Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  I was not the only one, but the only person who looked worse than me was Mark. Everyone fell silent when he emerged from the rec room he had made his bedroom the previous night to drink away his pain. He trudged across the bunker, head low, eyes bloodshot and face pale, toward the bathrooms. I watched him, surprised to see him so undone.

  When he came out of the showers, he looked slightly better, about on par with how I looked once I was cleaned up.

  Cody, sitting with his siblings and two other experiments, turned to him as he was walking toward the cases of water we always kept near the door of the strategy room.

  “Mark,” he called. The experiment stopped and turned, his shoulders slumped, his entire frame looking twenty years older. “The Commission is holding a press conference tonight to talk about their course of action. Do you have an idea of what we should do next?”

  I understood Cody’s effort to focus Mark on something else.

  He stooped and picked up a bottle of water before shaking his head and walking away.

  The action made me queasy.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight,” my father said over the live broadcast of the press conference. “People of America, I know you have been patiently awaiting this broadcast and I would like to thank everyone on behalf of the Commission of the People and Dana Christenson for being so understanding about the time taken to deliberate a course of action.”

  He looked down at the papers in front of him. Everyone watching in the communications room remained on edge, their eyes glued to the screen. I spared a glance at the others in the back of the room with me. Tori was leaning against Griffin, her arms looped around his, both looking torn and unsettled. Mykail was watching the broadcast with angry interest, just like Clark.

  Mark was leaning against the doorframe at the very back of the group, his entire demeanor dark.

  “Lately, there have been cries from the American people to stop the violence and find a way to come to a peaceful compromise. The Central Angel group has spoken out against the Commission of the People, and while this group has been labeled a domestic terrorist sect, we at the Commission of the People remember the incredible support their demonstrations had from the American people.

  “It is understood that the Commission of the People is an organization that has always been surrounded with controversy, even in times of peace. The international community praised the Commission of the People during the restoration after the Second Revolution, and then became just as concerned about the power the Commission exhibits even today.

  “Therefore, I would like to come to the American public today and explain that the Commission has never had plans to take over the country, and we have strict rules and regulations that are strongly enforced by Leader Simon and Central, as well as the international leaders who were concerned about America becoming a totalitarian power. The claim of the Central Angels terrorist group that the Commission was researching the alteration of human performance in battle is not unfounded. I have been asked to tell you the truth today, and then make a very important announcement that will drastically change the power of the Commission of the People,” my father continued, taking deep breath before he pressed on.

  “As was stated over a month ago, the Commission of the People did, in fact, have some research relating to altering the strengths of the human body in an attempt to help our soldiers, should they ever be needed for international conflict as happened two decades ago. This research was in the preliminary stage, and Leader Simon was meeting with the Regulators of the Regions to decide if it was a course that we wanted to pursue. After the research was approved about a year ago, Leader Simon took the idea to the international community, asking the other countries of the world for permission to peacefully carry out these tests, without fear of creating another nuclear race that would lead to a standoff across the globe.

  “It would appear that the Central Angels gained access to the preliminary information and created the abomination that destroyed Central Hall and the Chamber of Regions last week, costing hundreds of good American citizens their lives and reminding us of the terror that our country has seen in the past. This creature, and the others within the group, must be stopped at all costs to avoid such horrible tragedies in our future.

  “But violence cannot solve violence,” my father sighed. “And the American people have spoken, begging both the Commission of the People and the Central Angels to stand down and come together to discuss a peaceful treaty. The people of America came to fear the Commission of the People with the information that the Central Angels presented. Then, they became afraid of the Central Angels when they attacked our capital so violently. It is abundantly clear that the two groups cannot continue this war at the cost of the lives of Americans. The first step must be taken to resolve this conflict.

  “This leads me to my announcement,” my father said, looking at the press members before him. “Leader Simon is believed to be well enough to leave the hospital in the morning. Mr. Dana Christenson, who has been by his side through is recovery, has made a decision that will be monumental within the Commission of the People. Due to the horrific attack, he has decided that he is no longer fit to run the Commission and feels that he shares some of the responsibility for the attack on Central.”

  Try all of the responsibility… I growled to myself, grinding my teeth together.

  “Therefore, Thursday, Dana Christenson will publicly resign his title as head of the Commission of the People.”

  That caused shock in the press as well as in the communications room of the fort. There was mumbling that rumbled through the speakers and around the room as the revolutionaries mused among themselves how true the statement was.

  I looked at the people to my right, my eyes wide. They shook their heads, not believing what had been said.

  Mark was staring silently at the screen as my father began speaking again.

  “This will be the first time that the head of the Commission of the People will show his face publicly. He wishes to address the American people and apologize for the wrongs that the Commission of the People has been perceived guilty for and then he will resign his title. He will also plead to the Central Angels to come to the negotiation table peacefully, which will be his last act as head of the Commission of the People. Leader Simon will then decide our next leader of the Commission.”

  The press conference opened up to questions, but no one was interested in those, since they were asking why Dana had kept himself hidden for so long and if it would mean the end of the Commission of the People to have him resign.

  I looked at Griffin.

  “He has to be lying…”

  “I agree,” Griffin said. “I honestly don’t know what to think about this move. I would have never guessed he would pull a stunt like this.”

  “But…no one outside of the Commission of the People has even seen Dana,” Clark pointed out. “Dana will probably just put someone else out there to make a resignation and no one besides the Commission will know the difference.”

  “Except for us,” Mykail added. “Why would he do that when he knows that all the experiments of the Commission have seen his real face?”

  “How would we be able to prove it’s not him?” I challenged. “We couldn’t. We would be stuck.”

  “He says that the Commission wants to come to a compromise,” Tori said, looking at the screen, her brow creased in thought. “Does that strike anyone as odd?”

  “Not really.” I shook my head. “It’s a pretense. He’ll just take us captive once he has us out in the open.”

  “It would have to be a very elaborate pretense,” she said. “Think about it. If he pleads with us to come to a treaty with the Commission, then we’re expected to follow that. If he tries to take us, then he violates the truce he decided to put in action. By making this statement, the people of America are expecting to see us make the truce. Our faces have been all over the new
s and the internet. The people know what we look like. How can he pull this off when he knows we’re not willing to negotiate with him because we’re sure that he’ll use a decoy instead of himself?”

  “Maybe that’s the plan,” Griffin hissed. “He knows we won’t negotiate, because he knows that we’ll figure out he’s lying. So we won’t come to a truce, and he can keep the Commission in the clear. We’ll be the villains.”

  “So, what? You want to go and try to reason with him knowing that he’s just going to kill us?” Mykail gaped.

  “No,” Griffin shook his head, turning to us with an expression of realization. “That’s just it. He has us in check. We can’t move in either direction. We’re stuck.”

  I sighed and rubbed my face, closing my eyes and trying to think.

  I had to admit, it was yet another brilliant move on Dana’s part.

  “What do you think, Mark?” Griffin asked, turning to the silent experiment. Mark looked around at us, still leaning against the door frame before he sighed and turned away, disappearing.

  “Damn it…” Griffin breathed, trying to figure out how to get Mark to participate in the revolution again. Mark had not even had a day to start grieving the loss of Josh before he was called upon to plan. I understood he was still in pain, but things were getting worse for us, and it was imperative that we had his strategic mind to help.

  I left as well, going to the showers for the second time that day. There were two shower rooms, one for men and one for women because there was no privacy once inside the room. No one else was in the cold, tiled space, everyone fixated on what was going on with the press conference, starting to feel the pressure from the Commission of the People.

  I stripped down, shivering as my bare feet moved over the tile and walked to the corner stall, stepping between the two half-walls and turning on the water. Usually, everyone was timed in the showers because of the limited hot water, but I decided to ignore that rule. I turned the water to hot, almost scalding, flinching when it hit my skin, but I welcomed the pain.

  We had been backed into a corner.

  Dana had manipulated everything so carefully that we had been forced into a corner without having to do anything. Our demonstrations only got violent when the people outside the revolution got out of hand. Then our very image was turned upside down. Mykail, our symbol, was now called the ‘creature’ instead of the angel…the ‘abomination,’ as my dad had stated for the press.

  The only thing that could convince people otherwise was if we were able to storm the Commission of the People with cameras and reveal the real horrors. But now that Central had been attacked and so many were dead, the people were no longer supporting us. The few loyal followers we had were looking at us skeptically, not sure who to believe and hoping to see both sides come to a truce. Even someone I thought could be trusted had turned against us because of the attack on Central, and that was the reason I had spent the previous day watching Mark dig a grave.

  But it was too late to act. Any action now would be perceived as violent. If we stormed the Commission after the announcement had come that the Commission of the People wanted to reach a truce, then we would be the violent party and we would lose what little support we still had. But going to the negotiation table peacefully screamed for a trap. Dana was far too cunning. There was something more. Something else had to be in the shadows that would seal our fate.

  There was a chance that if we didn’t meet with the more-than-likely-fake Dana and remained completely silent in our fort, we could fade into obscurity and people would eventually forget about us, thinking we had gotten scared and disbanded. However, we had no supplies to sustain ourselves, and without Mark’s connections and cunning, we would be unable to get supplies. There was no way money could buy the serums the experiments needed to survive. Mykail’s wings were starting to bleed again. Maddy, who had a secondary spongy skin that could absorb liquid, was having problems with her outer skin starting to peel off. Sydney, who had a poisonous secretion from her skin triggered by higher adrenaline levels, had to remain completely covered at all times, including her face, because her lack of sleep was causing her adrenaline levels to run too high.

  Almost all the experiments were having some trouble or another and we were in danger of harming the humans if the experiments got sick or accidentally attacked someone.

  A realization came to me that made me pause and blink, ignoring the water running into my eyes.

  Dana wanted me to go to him. There was some reason he wanted to acquire me and put me in his collection. I wondered if there was a way for me to use that to my advantage.

  If I gave myself up to Dana, would he be willing to leave everything at that? If I agreed to give myself to him completely, would he let the others of the revolution go? Could that be the terms of our negotiation?

  Would he even consider it?

  The problem I faced was negotiating with him and actually having leverage. There would be nothing that would force him to listen to my terms. He had me in a corner and there was nothing I had to offer him other than myself, which he could easily take on his own. There was a chance that Mark would be able to put a gun to his head and make him pay attention, but with Mark’s current mental state, I did not think it was safe to put him up against Dana Christenson.

  Not only that, I doubted that Mark would let me try to negotiate with Dana, anyway.

  Dana Christenson had the upper hand once again.

  It made me wonder if there was ever a time that he had not had the upper hand.

  * *** *

  Thursday rolled around, and I knew I was not the only one holding my breath. It felt like the entire country was holding its collective breath, watching the mundane public broadcast program before the news. Every now and then, a commercial break would remind everyone of the coming announcement from the leader of the Commission of the People, showing live cameras at the curb, waiting for the car to pull up and show Dana Christenson—real or fake—walking to give his announcement, which had been moved to an outdoor amphitheater to keep more distance between the press and the head of the Commission.

  There had been little change in the apprehension felt throughout the fort. I, along with the rest of the core strategy group, was feeling the pressure. If Dana really did call us to the negotiation table, we were going to have to think very carefully through our extremely limited options of survival.

  And Mark was still deep in mourning, particularly if the bottles he had been consuming over the past few days were any indication. He was unable to contribute to the strategy meetings.

  Twenty minutes before the scheduled time of the announcement from Dana Christenson, the news ceased its talking about international affairs and moved to Leader Simon returning to office at a temporary location after recovering from his burns in the attack on Central Hall. Once they explained that he had returned and would be resuming his tasks to quell the anxiety of the people, they moved to the camera that they had waiting at the curb of the amphitheater. There were a few dozen big, burly guards that were keeping the press at bay, leaving an ample walkway for the leader of the Commission.

  “Here is our live camera. We are still waiting for Dana Christenson to appear, though confirmation has been received that the convoy is in route to the venue,” the female anchor explained. “The estimated time for his arrival is about five minutes.” She continued to remind people why the head of the Commission of the People was coming to make an announcement and that this was the first time Dana Christenson would be seen in public after all his years running the Commission of the People in visual anonymity.

  No one dared to move in the communications room as we watched and waited for the car.

  “As you can see, the first car of the convoy has pulled up followed by two more cars,” the anchor commentated. The press began heaving forward, extending their cameras to catch the moment Dana Christenson stepped out of the car.

  A few men in black suits ran to the car, standing around th
e door as it opened and the man in the backseat stepped out. He was wearing a three-piece suit, his hair slicked back against his head, and his brown eyes were surrounded with wrinkles. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair around his ears.

  “It’s not him…” Griffin murmured.

  “Shocker…” I groaned sarcastically.

  Dana using a decoy was expected.

  What happened in the following ten seconds, however, was extremely unexpected.

  The fake Dana Christenson walked through the aisle that had been created for him by the security, his guards around him. One of the people close to the live camera of the station we were watching suddenly dropped his camera and reached for a metal water container, unscrewing the cap and pushing through the barrier of guards, managing to get past them for two seconds before they had their hands on him.

  In those two seconds, he splashed the contents of the container on the fake Dana’s face, as well as the guards close to him. The decoy screamed in agony, reaching for his face when the liquid hit, and the guards crumpled in pain as well.

  “Die, you lying motherfucker! We won’t stop until Central is destroyed!”

  People were screaming and the guards pulled out Tasers, three of them hitting the man at the same time. He dropped heavily to the ground, his body locked as the waves of electricity pulsed through him. The other guards ran toward the three crumpled on the ground. There was a horrible hissing sound and blood was pouring over the ground.

  “Don’t touch it! It’s acid!” one man yelled.

  The chaos had the news station trying to explain what had just happened while the press members on the scene screamed, many covering their mouths with their cameras dropped while others were focused intently on the scene, recording as the horror played out.

  Did Dana just use an acid attack on his own decoy?

  I stared at the man who had used the acid to see if he was someone I recognized, even though no one had been let out of the fort in days for reasons of safety. I did not recognize the man at all, which made me realize that Dana had, indeed, thrown acid on his own decoy.