“We try not to dye hair, since it’s hard to keep up, so we change the style of the hair as much as possible with a haircut,” Amelia explained. “Are you all right with me cutting it quite short?”
I took a deep breath, not having had my hair short since I was very young. I pursed my lips and nodded.
“This is meant to be my new life isn’t it? Let’s do it.”
I was unable to see how she cut my hair and could only hear the snip of the scissors every time she cut off tendrils of my hair. I was surprisingly nervous about cutting my hair, even though I knew that I had to leave my old life behind and change how I looked. I wondered what else would change about me in the time to come.
Finally, Amelia brought the mirror in front of me and I saw the short cut of my hair. It was a lot like Val’s hair—short, but still feminine, almost like a pixie cut.
“If you hate it, not to worry, it’ll grow back,” Amelia assured.
I leaned forward, looking in the mirror carefully and running my hands over the short strands of hair. I hardly recognized myself. Not only did the cut haircut change the way my face looked, but I looked older, worn down by all that I had experienced in the revolution. It had been a very long time since I had really looked at my face.
“Actually, I love it.”
“That’s good to hear,” Amelia said with a broad smile. “I think it suits your face. It really brings out these amazing, beautiful eyes.”
I turn to Mark. “What you think?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Alright, let’s get some pictures taken.”
Amelia and Val worked in perfect synchronicity. They knew exactly what to do and how to help one another as they got the pictures they needed and then begin to work on the system that they had to distribute new citizenship.
I spent most of the day running my hands over my hair, not believing just how short it had been cut. Mark seem to be doing the same, but I was sure that he felt just as refreshed, as if weight had been lifted from our shoulders.
In the short time that we have been in the final safe house, I had forgotten he cold chill that I felt when Dana had spoken to me.
It was as though crossing the river began a new chapter, leaving my life in America to feel like a distant memory. There were certain details that I had difficulty recollecting, such as the sound of my father’s voice, or the taste of my mother’s cooking, or even the exact color of Dana’s unnerving eyes.
Everything felt different.
That night, Amelia and Val asked us to share our stories.
Mark went first, but we had to take some time to figure out how we were going to share his story with the camera. Having him hold up the cards to the camera would force them to keep the lights bright enough to read the words and would end up showing his face. Even though Mark assured them that he did not mind, they still insisted that they keep his face in shadow.
I offered to tell his story and he wrote it down for me as he wanted it told. Since my face would be obscured by shadow, I was able to read what he had typed out about his life, starting with: “This is the story of my good friend.
“I was born in an area that had been abandoned after the Second Revolution. My family had been living there since the height of the Second Revolution, when they were trying to flee the persecution of the extremists that had taken hold of the country. I never knew the world outside the gates surrounding the quarantine zone until I was old enough to hunt for deer in the nearby woods. Even then, I was told by my parents and others in our community that an evil force surrounded us, and we always had to be careful and quiet.
“I learned years later that the bright lights and loud sounds we hid from were not an evil beast seeking to destroy us, but the sounds and lights of helicopters and patrol cars passing the area, checking for individuals the Commission of the People deemed to be criminals.
“I had an older sister and a younger sister who were both more curious about the world than I was. One day, my older sister left the area and walked through the forest until she found a town. She did not understand that the mere sight of her would cause the Commission to be alerted, as she was Asian and stood out instantly when she walked down the main street.
“When people began to yell at her, calling the police and the Commission of the People, she did not understand them and ran back to our community. She was able to escape capture that day, but everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before the investigation about where the Asian woman was living would lead to all of us. A decision was made to keep watch for the Commission van and then lock my sister out of the community as a sacrifice to protect the larger group of people that lived in the destroyed subdivision homes.
“I could not allow my sister to be sacrificed in such a manner. With my close friend, we both attacked the van when it came close and killed the driver and two other Commission employees in the van. We were too young to understand the consequences our actions would have on the community. We had figured that the one van was all we had to worry about.
“However, when the Commission of the People realized what had happened to their men, the stormed the area and everyone was captured and imprisoned. My older sister, the one I had saved once from the Commission’s clutches, was executed before we reached the Commission prison.
“I was in the cells of the Commission for months with other criminals that had been collected from the American population. But rather than stay in those cells until I died, I was pulled out with the other able-bodied people from my community and brought to the labs. It was there that I began learning English, as I was trying to understand what tests were being performed on me and my family.
“The pain of the testing to alter my body was torturous. It felt as though they ripped out all my muscles and replaced them with something I could not control or understand. Soon, my strength was unknown to me and I was able to see and hear in ways I had not been able before. Later, I learned that most of my testing, and the tests of the other Asian experiments, had been meant to strengthen the human physiology so that it could be altered for the new modified soldier program that has been on the news lately. Our testing was the first step to them being able to achieve the Machine of Neutralization, which is the internal name used for the modified soldiers.
“When I was not being tested on, I was left in a large, white cell, alone, with no knowledge of how much time was passing. The lights were never turned off, so I could only judge the days passing based on the meals that were brought to my cell. However, after several months, an incident in the cells where one of the stronger experiments had broken out led to talk of using experiments as internal security measures.
“A group was formed within the Commission of the People called the Eight Group, which was comprised of everyone from my community who had undergone, and survived, the testing. We were responsible for the safety of the experiments and the workers of the Commission. We were trained how to shoot a gun, defensive driving skills, but we were never taught to read or understand English. We were trained like dogs to learn new words that would serve as commands for our work.
“We were treated as sub-human. We were mocked and degraded, teased and beaten for the sick amusement of those who had taken us. Those of us who could understand English, and had picked it up easily, began talking about ways we could change the Commission and get free of our captors.
“Dana Christenson was our main target. He is the root of the evil within the Commission of the People. Everyone falls into line without question when he orders them. He repeatedly degraded everyone within the Eight Group, and we all hated him.
“I organized a small rebellion that I hoped would allow us to kill Dana. However, I missed my chance and the rebellion failed. As punishment for the rebellion, I was tortured in front of the Eight Group and made mute so I could not plot again. I was then assigned to the protection detail of one of Dana’s advisors. I lived with them in their home and drove them around, being sure that they were safe.
It was in that house that I learned of a new plot by those who would soon become known as the Central Angels to take down the Commission of the People and Dana Christenson.
“I offered my help, and for some time, we were able to show the people of America the true horrors of what occurred in the labs of the Commission of the People. However, we lost many good people to dirty tricks and deception. It was when Dana framed us for attacking Central that we knew we had lost. Even as we retreated, I lost those I loved and cared for. The Commission destroyed almost everyone I’ve ever loved, and it was only because I was born in a land where my physical makeup was considered too dangerous to exist. I do hope that, one day, America will change for the better and realize that people are more similar than they are different.”
It was easier to read Mark’s story than to think of how I was going to tell my own. As Amelia and Val prepared the video file of Mark’s story, I sat nervously, staring at the camera, knowing that I could never tell as compelling a story as what Mark had endured. But I hoped that it would do is Amelia had said—it would cleanse me of my life in America and allow me to move on.
“So, you’re going to do basically the same thing, but a little different,” Amelia started gently. “We’re going to ask you where you were born what year, and when you first knew about the Commission of the People. We’re going to prompt you with a few questions, but we also just want you to talk about your life like Mark did. You can talk about anything you want. You can talk about your family, you can talk about your friends, you can talk about absolutely anything and everything you saw in the Commission of the People. You don’t have to keep any secrets. The only thing we don’t want you to do, is mention your name.”
“Then not my parents’ names, either?”
“Perhaps no names other than the names of those in the Commission that could expose who you are, or expose your family, if you wish to protect them.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath and flicking my eyes to Mark. He nodded once, telling me that it was alright, that he would be here there through the whole thing.
Staring into the camera, even knowing that my face was covered in shadow from the bunk bed above, I told my story. I was surprised at how calmly I was able to do so, staring forward and talking about everything I had experienced. The more I talked about the Commission, the more detail I remembered and the more I realized just how much I had endured at the hands of the Commission of the People and Dana Christenson.
Telling the story brought up a flurry of emotions that had me tearing up, but feeling liberated. I talked about all the sexual advances Dana had made toward me, the dark promises, Mykail’s torture and being gifted to my family like a pet, and everything we had done to try and take down the Commission. I talked about breaking out the experiments, the protests, those we had lost, Mykail’s suicide, and the capture of my final friend by the Commission.
My story was not of being victimized by the Commission of the People in the same way that others had been, it was a story of how I tried to help those who would otherwise be imprisoned and killed in the Commission, and penalized for trying to change the world to make it a better place.
When the camera was turned off, Mark walked over and sat down, putting his arm around my shoulders and hugging me. I began to cry, unsure why the tears were over taking me, and he held me silently, allowing me to break down.
Chapter Eighty-Five
I wandered aimlessly around the safe house. Amelia had said it would take a few days for all of the papers to go through their contacts, and afford us the most believable papers of citizenship that we could hope to get. Amelia and Val went about their normal days, barely paying attention to us unless we asked them any questions, or around meal times.
Mark and I spent a lot of the first day relaxing, regaining our strength from the long trek. It was clear that we both felt different after telling our stories to the camera, but it was unclear just how profoundly that had changed us. While I still was not very optimistic about the future, I did feel that, at least, I had one. When I had been in the Commission, I felt I had no future, that everything has been decided by Dana and I had no means of escaping.
My future was suddenly in my hands and it was horrifying. I knew that I would always have to be looking over my shoulder, and I would always have to be aware of what the Commission was doing, but it no longer ruled my life as it had before. I was finally able to decide what I would do with my life.
The problem was, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
I ended up doodling a few pictures on a notepad that Amelia had on the coffee table, and I was reminded of the times where I would escape into my own world by drawing. I wondered if I would fall back into it, like returning to see an old friend. Mark looked over the drawings and complemented them on his own notepad. I wondered what he wanted to do with his new-found freedom. I wondered if the two of us would just stay together, trying to find our way through life after escaping the oppression of the Commission of the People.
However, I was bored on the third day and ended up wandering through the different rooms of the house. I looked over the various artifacts from travels that Amelia and Val had taken, seeing things from as far away as Japan and Mongolia, as well as pictures of them in various places in Europe.
It seemed that those running the safe house were just as interesting as those they gathered stories about. Everyone had such a unique story in their life, it was amazing that anyone found any reason to dislike one another.
I wandered into their office, which was disorganized and stacked high with papers. But there were more pictures of their travels, and even a few pictures of them as young women. There was one picture of them with a group of young people in what appeared to be a dilapidated shack, both of them making funny faces at the camera alongside their friends. I briefly wondered if the picture was of them as young members of the Coalition terrorist group.
As it looked among the same cluster of pictures, I came across one that was in a frame, sitting on a desk, depicting a large group of people of all ages gathered together, backpacks at their feet, clearly preparing for a long journey. I glanced among the various smiled and saw Val and Amelia standing near the man in the middle.
When I saw the man next to them, everything around me disappeared. My entire world narrowed as I focus entirely on his face. I could feel my heart began to race and my blood ran cold.
Standing next to Val and Amelia, was a young Dana Christenson.
My hands began to shake. I could not stop staring at the picture. It was clearly Dana. His frame was thinner and his face was younger, but the same distinctive eyes and chilling smile still graced his face. I looked over every feature, trying to find something that did not resemble Dana at all.
“…so, you found it.”
I let out a startled scream and whirled around, coming face-to-face with Amelia she leaned against the doorway.
I looked between the older woman in the doorway and the young woman picture next to a young Dana Christenson. It appeared that she was younger than Dana in the picture, but clearly but she looked older now than the current Dana Christenson.
“I… I know this man…”
Amelia stood straight, walking into the office, but was stopped when we heard footsteps hurriedly coming towards us. Mark, startled by my scream, had come running to see what was wrong. He walked over to me, looking me over worriedly. I slowly turned the picture and pointed to the man in the middle.
Mark looked at him for a moment, before grabbing the photo and pulling a closer, his eyes going wide. He appeared to have the same reaction I did—a mixture of horror and amazement.
I looked at Amelia.
“This is Dana Christenson,” I hissed. “This is the leader of the Commission of the People!”
“No, it’s not,” Amelia said quietly. “That man in the picture is the young man that eventually became Dana Christenson.”
She walked closer and took the photo out of Mark’s ha
nds. She turned it to her, looking over it with bittersweet nostalgia.
“When I knew him,” she started slowly, “he was only known as K. He was the youngest leader in the Coalition, head of the western chapter. He was…” She shook her head. “He was so charismatic, so charming, so…absolutely brilliant that you couldn’t help but be amazed by him. And he was fiercely loyal to everyone in the Coalition.”
I blinked stupidly at her.
“You mean to tell me,” I started, my voice shaking, “that Dana Christenson, the leader of the Commission of the People, used to be a leader of a domestic terrorist group that did everything in their power to oppose the Commission of the People?”
She nodded somberly.
“What the hell happened?” I gasped. “The Dana I know is cruel and heartless. He would never think about anyone other than himself. He believes that the Commission is doing what is best for the nation. How did he go from being a leader in the Coalition to running the Commission of the People?”
Amelia continued to stare at the picture, refusing to me eyes with us, lost in her memories. When she did not immediately respond, I looked at Mark, horrified. He also appeared to be stunned and unsure how to react to the sudden realization of who Dana was before he had become the leader of the Commission of the People.
“He was one of the reasons I joined the Coalition,” Amelia started. “My little sister…she was brought into the Coalition before me. She had had this boyfriend who came from a family that secretly worshipped God. And she became so angry that the Commission of the People would consider him a criminal for such a thing that she sought out the Coalition and ended up joining. I join shortly afterward, for obvious reasons,” she motion around the room to the various pictures of her and Val, indicating the fact that she was a lesbian.
“K was unlike anyone I’ve ever known before,” she continued. “He was an enigma, to say the least. He wanted everyone to live a happy and fulfilled life, but he had something inside him that would occasionally cause him to snap, and he’d become this angry, violent person that no one really understood.”
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