Their Rebellion

The cool, Ireland breeze rolled through our pathetic camp, rustling every twig and leaf in the area. Goosebumps broke out across my skin as I sat by the ember lit fire, watching carelessly as Paul nursed his swollen ankle. It must have been screaming at him, the way he kicked it around like it was never hurt in the first place. Quiet snores stole my gaze away from Paul and a half hearted smile worked its way onto my lips.

Abby was sleeping in the backseat of the SUV after a long, tiring day. Maire was handcuffed to the passenger door, most likely bored out of her mind since she was near useless without her gun. I fished my hand into my light sweatshirt, my fingers tossing the cuff keys over and over again without much of a plan. I could see Erin sitting near Paul, looking more empty than lost than he ever had been, knowing Maire's secret on Mider.

The boys sat across from me, conversing quietly, as if they didn't want anyone else to hear. The sun was beginning to go down and the cool breeze was becoming brisk. I shivered slightly in my seat and sighed, knowing that Belfast was our next destination, the outcome unclear for the group. It was a toss up on whether or not we would all be walking out of there alive, but it was still a hot debate.

We would need to make a stop for food first, because the last of the snacks wouldn't last longer than tomorrow night. Water was scarce; drinking when absolutely necessary was more mandatory. I ran a hand through my hair, knowing that I was beginning to lose faith in our futures. We played it day by day, but how long did any of us have out here? We didn't know whether to run from the military or go along with them.

"Adrienne," Murphy's soft voice pulled my attention from my depressing thoughts.

He waved me over, insisting I grow closer to the both of them. I shifted in between the boys, feeling Murphy's warm hand snake around my waist. It had been a long time since Murphy and I could sit with eachother and be comfortable, yet I had a feeling this wasn't going to be that time. I swallowed hard, gently whispering, "What do we do now?"

Connor sighed, running a hand down his face. His shoulders fell underneath his pea coat as he said, "We could follow'er an' live."

"Or follow'er an' die."Murphy argued.

There was a clear argument boiling in the short conversation and they both knew that. I leaned closer to Murphy, my eyes scanning the bare ground beneath me. It was a fifty fifty chance with the Irish broad. It was either follow her and come out winning or follow her to our deaths. Paul made his way over, his pained expression hidden under a transparent mask. His ankle must have gotten much worse.

Despite his physical pain, he knelt in front of us, saying, "We don't know anything on Mider. We don't know anything on Maire. Hell, we don't know anything about this god damned disease either."

"It could be a set up."I said with a huff, "Who's to say we don't just show up, get taken out and experimented on in a make shift lab?"

Who knew the answers to our own futures? I shook my head slowly, weighing the options heavily in my mind. Quiet chuckles could be heard from the car and I could see Maire leaning against the dashboard, that cruel smile imprinted on her lips.

"Rednecks a fine specimen where we're concerned."She snickered.

"Fuckin',"My low growl was cut short as Murphy took me by the hand.

I turned toward him, finding his tired baby blues asking for nothing more than an easy night.

"I'll be right back."I stood from the small group, making my way over to the trunk of the car.

Maire was insistent that no one touch her pack, but with her handcuffed to the passenger door with no weapon meant taking her things would be much easier. I pulled open the hatch, a sarcastic smile crawling over my lips.

"Let's see what else you're hidin', Maire."I reached in, taking her bag by its thick, dirty strap and tossing it over my shoulder.

Her blue eyes glazed over, a fiery red seeming to take its place. She stepped from the vehicle as I closed the back, pure anger floating on her tone as she shouted, "Don't touch me shite ya fuckin' mutt!"

Her handcuffs clanked against the door as she tried to break free, but even a head strong woman like herself couldn't get through my Louisiana styled cuffs. I knelt in front of Paul, Connor and Murphy, taking her pack and tilting it upside down. The flaps fell open, allowing everything inside to come spilling out into a small pile near the fire. Maire's angry shouts subsided as we took a peek at what was inside.

I pushed a few things over, finding the map I had taken a blow for when trying to see it, two guns, two clips for each and a simple walky talky. I took the map in hand, all three men leaning forward with anticipation as I pulled open the edges. I held it up, allowing the glow from the embers to be my flashlight, but found nothing surprising on the old piece of paper. I dropped it into my lap, whispering, "There's nothin' here."

It was a map of Ireland, a few circles and x's marking it here and there. It might as well have been in Chinese, because it made no sense to me or the guys. Maire's laughing made me feel defeated; like I had faught to see it for no reason. It was just a tease. Erin slowly made his way over, plucking the map from my lap to look it over. Being a Marine, he might have a clue of what the markings meant, but I wasn't hopeful.

I reached into the small pile, taking hold of the gun that had caught my attention. It was a Bereta, PX4 Storm, .45 Caliber gun that seemed to send a sizzle through my hand when touched. Beretas were always my favourite type of gun. The PX4 Storm was light weight, held a four inch barrel, a magazine release button and could hold ten rounds per mag. It was beautiful and now mine. I tucked it in between my pants and lower back.

"Here, Paul,"I picked up the second one, handing it gently over to Paul.

A Mark XIX Desert Eagle, or Magnum, as most would call it. It was a .357 caliber gun of medium weight with a large ten inch barrel. It was heavier than my own gun, but by the look in Paul's eyes I could have assumed he liked it. The magazine could hold nine rounds, with an extra one waiting in the barrel, hoping to be shot soon. I smiled as I handed his two extra clips over, watching as he checked how many rounds he had left.

"Full mag,"He smiled.

I did the same, enjoying the easy release button of the magazine as I checked my own.

"Same."I grinned.

Erin shuffled slightly before kneeling down to our level. He ran a firm finger over the map, a stern look etched into his features. He was deep in thought, the way his eyebrows folded over his eyes, the glint in his eyes focused on nothing but the map. Erin cleared his throat and looked up after a few tense seconds of debate.

"There's something here."He set the map down on the ground, shoving a finger in the direction of the x's and circles.

"There is?"I peered over his shoulder, as did everyone else at this point.

He traced a few lines leading around the map and shook his head with a huff.

"Back in training, one of the guys had a special missions. It was just in case the shit hit the fan, but he thought it was cool. Thought he was special because of,"Erin stopped and swallowed hard, realizing that reflecting back on a bad friendship wasn't. In the groups' interest, "Sorry. He explained a little bit about the mission. The x's are dead zones. Places taken out by the military,"

"And the circles?"Paul crossed his arms over his chest with a curious look on his face.

"Safe zones."He whispered softly."And look what's circled."

All eyes stuck to the map, like a fly on a trap. We looked carefully and after only a few seconds of searching, I looked up, whispering what everyone was afraid to say; "Belfast."

"Belfast."Erin spoke quietly."That can be a miracle or an accident waiting to happen. We have to tread carefully on this one."

Erin's eyes grew cold as they flicked over to Maire. She was curious as she tried to grow as close to the group as possible. I don't think she expected anyone to be able to read her map correctly.

"But that's not all."Erin sat back and ran a heavy hand down his face, "they're going to quarantine Ireland."

I sat back, almost in defeat, and it seemed as though the rest of the group had the same idea. Paul reached into his breast pocket and received his crumpled pack of cigarettes. He plunged the orange filter in between his lips and held to lighter to the tip of the tobacco. The flame engulfed it in seconds and as stole the first drag, he said, "Guess the lass had different plans, hm?"