by Kyle Andrews
Hate was the narrative of the authorities, putting a demonic face on their enemy. To alter the narrative now would only make people ask more questions, and they couldn't have the people questioning anything they said or did, so they pretended that nothing had changed. Except, it had.
“Moving on to more local news,” the female news anchor said to the camera. “A fifty-two year old resident of the Thurmer Building, on 8th Street was found dead in his apartment this morning, after he apparently walked in on a robbery in progress. Authorities have yet to confirm the details of Burt Lansing's death, but they have confirmed that the phrase 'Hate Prevails' was written on the wall, in Lansing's own blood. The phrase is the slogan of the extremist group, Hate. Lansing had reportedly witnessed the capture of Hate member, Collin Powers last month, and neighbors suspect that this fact may have had something to do with the homicide. We'll keep you up to date with this story as more details become available.”
Burt Lansing. The name sounded familiar, but Justin didn't know where he'd heard it before. Was he a member of Freedom? Was he related to a kid at school? What was the real reason for his death?
Justin didn't know what was happening in the city, but he could feel something changing. It was like the first cool breeze of fall, which told him that summer was over and a new season was beginning. The problem was, he'd felt change coming for a long time, and it had reached the point where he had to admit to himself that wishful thinking was not the same thing as actual change. He could have more faith in the future of humanity once those little markings and whispered questions became a booming demand for answers. When even the nightly news couldn't get away with calling Freedom by the name that their political leaders had made up out of thin air.
'It begins with an idea.' That's what Collin Powers told the people in his note. And the phrase he used at the end, 'FREEDOM PREVAILS' had been scribbled on the wall outside of the home where he found Amanda. At the factory she worked in, people were whispering questions about Collin Powers. Maybe this was a sign that the narrative was breaking down. Justin should have been excited by the news, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. Not yet.
It was almost time for school. If he didn't show up, people would ask questions. Someone might even come to his apartment to look for him. He couldn't stay home, which meant that he had to leave Amanda alone.
He was in over his head. For all he knew, she would be dead by the time he got home that night. She needed real help. The question was, who could he turn to?
He scribbled a quick note, telling Amanda where she was and that she should stay in bed until he got home. It was probably a useless gesture, since she would probably not wake up anytime soon. Maybe she wouldn't ever wake up at all. And if she died, what was he supposed to do then? He couldn't just call the police and tell them that he was keeping her there, could he?
Could he? Was it against the law to give a friend a place to stay? He didn't even know for sure. He'd just assumed that anything good that he might want to do would be some sort of criminal offense.
He placed the note on the table next to Amanda, along with some water and crackers.
“I'm going to find a way to help you,” he told her. “Just hold on for a little while longer.”
Of course she didn't respond.
Justin turned and walked out of his apartment.
17
It was a long night. Once she was stitched and bandaged, and everyone knew everything that she had experienced, nobody wanted to go to sleep. Some people just stared at her, as though she had the Constitution tattooed onto her forehead. Others stared off into space, no doubt wondering what this all meant. What could be done with these documents that couldn't be done without them? Did they change anything at all?
Honestly, Libby wasn't sure how they would change anything. People knew about the Constitution. It was a document created when the country was first started, like a treatment plan for a sick person. It was meant to put as much distance between the new country and the old country as possible. It was full of rules that probably made a lot of sense at the time, but which were long since outdated.
Then again, everything that Libby knew about the Constitution was learned in school. Since then, she had learned to doubt everything they'd ever taught her, so for all she knew, the Constitution could have been a list of ye olde recipes, from the days of yore.
Libby, Rose, and Aaron—along with dozens of other people whom Libby didn't know—had gathered in the main area of the Garden, watching the morning news broadcasts on the many TVs that were hanging on one of the walls. They were watching for reports about what happened at the hospital, looking for any hint of information about Simon, who held the key to Freedom's future in his hands.
She couldn't believe that she left him behind. Looking back, it seemed like such a stupid idea. He was in the lion's den, and she just ran away because she was ordered to. She didn't even know whether she was being a good soldier in that moment, or if she just ran to save herself. Either way, if Simon was dead, it would be one more person's blood on her hands.
“We need to relax,” Rose said, partly to herself and partly to Libby. “I mean, what are we waiting for? Odds are, Simon got out just fine. Paul's probably sleeping in this morning. Nobody was looking for them. They were looking for you. And of course they couldn't be back here by now, because they had to wait out the curfew hours. So... We should relax.”
“If you say so,” Libby replied.
“I do say so. In fact, I demand that that we relax. Grab some breakfast. Hang out and watch the morning talk shows.”
“You're hungry?”
With a sigh, Rose replied, “If I eat, I'll just throw it right back up on my plate.”
Rose turned away from the TVs and groaned, balling her fists and looking as though she wanted to punch someone. She said, “Maybe we should send some people out there to look for them. I could go. Back them up if they need help, or whatever.”
Aaron shook his head and said, “We don't even know where they are at this point. They could have made it to a safe house, but we don't know where.”
“Then why wouldn't they call?” Rose barked back. She quickly pulled herself together and said, “Sorry. I'm kind of a bitch when I don't get any sleep.”
“Hey! Be quiet! Turn it up!” a man shouted in the crowd.
One of the TVs had its volume turned up and the others were muted so that everyone could hear the story.
“It happened last night, at Bo Wallace Memorial Hospital. HAND officers were called to the scene after a small group of thieves attempted to steal flu medications from the hospital's second floor. Witnesses say that officers chased the thieves out of the hospital, and cornered them near one of the rear entrances of the building. One suspect was killed as he attempted to flee the scene, while his female associate was taken into custody. Though her name as not been released as of this time, authorities tell us that the woman has admitted to being a member of the extremist group, Hate.”
Rose leaned closer to Libby and joked, “Damn. You got captured.”
“Again,” Libby nodded.
“Fake you sucks at fleeing.”
The anchor went on, “Bo Wallace Memorial is located in an area of town which has a large number of minority residents. It was likely targeted by Hate as an attempt to deprive those minorities the medication that the group feels would be better served on white flu patients.”
Rose turned to Libby now and raised a hand in front of her face, saying, “Oh, imaginary you has gone too damn far this time. Just what the hell does imaginary you have against my people?”
“Imaginary me is obviously just jealous.”
“That's right.”
“And I absolutely repudiate and abjure any association with that woman.”
“Who talks like that in real life?”
“We are talking about an imaginary person here.”
“Shhh!” someone in the crowd cut them off. Libby looked up and saw Aaron givi
ng her and Rose a disapproving look.
Annoying other people seemed to amuse Rose, but they stopped joking around anyway. Libby turned her attention back to the TV, but the story was over. The news didn't want to linger on the details, because a matter-of -act lie was much more effective than an elaborate one.
Once the story was over, the room went back to waiting. Ammo approached Libby and stuck his head under her hand. He was breathing excitedly and looking at her as though he wanted something, but she didn't know what.
Libby looked around the place, and for the first time since she got back from the hospital, she realized that Justin wasn't there.
Leaning in closer to Rose and lowering her voice to avoid being admonished yet again, Libby asked, “Do you know where Justin is?”
Rose shrugged, “Probably school, I guess.”
Rose's eyes went to the ground as soon as she said that. For someone who lived as a waitress by day and a member of a secret rebellion by night, Rose was remarkably bad at lying. As soon as her eyes went to the ground, Libby knew that something wasn't right.
“Where is he really?” she pressed.
“Seriously. School. Look at the time,” Rose replied.
“You know I don't like people hiding things from me.”
At that moment, the door to the Garden opened and everyone in the room turned to see who was walking in. The place fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop as everyone waited to see if Simon had returned with his flash drive.
Strangely, it took Libby a moment to think of Simon. Instead, she looked toward the door and expected to see Justin.
Nobody's expectations were met, with the possible exception of Rose. Libby could see relief wash over Rose as Paul entered the Garden.
He stopped short when he saw everyone staring at him, and as the people in the Garden deflated, he appeared to take it as a personal insult.
“Here I thought everyone would be happy to see me alive and well,” Paul said to Aaron as he approached. He smiled to Libby and then winced as he noticed the bandage on her face, and the bruise that had formed on her forehead. “I see you made it back alive. You've looked better though.”
“She kicked a guy's ass,” Rose told him, but in a strangely dry tone.
When Paul looked at Rose, Libby could tell that there was something between them. For two such sarcastic people, the energy between them seemed oddly humorless.
“HAND?” Paul asked, turning away from Rose and facing Libby.
Libby shook her head, but didn't go into detail about her attack. She would have forgotten the event entirely if people didn't keep reminding her.
Aaron approached Paul and shook his hand. He said, “Good to see you.”
“I had to hide out in a drain pipe. It was freezing, but at least I know I'm still alive, right?” Paul smiled. The smile faded when he asked, “Is Simon back?”
Aaron shook his head and Paul glanced at Libby. She thought he was going to give her an angry look. How could he not blame her for this entire mess? She went to the hospital as part of a team and came back alone. What kind of person did that?
But he didn't look angry. He looked at her as though he understood everything that she was thinking and feeling, but he didn't say anything to her. He just turned back to Aaron and said, “I'm going to clean up.”
The way he said it and the look in his eye sent a chill up Libby's spine. She'd been nervous all night long, waiting for them to return. But Paul wasn't waiting around for Simon. He didn't expect him to come walking through that door.
Libby could see the same realization in Rose's eyes. Neither one of them was making jokes to relieve the tension anymore. It wasn't funny. They were waiting for a dead man to come home.
She scanned the faces of the people in the room once again, wishing that she would spot Justin. He had nothing to do with anything that was being reported on the news, but she wanted to see him. She wanted to see Sim. She wanted to see Amanda. She needed to see the faces of everyone she knew, and make sure that they were still alive.
Someone walked away from the group, probably going to do whatever job they had in the Garden. He didn't look at anyone or talk to anyone as he left, he just went.
Then a woman did the same.
It wasn't a mass exodus by any means. She was sure that people had been coming or going all night long without her even noticing. But watching those people leave made her feel like the wait was over. They had their answer. Simon was dead. Just like Collin Powers. Because of her.
“Tell me where Justin is,” Libby said to Rose, without even looking at her.
“He went to find your mother,” Rose replied, and then she walked off. As she went, she patted her leg and said, “C'mon, Ammo. Food time.”
Ammo left Libby's side and went running after Rose, wagging his tail and spinning in circles once he caught up with her.
Libby turned to Aaron. She wanted to see the look in his eye. She was hoping for reassurance, but what she saw instead was the same expression that she imagined was on her own face. Uncertainty, mixed with guilt.
“It's not over. It's still early,” he told her, turning back to the TV.
Libby walked to his side and watched the news with him. She wasn't giving up. It was still early.
18
Going to school felt wrong. There was too much happening, and too much that needed to happen still. It seemed like Justin should just ignore his normal routine and do those more important things instead, but he needed to tread lightly. Ever since Uly died, all eyes were on him. Everyone knew that Justin was Uly's best friend, just like they knew that Marti was his girlfriend. They had undoubtedly been monitored closely, and both of them had made an effort to seem angry at Uly for what he had done. They tried to create trails which would lead officials to believe that Uly was lying to them about where he was at any given moment.
As time went on, Justin and Marti spent less and less time with each other. To the rest of the world, the one thing that linked them was now gone. If they continued to eat lunch together and walk the halls together, they would look suspicious.
It was hard enough to lead a double life at school when Uly was alive, but creating an entirely new persona at school now was exhausting. Justin had to remember to be angry and alienated. He had to keep track of who he could talk to and who he couldn't. He just wanted it to be over.
“When I was in high school, I found out that my best friend was sleeping with one of my boyfriends,” said a woman behind Justin.
He turned around, puzzled, and looked at this woman. She smiled warmly, with her head slightly tilted to one side in an attempt to look sympathetic. Everything about this woman's appearance was designed to make students comfortable around her. She was young enough to pretend to relate to them, but wore clothes that made her look mature and professional, so that they would respect her. She also wore glasses, which Justin thought might have been an effort to make her look smarter.
His first reaction upon seeing her was distrust. This was probably not what she was going for.
“I'm sorry?” he said to her, genuinely having no idea why this woman was talking about her high school boyfriends with him.
“I grew up with this friend of mine. We were inseparable. Closer than sisters could ever be. But on that day, I knew that it was all in my head. I created the relationship between us, and what she saw was something else entirely. She never cared about me.”
Justin looked down the hall, waiting for the bell to ring, so he could rush off to his next class. He smiled politely and said, “I'm sorry. That sounds horrible.”
The woman's smile grew and she said, “I was telling you that story because I want you to know that I know what it feels like. To have your best friend turn out to be something so... ugly.”
“I'd really rather not talk about this.”
“I think you should.”
“It wouldn't change anything.”
“You never know. Talking can change your entire outlook
on life.”
“I'm sorry if I sound rude, but I don't see how talking to you about Uly is going to make me feel any better. I don't see how discussing the way that he lied right to my face is going to make my eyes open to a bright new world. I don't see how thinking about that lunatic for one more second of my life could possibly be worthwhile,” Justin told her, using a carefully crafted harsh tone.
He wasn't one for emotional outbursts normally, but everyone liked a good show, so he put one on for them when he had to.
“He wasn't just a lunatic,” the woman said, her smile fading and her eyes filling with sympathy and pain, which were as carefully crafted as his anger. He hoped that he wasn't as obvious with his performance as she was. “Not to you. To you, Uly was a friend. Someone you trusted.”
“That person didn't exist.”
“Not really. But he existed for you. And I think that you should allow yourself to mourn for that person. I really think that we should talk. So I've scheduled an appointment for you to come to my office later today, after lunch.”
“I can't. I have to—”
The woman put up a finger and cut Justin off, saying, “I've cleared your schedule. Just come to my office after lunch.”
The order was given and he had no choice but to obey. He didn't even try to fight her any longer. He just gave her a nod and waited for her to walk away.
She lingered, looking him in the eyes for a few seconds. In his mind, Justin ran through all the things that he should be thinking and feeling about her and Uly, if he were truly as damaged as he wanted her to believe. He tried to project those emotions through his eyes while keeping his face blank.
Maybe it was more for his own benefit than for this woman's. Maybe he just wanted to feel as though he was doing something to thwart her attempt to read him. Whatever his reason, it seemed to work.
Perking up, the woman said, “My name is Willa Prescott, by the way. School counselor. But you can call me Willa.”