Traitors

I'm not bothered by the smoke entering my lungs. In fact, I get a rush from it. The heat on my face reminds me of the old days of laying in the sun on a hot summer day. I breathe in the smoke and flick my eyes open. I stare at the dancing flames as they corrode the building. I wipe the leftover gasoline onto my jeans with a grin. Two down, four to go. I slip my lighter into the back pocket of my jeans and give the building one last look. The flames have almost reached the top and should crumble in a few minutes. I pop the hood of my jacket up and gallop into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Running is my second rush, next to burning things to the ground. It's the way my heart pounds against my chest, giving me a reason to keep pushing forward. It's my reminder that I'm still alive and have a reason to fight. The constant beat, the pound of my feet in the pavement, the heavy breathing, the burn in my calves; all of it means I'm alive.

I feel a buzz in my pocket. I charge into an alley and pull my phone from my pocket. I breathe heavily onto the screen causing it to fog up. I wipe the condensation off and smile when I see who is calling. My heart races, no longer due to running. I tap the green button and place my phone to my ear.

"What do you want, Fierce?" I pant into the receiver.

"Checking in." His deep voice echoes into my ear. "Everything alright?" I'm sure this is protocol, but he's the only one who checks in on me.

"Just finished. I'm on my way home." I sigh. "You know what I mean." I didn't consider that place home since I joined the rebellion.

"Stay hidden, Detope. We can't lose you." My heart skips a beat and I grip the wall. The desperation in his voice felt real. "See you in the morning." He quickly adds before hanging up.

I slip my phone back in my pocket taking in a deep breath of the autumn air. The crisp taste of crumbled leaves and old pumpkins tickles my taste buds. I smile as I remind myself how much I love this season. I push off the brick wall and start running toward my house. A good mile left, but it seems much shorter.

I hop the fence and charge onto the big oak planted on the side of the house. I pull myself up the different levels of the tree with bark tearing into the skin on my hands. Even though I've been in training for two years, my biceps still burn when I use them. I've gotten used to pulling my body weight, but my muscles still scream when I do. I peer up and see I'm almost at my window. I go up one more level of branches and climb onto the limb which leads to the roof. I inch my way across the branch hoping it can still hold me.

I spring from the branch and topple onto the roof. I regain my footing stealthily making my way to my cracked window where I force the glass up and slide my legs in first. I roll my torso in hoping to avoid bumping my head and push the window down to jam it in place. I throw my jacket off, placing it on my bed. I slip off my jeans, bawling them up and wrapping them within my jacket. I walk over to my closet and open the box hidden in the back, shoving the clothes inside. I secure the lid giving it a pat on the top with a sigh. I wish I didn't have to hide.

I close my closet door lightly and crawl into bed. That's the only thing I like about this house. My bed. It's a comfortable, pillowed mess, but it's mine. I have slept at The Tunnel before and the beds there were horrible. I guess that's one reason why I still live in my parents' house. This place didn't feel like home anymore, but my bed is here and that is enough to make me stay.

The Tunnel is my true home; the home of the rebellion. It's an abandoned metro station just a few miles from here. People don't go in that part of town. It's too much of a reminder of what happened to this nation when it was bombed ten years ago. Well, that and it's forbidden. No one would dare to go there, which is exactly why we are stationed there. We are underground and have hacked the cameras set up around that area to make it seem like it's still unoccupied.

The government has been on edge since the bombing. They don't trust anyone, not even themselves. They use their citizens as pawns, placing them where they want them. They drag us around and toy with our emotions. They make you believe you have no other choice and you must listen to them. If you disobey, they get rid of you quietly. It's your job as a citizen not to question when someone goes missing. If you do, you go missing. We live in a society full of fear, and I am tired of being scared of what they might do to me. It's time for the people to take back their lives and no longer live in fear.

I wake up to a scream of cheer coming from downstairs. I pop up instantly and look toward my bedroom door. I roll over and slip on a pair of shorts. I discreetly open my door peering down the staircase. The TV is on in the kitchen and I hear a deep chuckle. Dad. I slip out of my room and head down the stairs. I walk down the tiny hall toward the kitchen. The news is blaring and Dad is leaning on the counter next to the toaster. He acknowledges me with a smile.

"Morning Phoe." He says cheerfully, reaching for a glass in the cupboard.

"You're in a good mood." I smile at him. He pours me a glass of orange juice.

"Of course I am." He slides me the glass across the counter. "Check it out." He motions toward the TV.

I turn my attention to the news anchor tapping a stack of papers together and placing them in front of her. The banner at the bottom reads "Traitor Found. Hanging This Afternoon." I nearly choke on my juice. My heart beats against my chest. Who did they find? My first initial thought goes straight to Fierce, but if they caught him, they'd do worse than hang him.

"Twenty-two year old, Jeremy Handley, has been found guilty of treason and will be hung this afternoon." I attempt to calm myself down. "Let this be a warning to those traitors out there. You will be caught and taken care of." I swallow hard. "In other news, the arsonist has struck again." I smile into my juice as a recording of the burning building appears on the screen. "This is the second government building to be burned down in the past month. Officials say they are taking action by boosting security and keeping their eyes peeled for this traitor. If you have any information, please contact your local police."

I finish my juice and look at Dad. He holds a deep stare at the TV and slams his fist onto the table out of fury. I jump back startled by his actions. He huffs out an angry sigh and pushes off of the counter.

"These damn traitors!" He hisses. "When are they going to learn?" He looks at me. "I hope the government finds these fuckers soon. They need to be taught a lesson or two." He shakes his head and leaves the kitchen.

I glance back at the TV. The sound of the news fading into slurred words and white noise. My heart falls into the pit of my stomach as I grip the counter for support. If he finds out, he's going to kill me himself.

My name is Phoenix Detope and I am a traitor.