One girl left the room. A few of the others in the classroom were looking at their desks, trying not to look at the bodies but unwilling to leave the room. My eyes followed every nasty cut and slice across their pale skin in morbid fascination.
“These two sisters were torn apart with the use of the machetes that the army used when cutting through jungles and underbrush in other countries. After they were cut up, the sisters were left as roadblocks for over a month on the major highway leading between former Utah and Colorado, which is where Thomas Ankell was at the time. As you may recall from your years of study on the Second Revolution, the entire country was afraid to leave their homes when the revolution really started, and many never crossed state lines. Those who did were demonized as sympathizers of the Second Revolution by the Washington System, so the army blocked all entry to the state on major highways. The Smith sisters,” he motioned to the bodies on the black pavement, “were left as warnings to those who sympathized with Ankell.”
Mr. McDermott moved to click the button for the next picture but he stopped and turned to the class.
“The next picture is the one with Paul and the others, so if you feel that you cannot handle it, I suggest you leave now.”
Two other students did leave. I was tempted, but I stayed, curious more than anything.
“Okay,” Mr. McDermott nodded when the door closed, showing the next picture in vivid, distressing color. I felt my stomach flip and I turned my head away, closing my eyes, but the image was burned into my retinas. Paul was hanging between Diane and George from a tree branch. Diane was closest to the trunk, and as a runaway at age seventeen, I was sure that she had been beautiful in life. Now, she was hanging from the tree with one arm extended stiffly above her head, the rope cutting under her arm and around her neck, holding her in a crooked suspension. She was naked, her body covered in blood, feces, and flies as her glassy eyes stared coldly into space. George, on the other side of Paul, was hanging from his neck, both his arms twisted angrily behind his back, broken in multiple places, his body also defiled in the same manner as the other two. However, his eyes were not staring into space, for there were two gaping, bloody holes in place of a glassy gaze.
Paul was defiled and hanging upside down from one foot, causing his other leg to fall to the side, showing that there was no care in displaying his dirty, mutilated body. As a child, his dead face filled me with horror and disgust. I could not understand how someone could do such horrors to a child.
“As you know, these were all orphans that Thomas took into the revolution when their orphanage burned to the ground in the riot of San Francisco. Thomas Ankell never allowed them to fight in the war, but when they were out gathering food, they were killed by the Washington Armed Forces. This was the single act that brought the most support to the Second Revolution and tripled the strength of Ankell’s force.”
Mr. McDermott clicked off the projector and walked outside the classroom to retrieve the students who had left, bringing them back in with apologies.
“Okay, no more pictures today,” he assured, resuming his position at the front of the room as the students returned to their desks. “The ultimate question is…why did Washington allow this to get out?” He looked around the silent classroom expectantly. “Why would Washington, who had already limited press coverage and silenced most people from talking about the Second Revolution, allow these stories to become so widespread that the people would be allowed to know about them?”
There was still no answer.
“Come on…get off your break brain and turn your school brain back on. Try to think of it from Washington’s perspective. What do they gain from this?”
I looked at Becca and the others around me, trying to see who would speak first. No one did, all doing the same thing I was doing by looking around to see who would talk.
“Do you think they believed it would turn people away from the Washington System?” Mr. McDermott prompted.
“I don’t see how they could think it would not,” Felicity blinked in shock. “I mean…the Washington military is doing these horrible things to people, to children, of course the people would side with Ankell.”
“Right,” Mr. McDermott nodded. “So, why did they do it?”
No one spoke.
“They were desperate,” Mr. McDermott answered seriously. “They had a revolution that was growing bigger and bigger by the day and they were desperate for any results. So, they allowed these stories to be published.” He set his copy of the book down and thought about how to continue. “Thomas Ankell and his force were using guerilla warfare, and even though the Washington military outnumbered the revolutionaries, they were unable to defeat them because the attacks were at night, they were done in places where the larger tanks and guns would have caused immense civilian casualties, and Washington did not want any civilians dead because they did not want to run the risk of people turning against them due to the casualties.” Mr. McDermott pursed his lips. “They did not want to risk that, so why did they think that these were okay?”
There was a long silence before Ben raised his hand and started to answer hesitantly.
“Well…I don’t know about the other two, but you said that Washington tried to pin the death on Thomas Ankell and his group…”
“Exactly!” Mr. McDermott nodded. “They were trying to demoralize the enemy,” he said very slowly. “Understand this very thoroughly. They were trying to pin Thomas Ankell as someone who did not care for human life, someone that could not be trusted. Now, obviously, they missed their mark entirely, but there was another reason for mutilating members of the Second Revolution, and that was to try and get them to give up. Washington wanted Ankell and Morris to lose their will to fight because they were tired of seeing their comrades dead. This is very important in this kind of warfare. It is not exclusive to this war. It happens all around the world in all different wars. That’s why they say war is hell.”
* *** *
For the rest of the day, I was perfecting my plan for the Liberation Parade. I was practically bouncing in my seat as I waited for the clock to move to the right position, signaling the end of the school day.
I was excited to see Mark after school. He smiled at me and took my backpack, as was our tradition, and I got in the car to avoid the chill. I wanted to tell Mark my plan, but I knew that Dana would have replaced the bugs in the car with his increase in security measures. Therefore, as I waited for Clark, I grabbed the notebook that Mark had by the passenger’s seat, ripping one of the pages out and using the pen in my purse to scrawl a quick message.
As Clark got in the car, I smiled at him and capped the pen.
“It is so cold,” Clark chuckled around his chattering teeth. “How are you?”
“Okay.” I extended the paper to him.
I have a plan. Can we meet tonight?
“How are you?” I asked casually.
Clark nodded, pointing at the driver’s seat, where Mark was getting in the car.
“Can’t complain,” he answered. I sat forward as I laughed, extending the paper in front of Mark.
“I am not looking forward to having homework again,” I groaned, keeping up with our conversation as I handed Mark the pen for a response.
“Tell me about it,” Clark agreed, rolling his eyes. “But, at least this is our last year. And then off to university.”
“Yay…” I groaned. “Second verse, same as the first.”
Mark slid the paper back to me.
Eleven. Lily’s house.
I showed it to Clark who nodded as he laughed along with my sarcastic statement. Mark extended his hand again, so I handed him the note. He ripped off the portion used to write the short message before returning the rest of the paper to me. I watched with wide eyes as Mark put the two-statement conversation in his mouth and began chewing it as he turned the car on.
Clark was just as surprised. I was still impressed at how careful Mark was despite knowing his meticulous care.
Mark drove us to the Commission where we went through the new security measures before going through the routine of finding a conference room. Clark was a good student, pulling out his homework while I pretended to read, thinking over and fine-tuning my plan, Mark standing dutifully outside the door.
Sean came into the room in the early evening.
“Miss Sandover,” he said, motioning for me to follow him.
“What is it?”
“Dana wants to speak with you,” Sean told me. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” he chuckled when he saw my horrified expression. “He should be getting out of his previous appointment now, and he asked me to bring you to his office.”
I glanced at Clark and then nervously stood, walking to Sean and sending Mark a semi-reassuring smile. I wanted to ask Sean a bunch of questions about how the investigation into the missing prisoners was going and what kind of mood Dana was in, but I said nothing, unable to find the courage.
We were at his office door far too soon. I took a deep breath as Sean opened the door and motioned me in.
Stepping in, I saw immediately that Dana was not alone. There was an overweight man standing on the other side of Dana’s desk, his suit jacket off as he straightened his tie. The stranger whirled around, his eyes wide with horror. I stopped in my tracks and blinked at him before turning to Dana, who was perfectly composed, as usual, sitting in his chair, looking at the surface of his desk pensively. He looked up when he heard me walk in and smiled, his uncovered eyes focusing on me with hawk-like intensity.
“Little Lily,” he grinned. “Monsieur Debord, if you will pardon me. My head of security will see you out.”
“Yes, of course,” the man mumbled with his thick accent, grabbing his jacket hurriedly and scurrying past me, avoiding eye contact as he slipped out the still-open door, which closed behind him.
As soon as the door shut, Dana sighed and rolled his eyes, reaching over to his desk drawer and opening it as I walked closer. He opened a container from the drawer and pulled out a white mint, popping it between his perfect teeth and sighing, throwing the tin of mints on the desk and leaning back in his chair.
“It’s going to take forever to get that taste out of my mouth…”
I cringed.
“You’re disgusting,” I snarled. “With him? Really? Whoring yourself out to old, fat, foreign guys now?”
Dana shrugged and took a breath through his nose, slowly letting it out as he drummed his fingers along the arm rests of his chair, looking distantly around his office before he finally focused on me, finding his train of thought.
“How was school today?”
“What are you? My father?”
“No,” Dana sighed, extracting a letter from the papers on his desk, turning it to me. “But you might not graduate with your current grades.”
I started forward, studying the piece of paper, seeing the official letterhead of my school above the graph of my grades.
“Why do you have this?”
“All of your records are open to the Commission. You should know that,” Dana said. He leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, playing with the mint. “If you keep these grades, you won’t graduate.”
“What do you care?”
“You’re in the Commission, I need to make sure my people look educated.” Dana smiled thinly. “So it is in my best interest if you don’t fail in your last year of Third Tier.” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, motioning to the seats in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Slowly, I lowered myself into one of the chairs, watching him as his tongue rolled the mint around, pressing it to his teeth and to each cheek.
“After all those wonderful years of being in the top one percent, you’re suddenly sliding at an alarming rate,” he noted. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“What are you now, my guidance counselor?” I scoffed.
“Something like that,” Dana said very seriously. “Your parents are home, what’s that like?”
“What? You didn’t see how they were when they got back?”
“I did, but I can assure you, I see something very different than you,” he smiled devilishly. I straightened.
“What do you mean? What do you see?”
“Oh, come now, that’s no fun,” Dana chuckled. “Besides, I’m not talking about how they were. I want to know how you’re handling it.”
“Me? They’re my parents, of course I’m happy to have them back.”
“Has your mother been kinder to you?”
“Yes…” I answered hesitantly. “Did you say anything to her?”
“No, I’ve hardly spoken to her since she left,” Dana shook his head. “But I figured that she would act differently when she returned. What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“Does he still seem like the peacekeeper?”
I opened my mouth and then stopped, thinking carefully about the atmosphere in my house since my parents’ return.
“No…” I admitted, a little surprised at the realization.
“So, things aren’t as turbulent anymore?” Dana continued. I shook my head slowly. “Great. Then you can pull those grades up and graduate.”
I rolled my eyes.
“My grades have nothing to do with what’s going on in my family.”
“No?”
“No,” I repeated. “I don’t care about school.”
“You don’t care about your future?” Dana raised an eyebrow.
“Why should I?” I asked sharply. “You own my future.”
“I do,” Dana affirmed. “Which is why I want you to graduate. I am making an investment in you.”
“An investment?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking.”
“I thought you wanted to have me locked up in the back so you can make me into some experiment,” I snarled.
“Ooh, that would be fun, too,” he chuckled, standing and walking to the front of his desk, leaning against the front edge and crossing his arms. “But you need to learn a little more before I can really have fun with you. You’re still so simple, so direct in your behavior. I need you keener, and just a little more discreet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You think you know how to play me, Little Lily,” Dana said. “And while, right now, you might have me confused about your involvement in the breakout, you have not done anything to clear my suspicions.”
“I don’t know how to,” I defended. “I didn’t do anything.”
“And see, if you were smarter, you would find a way to make me believe that,” Dana said with a smile. “But you don’t believe it, so how can I?”
“What?” I snapped, standing. “How can I not believe that I wasn’t involved when I wasn’t involved?”
“You tell me,” Dana said gently.
I let out a short pant of disbelief and shook my head.
“I must say, Little Lily, you are making fine progress,” Dana complimented darkly. “You’re more commanding, far more in control of your desires.” He smiled knowingly. “Did you have a little help breaking down some barriers?”
My eyes went wide.
“What are you implying?”
Dana grabbed my arm, pulling me to him, his hands locking around my lower back as I fell against him. I tried to push away from his chest, but his hands were hard on my body. One of his hands reached down to palm me through my jeans while the other hand held me close. I shivered, but managed to push away, squirming out of his grasp and glaring at him from a safer distance.
“Stop doing that!” I barked.
“You’re not a virgin anymore,” Dana noted. “Congratulations.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“You didn’t notice the difference?” Dana gawked, his eyebrows high. “Wow, you need to sharpen up, Little Lily. You pushed away from me. You still shivered when I touched you, but there was a time when my touc
h intoxicated you and all your barriers fell immediately. Now that you know what a man can offer, the anticipation factor has greatly decreased.”
I blinked, surprised at his ability to read something so easily, and my inability to notice sooner.
“You’re telling me that all those times you were touching me, coming onto me and seeing what I would do…that was just to see if I was still a virgin?”
“Yes.”
I gaped openly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you.”
“I did not mean that as a compliment.”
“I took it as one regardless.” He leaned back on his hands. “The fact that you’re not a virgin anymore makes me more suspicious that you were involved in our breach of security.”
“What does that have to do with anything? How would my being a virgin change anything?”
“Virgins are timid, more filled with fear, whether they acknowledge it or not. But I know your type, Little Lily. You get a taste of something and you start wanting more, and that makes you understand better your desires, your limits, your powers…and you start learning how to get what you want without letting your fear cloud you.”
“I am still afraid,” I corrected. “I am afraid that you are going to control the rest of my life. I’m afraid that if I do one thing wrong, you will take me into the back and mutilate me into something that should never come into being. I mean, how can you blame people for wanting to break out of the Commission? How can you not expect some sort of uprising from these people that you are capturing and torturing?”
“I do expect it,” Dana contradicted. “I expect it, and I am prepared for it.”
“How can you pass it off like that?!” I snapped. “Those people are just like the people of America. They just want to live their lives!”
“So I should let murderers and rapists go free?”
Inside Page 92