‹ Prequel: Power & Control: The Common Good
Sequel: Tie a Knot & Hang On ›
Status: completed! comments and critiques still welcome!
Fear Itself
Public Death
When I left my father’s house just days later, he warned me to be careful. I had seen the broadcast. We actually sat down and watched it together: Commander Kennedy instituted a draft for a national guard. Any militiamen who had already completed their contracts were brought back into work, but this time, they were stationed around their cities. London was crawling with armed militia ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. What was worse was that they were still looking for Sam, Alex, Avery, and I. They were ordered to shoot any fugitives on sight.
Avery had business to tend to, and my father felt it best for me to leave shortly after he did. He told me that if I listened to him, it’d be easier for me to get back to wherever I was going, that the militia would be occupied and not watching for me. Because Avery was unavailable, I phoned Dean. He too had prior engagements, things he couldn’t get out of, but he assured me that he would send Alex over to get me. I supposed that Alex was the next best thing.
He met me at the front door wearing a tattered, old baseball cap, a shade of sky blue, pulled down just far enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head before he handed me a pair of sunglasses. Now that we were concealed, we were good to go. We crossed through the woods, out of the gardens, and into the square, but something was off about the square today: there was an abnormally large crowd gathered.
They all stood around the ruins of a fountain that once rested there, but the circle was wide. On an elevated platform stood all fourteen of the board members and Dean. Just below, standing on the street, was a line of militiamen with guns raised and aimed, about fifty or so. All fifty guns were pointed at fifty shackled civilians, probably rebels, all standing in utter silence.
“Citizens of London,” Kennedy boomed over a megaphone. His three trusty bodyguards stood tall behind him. “Today, I offer you retribution. Before you stand the men and women who had plagued your dear city with chaos. Before you stand the rebels who pillaged your homes and shops, the very rebels who destroyed League Tower #1. They must pay not only for their crimes against the League but for their crimes against you, their crimes against humanity, citizens.” The crowd cheered.
A single face in the crowd turned: a young woman with dark brown hair. Brown eyes stared back at me, filled with fear and regret, shaking with the prospect of imminent death. It was Harley. The very Harley we hadn’t seen since the tunnels collapsed, the same girl we assumed had died there. Here she was: terrified, awaiting her fate.
“My friends, today is your revenge!” Kennedy exclaimed. There was a pause, an awful hush: the sound of tension filling the empty space. Then, he commanded the soldiers, “Fire.”
“Tali, don’t watch,” Alex cautioned hurriedly, trying to drag me in another direction, but he wasn’t quick enough. His voice barely beat out the collective sound of fifty guns being fired.
The entire row of rebels dropped. I heard their bodies thud against the cobblestone. I heard smoke trailing off the cooling weapons. I heard the tiny feedback echo from the megaphone when Kennedy turned it off, and footsteps shuffled along the platform as Kennedy and the Board quickly sunk below the crowd.
This was what death sounded like: swift, cold, and silent.
“Tali, come on.” Alex was quiet and shaken when he finally managed to tug me down the street. His fingers trembled around my wrist the whole walk back to the Hangar.
We didn’t even have to break the news. When we got down there, everyone was gathered in front of the large screen on the far wall. It showed the very scene we had just witnessed. Sam looked back at us with a grave look on his face. No one else could even look up.
“Well, then,” Sam murmured. “Back to work, then.”
Back to work we went. We didn’t utter a word about it, and we took our places at our respective stations. What else could we do? To mull over the deaths of fifty friends was pointless and distracting, as heart-wrenching as it was to think we had lost them. It was easier to just forget them all.
Avery had business to tend to, and my father felt it best for me to leave shortly after he did. He told me that if I listened to him, it’d be easier for me to get back to wherever I was going, that the militia would be occupied and not watching for me. Because Avery was unavailable, I phoned Dean. He too had prior engagements, things he couldn’t get out of, but he assured me that he would send Alex over to get me. I supposed that Alex was the next best thing.
He met me at the front door wearing a tattered, old baseball cap, a shade of sky blue, pulled down just far enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head before he handed me a pair of sunglasses. Now that we were concealed, we were good to go. We crossed through the woods, out of the gardens, and into the square, but something was off about the square today: there was an abnormally large crowd gathered.
They all stood around the ruins of a fountain that once rested there, but the circle was wide. On an elevated platform stood all fourteen of the board members and Dean. Just below, standing on the street, was a line of militiamen with guns raised and aimed, about fifty or so. All fifty guns were pointed at fifty shackled civilians, probably rebels, all standing in utter silence.
“Citizens of London,” Kennedy boomed over a megaphone. His three trusty bodyguards stood tall behind him. “Today, I offer you retribution. Before you stand the men and women who had plagued your dear city with chaos. Before you stand the rebels who pillaged your homes and shops, the very rebels who destroyed League Tower #1. They must pay not only for their crimes against the League but for their crimes against you, their crimes against humanity, citizens.” The crowd cheered.
A single face in the crowd turned: a young woman with dark brown hair. Brown eyes stared back at me, filled with fear and regret, shaking with the prospect of imminent death. It was Harley. The very Harley we hadn’t seen since the tunnels collapsed, the same girl we assumed had died there. Here she was: terrified, awaiting her fate.
“My friends, today is your revenge!” Kennedy exclaimed. There was a pause, an awful hush: the sound of tension filling the empty space. Then, he commanded the soldiers, “Fire.”
“Tali, don’t watch,” Alex cautioned hurriedly, trying to drag me in another direction, but he wasn’t quick enough. His voice barely beat out the collective sound of fifty guns being fired.
The entire row of rebels dropped. I heard their bodies thud against the cobblestone. I heard smoke trailing off the cooling weapons. I heard the tiny feedback echo from the megaphone when Kennedy turned it off, and footsteps shuffled along the platform as Kennedy and the Board quickly sunk below the crowd.
This was what death sounded like: swift, cold, and silent.
“Tali, come on.” Alex was quiet and shaken when he finally managed to tug me down the street. His fingers trembled around my wrist the whole walk back to the Hangar.
We didn’t even have to break the news. When we got down there, everyone was gathered in front of the large screen on the far wall. It showed the very scene we had just witnessed. Sam looked back at us with a grave look on his face. No one else could even look up.
“Well, then,” Sam murmured. “Back to work, then.”
Back to work we went. We didn’t utter a word about it, and we took our places at our respective stations. What else could we do? To mull over the deaths of fifty friends was pointless and distracting, as heart-wrenching as it was to think we had lost them. It was easier to just forget them all.