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

by Kyle Andrews

  The next few moments were a blur to her. Marti approached and smacked Libby across the face. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, and Justin was pulling Marti off of her. Marti was crying and kicking at Libby, trying to get at her. Wanting to hurt her. It was the most reliably true moment that Libby had experienced in a long time.

  Libby sat up and looked toward Ammo, who was sleeping by the couch. She couldn't help but admire the dog's ability to sleep through even the most stressful of situations.

  The room fell silent. The only thing that Libby could hear was the conversation going on behind that bedroom door, between Marti's parents.

  “They know the situation,” Marti's father said, “but I don't know how much they can do about it.”

  “So we just sit here and do nothing?” Marti's mother asked.

  “I don't know. I couldn't get a lot of answers over the phone, but I figure that if they leave their homes, they'll be spotted. They can't blend into the crowd right now. Even if they could, there are other problems to deal with. Their resources are already being drained.”

  As he said that last part, Libby's eyes went to the TV and the image of Collin Powers. She imagined his people scurrying around to save him while she sat there alone, surrounded by strangers.

  Justin stepped away from Marti and turned toward the window, having apparently heard the conversation between Marti's parents.

  He said, “Then we have to do it without them. Whatever HAND wants with Libby, they can't get their hands on her.”

  “What do you propose?” Marti asked him.

  “We get her to the Garden.”

  “No,” Marti replied, shaking her head. “No way. We might as well burn the place down while we're at it.”

  “She won't tell anyone,” Justin told Marti, still looking out the window, thinking. He then looked at Libby and said, “I trust her.”

  37

  Marti was by the window now, watching as residents of different buildings were pulled outside. They were searched by HAND officers, while their homes were searched for any sign of the fugitive.

  It wasn't that long ago that Libby had listened to the news about Collin Powers and wished that he would be dragged off of the streets. She wasn't sure how she felt about him anymore. She wondered if he knew that he was nothing more than a distraction at this point—at least, according to everyone else. She still had no idea why anyone would care about her.

  Walking to another window, keeping a safe distance from Marti, Libby looked down at the street below and watched what was happening. People were being grabbed by HAND officers and pulled out of their buildings. Some nearly fell onto the street, they were being pulled so hard. And these were the innocent.

  A little girl was pulled out of her building as though she were the prime suspect in a murder investigation. She was searched and scanned. When she reached out for her father, the HAND officer who was searching her pushed her arms back into the proper searching position. The officer didn't seem to care that the little girl was scared and confused. She had a job to do and she wasn't going to slow down for some scared little kid.

  When the search was over, the little girl dropped to her knees on the sidewalk and continued to cry. It looked to Libby like the girl was scared to move. She didn't want to be manhandled again.

  An older woman was pushed out of the building behind the little girl and tolerated the search much better. When she was done, she took the little girl by the hand and moved along down the sidewalk. Libby was relieved to see that the world hadn't completely fallen apart.

  “Did they think the girl was hiding you in her pocket?” Marti asked. The words seemed lighthearted, but the tone of her voice maintained a bitter, almost accusatory tone.

  Libby didn't respond. She wasn't looking to get into any more arguments. She was as tired of fighting as she was of everything else. All she wanted to do was find a quiet place where she could rest and not have to worry about having her head blown off. It seemed like a simple enough request.

  The Garden. It was where Justin planned to take her. The name had a vaguely mystical sound to it. The others spoke of this place as though it existed in another reality. One where Libby would be safe. Where she could start whatever new life awaited her beyond the mess that had fallen into her lap. Did she believe that it would be that simple? She wanted to. At that moment, she had little else to hold onto.

  Having had her fill of the scene below, Libby walked away from the window and sat at the kitchen table with Justin.

  “Marti and her family should stay here,” Justin said, pushing a glass of orange juice across the table for her. “If any of them are missing when they come to search the place, people will start asking questions.”

  Libby looked around the room. Marti was too far away to listen to what Justin was saying. Her parents were in their bedroom, getting dressed and probably hiding any hint of their ties to Freedom.

  He was only talking to Libby now, and he was keeping his voice down. Perhaps she was growing too suspicious, but something about the situation seemed odd to her.

  “Shouldn't we wait for everyone to discuss the plan?” she asked him, tempted to add 'Someone who isn't stupid and untrustworthy?' but stopping herself before the words left her mouth.

  “We did discuss it, when I went into the other room with them. We have a plan, but the truth is that nobody here knows what to do. The streets are filled with patrol cars and HAND officers. Freedom may or may not be able to get to us. We may or may not be able to get out of this place in one piece.”

  “Your optimism is nothing less than inspiring.”

  “Would you rather I lie?”

  Libby seriously considered the question. The fact that she wasn't sure whether she preferred the truth or a lie at this point almost made her smile. For all her complaining about being left out of the loop, she was beginning to see the appeal of it.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked him.

  “The question is, what do you want to do?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You have to have some thoughts on the subject.”

  “Do I?”

  Justin was silent, but looked at her as though she were holding back just to spite him. Maybe she was. She needed to get over that and accept what help was offered when she could. She could hate Justin later if she felt like it, but at that moment, they didn't have time for it.

  Taking a few seconds to think about the question, Libby finally said, “If I stay here, Marti and her family will be punished. You can get away with it. You can tell them that you slept over.”

  “There you go again.”

  “What?”

  “'I'll deal with it. I don't need anyone.'” Justin mocked.

  “I'm trying to think rationally.”

  “I'm going with you. Rational or not.”

  “This isn't your problem.”

  “Are you thick?” Justin asked, almost yelling at her but reeling in his volume at the last moment. “This is my problem. This is your problem. This is everyone's problem, Libby.”

  “Fine. You're in this with me until the bitter end. We can have our heads blown off together. It'll be a bonding experience for us.”

  Justin sat back in his chair and replied, “Finally, you're starting to come around.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “It's still progress.”

  Libby couldn't help but smile this time. She put her head down on the table, wanting to go to sleep more than anything in the world. Unfortunately, sleeping was not an option.

  “Fine,” she said, picking up her head and looking at Justin once again. “We have to get out of here. The two of us.”

  “Three. Ammo gets vicious when he's left behind.”

  Libby looked around the room and finally found Ammo. He was once again lying on his back with his belly exposed and ears spread out across the floor. This time, his tail was wagging.

  “You can tell he's pissed. Even now. Just because we'
re talking about it.” Justin told her.

  “The dog stays with us,” Libby agreed.

  “Where do we go?”

  The way he asked it seemed almost like a test or a challenge. He was forcing her to think like one of them. It could have been some brainwashing technique, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like he was trying to get her to assert herself. To think for herself, rather than simply follow everyone else. It came close to feeling like her thoughts mattered.

  “Where do we go?” he repeated.

  She felt a strange desire to meet this challenge. Thinking as hard as she had ever thought in her life, Libby asked, “Are there any empty apartments in the building?”

  “They're going to search every apartment.”

  “A hiding space in a closet?”

  “Every floor has the same layout. By the time they reach this one, they'll be able to spot a closet that looks too small. Besides, we don't have the time or supplies needed to build a hiding spot.”

  “Can we just make a break for it? Run?”

  “Yes. We can. Assuming we're bulletproof. Otherwise, we probably shouldn't do that.”

  “Then what? How do we get out?”

  “I don't have the answer key for this quiz. I'm asking you because I have no clue.”

  “Here comes another floor,” Marti reported from the window. “Why are people still in their pajamas? It's not like we didn't have enough warning, people.”

  Justin looked up and smiled at Marti, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Libby could see that he was stressing out over their situation. The way he was breathing told her that he was nervous. She was starting to wish that her one hope for survival was a better actor.

  “What are Marti's parents doing?” she asked him.

  Justin shrugged and said, “Destroying evidence? Flushing their stash of old newspaper clippings down the toilet, so they won't be brought up on charges? I don't know. Maybe they're trying to think of a plan, same as us.”

  “Why aren't they thinking of a plan with us?”

  Libby was worried that Marti's parents would turn her in at their earliest possible convenience. She thought they might try to convince HAND that Libby had taken them hostage in their own home. Maybe they could avoid prosecution. They could even walk away heroes if they played their cards right.

  Reading the worry in her eyes, Justin shook his head and said, “You don't get it yet, do you?”

  “I get it. I just don't trust it.”

  “Strangely enough, that's probably a good thing.”

  Libby raised her eyebrows and was just about to make another sarcastic comment about the situation when an idea came to her. She looked at Justin and said, “This building used to have a parking garage, right? I mean, there had to be someplace for the workers to park their cars.”

  “Back when people could afford cars or gas, I guess,” Justin shrugged. “But most of those old parking garages have been turned into apartments or storage.”

  “So they might have someplace to hide. Or maybe a way to get out of the building without being seen,” Libby theorized, wondering if her idea sounded stupid even as she spoke it.

  Justin thought about it for a moment. He leaned back in his chair and seemed to be thinking about the different elements of the idea. Surely, there were things that Libby hadn't thought of.

  “It's not a bad idea,” Marti chimed in. Somehow, she'd made it across the room and to the kitchen when neither Libby nor Justin were paying attention. Their private conversation wasn't so private anymore.

  When Marti saw that Libby was looking at her, she quickly added, “I mean, given that there probably aren't any good ideas at this point... Where else can you go?”

  “If we're caught, we're screwed,” Justin told them both.

  “If you're caught, you're dead. But it's not like you can walk out the front door,” Marti argued.

  Deep down, Libby had to wonder if there was a hidden motive to Marti's support. She wondered if Marti secretly wanted Libby to get caught. But if that were the case, there were far better ways to go about getting the job done. Most of them wouldn't involve getting other people or an innocent dog killed at the same time.

  Though Justin didn't look completely confident in Libby's plan, he didn't have anything better to offer. He was on board with the idea until a better one came along.

  Marti's parents argued that they should try to hide Libby in a cabinet or the closet. They had ideas of how they could go about doing it, but none of them sounded any safer than the parking garage idea. Justin was right when he said that HAND would probably be able to tell when something didn't look right in one of the apartments. If Libby was caught hiding in a corner, she would have nowhere to run, and Marti's family wouldn't be able to deny hiding her.

  They threw their support into Libby's plan just as Marti spotted six HAND vehicles rounding the corner and parking in front of their building.

  “It's starting,” she warned everyone.

  “We have to get out of here before they call your floor out. Even if we're caught, they shouldn't be able to track us to you,” Justin told Marti and her parents. All eyes then drifted toward Libby.

  Worried that they might strike her dead with looks alone, Libby assured everyone, “I'm not going to tell anyone about you.”

  She wasn't sure how much better that made anyone feel, but she had to say it. She had to look them in their eyes and tell them that whatever they thought about her, she wasn't going to crack. They'd helped her survive and she didn't intend to let them die for it.

  The phone rang. Libby was relieved at first, because everyone took their eyes off of her and turned their attention toward the phone.

  It rang three more times before Marti's mother finally pushed the button and put the call on speakerphone, so everyone could hear.

  “Hello, citizen!” said the pleasant, pre-recorded voice of a woman. “HAND officials are currently conducting a search of your building. Please be prepared to exit your apartment and meet HAND officials in the lobby when your floor is called. No exceptions will be allowed. Leave all doors in your apartment unlocked or they will be broken down. Cooperate, and have a wonderful day.”

  There was a moment of silence before the message began again, this time in Spanish. Marti's mother turned the phone off and the room fell silent.

  Whether Libby was ready or not, it was time to go.

  38

  “My supplements,” Libby said to Justin as they reached yet another floor in their seemingly endless walk down the stairs of the building.

  “What about them?”

  “I haven't had them today.”

  “You don't need them.”

  “I'll get sick.”

  “I haven't taken supplements in three years.”

  “How?”

  Justin looked back at Libby and raised his eyebrows in a way that told her everything she needed to know. She concluded, “They're fake?”

  “The outbreak was fake. The supplements are real. They're just not what you think they are.”

  “What are they?”

  “Some vitamins. A small dose of mood enhancers.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Just enough to take the edge off. Keep people mellow,” Justin explained. Then he added, “Oh, and birth control for the girls.”

  At some point along the way, Libby stopped questioning every little thing that Justin told her. Now he was telling her that she'd spent her entire life in a drugged up stupor, and the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

  The part about the outbreak being faked made less sense. People had died. She'd seen video of suffering children and mourning parents. She'd read studies in school, about the segments of the population that had been affected the most, and the cultural impact of the massive illness that had spread across the country. It changed everything. It was when the government took control of farming and began regulating the food distribution. It was what caused the economy to collapse and the gove
rnment to buy out vital corporations. It was when healthcare stopped being a luxury for the rich and became a daily requirement of every citizen.

  Everything led back to that attack. When the grains and water supplies were poisoned, it was like the old world died and a new world hatched from its carcass.

  Libby was silent as they continued to walk down the stairs. Her mind was tracing every aspect of society as she knew it back to that one event. The scope of this lie was unimaginable, if it was true. She wanted desperately to believe that it wasn't. She wanted to believe that Justin's comment simply proved that Freedom was as crazy as everyone said the were, but she didn't have the luxury of not believing it anymore. The lie made too much sense. Except...

  “Wait. No,” Libby blurted, mid-thought.

  Justin kept walking, but glanced back to see what was wrong.

  Shaking her head, Libby continued, “If they put birth control in the supplements, why did they give me a box of birth control pills?”

  “Oppression through empowerment. The illusion of choice. They make you think that you have a say in your life. But, c'mon. They don't let you pick out your own toilet paper. Do you really think they're going to let you decide when you will and will not have a kid?”

  Libby didn't respond to the question. She just let the idea settle into her head, replaying the conversation that she'd had with Willa at school as she tried to put everything into the proper context. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, and nearly slammed into Justin as he put a hand up and pushed her back toward the wall. On the landing below them, Ammo stopped walking and lowered himself to the ground.

  Another floor was being called outside. Most would choose to use the elevator if they could, but if there wasn't enough room, they would use the stairs. Each time that happened, Justin and Libby stopped walking. They tried their best to go unnoticed as they waited for the coast to be clear.

  HAND officers entered the stairwell every so often, heading from floor to floor. At first, Libby worried that they would post officers on the stairs to keep a constant watch, but they never did. Maybe they were spread too thin, searching the entire city. Maybe that would make them sloppy and she would stand a chance of escaping after all.