The Felix Chronicles: Tides of Winter

by R. T. Lowe

  “Not really,” Lucas said, and after Caitlin elbowed him in the arm he smiled at her and put his phone away. “Sorry Little C. I heard everything you said. The ‘voice of the Opposition’ sounds like a fascinating dude.”

  Felix and Allison laughed, and before Caitlin could throw another elbow, Lucas blurted, “I got an email from my agent—David—last night when we were at the party. I thought it was fake or something, but I guess it’s legit. David told me Margot Robbie’s publicist got in touch with him to tell him she’s interested in collaborating with me.”

  “Margot Robbie?” Felix sputtered as they passed the ivy-shrouded caretaker’s cottage, the cupola topped rooflines of the buildings on the western edge of campus rising majestically on the horizon. “You being serious? Margot Robbie? Like the Margot Robbie?”

  “Crazy, right?” Lucas grinned wide. “David says it’s a serious thing too—like really serious. And Margot’s like, you know, she’s so… perfect. God, I just love her. And you know she’ll totally want to marry me once we start working together. No sane woman, after all, can resist the mystery and lifestyle of Minnesota.”

  Allison laughed. “I thought Kate Upton was desperate to marry into the mystery that is Minnesota Mayer.”

  Lucas frowned thoughtfully. “True. I guess we’ll all have to move to a state that allows that kind of thing.”

  “You’re completely mental,” Caitlin said. “Margot’s already married.”

  “You’re focusing on all the wrong things,” Lucas replied.

  “Am I?” Caitlin rolled her eyes. “What should I be focusing on?”

  “The collaboration.”

  “And what’s the collaboration?”

  “No idea. That’s what I was texting David about. I bet it’s something major though. Whadya wannna bet it’s like her directorial debut and she wants to cast me as her hot, young love interest. I could totally play that part. How hard would it be to hook up with her and look like you’re in love? I might even get—”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Allison interrupted as the path opened up and the buildings bordering The Yard came into view. The path outside the Madras Building was clotted with students and what appeared to be five or six men in khaki pants and black jackets—campus security. The front steps were teeming with activity and many of the students were holding white placards attached to poles.

  “Freedom from fear.” Harper sounded as if she was reading, and when Felix spotted the sign, he realized she was. “What’s that one say? ‘Rejectionists are the disease’. Is that what it says?”

  “Yeah,” Allison confirmed. “There’s a bunch of signs down there. ‘A hundred generations’. ‘Freedom from fear’. ‘Rejectionists are terrorists’. ‘Reject the Rejectionists.’” She laughed. “That one’s super clever.”

  The path grew tougher to navigate as they approached the building, but not everyone was trying to get inside. A large group of students stood and watched from a safe distance and Felix noticed at least three off-duty cops standing with them, speaking into their cell phones. A burst of shouting from the steps cut through the commotion and campus security escorted one of the placard carrying students down to the path.

  “Let them through!” a voice called out. “Back away from the steps please.”

  “Hey Paul Blart!” a voice shot back. “Why don’t you get a real job, you fucking asswipe rent-a-cop!”

  Felix saw Jimmy Clay’s head looming above the crowd. He was standing at the bottom of the steps, apparently making it difficult for the students to get into the building.

  “That’s not necessary,” the campus cop replied uneasily. “There’s no reason for that kind of language. Just move aside and let them through.”

  “Why don’t you make me?” Jimmy said slowly, staring down at the smaller man, clearly intimidating him with his size.

  Felix felt his fingers twitch.

  “It’s alright Clay,” said a tall kid with blond hair. “Mr. Blart’s just doing his job.” Jimmy snickered and when the tall kid turned to the side, Felix realized it was Grayson Bentley, the President of the Student Union and the son of California’s governor.

  “I should have seen that coming,” Allison said under her breath. “His dad just made a big announcement yesterday about officially joining the ERA.”

  “Like father like son,” Harper added, speaking loudly to be heard over the growing din of shouts and the familiar ERA chant of ‘freedom from fear’.

  “Hey August!” a voice cried out as they reached the stoop. “I never took you for a Rejectionist!”

  Felix turned to see Grayson and Jimmy looking up at them, smiling.

  Felix was still unclear on the meaning of Rejectionist. If it meant he wasn’t in the ERA, then he supposed he was technically a Rejectionist. If it meant something else, however, then he wasn’t. He didn’t feel strongly about being labeled. The terminology was just confusing. “Hey,” he finally replied. “You guys look like you’re having a good time.”

  Grayson laughed, pleased that he’d gotten a reaction.

  “You still have a fear of public bathrooms?” Jimmy shouted, sneering.

  Felix’s hand twitched, hard, and the muscles in his forearm contracted, forcing his arm to rise. Jimmy had cheap-shotted Felix after their last game of the season, leaving him on the floor in the bathroom stall, gasping for air on the urine spattered tile. And now Jimmy was mocking him. Challenging him. Jimmy’s face—his stupid cocky face—leered up at him. Blood began to pulse in Felix’s neck.

  Allison gripped his arm with both hands and tugged down. “Stop it!” she hissed softly. “Let. It. Go.”

  Felix blinked, clearing his head with a long breath.

  “You good?” Allison asked him, her eyes trained on Jimmy and Grayson.

  Felix nodded, still seeing red, heart thumping heavily against his ribs.

  “Hey guys!” Allison called down to them. “Go fuck yourselves!” She wheeled around, still clutching Felix’s arm, and they all made their way through the doors and into the vestibule. “I could kill those assholes,” Allison muttered, seething with anger.

  Caitlin appeared startled. “No more killing. Please. I’ve seen enough dead people for one lifetime.”

  “Sorry,” Felix said, feeling guilty.

  Allison gave Caitlin a reassuring smile. “They’ll have to do more than that to get themselves killed.”

  How much more? Felix thought, troubled that he’d nearly lost control of himself in response to a bit of heckling.

  “That’s good to know.” Lucas grinned. “I gotta admit, going places with you guys is kind of a rush.” He shook his head, looking slightly awed. “If Grayson and Jimmy had any idea of what would happen if you…” He stopped himself short, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation.

  “No more killing,” Caitlin said again, more forcefully this time as they started for the stairwell. “Come on guys. We’re here for a podcast, not another bloodbath.”

  Felix and Allison exchanged a glance. They had to be more sensitive around Caitlin. She’d suffered a major trauma, and though she was saying all the right things and maintaining the appearance of emotional stability, it might not require a whole lot to send her over the edge.

  The classroom on the second floor was packed, every seat and every square foot of hardwood occupied. Professor Hamlen stood by the lectern chatting with some students. Hamlen was older than Felix had expected, and his hair wasn’t the deliberately unkempt mop that so many professors on campus seemed to cultivate. There was energy in the air, and as Felix gazed around the room, he realized this wasn’t simply an eccentric academic sharing his quirky thoughts with a few students and some bored folks at home with nothing better to do than listen to a podcast. Something was going on here—something big maybe—and he began to pick up on the root of the vibe. This was anti-establishment, and everyone here believed they were sharing in a great clandestine adventure. Felix didn’t really know anything
about their political philosophy (other than mistrust of the ERA), but the act of participating in an activity so tangibly underground was intoxicating in a way. It felt like college—or the way college was supposed to feel—and that’s exactly what he yearned for.

  “Everyone here?” the professor called out, looking toward the hall. “Anyone trying to get in?”

  A girl standing by the entrance shook her head and closed the door.

  The professor thanked the girl, then turned to a kid who sat in a small desk next to the lectern, a laptop open in front of him. “We good?”

  “Streaming around the world, professor,” the kid replied, smiling nervously.

  “Excellent.” Hamlen gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Why are we all here?” he asked the audience, looking around the room, making eye contact and nodding at those he apparently knew. “Fear.” He smiled and many in the crowd nodded, grunting in agreement. “We are all afraid”—he paused, shaking his head slowly—“and not without cause. In less than a month, a government that had ruled this country for almost two hundred and fifty years was exposed as a house of criminals who only represented themselves and those who paid for their services at the expense of the people. The almost daily massacres, the tainted food and water supplies, the failing transportation networks, the greed and corruption that had taken hold in the corridors of power.” Hamlen frowned deeply. “We were a nation on the brink of self-destruction. Now we already refer to those responsible for our current plight as the Old Government. Their failure was so complete they became desperate, and in an attempt to hold on to their power, they did the unthinkable—they created monsters, the Numbered Ones who roam our streets and forests. Yes—we are afraid, and we have every reason to be afraid. The world out there”—the professor waved a hand toward the windows in the back of the lecture hall—“is terrifying. Death is a second away at every turn. We can’t leave our homes for fear of being shot. We can’t drink the water for fear of being poisoned. We can’t eat the food. We can’t get on a plane or train or take the subway to work. And if that’s not bad enough, monsters are killing us. The people sworn to protect us not only failed us, they deliberately endangered our welfare for personal power and profit. The corruption of our elected officials stunk to high heaven, and so they were swept aside.” Hamlen gripped an imaginary broomstick and swept it up to the ceiling, eliciting a few laughs.

  “But like the rising of the sun, the ERA came to power, the New Government, who, we are told, will protect us. They are dismantling the Old Government brick by brick and many of our former leaders, as we all know, are in jail for their crimes. The New Government, we’re led to believe, is not only tearing down the Old Government, they are cleaning up its mess. The riots in our towns and cities are nearing an end. The food is now safe and so is the water. The monsters are being hunted down and exterminated one by one. The New Government, as we have seen on the news and read in our newspapers, is restoring order. Yet”—the professor paused, raising a cautious hand—“we cannot celebrate. Not until we are safe and secure and tucked into our beds at night and each and every one of the threats that risk our welfare are addressed and corrected. There is still much to fear. There are still men with guns, and zealots and terrorists, and the monsters still come out at night to attack the unwary and the unlucky. Fear! We are still afraid, and though we have all been taught that there is nothing to fear but fear itself, we don’t really believe it.” He smiled at the crowd. “Try telling that to a man aiming an assault rifle at you or a Numbered One looking for its next meal!”

  The crowd laughed nervously.

  “So here we are,” the professor continued, “all gathered in this room because we’re afraid, but it’s not fear of monsters or poisoned water or planes dropping from the sky that brings us together. It’s fear of the ERA. Fear of the New Government and its promises to restore order and to make us safe from the monsters under our beds. The New Government has promised to deliver a world that is free from fear. You’ve all heard the chanting, haven’t you? Freedom from fear. Freedom from fear.” The professor hugged his arms across his chest as if he had a sudden chill. “Now that’s terrifying! What do you think the New Government has in mind? How will our new leaders fashion a society that has nothing to be afraid of? Think about that for a moment! Safety, security, and order aren’t bad things in and of themselves, but when they’re imposed on the population by a ruling party it can mean only one thing: authoritarianism.” He looked out at his audience, letting the word sink in. “Mark my words, freedom from fear cannot be achieved by expanding civil liberties, but by taking them away. The very pillars of our democracy are about to crumble before our eyes. The New Government’s rhetoric is only the beginning. It’s just a matter of time before it reveals its true ambitions, and my greatest fear is that our fellow citizens will stand up and applaud as our freedoms are stripped away one by one.”

  The professor ran a hand through his hair and a look of deep anguish passed over his features. “The freedoms that were earned in blood, freedoms that millions sacrificed their lives for, are about to be taken away. And for those of us like me, and like you, who stand up and decry this illegal power grab, we will become outsiders, and perhaps even worse. Because if our freedom to express our dissenting views is stripped from us, we will be called—”

  “Rejectionists!” an army of voices shouted from the hallway and the door flew open, banging against the wall. A tangled mass of bodies pushed their way into the room. A sign reading BAN THE REJECTIONISTS hurtled through the doorway and a pair of men, black jacketed campus security officers, stumbled inside, their backsides to the class as they dug their feet in, pushing against the advancing mob. Shouts of anger filled the air and students rushed for the door to assist the outnumbered campus cops. Out in the hall, Felix glimpsed more signs—bold black letters on white backgrounds—flashing above the heads of the combatants.

  “What the hell?” Lucas said. “What are they doing?”

  Allison took a step toward the door and Felix grabbed her hand. She gave him a questioning look, anger in her eyes.

  “I’m not choosing sides,” Felix said to her. “Not now. We can’t. They don’t even know what they’re fighting about—but we do.”

  Allison hesitated for a moment then nodded in resignation. “Fine.”

  Caitlin stared up at Felix and Allison, looking panicked. “Don’t hurt them,” she pleaded. “They didn’t do anything.”

  Allison put an arm around Caitlin’s shoulder and positioned her so that she was sandwiched between herself and Felix. “You’re safe,” Allison whispered. “We’re not going to hurt anyone—and no one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

  Professor Hamlen was shouting, but Felix couldn’t make out what he was saying. Near the entrance, the melee was growing in size and violence. More students had joined forces with campus security, but the ERA members inside the classroom represented only the tip of their spear and dozens more fought their way in, screaming and brandishing their signs like weapons. As Felix and his friends stood watching, Grayson pushed his way through the crowd, knocking students to the floor, his lips curled in rage. He held up a sign with both hands—FREEDOM FROM REJECTIONISTS—shouting its message at Hamlen.

  “Can you hear this?” the professor shouted into the microphone. “This is your New Government. This is a microcosm of what the country will face in the weeks and months to come. This is the New Government’s attempt to silence us. Authoritarian governments cannot abide an opposition party, and we are the Opposition! We cannot—we will not—be silenced. The New Government must know we will not stand idly by as our freedoms are stolen from us. I urge everyone listening to this message to make a stand against the tyranny of the ERA! We must organize! We must come together as a united front! And together, we must demonstrate such a show of numbers and strength that the New Government will be forced to take our demands seriously!”

  A bullhorn sounded in the hallway. “Disperse immediately! This is the p
olice! Stay calm and proceed to the staircases. Disperse immediately! This is the police! Stay calm…”

  The two groups pushing and pulling on one another began to quiet, and those on the ERA side gradually fell back to the hallway, clearing the room. Finally, only Grayson remained, standing by the door, his sign resting on his shoulder. On his face he wore a look of dark disdain, and he stared slowly around the room as if he was committing every face to memory. He stepped toward Professor Hamlen and tossed the sign at his feet.

  “You’re a fucking disgrace,” Grayson snarled, then turned and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 9

  INDEPENDENT STUDY

  Two weeks had passed since Professor Hamlen’s podcast ended in a heated confrontation between his supporters and members of the ERA, and even before tempers on both sides had time to cool, the administration had declared that the podcast would be Hamlen’s last at Portland College. In an email to the campus community, the podcasts were characterized as ‘unsanctioned attempts to promote Professor Hamlen’s personal agenda’ and therefore not a permitted use of the school’s facilities. Hamlen’s supporters were incensed. The ERA was emboldened. Felix suspected that Dean Borakslovic, an ERA member and a very unlikeable person, was the administrator behind the decision to ban the podcasts.

  In the aftermath of the administration’s decision, Felix noticed an increasingly large number of kids sporting freshly inked tiger tattoos, mostly on their forearms and wrists, a very visible and public declaration of their affiliation with the ERA, and for the first time, he was beginning to wonder if he would soon be part of the political minority on campus. He wasn’t feeling pressured yet to get branded with the mark of the New Government, but the possibility of his classmates trying to force his hand was gaining legitimacy by the day and it concerned him. Lofton’s reach, it seemed, was nearly endless, and his influence at PC was sprouting like an invasive weed, and as it thrived, its shadow grew, darkening and depleting everything around it.