Freedom/Hate (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 1)
Page 28
Reading her confused expression, the man used a softer, though still angry tone when he said, “I'm going to need you to tell me everything that happened before Uly was killed. I want to know why this is happening.”
For the first time since he died, Libby really thought about Uly's last moments. Not just his death, but everything that came before. In her frenzy to understand what was happening to her—and probably because she had never been one to ask many questions about the world around her—Libby hadn't taken the time to consider what brought HAND to the hospital for Uly. What alarm went off? What set all of this in motion?
“It's in our blood,” she said to herself.
“What?” the man asked her. “What does that mean?”
Nobody with Freedom knew what happened before Uly was shot. They never knew about the fight that Libby had with Uly, or that he had ever even left the waiting room before HAND spotted him. They didn't know what he was doing in that back room, so they couldn't possibly know that the reports of Uly's final words were wrong.
“Uly was getting his blood tested to see if he was a compatible donor for my mother or some other patient. They were using a new machine to do it. It's supposed to read your DNA or something like that,” Libby explained.
She then turned to Justin and told him, “When he said 'it's in our blood', he wasn't using a metaphor about your movement. He was talking to me. Whatever they're scared of... It's in my blood.”
43
My name is Collin Powers, and I write this letter in the hopes of giving my capture meaning. I'm tired of biding our time. I'm sick of dreaming about the day when the opportunity will present itself. There will be no day. There will be no opportunity. The time to act is now.
We have no army. They've seen to that, and we allowed it to happen. It was a mistake that we will pay for in blood. But as I've taken shelter with an ally, I've questioned how future generations can be spared an even worse life than this. In looking toward the future, my attention was brought back to the past. To how we allowed this to happen.
Decades ago, our country was stricken by a plague. It spread like wildfire and left nobody uninfected. This plague destroyed our society. It rendered us all slaves to the authorities, beholden to them for sake of our survival.
The plague isn't what they teach us about in school. It wasn't an attack on our grains or an infection of our bodies. The true plague infected our minds and souls. It was the plague of apathy. The world is the way it is because the people allowed it. They were willing to put their faith in the hands of the authorities, and failed to rise up against them as their rights were being stripped away.
Our generation is just as diseased. We wring our hands, but do nothing to change the world around us. We wait for the day when freedom will fall into our laps, but that day will never come. Freedom is not the cure for this plague. Freedom is the healthy body to which we all aspire. It is something to be cared for and nourished.
The cure is action. A painful injection that will likely make us suffer even more before it makes us better. The time for that action is now.
They took everything from us, not overnight, but over time. They infected our minds and raised children on a steady infusion of lies. They conquered our people without firing one bullet. The blood that was spilled was offered to them by our own citizens. A sacrifice to our new gods.
There will never be photographs of these atrocities. We'll likely never know how many people were killed so that our people would willingly sell themselves into slavery. All we can do is learn from what happened to us, and use that knowledge to make things right.
It begins with an idea. A new strain of thought which we plant in the hearts and minds of the population. A question mark on the end of the day's news report. If they can see the lie, will they be able to ignore it? For how long?
Today, I hope to start the process. Though I doubt that I will be able to reach the entire world with my display, it is my hope that those who do see what happens to me will come to realize how the system works. That they will begin to question what they're told. That the cure will spread as surely as the disease.
I don't know if I will live or die, but I urge you to spread these germs of doubt and create more once I'm gone. Make the people question.
It took decades to rob us of our freedom. How long will it take to steal it back?
Freedom Prevails
TO BE CONTINUED IN…
BLOOD RIGHTS
COMING JULY 2016
For the latest news, please visit:
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To contact the author, write to:
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No book can fulfill its potential without the help and support of those who are willing to read it and provide honest feedback. I would like to thank Marina Fontaine (author of “Chasing Freedom”), Frederick Gero Heimbach (author of “The Devil's Dictum”) and Joe Spiker. This book would not be the same without their help.
I would also like to say thanks to all of the friends and family members who have put up with my asking seemingly random questions about the downfall of our nation over the past few years. I find it both endearing and disturbing that you never asked me why I'm pondering the events that would need to take place in order to destroy the very fabric of our society.
Copyright © 2016, Kyle Andrews. All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by S. Kersey
Derived from photos :
"Storm Clouds" by Carl Wycoff
"Fluffy clouds on blue evening sky" by Horia Varian
"Soundview Projects The Bronx" by Dan DeLuca
"Cabrini Green Housing Project" by David Wilson
"Across The East River" by Eden, Janine and Jim
"Detroit Night Sky" by Steve Lietzau
"Austin Skyline and Lady Bird Lake" by Katie Haugland
"Louisville Skyline" by The Pug Father
licensed under CCBY 2.0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
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