Freedom/Hate (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 1)

by Kyle Andrews

  “What am I not telling you?”

  If looks could kill, Uly would have been a goner. Libby didn't bother to answer him. She just clenched her jaw and shook her head.

  Uly leaned a little bit closer to her and lowered his voice to barely a whisper as he said, “Let it go.”

  Before Libby could think of a response, or another ugly look to give him, a nurse returned to the station and asked, “Can I help you kids?”

  Libby turned her attention to the nurse and said, “He needs to get to the profiling room.”

  “What about you?” Uly asked.

  “I'll come back when you're gone.”

  Libby walked away from the desk, with no idea where she was going. She could hear Uly calling for her to come back, but she ignored him. She was more convinced than ever that he was guilty of something despicable. The only question now was what she would do with that information.

  17

  Hearing his little sister call him a monster was not something that Collin could let go of easily. He'd always known that she was a loyalist, with romantic ideas about the system. He just liked to imagine that as she grew older, the reality of the world would set in. He wanted to believe that she would begin to realize that the system was a lie.

  Of course, things on TV weren't always as they appeared to be. There was a chance that HAND officers were standing off-camera, forcing his mother and sister to speak out against him. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that their lives were threatened.

  There was also the chance that they were lying, so that they wouldn't be locked away and tortured into submission. Collin wanted to hold onto the slim possibility that what he saw on the TV wasn't really what his family thought of him. He wanted to believe that they knew him better than that. He wanted them to be cheering for him.

  But in his heart he knew that they weren't being held at gunpoint. His little sister really did believe that he was a monster, and his mother was—at the very least—willing to get on TV and speak out against him.

  Even though he hadn't been home in years, their opinions mattered. Their words hurt him.

  Collin joined Freedom because he believed that they were right to stand against the authorities. He dreamed of a day when everyone would be free to live how they wanted and believe how they wanted. He was willing to give his life to secure that freedom for his family, but he had always wondered what would happen if they didn't want it. Would the fight still be worth fighting? Would the goals be just as important?

  As he went back to the work that Sophia left for him, he wrestled with that question. The easy answer was that freedom was always worth it, no matter what the cost. But he couldn't stop asking himself if the rest of the country wanted things to remain as they were. Was this their decision? Was their lack of rebellion a vote of confidence in the system? And if it was, why was Freedom bothering to fight? If this was what the people wanted, wouldn't things always turn out the same way? If he was a part of the minority vote, should he just accept the will of the people?

  No matter where he settled at this point, it wouldn't matter. He couldn't go back to his old life. He couldn't stop fighting. Even if the government allowed him to go home, there was no way that he could settle for anything less than freedom. It was in his blood. It was who he was, to the core of his being. If he was the last member of Freedom left in the world, he would die screaming for liberty.

  It sounded romantic in his head, but the reality of it was that their rebellion was underground, hiding in the shadows. They weren't an army. They didn't charge into battle. His rebellion of the day involved cleaning dead bugs out of the ceiling lamp in Sophia's bedroom. And so he was forced to ask again, was it worth it?

  The back and forth inside of Collin continued all day. When he was finished with his chores, he sat in the quiet apartment, staring out the window from across the room, so that he wouldn't be seen. He looked at the buildings and the sky, thinking of all the people who lived as a part of that outside world and the amount of effort that it took to remain as oppressed as they were. There was no question in his mind that everyone had a decision to make and a fight to wage. They had to be just as determined to bury their heads in the sand as he was to to be free.

  Sophia returned late in the afternoon, carrying bags of groceries. As she started to unpack the bags, she smiled at Collin and told him that she was given a very special treat on her shopping list this week. She pulled a head of lettuce out of her bag and held it up for him to see.

  “It's not every day that someone in my position gets vegetables that aren't canned, dried or frozen,” she told him with sarcasm dripping from every word.

  The lettuce was already brown and soggy. She would have to be on the verge of death to want to eat it.

  Collin was disgusted. Not just with the lettuce, but with the world. When he saw the lettuce in her hand, he felt a surge of anger rushing through him.

  “It's okay,” she assured him, tossing the lettuce into the garbage can. She pulled another head out of the bag, green and beautiful. She also had tomatoes and a cucumber. “I got the tomatoes from the Garden. Another woman I know, Edna DeLance, got the cucumber. The lettuce was from a kid named Barney. I don't know his last name.”

  Collin was used to living in hiding. A lot of his food came directly from the Garden, so he wasn't incredibly familiar with how people went about trading and dealing for food in the outside world. As he looked at the vegetables that Sophia was putting on the counter, he was trying to wrap his mind around the logic behind other people giving her their food, but it didn't make sense.

  She pulled out a few cans of soup and some rice, and put them away in the cabinet. As she unpacked more bags full of cans, she said, “The place was insane today. I thought the whole lot of us were going to be be found out.”

  “Are they tightening up security out there?” Collin asked, imagining the manhunt going on. From what he'd experienced of it, it seemed like the authorities were going all out.

  “Well yeah. That too,” Sophia replied. She pulled a small tin from the bottom of one of her bags and walked to the table with it. She set it down in front of Collin and nodded at him to open it.

  When Collin pulled the lid off of the tin, he was overcome by a smell so sweet that his mouth began to water. Baked goods were a rarity, even in the Freedom bases. People were lucky to get bread, but this was something else entirely. He was looking at brownies now, with chunks of chocolate and nuts. He could feel warmth on the bottom of the tin, telling him that they were freshly baked.

  “I don't understand,” Collin said, looking to Sophia with no clue what was going on. Was there some victory that he didn't know about? Was it a holiday?

  “I slipped a discrete little note to the back room about you, and five minutes later, every member of Freedom within three blocks was buzzing. It was unbelievable. They just started giving me things. Lars Hagen made me wait while he baked these. He'd been saving his supplies for months, for his little girl's birthday party. But when she heard about you, all she wanted was to give whatever she could.”

  Collin was still lost. All he could think to ask was, “Why?”

  “Because they want you to know that they're proud of you. They want you to know that you're not alone.” Her voice grew somewhat softer as she said, “That you have family.”

  18

  Libby didn't know where she was planning to go once she left Uly behind. All she knew was that she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

  As she left, she felt foolish. They weren't there for family bonding. They were there because Amanda was sick and they might be able to help her. Walking away was childish. Still, she couldn't go back. Instead, she decided to walk around the block for a little while, until she could be sure that Uly was gone.

  The waiting room was still full of people who hadn't been seen yet. Some of their faces looked familiar. How long could people be forced to wait, just to see a doctor? How long would they have to sit there before b
eing told that they were probably going to die?

  It was almost nighttime when she walked outside. The sun was still up, but would be setting soon. The air was cool and her skin still felt dirty from having been in the hospital. In front of the hospital, more people were waiting. One or two of them had fallen asleep on the steps. A baby was crying. Though outside, Libby felt just as cramped and irritated as she did when she was sitting in the waiting room.

  She started to walk down the street, with no destination in mind. She thought about walking to Sim's home and looking for him. There was so much that she wanted to discuss with someone that she could trust, but he was too far away. Besides, he wasn't likely to be home on a Saturday afternoon.

  As she crossed the street, people walked past her. Each of them had someplace to be or something to do. She felt like she was in the way, slowing down more important people with more important business to tend to.

  While she normally preferred to be left alone, that day was different. It was the rare occasion when she actually needed someone, and she realized that nobody was going to be there for her. Or so it seemed.

  “Libby!” Justin called from behind her. He was rushing across the street to catch up.

  When she heard the voice, she wanted it to be Sim. She wanted to put her arms around him and rest her head on his chest. She wanted him to listen to her talk, and at the end of it all, she wanted him to help her figure out what to do. Or at the very least, he could make a crude comment about helping her feel better and they'd both have a good laugh.

  Instead, she saw Uly's best friend hurrying toward her, yelling “Wait up!”

  Libby turned her back to Justin and started to walk faster. She would have started running if she thought that he couldn't catch up to her. The best she could hope for under the circumstances was to make sure that he knew she didn't want to see him. Funny, how she suddenly felt like being left alone.

  Justin caught up to her and started to walk beside her. For a moment, he didn't say anything; they just walked together. She could see him glance over at her, as though he expected her to say something. She wasn't planning on granting him that courtesy.

  Instead, Libby pulled the collar of her jacket up, trying to keep the coolness of the evening off of her skin. For some reason, she was shivering, even though it wasn't incredibly cold outside.

  A moment later, Justin took off his scarf and put it around her neck.

  Libby stopped walking and stared at him as though he were insane. For some reason, the kind gesture on his part made her even more angry than before.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “No, I'm not okay!” she replied, far more loudly than she intended.

  Part of her wanted to scream at him right there, and ask him if he really thought that lending her a scarf was going to make her overlook the fact that Uly was one of the extremists that was going around town, blowing up buildings and shooting cops.

  Instead, all she could do was breathe deeply, like a wild animal that was about to physically attack him. And maybe she was. Libby wasn't sure what she was going to do in that moment.

  “Your mother—” Justin started, but Libby wasn't going to let him finish.

  She cut him off, saying, “Has nothing to do with why I'm so pissed off right now. You know that.”

  He looked at her with such a genuinely confused expression that she had to wonder if he even knew what Uly was involved in.

  When he grabbed her arm and pulled her down a nearby alley, she quickly recognized that his confusion was more about realizing that she knew.

  Libby couldn't help but smile and shake her head as she said, “I knew that if he was involved with something like this, you'd be right there with him.”

  Justin let go of Libby's arm, which she rubbed without thinking about it.

  He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment before he said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean hurt you.”

  That part was funny. She laughed, before stopping to wonder if he was somehow insane. She then informed him, “You're a terrorist. I think pulling my arm is probably the last thing you should be concerned with right now.”

  “I'm not a terrorist,” Justin replied. He sounded hurt by the accusation. Then he said, “You don't understand. I'm not even sure how to explain to you all of the things that you don't understand.”

  “Are you a member of Hate?” she asked directly.

  “No. Hate is the product of the media. It doesn't exist,” Justin told her. “Even if we were what they say we are, why would we call ourselves 'Hate'? It would just be bad PR.”

  “People die and you're calling it a crazy media conspiracy?”

  “We don't kill people. You've known me since we were little kids. You've known Uly your entire life. Do you honestly believe that either one of us is capable of murder?”

  “You've both been lying to me. Why should I trust anything about you?”

  “Because he is your family. Because you've been like family to me since I can remember. Why would you believe them over me? Why won't you trust me?”

  For a moment, it looked like Justin was going to tear up. He had the look of a wounded animal. For that one split second, he was just the kid that Libby grew up with; desperate and hurt. There was a time when that look in his eye would have broken her heart.

  Then her eyes shifted to the wall behind him and she saw those words again: WE ARE FREEDOM.

  “What does it mean?” she asked him. If he lied, she would end their conversation right there and go to the police.

  Justin looked at the wall and then to Libby. He answered, “It's our real name. The name that they won't tell you. The name they fear. Hate doesn't exist, Libby. Everything you think you know is a lie.”

  “Collin Powers is a lie? He doesn't exist?”

  “He does exist.”

  “And the people he murdered?”

  Justin didn't answer that. He looked down to the ground, and she knew that the reason for his silence was that she wouldn't like his answer. So, she said it for him, “They existed. Now they're dead.”

  “We aren't terrorists. We just want to take back what was stolen from us.”

  “What is that?”

  “Our rights. Our freedom,” Justin told her, with more force behind his words than she had ever heard from him. “Before the reforms, this country was free. People weren't assigned to lives they didn't want. They didn't have to fear speaking their minds. They could read books that weren't on the government's list of approved reading. Libby, you have no idea how much they've taken from you.”

  “They give me food. They give me education. They give me shelter. How many people starved before the reforms? How many people died because they couldn't see a doctor?” Libby argued.

  Justin shook his head. He'd heard this all before, it seemed. And his answers were well practiced, “They give you the table scraps that the politicians left behind after their last feast. They don't educate you, they indoctrinate you. They let you live in a broken-down apartment, with absolutely no hope of ever getting something better out of life. And they treat us in dirty hospitals, with sub-par equipment and doctors who have no idea what they're doing half the time. You just saw the hospital. Did it look well organized to you? Did it look like the type of place a HAND officer or a politician would be taken to?”

  “Y'know, you're right...” Libby said, sarcastically. “I'm on your side now. Let's go bomb us some apartment buildings and show those bastard politicians who's boss by killing innocent people.”

  “We don't do that.”

  “I've seen it on the news with my own eyes.”

  “You've seen what they want you to see. How else can I explain this to you?” Justin replied. He paused, trying to find words to express himself and then looked her in the eyes once again. He said, “Brenda Tomkins. Do you remember her? She went to the same school as us when we were kids. A few years ahead of Uly.”

  “She died in a Hate attack.”

  “S
he was Freedom. Or, her father was. They found him and they turned him into a lesson for the people. For normal citizens like you, the lesson was that those who oppose the authorities are evil. For people like me, the message was that if you defy them, they will end you.”

  Justin moved closer to Libby and raised his hands. By the time she realized that he was only going to put his hands on her shoulders, she had already flinched and pulled away from him.

  “You fear me?” he asked her. “You think I would hurt you? Really?”

  “I don't know you.”

  “I'm the kid who followed you around like a puppy dog for five years without you ever noticing. You knew me as well as Uly did. You were my bes—” He stopped short there and then altered course to say, “You were my friend.”

  “Then why lie to me?”

  “Because knowing what you know puts you in danger. If you're not willing to join Freedom...”

  “You'll have to kill me?”

  “God, help me,” Justin mumbled to himself, turning away from her for a moment. He then looked her in the eye and said, “If you think I'm that person, or that I would follow that sort of person, turn me in.”

  Libby didn't respond to that. She really didn't know how she would have responded if she wanted to. Everything she knew was telling her that Uly and Justin were involved with something truly evil. But she didn't believe that they could be evil. She didn't feel what she knew.

  “You haven't called the authorities,” Justin told her. “Deep down, you don't believe what they want you to believe.”

  Libby shook her head and replied, “It doesn't matter. I can't afford to believe what you're telling me. Because unless you're going to give Amanda the treatment she needs to survive, they're all I have. I can't afford to have faith in anyone else. Not even you.”

  This time, when Justin put his hands on Libby's shoulders, she didn't pull away. He hesitated for a few moments, trying to think of the right words to say, and he failed miserably. What he said was, “They're not going to help your mother. I wish they were. I would give my life right now if it would help her, but they're not going to do it.”