their heads. You can’t lose hope.

  Ron and the other remaining member of his faction jumped from the south-side stands and crept, behind the soldiers, onto the field. They took the two downed soldiers’ weapons, and opened fire on the sitting ducks.

  The tent shook as everyone erupted in celebration. Gabriel and I were on our feet screaming, our fists in the air, as the last soldiers fell in defeat. Gabriel threw his arm around my neck screaming, “YEAH!” He laughed with the joy that rang through my ears. Then Gabriel let go, and jumped on the table—his anger returning.

  The four screens changed to one view. It was of the outside of the stadium, on the south-side. Several Humvee trucks sped into view. Humvee after Humvee rolled up, and hundreds of soldiers filed out—weapons in their hands. They gathered in front of a single man—standing just outside the stadium.

  The tent fell in utter silence.

  I got up on the table, next to Gabriel, “All for just two men?!” I bellowed. The camera zoomed into the single man, standing at the forefront of The Army, to show a familiar face.

  “POLLIIIICK!” Gabriel roared at the screen.

  He jumped off the table and stormed out of the tent—I followed close behind him. We got into the Mustang and sped back to our tent. In a matter of minutes, we arrived. Once inside the tent, we frantically dressed for the occasion. Strapping pistols to our legs, armor around our bodies, and grenades to our chest. Gabriel tossed me an M4