Inside, Pt. 2

by Kyra Anderson

  “Dana is telling me to go to his office…”

  I studied Clark’s worried expression.

  “What about?”

  “I don’t know…” I admitted. “I don’t think I’m in any trouble.”

  “How did he react to Mykail being at the parade?”

  “He was at my house by the time I got home,” I recounted. “He was pretty upset and he’s convinced that I’m involved somehow.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I wasn’t involved,” I said strongly. “But, he’s convinced.”

  “He hasn’t taken you in…” Clark murmured, his voice strained with concern.

  “He can’t prove anything,” I shrugged. I stood and sighed heavily. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about. There was no way in hell I could have been at the Stanford Parade today.”

  Clark seemed more hesitant about me going to Dana’s office than I was. I was excited to go. I was curious to see how Dana reacted.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured, walking out of the room. But Clark wasn’t the only paranoid person I had to get past. Mark was also wondering where I was going.

  “Dana wants me to go to his office,” I told him, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to understand me and becoming confused when he cocked his head to the side like he didn’t hear me. After a few confused seconds, I remembered where we were. “It’s okay,” I said simply.

  I started walking away when Mark grabbed my arm, causing me to whirl around. I watched the various worried expressions cross over his features. While I had always been impressed with and admired Mark’s careful nature, I was beginning to think he was too paranoid.

  Finally, he sighed, glancing around briefly to be sure no one else was nearby and mouthed something to me.

  Don’t play with him…

  I nodded before walking away, turning through the now-familiar halls that made up the lower level of the Commission of the People. I took a deep breath before I knocked on Dana’s office door.

  “Come in.”

  Dana was sitting at his desk, Sean standing behind him, both looking at one of the monitors of Dana’s computer.

  “Little Lily,” Dana greeted. “Come in, come in…”

  I stepped up to the other side of his desk, glancing at Sean. For what felt like hours, the three of us stood in silence, Dana watching the screen of his computer while Sean looked nervously between Dana, the screen, and me. I wanted to see what they were watching, but I felt that if I moved, Dana would pounce.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “I assume that you already know what happened in the Western Region today,” the leader of the Commission said suddenly.

  “…yes,” I nodded. “Some kids read the report at school. It spread around the school like wild fire…”

  “I can imagine,” Dana mused distractedly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at Sean. “That will be all, Sean. I will see you later tonight.”

  Sean bowed his head and turned, walking around the desk and to the door, hesitantly leaving.

  Again, Dana and I were locked in silence.

  Dana reached to his mouse and clicked a few things before turning the volume up.

  “Come see,” he offered.

  I walked around his desk and nervously approached his seat. I leaned my hip against the desk, my eyes focusing the reporter on screen.

  “And now for the latest on the incident that happened in the Western Region earlier today. At the Stanford Parade on Pennsylvania Street, the group who called into question the practices of the Commission of the People at the Liberation Day Parade in Central made another appearance. A large group of approximately sixty people wearing Thomas Ankell masks marched in front of the parade dedication carrying the same signs seen at the Liberation Day Parade on Saturday. While there was no sign of the winged man that appeared at the parade in Central, people still believe this was from the same radical group. We’re going to Cindy Gregg who is on the scene at the cleanup of Pennsylvania Street.”

  The video cut to a younger woman with beautiful thick brown hair and bright green eyes, standing among a crowd of people while officials set up barriers and began gathering the signs and banners the group had dropped in the chaos that had been their capture.

  “Thank you, Diane,” Cindy said. “As you can see behind me, Pennsylvania Street has remained closed after the police came in and arrested approximately forty of the members of the group who disrupted the parade. There has been no evidence yet to suggest that these are the same people as the Central Parade, and the police are refusing to give information on those who were captured, though they did reveal that several of the people are still at large in the city.”

  “Cindy, have you spoken to any of the people there? What is the general sentiment?”

  “Yes, I have spoken to them, and the general sentiment right now is shock and confusion. Many are not sure what to make of this sudden rise in what possibly could be a rebellion, or even domestic terrorism. Many were unable to see the press conference of the Commission of the People, and are still unsure what to think about the information that these groups have on the Commission of the People, or its validity.”

  “Thank you, Cindy, we will come back to you in a few minutes,” Diane said as the camera cut back to the main studio. “The press conference being held by representatives of the Commission of the People is still underway and is being broadcast on local PBC networks, but here is what representative Thomas Sandover had to say earlier in the conference.”

  The camera showed a previously recorded clip of the press conference where my father stood at the podium next to Clark’s mother, and another one of Dana’s advisors.

  “The Commission of the People is working very hard to gather all information that we can on who these people are and why they are using these fear tactics on the American people. At the moment, our information is incomplete, but the members of the Commission of the People want to assure the people of America that there is currently nothing to fear from this group of radicals.”

  “What about their message that blames the Commission of the People for torturing their captives and creating weapons out of them?” one of the reporters called. “What is your response to the claim?”

  “The Commission of the People was shocked at the implications of these messages. While we understand that the Commission of the People has a notorious reputation, to openly accuse us of mistreating and altering humans is an absurd and unfounded accusation and a fear tactic to create instability within the public.”

  “Do you deny, then, that the Commission is torturing criminals in its custody?” another reporter asked from the back of the room.

  “Yes, I deny the claims against the Commission of the People. There is no weapons testing, there is no torture. The purpose of the Commission is to keep the people of America safe, and that is what we always strive to accomplish.”

  “Mr. Sandover, in a time like this, it seems surprising that the appointed leader of the Commission of the People, Dana Christenson, has not made an appearance or a statement in response to these incidents. What can you tell us about Mr. Christenson’s whereabouts at this time?”

  “Dana Christenson has not come forward for the reason of his safety,” my father said. “He is working very hard to find this group of radicals and remove them from the public in order to restore peace of mind to the American people. As such, with the way this group has been targeting the Commission of the People, it was a unanimous decision that our leader, Mr. Dana Christenson, remain out of media and public view for his safety and the preservation of the Commission of the People through this time.”

  “He’s quite handsome in that suit…” Dana mused as the camera cut back to the main reporter. “Isn’t he?”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warned.

  “What do you mean?” he asked innocently, glancing at me as I sat on his desk, crossing my legs and glaring at him.

  “You keep y
our hands off him. I won’t have you seducing my father the way you’ve seduced so many men of the Commission.”

  Dana shrugged and leaned forward, pausing the video. “If I want him, I’ll have him. It’s as simple as that.”

  “The hell you will…”

  Dana turned his chair and looked me over with a crooked smile.

  “Well, here we are again, Little Lily,” he grinned. “You caught me by surprise. That doesn’t happen very often.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t,” I chuckled. “But I had nothing to do with the thing at Stanford.”

  “No, of course not,” Dana grinned, tilting his head dangerously to the side.

  I sighed heavily.

  “You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

  “How can I?” Dana barked a laugh. “You don’t believe it, yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, rolling his neck around. “Even if you are guilty, which I know you are, if you believe you’re innocent, you can make others believe it as well.”

  “Tell that to all the innocent people convicted of crimes they didn’t commit…” I scoffed.

  “Well, the belief that someone is guilty can be stronger than one person believing they’re innocent but, to be fair,” Dana held up his hands in a shrug, “is anyone really innocent?”

  I huffed. “So, I can’t convince you that I’m innocent, but if I confess to anything, then you take me in and I become your slave.” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I’m not seeing a viable option…”

  “You already have a preconceived notion that you’ll be my slave when I take you?” Dana challenged, his eyebrows high. “Interesting…it’s wrong, but still interesting.”

  “Then, what do you want from me?”

  Dana’s smile widened.

  “Well, to be honest, I thought you would do something stupid that would cause me to take you in already, but you seem to have exceeded my expectations. I thought I would need to train you a little, but as I have said, you surprised me.”

  “Train me?”

  “You don’t need to worry,” Dana assured gently. “You’ve already done wonderfully. Like I said, I need to step up my game.” He tilted his head. “I did not think so many people would get behind you so quickly. After Liberation Day we were monitoring all streets, planes, anything entering or leaving the city and saw no fliers or signs being sent to the Western Region. We found no electronic trace—so far—of files being sent to be printed there…you have planned this well…”

  I could not help but smile.

  “You are getting sneaky,” Dana whispered.

  “How do you think they got the fliers?” I asked innocently.

  Dana smiled.

  “To be honest, considering the resources most likely available for this domestic terrorist group, I am genuinely stumped.” Dana tilted his head to the side again. “What do you think my confusion means?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What angle am I not considering?”

  “You could be ignoring how much the people disapprove of what the Commission does,” I said. “The Commission was controversial to begin with. And then you abused the power you had and the people now know you are creating weapons out of people.”

  “No.” Dana shook his head. “I think I am underestimating the resources available to this group.” He grinned darkly. “Whoever they are…”

  Dana leaned forward, resting his hand on the exposed skin of my ankle above my sock. It took all my willpower not to flinch away from his fingers. His pointer and middle finger traced random circles over the bones of my ankle as his eyes traveled up my calf, over my thigh and up my body to finally rest on my breasts, which I realized too late I was accenting by having my arms crossed.

  But I boldly remained as I was, teasing him.

  He licked his bottom lip before capturing it in his bottom teeth and finally shifting his eyes up to my face.

  “My, my,” he breathed, “you’re getting bold…”

  I slowly moved my head, tilting it, allowing only the smallest of smirks to touch the corners of my mouth.

  * *** *

  The entire week had been filled with frantic whispers and speculations about the terrorist group. I listened to the gossip with dark glee, feeling like chuckling every time I heard the flustered hypotheses of the news stations and the students on campus. When eyes were turned on me, I quickly fell into my role, feigning my concern over the situation and offering my half-cooked ideas about the motives of the rebel group.

  Meanwhile, I was sharing secret glances with the other Commish Kids, who were also enjoying the attention.

  Friday at Archangel was far more enjoyable for me, and it must have been noticeable because I was attracting a lot of attention. I had done my rounds, hearing how different kids had heard stories from their parents, trying to collect information. My favorite whispers were ones like “do you think it’s true?” and “what if it is true and the Commission really is making weapons out of people?”

  The smile would take over my whole face and I would fade quietly into the crowd to enjoy the feeling.

  I felt powerful, nearly invincible. Without fail, the plan was working, and Dana himself was stumped. Clark shared most of my enthusiasm, but I could tell he was not feeling it as acutely as I was. And Mark only offered the smallest smile to show that he was happy we had made progress. But he was still as cautious and careful as ever.

  For me, Friday night was a time to celebrate my power.

  After getting worked up over the rumors around the club, I made my way to the middle of the dance floor, feeling as though nothing could touch me. Assimilating perfectly with the pulsing of the dancing crowd, I began to sway, feeling the beat throb around me, moving my body. My eyes closed, only opening every now and then. There were eyes on me, mostly male eyes, as I moved with the music, my hands falling over my body as I danced, enticing people to come forward. If I had had rational thought in that moment, I would have wondered about my attempts to seduce the people around me. Every move was a message to come closer.

  And they did.

  Several boys stepped forward, dancing with me while the girls looked on with contempt and disgust. I ignored them entirely, but I did not focus on any of the boys, twisting and spinning away from one to end up in front of another who was just as interested in me. I flitted around them as if I was an apparition.

  Nothing could touch me.

  However, something finally did.

  There were hands that settled around my hips from behind, but I knew they were not the large hands of the Commission leader, so I had no reason to startle. This was someone I could have some influence over.

  I turned around and smiled, seeing Devon glaring at the other teens who were slowly backing away.

  He turned to me and smiled, though he seemed on edge and surprised.

  “Well, you’re in a good mood tonight,” he noted warily. “Or are you drunk?”

  “Drunk on the beat, maybe,” I laughed. I closed my eyes and laughed harder. “That was really lame.”

  “Yes, it was,” Devon agreed with a chuckle. “Don’t stop, though. It’s alluring.”

  I smiled and placed one hand on his shoulder as the song changed to a different beat, using him as an anchor to move my hips with the slower, heavier bass.

  “There’s something…different about you…” Devon noted, watching me as though he had never seen anything like me. That did nothing more than feed the fire. I bit my lower lip as I grinned playfully.

  “I know,” I pressed myself to him teasingly. “It’s amazing…”

  “You must be drunk,” Devon chuckled brokenly. “Do I need to smell your breath?”

  In that moment, I did something that surprised me, but even the shock at my playful behavior was not enough to stop me.

  I fisted the shoulder of his black sweater and leaned close, rolling on my toes to press my mouth to Devon’s ear.

  “Wouldn’t you rather taste
it?”

  Devon’s entire body stiffened immediately and I smiled, slowly lowering myself until my heels hit the floor with a small click that was inaudible over the sound of the bass. Devon was staring at me with gawking eyes, his mouth open as I chuckled.

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that…” Devon whispered, swallowing hard.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re with Clark…”

  I looked coyly around.

  “I don’t see him anywhere…” I purred.

  Devon started to lean forward and I watched him get closer. Just as he was within range of kissing me, I circled away, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees and smiling devilishly.

  “But you’re with Jill…” I told him. “Better be faithful to her, or you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

  I slipped easily into the crowd and up to the balcony, smiling at the game I was playing. It was easy and intoxicating. Clark walked up to me, worried.

  “What were you doing down there? It looked like you were grinding with Devon,” he said quietly. I laughed lightly and placed a hand on his cheek before walking to the plush chairs at the back of the balcony.

  “It’s just dancing. No reason to get jealous.”

  He followed me as I sat on the empty couch.

  “What has been up with you lately?” Clark hissed. “You’re acting…I don’t know, weird.”

  “Weird?” I barked a laugh. “How so?”

  “You’re just…not yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, leaning closer as he sat down. “Loosen up, Clark. We’ve done something that no one would ever think we were capable of. We achieved something that could change the world. Enjoy it!”

  “We haven’t changed anything,” Clark hissed, glancing around worriedly and lowering his voice. “And until Dana is out of the picture, don’t get cocky.”

  “I’m not getting cocky,” I defended sharply. “I’m enjoying myself. Is that alright?”

  Clark sighed and turned away. I watched the changing emotions on his face before I rolled my eyes.

  “Clark, what’s wrong? Am I upsetting you somehow?”