Inside, Pt. 2

by Kyra Anderson

  In quick succession, he fired ten shots, moving the gun as the jug swung with the force of impact. After Griffin lowered the gun, he pulled it apart and set it on the table, removing his headphones as Mark went to retrieve the target.

  “Damn,” Griffin groaned. “I know I missed at least three…”

  I was still blinking in surprise at how many times I saw the jug jolt from another bullet passing through it. When Mark returned to the table—tying another target up beforehand—we crowded around the mangled plastic and counted the bullet holes.

  “Six…” Griffin groaned. “Not bad…” He was obviously not happy with his accuracy. “It’s hard to guess which way it’s going to swing,” he mused. “But this is a nice gun,” he said, lifting the empty weapon and studying it. “Is this Commission issued?”

  Mark shook his head.

  Griffin’s face broke into a wide grin.

  “You stole it?”

  Mark shook his head again.

  “No shit, you bought it on the black market? Unregistered?” Griffin gawked. Mark nodded with a grin. “Damn, you’ve got some balls, Mark.”

  Reaching to his belt, Mark pulled out a full clip, taking the gun from Griffin. I felt a ball of excitement ricochet around my abdomen.

  Putting on his headphones, Mark aimed carefully. He took a breath and slowly let it out, pulling the trigger for the first time before he completely exhaled. In the same rapid way as Griffin, Mark shot ten rounds, but on the fifth round, the entire bottom of the jug fell to the ground, leaving the swinging top empty and causing it to spin when Mark hit it with the sixth shot. When he had fired all ten, both Griffin and I had our jaws wide open.

  “Did you ever miss?” Griffin gaped.

  Mark nodded, settling the headphones around his neck with a sigh. He held up two fingers, looking disappointed.

  “Holy shit, Mark…” I breathed.

  “Holy shit? That’s it?” Griffin laughed. “I would say, what the fuck? You’re ridiculous, you ninja!”

  Mark smiled, looking a little cocky. He turned his body and aimed once more, ignoring his headphones while Griffin and I quickly scrambled to put ours back on. Mark fired one more shot. The handle where the rope was tied snapped, causing the rest of the jug to fall to the floor.

  “Oh, well, now you’re just showing off…” Griffin groaned with a smile.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Tuesday brought more good news for the rebellion. As I was getting ready for school, my mother called me downstairs. We had sorta-made up when I had gotten home. I had apologized to Clark, my parents, even Mykail after my time at the shooting range. However, I was still annoyed at my mother trying to change my opinion about the support of the rebellion.

  I leaned on the back of the couch and watched the newest report.

  “Students of the North-East Military Institute Number Seven, which mostly focuses on tactical and technological military advancement, joined with new recruits of the nearby military base in Connecticut Recreational Park in protest to the aversion of answers the Commission of the People representatives had at the press conference discussing the Liberation Day Parade incident.”

  The shot cut to show many people on the browned grass of the large park, most in military uniforms. One man stood on a car and was speaking into a megaphone at the crowd in front of him.

  “The Commission of the People was established to balance the population, to keep America safe, and no one can deny that they have done their job well, but it was not the responsibility of the Commission to take control of the military!”

  There was a rally of cheers.

  “Washington had control of the military! The President rolled out the troops and slaughtered students our age, which is what started the Second Revolution.

  “Now, the Commission of the People has begun developing weapons, weapons of which we do not know the capabilities. The Commission completely disregarded the questions about the one who had wings and flew over the crowd! The development of such technology shows a complete disregard for humans, for the military, and for what our families fought for in the Second Revolution!”

  Another round of cheers sounded.

  “Will we let the Commission of the People become the next Washington?!”

  “No!!!”

  “This is getting out of hand…” my mother breathed shakily.

  “The protest is still ongoing. The students say they will not go to classes until they are sure that the Commission of the People no longer has a hand in the military,” the anchor’s voice explained over the various shots of the extensive protest.

  “I think it’s time Dana Christenson stops hiding behind the Commission and explains the truth about the Liberation Day Parade and what the Commission has really been doing with their prisoners. We no longer need the Commission of the People, but instead of slowly fading, the Commission is beginning to take over the country. I say that until we have answers, every American halt their support of Central. Military men and women…be prepared. If they won’t give us answers, we’ll storm the Commission and dismantle it brick by brick!”

  Even I was disturbed by the anger of the group.

  Everyone was talking about the protest at school. Becca and Jill were discussing heatedly the possibility of an attack on Central. I tried to keep up with the conversation, but I was getting swept up in the frantic atmosphere. Commish Kids were being hounded by other students. Between my first and second classes, a teacher had to break up a fight where three students jumped Ryan and began kicking him, demanding him to tell them if it was true that the Commission was trying to take over the country.

  I was concerned that the panic would backfire. By now, all the Commish Kids who were in Third Tier were involved in the revolution, but because of Dana’s influence, we had to remain quiet. We were setting ourselves up to be the targets of the anger we were trying to incite.

  I could see things spiraling out of control.

  The tension of the school was not at all eased by the teachers. They were silent, refusing to talk about the occurrences of dissent. Every time a student asked, teachers would not even acknowledge they had heard the question.

  That seemed to exacerbate the problem.

  I was cautious and nervous walking to Mr. McDermott’s class. I felt as though everyone was looking at me, ready to attack and beat answers out of me. I quickly slipped into the classroom, but was still surrounded by the whispering of worry.

  Mr. McDermott had barely started class, asking everyone how they were doing, before he was asked:

  “Should we be worried about the people attacking Central?”

  The class fell silent, the air thick with tension. Mr. McDermott froze, his eyes looking among the students. We waited, wondering if he was just going to shrug off the question or if he was going try to answer.

  He finally let out a deep sigh and placed his copy of An Angel Without Wings behind him on the desk, crossing his arms.

  “I know that the news has been a little frightening,” he started. “I’ve been asked not to give you any incomplete information, but I think it’s important to discuss what’s happening.” He looked at his feet briefly and collected his thoughts. “I do not think there is an immediate threat to Central, no. I think that, if what this group has said about the Commission is true, then it would not take much to get the people to attack the Commission of the People.”

  “We don’t even know that this is true about the Commission,” Katie called from the back. “Why is everyone so quick to believe that the Commission is trying to take over the country?”

  “Well, I don’t want to frighten you, but in many ways, the Commission of the People is more powerful than the Central office. It’s already controversial and frightening, so to think that an organization that powerful is trying to gain more power is terrifying. It hasn’t been that long since the revolution, and people, particularly in the military, have family who have spoken of fighting in the Second Revolution and how they had t
o turn on their own government and fight for what they really believed in. The people are still afraid of a government system that is too strong, and they want to stop any attempts at seizing control before it’s too late and we revert back to what we were before the Second Revolution.”

  “But we only saw the weapons once. It could have been a hoax, or something to just try and rile everyone up,” Katie continued.

  “True,” Mr. McDermott agreed. “But we’re already making the problem worse.” He leaned back on his hands. “Let me tell you about something,” he started. “When the Americans had their guns taken away, there was a huge uproar on both sides of the issue. It had always been a hot-button topic, but then there was concern raised as people continued to sight school shootings and mass-killings that had gone on in the past. It became something that was almost accepted. Someone would walk into a school, just like ours, pull out a gun, and start shooting and when they were about to be caught, or they were finished with what they wanted to do, they would kill themselves. Try to imagine that for a moment…”

  The students were looking at the desks, staring at the wood grain.

  “Do you know what made it worse?” Mr. McDermott asked. “The way we unintentionally glorified these people. They got their names on the news, they got a place in history, notorious as it may be. For some, that was all the motivation they needed. How many of you have ever shot a gun before?”

  I looked nervously around the classroom. No one raised their hands, so mine stayed down.

  “Okay, well, I do not advocate giving guns back to the populous, but I do not think guns are dangerous. People are dangerous, and people with radical thoughts and ideas are extremely dangerous. When we give attention to these radical thinkers, we give them more power…more power over us. I don’t know what the truth is, but the best thing we can do is not engage these people, and wait for the Commission and Central to decide the course of action.”

  “But what if the Commission really is trying to take over the country?” Jacob pressed. “What if they really are making weapons out of people? Torturing people?”

  “I don’t know…” Mr. McDermott whispered. “I am waiting for the truth just as much as you are…”

  * *** *

  “I’m getting worried…” I whispered, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

  “I understand that,” Griffin nodded, looking at the ground, where our large flashlight was shining upward into the dark canopy of the trees. The core strategy group was meeting in our usual spot in the park, trying to decide the best course of action for all of us. Clark, Tori, and I were huddled under one blanket while Josh and Mark were under another, and Griffin had one to himself.

  “Dana is calling meetings,” Josh said. “I don’t know who, but there are many people coming to meet with him.”

  “Well, don’t do any snooping that’s going to put you in danger,” Clark warned.

  “I agree,” Tori nodded. “You’re our inside information.”

  “The Eight Group is getting nervous…” Josh said. “Dana refuses to put up a defense around the building, but says he’ll use us if needed…”

  “What does that mean?”

  Griffin looked at the two members of the Eight Group worriedly.

  “You mean if the building is stormed?” he hissed. When they both nodded, Griffin turned to me. “If the building is stormed, Dana will let people come inside, and he will order the Eight Group to pick them off one by one in the upper floors to keep the basement Commission area safe.”

  “That sounds like him,” Tori groaned with disgust. “Griff, what do you think about the military involvement?”

  “Well, they’re pissed, and that’s understandable. In their position, I would have been, too. But I hacked the military system last night, and Command is telling officers to keep the others quiet. Three of our leading generals have been called to meet with Dana.”

  “So, Command knows the truth?” Tori whispered.

  “It would not surprise me.”

  “It’s really amazing…” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “Dana.” My eyes remained locked on the ground. “He owns these people. He lets people know what he’s doing, gets them involved and, as soon as he does that, they’re stuck. He can reveal them at any time as being privy to the Commission’s dealings and then they’re the next victim of being lynched. Same with the foreign leaders.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “He has the entire world on strings…”

  “Dana is a formidable force, but we have the advantage for the moment,” Tori assured. “He’s confused and does not know how we managed to get as far as we have. While we have that advantage, we need to use it.”

  “What are you thinking?” Griffin asked.

  “I think we need to show ourselves again,” Tori declared. “We need to show the people we were not a fluke. We need to stoke the fire.”

  “Put Mykail out in the open again?” I asked, worried.

  “We need to clarify the weapons aspect,” Griffin agreed. “Most don’t understand what we meant by saying we were weapons of the Commission. Mykail is the only visible proof…” Griffin looked at Tori. “Maybe we need to be the proof, as well.”

  “What do you mean?” Clark pressed.

  “We need to find a way to show people that the Commission has been altering humans. We need to prove our powers.”

  I had been dying with curiosity to know what everyone’s different abilities were, but had thought it would have been rude to ask.

  “How?” Josh questioned.

  “Well, some will be more obvious than others,” Griffin admitted. “But for others, like Tori, it will be more difficult to prove…”

  “Well, what if instead of showing powers, everyone tells their stories?” I suggested.

  “We can’t be in one place long enough to do so,” Tori shook her head. “We have to be quick.”

  “We can be in one place for a long time,” I disagreed. “The internet. We’ve already been using it. There has to be a way for us to post videos of everyone telling their stories. It gives us a face, but keeps us directly out of harm’s way.”

  “We have to be careful about that, too,” Josh said quickly. “We have to film outside of the fort.”

  “And away from any possible entrances,” Tori added. “With technology, they could probably find where we were if we did anything in the fort. We can’t risk it.”

  “I think next week, we should do the videos,” Clark nodded. “Everyone can prepare their stories, and it can be the humans also, talking about the treatment they suffered with the Commission. We won’t be able to send it out like the emails, we can’t risk sneaking in to the Censor Board again, but maybe the fort has something we can use to upload the videos.”

  “We have a few programmers,” Tori nodded. “We’ll see what they can accomplish.”

  “In the meantime,” Griffin sighed, “we lie low.”

  Mark raised his hand, grabbing our attention. He turned to Josh and motioned a few things before Josh straightened.

  “Oh, right,” he nodded. “He was thinking that we could have Mykail appear a few times on his own.”

  “What do you mean?” I said nervously.

  “Just quickly, enough to remind people that he has real wings,” Josh explained. “Like fly through town and then disappear again.”

  I turned to Mark, who was already looking at me, waiting to see my reaction. I sighed heavily and my hands tightened around the blanket. I looked at the ground, turning the idea over in my head. I knew this was a critical time in our movement against the Commission and I wanted to trust the experiments with their ideas, but I was worried about Mykail being hurt or captured.

  “Will you be sure he’s safe?” I asked, looking at Mark seriously.

  He nodded, keeping eye contact, promising me.

  * *** *

  Friday, a large group on Massachusetts Avenue—where there was a large military base—in the Mid-North Re
gion in the city of Jefferson’s Point was flooded with people, holding signs and demanding answers about the winged man at the Liberation Day Parade. Many were holding signs that commanded Dana show his face and explain what was happening in the Commission of the People.

  The worry had died down at school, but at the end of the school day, something happened that I had never experienced before in my life.

  It was twenty minutes before the end of the last class when the intercom system in the school went off.

  “Code Red. The school is currently in Code Red.”

  Everyone looked around worriedly, unsure of what the statement actually meant.

  Our teacher blinked at the intercom box and then turned to the class.

  “Okay, everyone in the back row, close the blinds. Everyone move to this corner of the room, sit down on the floor and remain quiet.”

  Not believing what was happening, I quickly moved to the corner as our teacher locked the door and took a towel out of the storage cabinet, laying it across the threshold. I shared worried looks with my classmates, all of us jumping when the lights were turned off, the room lit only by the slats of sunlight barely visible through the gaps in the blinds.

  Sitting in a confused huddle, most students pulled out their phones, quickly searching to find out what was going on outside that caused the Code Red. I watched my teacher move around the room, counting heads and going to her computer, submitting her attendance to the main office to account for who was in her class.

  “Oh my God…” Madison, one of the girls who normally sat in the back of the room to sleep, whispered. Everyone turned. “The angel…he’s back.”

  “What?” we all said at the same time.

  “Stay quiet,” our teacher hissed.

  “It says that the city is on lockdown because the angel was spotted flying around the downtown office buildings. Witnesses say that he was holding a red flag and had a banner behind him that said: ‘Rally Against the Commission.’ He’s back…”