Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  This time, I missed the target twice before I hit it. When I went to the third target, Mark stood behind me and helped me line up the shot, which allowed me to hit the target the first time. I managed to hit the fourth one on my own.

  I went through all six targets before unloading the gun and setting it on the table, lowering my headphones around my neck. Mark smiled and nodded once to tell me I had done a good job. He held up one finger, asking me if I wanted to try again and I nodded, reaching forward toward the gun again to load more bullets, assuring him that he did not need to replace the targets.

  I was in the process of loading the final bullet when the door banged open and caused both of us to jump. Mark reached for his gun, but stopped when he saw Clark at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide.

  “Clark?”

  “You both need to come quick,” he hissed. “Something’s wrong with Tara.”

  Leaving the gun and bullets where they were, both Mark and I ran after Clark to the main bunker, where a large group had formed around the shivering fifteen-year-old experiment as she convulsed on the ground.

  I pushed through the others to see Peter crouching next to her.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, horrified as Tara let out a pained screech, her back arching off the ground.

  “It’s a result of the testing,” he hissed. “Her brain is firing signals to her muscles to contract, but they’re contracting too much.”

  “How do we help her?” I gasped, going into a crouch, trying to ignore the prying eyes around us.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We don’t have any muscle relaxants and our painkillers are not going to be strong enough to stop what’s happening.”

  “Will it stop?” Clark asked, his eyes wide with horror.

  I looked around the crowd and noticed something interesting about the spectators. They were all the humans. I caught glimpses of the other experiments, who were in the back, sharing knowing looks with one another.

  “Griffin!” He turned to me. “You know what’s going on. What do we do?”

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “This is what happens with the SID-3. All the experiments go through it…”

  “The what?” Peter asked, turning around, cringing at the sound of Tara’s pained scream.

  “The SID-3,” Tori repeated, looking sadly over the situation. “It’s sort of standard for the experiments of the Commission.” I turned to Tara, seeing the veins bulging under her skin as her muscles trembled. “This is the negative side-effect and relapse. It tends to happen with the younger experiments.”

  “The injections I was giving her were to keep this from happening?” Peter asked. The experiments nodded. “Is she going to come out of this?”

  “I don’t know,” Tori whispered.

  “What are her chances?” Clark pressed. No one answered.

  “We need to get her someplace else,” I declared. “Is there any place in the medical room that we can move her?”

  “No,” Peter shook his head dejectedly.

  Tara screamed and her body convulsed violently, her head colliding with the wall, splitting the skin open. She continued to twist and contort, her voice raw. Immediately, other experiments ran forward and picked her up, fighting with her convulsions, trying to take her toward the strategy room. Clark and I held the others back, telling them to stay out as we closed the doors, letting only Peter and a few other experiments in.

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked the experiments as they tried to hold Tara to the table as she screamed in agony. “How long do these last?”

  “It depends,” Cody said. “I’ve seen a kid relapse into this and it killed him.”

  “Killed him?”

  “The SID affects the heart, too,” Griffin told me. “The heart is a muscle, and when it gets hit with this, it can cause the heart to explode.”

  “What the fuck?!”

  “We don’t have any more of the injections I used to give her…” Peter choked.

  “Just hold her down!” Tori called, desperately trying to get the convulsing teen to remain still. The other experiments pinned her down, trying to keep her from moving as she let out piercing screams that set my teeth on edge.

  Clark and I remained near the door, watching in horror as Tara’s body locked in painful spasms, her breathing labored and pained between screams.

  Tara’s body flailed against the people restraining her and, with a terrible screech, one of her arms broke under the tension of her muscles as she fought against the other experiments.

  I felt sick.

  “Come on, Lily,” Clark said, taking my arm and leading me out, feeling just as ill. We both left, letting the experiments who had been through the same test deal with the horrific situation.

  For an hour, the bunker waited in silence, barely able to hear the screams coming from the other room. Everyone was tense and nervous, not sure what to make of the screaming.

  Zane, Cody’s brother, sat down next to me.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m worried about Tara,” I hissed. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “No. Very few have reactions like that,” he said, resting his chin on his knee as he looked distantly into the bunker. “It’s like Tori said. Generally, the younger experiments have this kind of relapse several months after the test.”

  “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

  He remained silent.

  Finally, silence came over the bunker as the dull screaming from the strategy room stopped. For ten minutes, no one spoke. They remained as they were, throwing glances at one another, wondering if Tara had come out of the spasm, or if she had not survived.

  When the door opened, everyone jumped, tense and apprehensive.

  Griffin stuck his head out of the door and looked at Victor, who was the nearest experiment. He whispered something to the man and Victor stood, walking into the bunk room. I watched Griffin as he searched the crowd for me. When our eyes met, I could feel the sinking in my stomach.

  Slowly, he dropped his eyes to the ground and refused to meet my eyes again.

  That was when I saw Victor come out of the bunk room carrying a white sheet.

  * *** *

  The day that Tara’s body was to be buried, I left the fort and went to my old school, Mark close behind. I felt completely out of place approaching the building during school hours, but I needed to get out of the bunker.

  Tara’s sudden death had shaken everyone, and there was a somber mood around the fort. Feeling responsible for the Eight Group being unable to steal the medicine that the experiments needed, I had a burning desire to get out of the fort, worried I was going to be judged, or blamed, for Tara’s death.

  I wanted to talk to someone outside of the situation.

  When school let out, I hid around the side of the building, Mark close by, both of us hiding within our coats and scarves. I pretended to fiddle with my phone, acting like a normal teenager in case anyone happened to see me. Hiding behind his glasses, Mark was able to keep an eye out for Becca.

  When he saw her, he nudged me.

  Quickly moving toward her, I cleared my throat, trying to be discreet. She turned around.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, surprised. “Hi.” She turned to Jill and Taylor, who were looking me over, confused, not recognizing me. Becca turned to see their reactions before smiling at them.

  “I totally forgot that I have a date already,” she laughed. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Jill and Taylor turned away, throwing concerned glances at me as I avoided their eyes. I guessed with how bloodshot my eyes were from the crying and the sleepless night before, I looked different enough not to be recognized.

  “Did something happen?” Becca asked.

  “Can we go talk somewhere?”

  We ended up by the river, Mark close to us, trying to pretend to be part of our conversation.
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  “One of ours died last night…” I finally muttered. She gasped and her eyes went wide.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s what happens when they don’t have certain medicine,” I said, my eyes to the ground. “Most of the experiments are sick in some way.”

  “Where do you get the medicine? Is there somewhere I can get it?”

  “Only in the Commission,” I shook my head. “But it does make me realize that we have to move fast and get the Commission taken down. We can’t help the other experiments otherwise.” I had quickly come to the understanding that Tara was not the only one who had been in need of special attention. As Dana had told me before, all the experiments, except for the Eight Group, had something wrong and needed attention. Without the constant supply from the Eight Group, our revolution was quickly in danger of losing our most valuable assets.

  “Well…I don’t know if it helps any, but I thought of another way for you to get food,” Becca said, trying to smile. I looked at her, smiling before I could help myself, tears fresh in my eyes.

  “You’re really full of ideas that seem to help.”

  “Well, it really came to me out of nowhere, but I figure, why not hunt?”

  “Hunt?”

  “There are deer in the woods. If you need food, you can hunt them. Do it the way we lived thousands of years ago.”

  I laughed and shook my head, turning to Mark.

  “How did we not think of that?” I asked. He smiled, shrugging one shoulder.

  “Well, to be fair, my dad is a hunter, and he was talking about the next hunt he’s going on, which made me think about it,” Becca chuckled.

  “You’re dad’s a hunter?”

  “Yeah, well, he’s friends with Kirk Sterling, you know, from Sterling Firearms?” Becca explained. “He got into hunting through him.” Becca sighed heavily. “Anyway, I don’t know about how to help move the revolution along faster.”

  “Would you be willing to help in a protest?”

  “Sure,” Becca agreed without hesitation. “When are you thinking of doing something?”

  “Thursday morning,” I explained. “Everyone’s making signs now, but we could always use numbers. There are some people who can’t go out and protest, like him.” I motioned to Mark, which caused Becca to nod in sudden understanding.

  “What about the school?” she asked. “Do you want me to send out some rumors that there will be a protest on Thursday?”

  “Do you think anyone would come?” I groaned, rolling my eyes as I thought about the way people had been bashing us on the internet because of the stunt Dana pulled with his drunk man.

  “Absolutely,” Becca nodded. “A lot of people our age are still behind the revolution. We all know that you’re not trying to become the new government. That was just some drunk.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Thank God some people noticed that that had nothing to do with us,” I said with a quiet laugh. “If you think you can get some help, it would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Of course. I told you, I will do what I can.”

  * *** *

  The day was full of tension. It was not just about the fact that we were going to demonstrate again, even after the last appearance had ended with people dead, but we were unsure about how many people would show up, who would pay attention, or if we would be well-received.

  And everyone was still upset over Tara’s unexpected death.

  Not to mention, everyone was also watching one of the members of our demonstration very closely.

  Mykail had been set free of his chains, and I told him that if he tried to run, we would not hesitate to shoot him. He promised that he would not run, and reminded us that he believed in what we were doing and wanted us to succeed. I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, though I did not say anything when I saw the challenging glare Mark gave to Mykail.

  It was a look that said: Try anything and I will kill you immediately.

  The group that was going to be walking down Main Street, backing up traffic to be sure that we got as much attention as we could, got out of the fort at different points, each of them knowing when to scatter and where to go. Most were also concealing guns, just in case we had to defend ourselves, though everyone was ordered not to shoot anyone center-mass.

  The gun under my jacket felt heavy and I was constantly aware of it.

  When we were gathered at the fountain at the top of Main Street, I saw at least forty people waiting, most students from my school that I had passed in the hallways, not registering their faces, but aware of their presence. They were carrying signs and had already gained attention from some of the people on their way to work. Already there were phones taking pictures and videos of us as we gathered.

  Realizing how quickly we could get the police, or even the military, called on us, I knew we had to start.

  From under the blanket Tori was walking next to, Mykail stepped out on my call and darted away, taking off into the sky with a powerful stroke of his wings, holding the banner he had tied to him, releasing it when he soared over our heads and between the buildings lining Main Street. There were gasps and cries as he started flying, circling through the air to keep pace with us as our group, much larger than I anticipated, began our march.

  “Stop the lies! Stop the lies!”

  We chanted, holding signs and banners that declared the Commission had lied about making weapons and they lied to create a distraction and turn the people against us. We walked through the stopped cars at a red light, causing several people to get out and take videos and photos as we passed them, causing more of a traffic jam. We tried to spread across the entire street, also taking up the sidewalks.

  I was somewhere near the middle of the group at Mark’s request, and watched as some spectators remained where they were, watching with fascination, others with indignation, and even a few with indifferent glances. Some started walking with us, repeating the chant, making our numbers swell.

  We continued the long march down Main Street, aiming for Central City Square, where we would protest as long as we could before scattering.

  We needed peaceful exposure.

  It took thirty minutes for us to go down Main Street. Cars were honking, all for different reasons. More joined and I was feeling empowered, thinking that we were getting people back on our side. Mykail soared above us, his banner reading: “No More Secrets!”

  We managed to get to Central City Square, something that exceeded my expectations.

  There, we gathered in a large circle, turning to face city hall and continuing our various chants as news crews filmed our protest. We kept most of the experiments in the middle, also as a means of protection. Mykail circled above us, enthralling many as they got the longest look at him that they had ever been able to.

  The spectators of the demonstration were shouting questions, asking us what we wanted in place of the Commission, telling us we were too young to understand, thanking us for standing up against the Commission of the People, and so many other muddled messages that I could not distinguish all of them.

  I was starting to get nervous about how long it seemed to be taking law enforcement to appear.

  I looked at Mykail and saw him circling higher, watching the streets for the police that would undoubtedly show up.

  Things got ugly very fast.

  It started when one older man came forward, yelling that the Commission was the best thing that ever happened to the country. He claimed we wanted to tear down the most stable society in the world to put in place something similar to the Washington System. While everyone in our group had been told to remain quiet and not engage anyone outside the demonstration, the students of my school were not under the same constraint, and a few yelled back at him, causing the chanting to weaken and more attention to be paid to the confrontation in the front.

  A few others who supported the Commission of the People began voicing their opinions alongside the older man. I could not e
ntirely see what was going on from my position, but I could hear the increased yelling as the chanting died down.

  Then, there was a great surge forward. People dropped their signs and tried to pull back the few students who had rushed forward to attack those trying to take their signs away. I heard a whistle and saw Mykail pointing up Second Street before flying away, gaining the attention of a lot of people.

  “Now!” I bellowed.

  Signs and banners were abandoned as people scattered. Tori and I started in our direction when we heard gunshots. It was impossible to tell where the noises had come from with the way the sound reverberated off the buildings, but the screaming started, and chaos ensued.

  Rather than scatter as they should have, many of the revolutionaries pulled out their guns and tried to gather together to defend themselves, causing others behind them to be stuck and confused, rushed forward by others and pulled in disorienting directions, creating more confusion and danger for everyone involved.

  The public was trying to find a path to get away from the gun-bearing revolutionaries and the police, who were also trying to maintain order, though some were turning their guns on the people scattering, not sure who was part of the Central Angels and who was an innocent bystander.

  A few of the younger teens ran forward and tried to overtake some of the police cars.

  I saw bodies dropping to the pavement.

  Tori grabbed my wrist and pulled, whistling loudly to remind everyone that it was time to retreat. We slipped into the alleys and ran along the shadowed areas, followed by a few others as we tried to get away safely.

  This was much bloodier than the last demonstration, and while my stomach turned over at the thought of the dead, there was another part of me that scolded those who had stormed at the cars. This was supposed to be peaceful to avoid the violence that the people were starting to associate with us.

  Instead, they had managed to turn everything around and get us into trouble again.

  I turned when we reached our designated entrance tunnel to see who was following us, relieved to see Becca trying to catch her breath.