Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Fine,” I conceded. “Where do you want to talk?”

  Josh motioned to the ammunition room next to us. I opened the door and walked in, turning the lights on and trying to stop the fluttering of my stomach. Josh closed the door behind us as I turned to him. I cleared my throat, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to school my expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well…about Mykail,” he started gently. I cut him off before he could continue.

  “Josh, please,” I blurted. “I really don’t want to discuss him right now.”

  “No, I’m not asking that,” he assured quickly. He looked at the ground, nervous. “See…what I want to tell you is that…it’s okay to be upset,” he said gently. “He hurt you…and you don’t have to pretend that you’re not hurt.”

  The feelings were swelling in me like an angry tsunami, threatening to drag me under, into a dark place I was trying not to go.

  “I just want to tell you…it’s okay to cry. You don’t have to put up a front for us.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said, almost cutting him off again. “I am one of the leaders of this revolution. I can’t have people thinking that I’m too emotional to handle the things that have to be done.”

  “But, right now, you are,” he hissed, stepping closer. I backed away, keeping my arms crossed as a barrier against him, trying to discreetly get rid of the ball that was choking me and blink the tears away. “You love him…and he hurt you.”

  “Loved,” I corrected strongly. “I loved him. Not anymore.”

  Josh remained still and silent for a long moment before he looked at the ground again. I cleared my throat and turned away. I could feel the pain clawing at my abdomen, making me feel sick and dizzy.

  Josh took a deep breath and stepped forward. I retreated immediately.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “I’m going to give you a hug,” he told me simply. My eyes went wide, horrified, knowing that if he touched me I would break down.

  “No, no,” I said quickly, pushing past him. He grabbed my arm and turned me around. “Don’t, Josh,” I snapped. “Don’t do this to me, please…”

  “You can’t keep this inside, Lily.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No, you can’t,” he said. “If you don’t want to let anyone else know how hurt you are, fine, but you are not going to hurt yourself like this. I won’t let you. It will kill you.”

  He jerked me forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, locking me to him. I pushed away in horror, but his strength kept me close and I immediately felt my barriers crack.

  “You were not weak,” he whispered against my ear. “He was the weak one. He gave in to Dana. You are not weak…” he repeated, holding me tight.

  The tears were coming on too quickly for me to stop. I tried to control them, taking deep, rhythmic breaths, trying to combat the terrible emotions that were ripping through my body.

  “Please, Josh, l-let me go…” I pled. “I can’t…”

  “You’re safe here,” he said, keeping his hold on me. “It’s just me. It’s okay.”

  That proved to be my undoing. Those two little words told me everything. Josh had given me permission to accept being upset and, before I could stop myself, my arms went around him and latched onto his jacket, holding him close.

  I was not even sure what I was crying about as I buried my head against his shoulder, unable to stop my sobbing as I trembled, clutching to him. My thoughts were a muddled scene of white, like static, buzzing and moving around erratically, but not forming anything coherent. It was as though my lungs had been cut out of my chest, slowly, and my entire body was trying to find a way to gasp for breath around the pain.

  Josh lowered us to sit on the ground where I held onto him tightly, crying, clawing at the fabric of his jacket as he continued to tell me it was okay.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  “We now bring you an update on the twelve-car accident on eastbound-60 yesterday,” the female anchor said, switching stories. “According to the official report, law enforcement was working with the Commission of the People to apprehend members of the domestic terrorist group called the Central Angels. Two members of the terrorist group stole a Commission car and caused the accident while trying to evade police pursuit. The fugitives abandoned the car and are still at large.

  “Most supporters of the Central Angels are supporting the actions of the two who stole the vehicle. However, Danielle Markus of the Commission of the People had this to say earlier today.”

  Clark’s mother appeared at a press conference that had been recorded earlier.

  “This group has once again put the lives of the people of America at risk. First, they cause a riot during a demonstration that killed nine people and costs tens of thousands of dollars in damage. Then, they break into a security compound and release known criminals, including members of organized crime families, and now they are stealing government property and creating accidents that have killed one and hospitalized several others. These little terrorists are not a group that the American people should support. They are dangerous. Central is working with the Commission of the People to find them and bring them to justice before more lives are lost.”

  The anchor reappeared on screen.

  “An official statement claims that fourteen members of the Central Angels terrorist group have been caught and are going to be questioned later in the week before they stand trial for disturbing the peace and treason.”

  “That explains the people we’re missing…” Clark muttered.

  “We just have to hope that the people caught won’t be able to tell Dana where the bunker is,” Griffin sighed.

  “We tried to make sure that each person only knew one or two entrances,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I tried to get rid of the headache that had settled in my skull the previous night. “We should keep rotating guards at the entrances for the rest of the week, just to be sure. We can give them the Eight Group bracelets so that they can tell us if we’re in danger and we can find a way out.”

  “We need to ask the groups we are sending out to be more aggressive about getting food,” Tori added. “Maybe we should have someone go around in the van rather than asking them to carry it themselves.”

  “We’d need to make sure the van rarely stops moving,” Clark pointed out. “We can’t risk having a vehicle tied to us.”

  “Or being pulled over for not having license plates,” I added.

  “We could probably take some from an impounded car,” Griffin suggested. “Maybe only use the car once a week, get a few different plates and rotate them…”

  “Maybe…” I whispered. “All I know is that our food supply is getting dangerously low. We need more.”

  “We could pay for some, potentially,” Tori said. She turned to Mark. “You have money, don’t you?” He nodded.

  “But we don’t want to become dependent on buying food,” I interjected. “That means we’re going to go through money and food far quicker, and it is entirely possible that we’re going to need more ammunition and weapons. What we lifted from the camp was minimal, at best.”

  “True,” Griffin agreed.

  “Do you think there’s any way to get a message to the people who support us to give us aid?” Clark asked. “Maybe ask them to leave food somewhere to support the fighters of the revolution.”

  “Potentially…” Tori said.

  “But that would make people realize that we’re running out of supplies, and if we don’t appear strong, it could make them nervous.” I shook my head. “We’re going up against the most powerful institution in the world and the government. If we don’t look like we know what we’re doing…we could lose a lot of support. People are going to stand behind who they think will win.”

  The group fell silent, staring at the ground or at the television as the news reported on the international response to our attacks against the Commission.

  “We need ou
tside help…” Tori whispered.

  I sighed heavily and walked out of the communications room, trying to think past the fogginess in my head.

  “Lily?” a voice asked. I turned and saw Jerry Parker had followed me.

  “Mr. Parker,” I greeted. “Is everything alright?”

  “Forgive me for eavesdropping, but it sounds like you’re worried about getting food…” he said. I hesitated. I did not want the others to know that we were running low on rations. Everyone already knew that we had to be careful with our supplies, and though they grumbled about getting one and a half meals a day, they knew that we were trying to preserve our supplies. They did not, however, know how low we were getting on food.

  “Yes…” I said, hesitant to admit the problem.

  “You know, I could talk to the company about sending out a message for donation of non-perishables,” he suggested.

  I smiled. “Thanks, but I don’t want to make this a pretense for charity or anything. It would feel wrong.”

  “No, I mean…it’s already known that my company was supporting this cause, and everyone who supports you knows that you broke me out. Rather than try and make it seem like we’re running low on supplies, we could make it so that my company does it to support me and the other people you broke out of the camp.”

  I blinked, a little surprised at how appealing the idea sounded.

  “Would…would you be willing to do that?” I gasped. “I mean, that could get your entire company in trouble.”

  “The country is in trouble,” Mr. Parker said. “You made us see that. Having companies turn a blind eye to what is going on is one of the things that made the United States such a disaster. If the company gets into trouble, it’s okay. It’s a company. These are people we’re trying to help, and I want to do my part.”

  If I had not cried myself out of tears the previous night, I would have been crying again.

  “I would really appreciate it if you could do that.”

  * *** *

  The following morning, amid the late spring snow that was lightly falling over the city, Mark, Josh, Jerry, and I made our way to the middle of the city. Mark and Josh were dressed in casual clothes, and the snow was a perfect excuse to wear hoods and scarves to cover our faces.

  Slipping under the awning for the bus station, I nodded to Jerry, who went inside with the few coins we had given him for the payphone. Payphones were almost obsolete, but there were still a few places, mostly public transport hubs, that had them.

  I stood with Mark and Josh under the awning, staying outside so we could have an excuse to be covered up.

  “I really hope this works.”

  “Me, too,” Josh agreed.

  “Do you think the others are okay?” I asked, worried about sending five teams out to get food despite the recent captures. Josh hesitated.

  “I think they’ll be careful.”

  I looked through the windows at Jerry, hoping he was able to get some help from the public. The people demanded us break out the people who had been imprisoned, which put us at risk. It seemed only right that they support us and ease the strain the extra people had on our supplies.

  “Mark,” I started, “you got all your money from being…a Cleaner?” I caught myself quickly. He nodded. “How much money do you have?”

  He lifted two fingers and placed them against the palm of his other hand, tapping them three times.

  “Two thousand?”

  “Two million,” Josh corrected.

  I know my jaw hit my chest because I got the fibers of my scarf in my mouth. I coughed and spat out the scarf before rounding on Mark in shock.

  “Two million dollars?” I hissed. He nodded. “How much did you get paid for each job?”

  He tapped three fingers against his palm twice.

  “Three hundred thousand,” Josh told me.

  I was unable to speak for several long moments, looking between the two members of the Eight Group, completely dumbfounded by the numbers.

  “Did you…” I turned to Josh. “Were you a Cleaner?”

  “Only two times,” Josh shrugged. “I got one hundred thousand each…”

  “Holy shit…” I gasped. “How did you two even get away with doing that? Didn’t they notice how you looked?”

  “No,” Josh shook his head. “We were very careful. It was extremely secretive. Only after working multiple times for the same family did Mark meet them. They didn’t really care…”

  I decided I did not want to know. I did not want to think of Mark being a hired gun for the mafia, no matter how much money he had gotten from it. When I factored in the guns, ammunition, car, and whatever else he had bought, I realized he had made a lot more than two million dollars as a hit man. I turned to Mark with one final question about the sordid past.

  “Did you do that just so you could get money to support this kind of a revolution?”

  Mark nodded.

  Jerry came out of the bus station and smiled as he wrapped his scarf around his face again.

  “Well?”

  “They’re going to start with the employees first,” he explained. “They will bring in non-perishables throughout next week. In the meantime, they will put up signs around the city telling people about the donation with little wings in the corner to be sure that the supporters know,” he continued, dropping his voice. “In two weeks, we can gather those donations.”

  “Perfect,” I smiled. “Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure. But, we’re going to need someone to keep contact with them as often as possible, to help put up the signs and keep an eye out for Commission cars.”

  I nodded. Most of the Commish Kids were also living in the fort now, having run away from their families around the same time that I had been chased away from mine, but there was no way that they could avoid Commission eyes, particularly since they were already so well-known within the Commission.

  “Wait, I need to make a call,” I said quickly, darting inside the bus station.

  It was very warm in the building, but I forced myself to keep my jacket and scarf on. I did, however, lower my hood. I looked around nervously, seeing the young backpackers and older citizens waiting for their busses away from the chilly storm outside.

  I stepped in the phone booth and closed the door behind me, fishing in my pocket for more coins. Putting in the quarter, I picked up the receiver and dialed the number I wanted.

  I listened to the ringing for a few seconds, praying that there would be an answer.

  “Hello?” a voice answered hesitantly.

  “Hey,” I said. “Remember how you said you would be there to help me? I need a favor.”

  It was a short conversation. I could not stay in the station long and she would not be able to stay on the phone much longer. We made arrangements to meet in the park to talk.

  Of course, the day I chose to meet Becca in the park also happened to be the coldest day of the year.

  It was later in the afternoon, so the sun was starting to set behind the mountains and cast cold shadows around the park. While that worked well for hiding me and Mark from inquisitive eyes, it also dropped the temperature several degrees.

  I was shivering, huddling into my scarf and jacket, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. Mark did not seem at all concerned with the cold as he sat with me, always casting a wary eye around the park. He had refused to let me out of his sight. I had no problem with him tagging along. After realizing he had been right not to trust Mykail, I wanted to be sure that he trusted Becca, though I knew that he was already apprehensive.

  I saw a girl quickly shuffling through the light powder of snow to us, waving, though she did not call out to me.

  “Hey,” I greeted as she hugged me. I hugged her back, surprised at how happy I was to see her again. “How are you?”

  “Bored without you around,” Becca grinned. “Everyone kept asking where you were…but after all the other Commish Kids vanished, I think they got the idea…”
r />   “What are the rumors?”

  “The two theories are that you all joined the revolution or the Commission locked you all up,” Becca told me. She hugged me once again. “I’m so happy to see that you’re okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m alright.”

  “Did you really do what the news said?” she hissed.

  “Um…now is really not a good time to discuss it,” I laughed nervously. “You know Mark,” I motioned to the silent man at my side.

  “It’s good to see you again,” she said, extending her hand. He took it slowly and I watched the apprehension on his face. Taking careful note of it, I began to strategize how I wanted to ask for her help. Becca turned back to me. “So, you want me to help. What can I do?”

  “Well, I don’t need you to do a whole lot. And I’m going to make this quick so we can get out of the freezing cold,” I laughed, my teeth chattering. “Basically, we’re getting a little low on supplies. It’s nothing serious, but we want to make sure it doesn’t get worse.”

  “Okay.”

  “Carolina Media is holding a kind of can-drive for us of non-perishables, since we released their CEO. I was hoping that you could be my eyes and ears out here and try and get more people to donate food to us.”

  “Sure, sure,” she nodded quickly, shivering in the biting cold of the clear dusk sky. “You know you can ask me for help with anything. Do you want to me to talk through the gossip channels of the school?”

  “Sure,” I said, hoping to get as many people to help as possible. “But don’t get yourself in trouble. Say that it’s just a collection of food and that’s it. Don’t make it a recruitment thing.”

  “Okay.”

  I did not think she understood how serious I was. I felt that our fort was already severely compromised with the missing members of our revolution and Dana’s knowledge of one of the entrances, plus whatever he had learned from Mykail previously. I did not want more people knowing where we were and compromising our limited security.