“This revolution will be violent, revolutions are, but this is not just a small group of people making a fuss and trying to cause trouble. We are fighting for the very right to live. The right to be human, to live and love as we were meant to. We’re not just fighting for the people in the Commission, we’re fighting for the people of this society, and the people of the world who are trying to find a way to do the same.”
I looked up at him, fresh tears in my eyes. While the note had been bold and daring, his eyes were gentle. He felt everything he had written so strongly that I was able to believe it myself.
While there was a fear at realizing that this was far bigger than anything I had originally expected, there was a sense of purpose and pride in what we were doing that was far more profound.
Mark wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me into a side hug. As I fell against his side, I felt myself turn around and lean back, allowing myself to tumble off the precipice.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The tension had reached a fever pitch. I felt it all Saturday night as my parents and I sat at home, watching the news tensely, listening to the talking heads prattle on about the Rhodes of America Annual Parade the following morning. Everyone was expecting the experiments of the Commission to show up at the parade, though there was no proof that they would make an appearance.
“Lily,” my mother whispered, “I don’t want you going out tomorrow. Just stay home.”
“Mom, Clark and I have a date tomorrow.”
“I don’t care,” she shook her head. “Cancel it.”
That sparked the next world war in my house. I told her that I was going anyway and that I hoped that something happened at the parade the following day. When I was sent up to my room, I slammed the door and sat down by my bed, my entire body tense with fury. Dexter was afraid to approach me.
It was a sleepless night. I ran through the plan in my head, tried to see if there were any faults in what we planned, replaying countless scenarios of what could happen.
It’s going to happen tomorrow…
There was a cold apprehension that was sitting in the marrow of my bones, chilling me far deeper than my body could feel. There was a mutual feeling through the chilly night air of that last night of February. The Month of Monsters was over. Something had to give. The pressures of the Commission of the People, the tensions of the people who were anticipating the parade the following day—because they knew what would happen—and the people who felt the fear in their bodies, but tried to ignore it, all tried to take comfort knowing that the government would clear up whatever mess was coming their way.
Something had to give.
The following morning, I snuck out of the house before my parents woke, sure they would try to keep me under house arrest. I took the bus to a coffee shop near where the parade was going to start. There were a lot of people in the area, setting things up for the parade, bundled in their jackets as they tried to fight the first day of March.
I watched from the window of the almost-empty café, my hands wrapped around my warm mug, trying to take in the crisp, fresh feeling in the air to clear my mind.
But the clouds overhanging Central, threatening more snow, matched the looming darkness that sat within my chest.
Eventually, my phone buzzed from Clark sending me a message that he was on his way to the café. I sighed when I looked at the message, trying to think of how I was going to explain my empty mug when he got there.
Deciding not to chance an explanation, I asked for a refill shortly after he sent me the text to make it look as though I had not already been there for two and a half hours.
He showed up shortly thereafter, huddled in his jacket. He smiled at me weakly, showing that he was feeling just as nervous. After getting his coffee, he sat down across from me, sipping it slowly.
Other than greeting and reciting the formalities of seeing one another, we were silent, waiting for the hour to come.
I wanted to ask Clark if he thought we should call off our plan. It had run through my mind multiple times to run to the exit where people were leaving the fort and tell them to stay, that there was something wrong about that day, but I had managed to stop myself, reminded of what Mark had said and how we all knew the bloodshed was coming.
If that was what it took to get the Commission dismantled and allow people to live as humans, then the violence was something we were going to have to accept.
“Should we go?” Clark suggested, looking at me with the same apprehension across his features that had turned my stomach into knots.
We walked in tense silence out of the café to the spot in the parade where other Commish Kids were sitting with a few other familiar faces that we smiled and nodded at once.
A few minutes later, while we were waiting for further instruction on where we were in the parade, Diane walked to me.
“Lily, it’s Griffin.”
I took the phone from her hand and put it to my ear.
“Griffin,” I greeted quietly.
“Hey, Lily,” he said. “We’re here.”
“Oh, good…” I said, turning to look down the street at the skyscrapers that lined the boulevard. “Good…”
“Everything alright down there?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, trying to mask the worried tone in my voice. “Just a little nervous.”
“Don’t worry,” Griffin chuckled. “Everything will be fine.”
I agreed quietly and then handed the phone back to Diane.
“Hey, you guys are the group from Central University, right?” a flustered woman asked, running to us.
“Yeah,” Daniel confirmed.
“Great, this float is going to move and then we’re going to signal you to go after they have already made a good distance. You need to make sure to keep at least five car lengths between you and them, okay?”
“Why?” Clark blinked.
“The whole damn army is lining the street. They want clearance to interfere if there is a problem,” the woman groaned, rolling her eyes and rushing to the next group.
Everyone turned to one another, eyes wide.
“The army?” Clark hissed.
“We didn’t plan for the army to be here,” Joey snapped. “What do we do?”
“Look, for all they know, we’re just university students,” I told them strongly. “They aren’t going to have memorized over one hundred faces to spot anyone here. They’re going to remember the experiments.”
“Yeah, but Mykail—”
“Is going to be flying above us,” I cut Peter off. “He will draw attention away. We act just as planned and we get the hell out if things go south.”
There was no more conversation as the parade officials ran up and down the line, telling everyone to be prepared to move.
Our late entry into the parade as the honor students of the university who were trying to get funding for charity work made me cringe when we filled out the application and then made me roll my eyes when we were accepted. The Rhodes of America Foundation, which provided scholarships to all majors in University, needed more people in the parade. Four groups had backed out after the demonstrations around the country.
I wondered if the Rhodes of America Foundation asked for support in keeping the parade safe, or if the army decided to be there on their own.
Once, when I was seven years old, I participated in a dance recital. It was something that my mother had me do like most girls my age. I did not want to do soccer or any of the other sports offered, so my mother told me I had to go into some form of dance, claiming it would help me with my coordination and presence. I practiced, awkwardly stiff and not at all interested, and when the recital came, the thought of performing in front of all the people in the audience, even though it was only the parents and families of the girls dancing, my heart was beating so fast, I was sure I was going to have a heart attack and die before I stepped out of the wings.
I had not felt that type of terror sinc
e. Since I was older, the fear I had at moving to Central, at going to the Commission, at meeting Dana and planning the revolution against him, the fear was more mature, more complicated and caught up with different thoughts about how I needed to act appropriately within society and the situation.
But when I saw the float in front of us move, the fear was more acute, more childish in the fear of having all those eyes on me, just as I had felt walking out onto the stage when I was seven.
The woman ran up and snapped at us, agitated, ordering us to move forward when the float was the appropriate length away.
I slinked into the middle of the group of humans we had broken out of the Commission, grabbing a part of the large flag that was part of our simple parade set up. Clark walked next to me, holding his sign with three others that listed the name of one of the charities that Central University was affiliated with.
We began the walk down the crowded boulevard.
I glanced at the faces gathered on both sides of the street, remembering when I was in their position for the Liberation Day Parade and how nervous I had been thinking how everything could go wrong. This time, the fear was different—raw. There was a threat that I would be in direct danger if Dana saw me in this group. Same with Clark.
It was a risk we both had decided to take.
I saw the green uniforms lining the barricades as we drew closer to the center of the city. I had always imagined the military to have large rifles, even though I knew that those guns were only used for ceremony in modern times. The men who lined the streets had two smaller guns strapped to their legs, just within reach.
I lost track of how my feet were hitting the ground, too focused on my surroundings to realize where I was walking, using the edge of the flag to guide me, hoping the others knew where they were going. I was watching the buildings pass, trying to be discreet as I looked at the others in the group, the spectators, the military, and the street signs that were slowly crawling by, bringing us closer to the building where Griffin, Mykail, and Cody were waiting.
Finally passing the street where Mykail was set to make an appearance, Clark and the others dropped the other section of the banners, showing the organizations who called themselves charity organizations and scholarship providers—particularly in science and medicine—but actually gave money for the research that was provided by the Commission experiments, a list of industries given to us by Josh.
From where I was in the parade, I could not hear the shock that the people had seeing us at the parade. Looking at their faces, I saw that they were not surprised at our appearance, but at our message. However, rather than whisper quietly, several people began yelling, congratulating us for exposing the organizations. Large groups of people pushed closer to the barriers, voicing their support and expressing their anger at the Commission of the People.
A small group looked up and saw Mykail leap off one of the building, quickly spiraling toward the parade, spreading his wings and changing his direction at the last moment, flying forward, low enough so everyone could read his message.
“Abolish the Commission!”
Just as I felt myself smiling at the cheering surrounding us, my nightmare seemed to come true.
The sound of gunshots echoed between the buildings and everyone jumped, turning to the men in uniform, most of them pointing guns at the rapidly moving angel. Mykail spun around a corner and soared high into the air, over buildings, evading skillfully as the gunshots reverberated off the towers of steel and glass.
My eyes followed Mykail, the whole parade halting immediately as many of the military men began shouting orders at one another not too let Mykail out of sight. My attention was quickly diverted to other angered voices.
“Don’t fucking shoot him!”
“You’re just a dog of the Commission!”
My gaze focused on a group grabbing three of the military men, all of whom had their guns drawn, and pulling them into the barricades. The people were yelling, storming into the streets, trying to take down the military men who were still aiming at the experiment circling above the parade.
Several in our congregation dropped what they were holding, turning to one another, wondering how to react to the sudden, unexpected chaos.
There was another gunshot, much closer to where we were, and I dropped into a crouch, looking around as several horrified screams sounded. My eyes settled on the young woman on the ground, completely still, a pool of blood forming around her.
“Let’s go!” Clark yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling my attention away. I followed the group as we tried to escape the riot. However, with the chaos in the streets, it was impossible to move as a large group, and when the military saw us fleeing, many of them pursued.
“Split up!” Ben bellowed.
We scattered, Clark pulling me as we ducked between some office buildings.
I was disoriented, focused on the screaming and gunshots I heard. My heartbeat was deafening and it was impossible for me to catch my breath. I heard the angry blades of a helicopter moving over the parade-turned-riot. My heart plummeted.
“Mykail…” I hissed.
“He’s fine!” Clark snapped. “We have to go!!”
I had to be dragged through the remainder of the alleyway, and Clark finally managed to get me close to the river, peering out from around the side of the building before squeezing my hand and walking onto the promenade, pulling me close, trying to act as though we were just a couple walking, unaware of what was going on several blocks away.
My eyes were distant on the ground as we walked. I was trying very hard not to collapse as I tried to process how quickly everything had fallen into panic. I looked up when I heard a loud boom that startled me and several people around us. Both Clark and I stopped and turned in the direction of the noise.
I glanced at Clark, my eyes filling with panicked tears. He nodded, squeezing my hand and quickly moving to one of the sports bars in the area. Once inside the restaurant, we saw that everyone in the building was watching the various screens displayed on the walls. The news was trying to show reports of what was happening in the downtown area.
My hand was over my mouth when I saw the pile of smoldering, distorted metal in the park on the street where the parade had been taking place. Around the fiery helicopter wreckage was a large group of young men and women, likely university students, who were cheering. Military personnel were pointing their guns at the young adults, ordering them to get on the ground.
“This is the wreckage of the military helicopter that crashed after trying to interfere in a riot that broke out at the Rhodes of America Annual Parade. The helicopter was called in after a winged man that has come to symbolize the terrorist movement against the Commission of the People was seen flying over the parade. The winged man pulled the two pilots and gunner out of the helicopter and then crashed the aircraft, jumping free of the wreckage and evading capture. There is no information yet about the well-being of the personnel who had been manning the helicopter.”
Every eye in the restaurant was glued to the screens as everyone held their breaths, watching the replays of the carnage, eyes darting between the people running away from the scene and those who ran into the fray.
I could do nothing but stare in horror.
This is what we had done.
We had created this chaos.
I knew at least one person had died because of it, recalling the brief glimpse of the woman dead on the asphalt.
That realization sat heavily on my chest. The people had finally snapped, and they had sided with us against the Commission, against the military, against the Central Administration because of what we had told them. We had changed the opinions of the nation and, after today, it was going to be a domino effect. Just as had happened with the Liberation Day Parade, people across the country were going to watch what happened that day and they were going to show their anger alongside their countrymen.
While there was a part of me that understood that meant mor
e vandalism and more death, there was a strange sensation deep within me, licking at the walls of my stomach and causing my skin to prickle.
I felt powerful again. We could win this fight against the Commission of the People. The rebellion had turned into civil war.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Getting in touch with everyone after that fateful Sunday was extremely difficult. The school had been closed for the week because the capital had declared a state of emergency due to the riot. I watched the news religiously, even though that meant I had to sit with my infuriated parents, who were scolding me over and over again for going out when something so horrific had occurred.
So far, they had failed to see me on the news, which was a very good sign for my safety.
But I was full of anxiety. Because school had been cancelled and my parents were keeping such a close eye on me, I was unable to see Clark, Mykail, Mark, or anyone else in our group. On Tuesday, after I had spent all day watching the news and hearing the increasing number of dead and injured in the riot, I was frantic to know if we had lost anyone in our group in the chaos. I texted Clark and asked him if he saw the numbers on the news of the people who had died. When he responded that he had, I asked him if he knew who any of them were.
He did not reply.
Around eleven at night, I got a text message. Tense from the entire day, I scrambled to my phone, tripping as my feet were caught in the sheets of my bed and causing Dexter to meow in frustration. I was surprised that my cat even bothered to sleep on the bed with me anymore. I had been having such horrible nightmares that he would always move to his own bed at some point.
I glanced at the text message from Clark.
“Sorry about not getting back to you sooner. My mom had me running errands with her.”
Inside, Pt. 2 Page 54