by Kyle Andrews
As she turned away from the windows, Libby's eyes moved past one of the HAND officers on the street. She was barely aware of what she was looking at as she turned, but when her eyes met his, it was like thousands of volts of electricity were suddenly surging through her. She froze. Eyes locked with that HAND officer. Breath caught in her lungs. Every muscle in her body suddenly tightening as the officer tilted his head, questioning.
He recognized her. She was caught.
40
The officer started to take a step toward Libby. There was no mistaking it. There was no pretending that she was being paranoid. This was not in her head. He knew who she was.
“Justin,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight.
Justin squeezed her hand just as tight and she heard him take a deep breath, but he didn't say anything. She wanted him to tell her what to do next, but he was completely silent.
She could see her entire future playing out before her. Grabbed and handcuffed while everyone in that lobby stared at her. Ammo would choose that moment to start barking and the HAND officers would want to shut him up. Justin would try charging at them, and he would be killed before he ever got close enough to take a swing. The crowd would scream. Libby would turn to run, but the lobby was too tightly packed and she wouldn't be able to move.
Nobody ever really knew what reprogramming involved. Some said that it was months or years of medication and therapy, but Libby didn't believe that the goal of the authorities was to talk in soothing voices and get someone to open up about their childhood trauma. While there might be medication involved, she believed that there would also be a good amount of pain. They would want to break down whatever personality had caused the trouble in the first place, and replace it with something entirely new. And that was what they would do to people who chose to rebel. Libby still had no idea why they wanted her. Why was she worth all of the chaos that they were investing in her?
All of those thoughts, in the blink of an eye. And when she pulled herself out of them, she found Justin looking back toward the stairwell door. It was the only way to delay capture. They couldn't go to the parking garage. They would have to climb the stairs to one of the floors that had already been searched, and hide. Or climb out a window.
Either way, Libby always saw it turning out the same way. Bullet. Pain. Blood. Death. And as scary as this conclusion was for her, the scarier part was when she looked into Justin's eyes and she saw the same fear that she felt. He was going to die because he refused to let her go alone. He didn't deserve this.
Libby tried to let go of his hand, but he wouldn't allow her to. He turned around and looked her in the eyes, angry and desperate. Rather than say anything to her, he shook his head.
A lump formed in Libby's throat. This was what it felt like to kill someone.
Libby's eyes moved to the framed poster and the reflection of the officers standing outside. Now they were all moving, talking into radios. They were coming for her, and every HAND officer within a mile of the building would be joining them.
Her mind tried to find a direction to move in, but there was no place for it to go. It was trapped in that space, right along with the rest of her. There was no imagining alternate outcomes. No air vent to climb through. No door that she hadn't noticed before.
The big glass doors at the far end of the lobby opened and several HAND officers walked through them. The woman who made the announcement earlier joined them, drawing her gun as she walked.
Libby looked away from them and back to Justin, who was keeping his eyes on the officers in back. His eyes were wide, not with surprise, but as though he were trying to take in every detail that he could. He was still trying to think of an escape.
Then, his eyes narrowed into what looked like confusion. Libby followed his gaze until she caught just a glimpse of a blur moving down the street. It was a car, moving fast. All of the HAND officers outside turned to watch it.
A moment later, there was a loud BANG, which shook the building. Then another. And another. With the last bang, Libby saw debris flying and smoke filling the air outside. The HAND officers dove out of the way as another explosion went off.
Everyone in the lobby was screaming. Chaos followed as everyone tried to run to safety, but they only served to block each other from moving at all.
Justin's grip on Libby's hand tightened as he started to run toward the rear doors. They appeared to be the only people running toward the explosions, but with thick smoke covering their path, they finally had a way out of the building.
There was no time for Libby to process what was happening. Her instinct was to run away from the bombs, but Justin pulled her along with him as he fled the building.
Smoke was everywhere once they reached the sidewalk. Libby couldn't see a foot in front of her and her eyes were burning. She didn't dare try to breathe, because she knew that doing so would only make her gag.
She could hear a car's engine in the distance, moving toward them quickly, but she couldn't see the car and she couldn't tell whether it was friend or foe.
Stumbling over the curb when they reached it, Libby nearly fell onto her face, but Justin held her up. He kept pulling her toward the street, despite the fact that the car was getting closer. He wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He wasn't willing to give up. The question was, could they make their way across the street before the car reached them? Or would they be killed trying?
Neither option was correct, as it turned out. As Libby and Justin reached a thinner layer of smoke, a HAND vehicle came to a screeching halt directly in front of them.
Libby stopped short, gasping in terror and filling her lungs with smoke. She coughed and gagged, but Justin didn't hesitate. He didn't move around the car or turn back to the building. Instead, he opened the back door and threw Libby inside.
“Stay down!” a woman yelled at her from the driver's seat. Libby was too shocked to think or do anything rational, so the woman grabbed Libby's head and pushed it toward her knees. “Down!”
Ammo followed Libby into the car and fell to his stomach as the woman barked that last order. Once Justin was in, the woman slammed her foot on the gas. The car was speeding down the street before he could even close the door.
Ducking low, Libby looked toward Justin. She was shaking and still coughing, but he was worse. He couldn't seem to breathe at all, as every attempt resulted in a fit of coughing.
“Are you okay?” the woman driving the car asked him as she slammed on the breaks and made a sharp left turn.
Justin started to catch his breath and looked up at her, saying, “You just bombed the city.”
“Well if we're going to have the reputation either way, we might as well do it,” she joked back.
“You bombed the city!” Justin yelled.
“Oh, calm down. They were smoke bombs. I didn't kill anyone. Now, I know you really meant to say 'thank you, Rose' or something along those lines...”
Justin put his head down, resting it on Ammo's back and said, “Thank you, Rose.”
Rose looked back at Libby in her rear view mirror. She smiled as though she hadn't just stolen a HAND vehicle, set off smoke bombs, aided in the escape of a fugitive—probably two fugitives by now—and wasn't speeding through the city at dangerously high speeds.
Taking her eyes off of the road proved to be a bad idea. As the car jumped a curb, Rose turned her attention back to the street and got the car back on path. Libby could hear her mumbling under her breath, “Damn women drivers.”
Libby had no idea what was going on. She had no idea who Rose was, or where they were going. But Justin seemed to know her and trust her, so Libby just kept her mouth shut and her head down. She couldn't help thinking that the girl driving the car didn't look the type to be causing this sort of trouble. She had kind eyes and a genuine smile, which was a rare sight to see. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing a pierced ear that had what looked to be a diamond stud in it. It was s
mall, but any size stone was beyond the reach of most citizens.
Seeing Rose's flawless and clean dark skin reminded Libby of how dirty and disgusting she must look.
“If you stare any harder you might hurt yourself,” Rose said, once again glancing back at Libby. “But I can't say that I'm not just as interested in you. Who are you? Why do they want you?”
Libby looked to Justin before answering. He didn't offer any help in forming her response, so she just said, “I don't know.”
“You don't know who you are?”
“I know who I am. I just don't know what they want with me.”
“Weird.”
Rose slowed the car down and pulled it over to the side of the road, behind another HAND vehicle. A moment later, two HAND trucks rolled by, speeding toward Marti's building no doubt. Rose turned the car around and started to follow them at a nice, slow pace.
“What are you doing?” Libby asked, raising her head just enough to see the trucks in front of them.
Shooing Libby back down with one hand, Rose said, “I'm trying not to attract too much attention. If you'd like to drive, I'd be happy to pull over.”
Libby didn't answer. She expected more sirens and chasing, not following HAND vehicles back the way they came. But she wasn't going to say anything else, because Rose was the only person in that car who had any sort of plan.
“Have you picked up Collin Powers yet?” Justin asked Rose, reminding Libby of the man whose face was plastered all over the TV.
She kept thinking that it was all about her, but he was the one that was taking the blame. The one that every citizen in the city was looking out for. The man she had hated, right along with everyone else, up until just hours before. The man who was now the only person in the city that she could identify with completely. When Justin asked about Collin, Libby was surprised to find herself feeling worried for him.
“We didn't have the resources for two pickups. The girl took priority,” Rose answered, looking in the mirror again and adding, “So I'm hoping there was a damn good reason for it.”
41
Smoke was rising in the distance. On the TV, there were reports about the Hate attack that left six people wounded or dead. Were they more lies?
Collin didn't trust the news. Freedom wasn't an army of rebels, storming buildings and taking out their enemies. They were a group of desperate and scared people, hiding in whatever holes they could find, where the world around them couldn't come near.
Were six people really dead? Did they exist at all? And if they did exist, were they just random citizens, gunned down by the government that they looked to for security and comfort, all for the sake of a catchy headline?
The stories were spinning. People were learning of another Hate attack, and they were rallying behind their caregivers. Anger was building inside of them, because that's what the authorities did. They built anger. Thoughtless, careless anger that didn't rely on facts or evidence. It relied solely on primal emotion. Seeing a bloodied body on the street caused outrage. Once the authorities directed that outrage, they had an entire city full of people who were willing to follow them and help them. The cycle continued, over and over again. It happened so many times, over so many decades that hardly anyone questioned it anymore.
That was the part that scared Collin the most. People didn't ask questions or seek answers. They simply accepted what they were told, and they followed their leaders off of whatever cliff they were led to.
But somewhere, deep inside the mind of every human being, there is a hint of doubt. Sure, it can be repressed for so long that it shrivels up and is barely felt at all. But like a muscle, that doubt can be worked and it can grow until it demands attention.
Baby steps, he told himself. Start small. Start with a question, planted in the minds of the citizens. Don't scream in their faces, allow them to find the doubt on their own.
At least, that was the logic that Collin was working with. Sophia seemed less sure of what he was doing. She stood over him as he stuffed one of her old sheets into a bag, looking at him as though he were putting a gun to his own head.
“You don't have to do this,” she told him.
“They're using my face and my name to go into homes. How many of our people will be found? How many will just disappear? All while they're calling me the murderer and claiming that we killed those people.”
“How will your going out there change any of it?”
Collin had to smile at that question. He said, “Maybe it won't. But I can't stay here and allow you to pay for my crimes.”
“I was committing those crimes long before you were born.”
Collin slung the bag over one shoulder and walked to Sophia. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, and she wrapped her arms around him.
As she held onto him, Collin could feel her heavy breathing. Whether she was just nervous or about to cry he didn't know, but he didn't dare look her in the eye to find out. Instead, he walked past her, toward the front door.
“If Mr. Geoffrey asks, I'm going to tell him that my son was visiting,” she said, watching him go. “I'm going to tell him that my boy is brave and good, and that his family misses him every second that he's away.”
He knew that she wasn't talking about his real family. His mother and his sister wouldn't be crying over his capture or his death. They would be joining the chorus of unknowing victims, cheering as their souls were stripped away.
But somewhere in the city, in a hidden basement where people dreamed of freedom, maybe there would be a thought cast his way from time to time.
Collin pulled a folded up note from his pocket and set it on a table by Sophia's door. He told her, “Don't let them find this.”
Then he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him. For the first time in days, he was exposed to the world and on his own.
Collin saw little legs sitting on the stairs that led upward. A child was there, waiting patiently for the HAND officers to come and search their home. He didn't see the kid's face and he didn't allow the child to see his as he moved downward.
To leave through the front door would draw too much attention. It would let people know where he had been staying. He couldn't do that to Sophia. He hoped that once he was in custody, the search would end and she would be safe.
He decided to leave the building the same way he had entered, and made his way down to the basement with little effort. Nobody was wandering the halls or climbing the stairs. Everyone was at home, watching for news of his capture, or standing by their windows and waiting for HAND to come searching.
When he reached the window, Collin stopped and took the bag off of his shoulder. If his idea was going to work at all, there needed to be no question in the minds of the people. He could hear the authorities making up excuses and lies already, and he wanted to take away as much of their edge as he could. So, he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, setting it down on the ground, next to his jacket. The form-fitting t-shirt that he still wore wouldn't allow authorities to tell stories about hidden weapons or bombs. Taking it a step further, Collin took off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his pants.
Finally, before he climbed through the window, he picked up the bag. He had planned to take it with him when he left, but it would obviously defeat the purpose of stripping down to the essentials. So, he pulled the sheet from the bag and tossed it through the window before him as he climbed out into the alley.
He'd missed the fresh air more than he ever imagined; the caress of a breeze on his skin. Even the smell of the alley made him feel more alive than he had when he was locked away in Sophia's apartment. This was the world. It was everything that he was fighting for.
The closer he got to the street, the less that world looked like his own. It was eerily quiet. No children playing. No men and women rushing to or from work. The entire city was shut down, because two men—the Mayor and the Governor—had decided to make that happen. Two men, out of how many millions of people? They spo
ke and the citizens fell to their knees.
Anger began to bubble up inside of Collin. His jaw clenched, just thinking about the people who were cowering in their homes, never even considering the idea that they could choose not to obey. Never thinking that the law was only as powerful as the people allowed it to be.
Some would have seen him by this point. Watching from their windows, waiting for HAND to arrive. They had to recognize him. Even if they couldn't see his face, they had to realize that this was the man from the TV. How many phones were being dialed in that moment? How many loyal citizens were doing their duty and reporting the appearance of the evil terrorist? How many of them would even think before doing what they were told? Would any of them allow for a split second of hesitation? Was there any fragment of free thought?
Collin walked out into the middle of the street and looked up at all of the windows, to all of the people who could see him and whom he could now see as well.
“They lie to you!” he called to them, having no idea what he wanted to say next. He hadn't written a speech, though he probably should have. “We don't kill! They do! We don't want to hurt you, we want to liberate you! There is no Hate! WE ARE FREEDOM!”
Collin unfolded the sheet and allowed it to fall over the street. On it, he had painted the question 'WHAT IS FREEDOM?' in big red letters.
“Don't trust me! Don't believe a word that I'm telling you! Question the world! Question me! Question them! And open your eyes to what they're telling you! See them for what they are! Take back the rights that they have stolen from you! DEMAND YOUR FREEDOM!”
Collin put his hands in the air and lowered himself onto the ground. He sat by the sheet, closing his eyes and holding his head back, taking deep breaths of fresh air while he still could.
When he opened his eyes, he could see the people still watching him. Men, women and children of all ages were standing in their windows, looking down at him. He saw Sophia, holding a hand over her heart and looking from window to window.