by P. L. Camery
For a moment Mavis stared after him, dumfounded. Then she channeled her frustration into one last glare at Destiny, “You don’t deserve to call yourself a rebel. You’re pathetic, self-serving, and can’t even stomach a few hours of torture. You should have stayed an ignorant civilian pawn for all our sakes. I hope we keep you in this cell forever, I’m defiantly going to advocate for it.”
Mavis eventually found Lawrence in the game room. When she shut off the simulation and entered, the boy stood panting in a forward lunge, his arm outstretched as if it were striking an invisible foe. When he spoke his voice was feeble, “Hi Mavis.”
Her heart clenched but she forced herself to sound upbeat, “What do you think you’re up to?”
The boy walked to the edge of the room and seated himself against the wall, “Trying to overcome my demons by stabbing them to death,”
Mavis smirked, “Typical boy.”
“What would you have me do?”
She crossed the room to sit next to him then said, “Talk through them, share the pain with me and let me help you.”
“Typical girl.”
“Suit yourself,” Mavis chirped.
In response Lawrence gave her a weak smile and laced his fingers with hers. Mavis gave his hand a squeeze and for several minutes they sat in silence.
“I should tell you why my sister hates me.”
“She doesn’t really hate you…”
“You don’t even believe that,” the boy said with an exasperated look. When she did not respond he averted his gaze to his hands and continued, “You know I don’t even blame her. I kind of hate myself too. Did you know, last year, on my birthday, I woke up and I cried.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m here and they aren’t and it’s my fault they are dead!” The words came out in a rush as tears flooded his face.
“Hey,” Mavis soothed, rubbing up and down his back, “hey it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me I you don’t want to. I understand. It must be painful.”
“No,” he pressed the palm of his hand to his eyes, wiping off the tears, and straightened, “I’m going to tell you. I want you to understand.” He took a deep breath. “It’s because of me they are dead.” He watched her for a response. When none came, he continued, “They were just on a small mission, to pick up some weapons. They had been previously set aside and it should have been easy. A minor errand… I wanted to tag along.” He laughed dryly, “And I remember I had teased Destiny about it too, earlier that day, about how she was too lazy to help us out.”
“When we got to the warehouse it was a little after one in the morning and the building’s interior was pitch black. My mom had a dim flashlight, just enough to see by but not enough to draw much attention. We wandered for about twenty minutes looking for the cargo,” his face tensed. By his concentrated stare Mavis guesses he was reenacting the night in his mind, “Then the footsteps came, to many and too fast to be wandering sentries. Before I had a chance to make sense of it my dad was shoving me behind a crate. A light blinded me, but it wasn’t pointing at me, and when I could see again there weren’t just my parent’s shadows but five others, three looked like they had raised guns.”
“I should have helped them,” his hands tightened into fists, “We could have beaten them, I know it! I wanted so badly to help, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. I was useless.”
“They shot them?” Mavis guessed.
“No,” came his cold reply. His eyes flared with furry, “my parents, they didn’t even put up a fight. They seemed in a hurry to be taken away. Probably trying to lead them away from me, as if I’m worth the trouble.”
“Of course, you’re worth the trouble Lawrence,” Mavis said softly, “anyone could see that.”
“My own sister can’t.”
“Well, anyone with half a brain,” Mavis revised rolling her eyes.
He smiled, but it quickly morphed into a grimace, “But I’m not. I’m useless. I let them get captured. But that wasn’t it. They made us attend the trial, its standard procedure I know, but still, we were kids. When the soldiers brought them to the courtroom, I could hardly recognize them. I wanted to throw up. My parents looked beaten and broken, skin raw and bruised all over. Eyes glossy as if they were drugged. When they saw me, my dad gave a slight nod and tightened his hand into a fist, be strong Lawrence. My mom just looked sad, almost apologetic. But don’t apologize mom, it’s my fault not yours… Destiny started crying. We were made to sit through their trial. It went by in a blur, by the time they were found guilty and sentenced to death I couldn’t feel anything. This isn’t happening, it’s just a dream. I have to wake up. Wake up, wake up! But of course, it wasn’t a dream.”
“And before the execution there was one more thing. They wanted us to renounce them, to disown our parents for their crimes. Destiny couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was hugging herself, crying and trembling with fear. I was afraid too. I didn’t want them to shoot her too. I told them I’d say it for both of us that she couldn’t because she was so distressed. I was a coward. I betrayed them.”
“That’s not true Lawrence,” Mavis whispered, “there was nothing else you could have done.”
Lawrence shook his head, angry tears flowing, “If I were a true rebel, I would have held my ground and fought for them, even if it meant my own death. I let them die.”
“No, no baby,” Mavis replied, “You were being smart you kept yourself and Destiny safe and that’s all you could have done. You must know Lawrence, you’re worth more, so much more to the world alive.” She gently stroked his face, “And even if you don’t believe that. You must know you’re worth more to me alive.”
Lawrence lifted his head and some of the light returned to his eyes as he appraised her. Then he looked away again, “You’re biased.”
“Even if I am, that doesn’t mean it’s not true,” the girl countered.
He gave her a small laugh, “But even if it is, I don’t think I’d believe it.”
Mavis sighed, “I know that well enough.” Then she reached for him and pulled his head to her chest. She stroked his hair and said, “It was at least nice to get that off your chest, right?”
Lawrence closed his eye and wrapped his arms around her, “I guess so.”
Smiling, Mavis kissed his forehead. For the moment, she was content to hold him and listen to him breath, happy that he was here with her and knowing he had been brave. She was confident he had made the right choice in the warehouse and courtroom even if she couldn’t convince him of it. But as she held him, she couldn’t stop the questions from swarming her thoughts. How had so many armed guards known to come? Were there ever even any weapons to retrieve in the first place?
Chapter 4: Risk
Sweat trickled down his temples as Lawrence maintained a steady jog at the tail end of his comrades. Ahead of him three fellow uppercastmen in their blue shirts navigated the black walled maze and he held a pistol-shaped tranquilizer at eye level, ready to defend his teammates.
He saw them as soon as the leader in his unit reached the intersection. There were eight redshirts in the ambush. An unusually large group for Risk, Lawrence mused, of course with unusually large teams of fifteen each side, not unexpected. Without thought he took out the nearest two, whose weapons were raised then dodged left, narrowly missing a baton strike to the face. The boy sidekick his attacker then neutralized him with a shot to the chest. Then he heard a scream and from his peripheral spotted a downed comrade clutching his leg. The redshirt that attacked him raised his staff to strike again and Lawrence caught the end of the weapon. With one swift move he pulled it free, spun, and used it to deliver a knockout blow to the temple.
“Retreat, retreat!” He heard the lead redshirt yell.
As the remaining three followed their leader down the maze Lawrence’s captain bellowed, “After them!”
“No!” Lawrence protested, sprinting forward and using his staff
to block the way, “We need to stay focused. We’re after their orb not them.”
“What the fuck Richardson! They’re getting away!” The captain came forward and shoved him back.
Lawrence lifted the tranquilizer, making the other boy raise his hands in defense, and retorted, “Good, we don’t need to waste time going after them when we could focus on winning.”
“But I’m in charge here,” the captain growled with outrage, “and I say the less active enemies the better!”
“Alright, go after them then!” Lawrence said, sidestepping out of the way, “But I’m not going to waste time running after a fight when there’s a much easier way to win.”
“Just listen to him, Eric,” one of his teammates said.
“Yeah it’s not worth the effort, they’re too far now anyways,” the other put in.
Lawrence allowed himself a small smile as he jogged back to his impaired teammate. Captain Eric rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” No longer interested in his captain, Lawrence crouched down and pulled his injured friend, so he was leaning against the wall then handed him the tranquilizer. “Hold on there, Richardson, what the fuck are you doing now?”
Ignoring Eric, Lawrence said, “You won’t be able to run with us since you’re injured, here, you can use this to defend yourself.”
“Oh no, oh hell no!” Eric roared, “What the hell that’s our best weapon!”
“And the only one that will be useful to him,” Lawrence retorted with an icy calm.
“And why the hell does he need a weapon!”
“How would you like to be left crippled and defenseless?” Lawrence countered. Eric delivered a furious glare and his hands clenched into fists, threatening to strike, but he said nothing. “That’s what I thought.” Lawrence stood then addressed the boy on the floor, “If anyone comes, I’m going to need you to shoot so you can keep them away from us. Think you can do that soldier?” The boy, who had been shaking previously now striated and managed a nod. Lawrence nodded back and reassured, “I know you’ll do great.” Then he turned to Eric, “Which way then, Captain?”
The game progressed, and Lawrence’s team came out victorious. After he showered and changed back into his school uniform, he stepped into the hallway to find Roland waiting. Unsurprised, Lawrence spoke casually, “Alright, let me have it, what’s today’s critique?”
“No critique, a summons. Follow me.” Lawrence tilted his head, curiosity spiked by the unusual formality in his rival’s tone. This curiosity trumped defiance, and the boy followed without question as Roland took to brisk purposeful strides, not bothering to glance back and check to see if Lawrence came.
Roland led him to a pair of steel double doors where he stood, and a scanner passed over both to verify their identities. A pleasant beeping tune accompanied the doors sliding back and the two boys entered.
“Thank you, General Stone,” came a female voice, “You are dismissed.” Roland gave a brief salute, then, with the same grave expression, left the room, leaving a baffled Lawrence face to face with Alandra Elias, Guardian of Hassdrin.
“Good afternoon Lawrence,” the Guardian said, offering him an easy smile, “I trust your day has been pleasant.”
The boy nodded, “Yes sir.”
“Good, good,” she smiled again before turning and circling around a large wooden desk at the center of the room, “now unfortunately I could not convince the guards to turn off the cameras embedded in the several portraits hung, but rest assured, the only person whose judgement you should be worried about is mine.”
Her voice was friendly, inviting in a way that made you want to sit down and express your life story. I’ll have to be on guard with her, the boy decided. In response to her statement he smiled, “Your opinion is law after all.”
The Guardian laughed as she took her seat, “Good, he jokes! What a relief. You know most people think I don’t care for humor anymore. You gain power and suddenly you’re surrounded by the most serious individuals. But I digress please, sit, sit.”
As Lawrence strode forward and took the chair before her desk, he nodded towards one of the hanging pictures, “I always thought Admiral Robles was watching as I passed his face in the halls, it’s nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy.”
The Guardian chuckled, “No, no not at all. I’d say you are probably one of the more level-headed boys here…”
Haha, if you could see in my head you wouldn’t be saying that.
“… I don’t know if they told you or not, but the boy you left the tranquilizer with took out three more redshirts.”
“Really?” The grin that surfaced was genuine, “I knew Peter had it in him, and even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t have been right to leave him unarmed.”
The Guardian nodded, “You’re a gifted leader Lawrence, but I must admit your skills seem better suited for military applications not politics.”
Lawrence considered this carefully then responded, “I want to be a great leader, and what power does a leader have without the respect of his military.”
“Smart boy,” the Guardian nodded in approval. “I have no doubt you’ll go far,” then her smile faded, “there’s just one issue.”
Though his heartbeat was picking up, Lawrence gave a casual shrug, “The hero always has a flaw. What is it I need to fix?”
“It has to do with your parents, Lawrence. As you know they were traitors to our great country, whom likely commuted more crimes than even we can link them too. Yet as their son, you must have loved them. I want to know how their deaths affected you,” she leaned onto the seat and folded her hands, “and if you bear any resentment for their executions.”
The boy blew out a breath, “I’m going to be honest- this isn’t the easiest thing to talk about. But I guess,” he closed his eyes to think, “I guess what I feel most is betrayal…”
“Go on,” came the gentle chide.
“…Well- well they were my parents! They were supposed to protect me, defend me, support me, and instead they abandoned me. They left me with nothing. I had to learn to live by myself, I had to figure things out by myself, and all the while know that they had left me, they could have been there, and they weren’t, in fact they literally chose not to be there through their actions!” As he progressed his tone rose, and he was surprised to find he believed some of what he said. “The bottom line is they made a wrong call and it didn’t just cost them their lives, it cost me mine too. My life changed for the worse because of them and you know what? I don’t even know if I can forgive them for that.” Or forgive myself for letting it happen. “And Destiny wasn’t much for help; she retreated from me after they died. I don’t know if I reminded her of them of if she blames me for being the one to renounce them, but she failed me even though I did everything I could to be there for her.”
She gave him a pensive nod, “Well, and yet here you are, having a private audience with me at seventeen, you should be proud of yourself.” He had to force a smile. I don’t feel proud… “But as for your sister, given her recent disappearance I must know, do you suspect she may have followed in your parents’ footsteps?”
“We haven’t been close since our parents died.” Lawrence said, choosing his words carefully, “I must admit this would be surprising news to me if it’s true. Although she never officially renounced them, it is my opinion she didn’t have the ambition to do much with her life, and even choosing to take part in rebel activity is a stretch for my imagination. However, that may also have been a front.”
“You say she didn’t have enough ambition to be traitorous, but would you not agree you are certainly ambitious?”
“I am,” the boy nodded, “But I consider myself far too ambitious to waste the career I could have on useless acts of rebellion which in the end do very little.”
“Well said,” her easy smile finally returned as she leaned back in her chair, “now, as for the last matter of business, I would like to make you an offer.”
The boy blinked, thrown off guard by the sudden turnaround, “An offer?”
The Guardian nodded, “As you well know, next month shall be the Quincentennial of our great nation. I would be delighted if you would be one of the speakers at the Capitol’s rally.”
His jaw dropped, “Well um, of course! It would be an honor. But, what do I possibly have to say that would interest you?”
The Guardian shrugged, “You are the son of rebels, given a chance by the state to rise above the stain of your family, I’m sure you will find something patriotic to say.”
*****
“And then she dismissed you?” Grant asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“Yes sir,” as Lawrence responded from where he stood, igniting a stream of whispers from the council members encircling him.
The council leader raised one hand to silence the murmur, never taking his eyes off Lawrence, “And what exactly do you make of this Special Agent Richardson?”
“It’s obviously a trap!” Admiral Perry was the first to speak up, “There is now way they would let this incompetent boy speak at the rally!”
“I must agree with Perry,” Commander Fera seconded, “The Guardian most likely believes him to be a rebel and wants a public demonstration.”
“I third that,” another voice said.
“It certainly makes more sense,” added another. As the declarations of agreement continued Lawrence could feel his hands balling into fists, arms rigid and desperate to punch.
“Enough, enough!” Grant bellowed, “Unless I am to assume you are all Agent Richardson!” When the room fell silent, he nodded to Lawrence, “You were going to say?”
“Thank you, sir,” The boy gave a slight bow, “And honestly, from my impression I believe she was sincere about the offer, though it was more of an order than anything.”
There was another outcry which Grant immediately silenced with a great, “Silence!”
Lawrence took a breath to control his frustration then continued, “As I was saying, she spoke with me, she questioned me, and by the end of the meeting I am confident she believed me.”