Columbine

I’d never had a party thrown for me before. Not even for any of my birthdays. This was largely due to my starkly obvious hatred of social functions, and I’d never thought that it would get to the stage where I’d be forced to attend one.

The tavern where we’d gone to get volunteers and met George and Dennis had organized a free-for-all in the Blood Bank’s honor, and the place was practically swarming with people. Had I been claustrophobic, I’d have had ten heart attacks by now.

Scarlett and Sarah had kept insisted that we go for fifteen minutes straight before we all realized that if we didn’t all go, we’d never hear the end of it. I got the feeling that everyone had ulterior motives for risking exposure and coming up to the surface.

Sarah and Scarlett had been flirting with every male under thirty that was in the tavern. Charlie was doing the same thing with every girl under forty. Dennis was in the corner talking to some of his friends. Valentin was sitting at a table talking to the guys that had helped install the stage, leaving me sitting alone at the bar.

“So, Miss Wells,” Steve the bartender slyly approached where I was sitting, “When can we be expecting the next opening?”

“Um…” I stared into my glass of apple juice. I’d never felt so stupid in my life. Who the hell drinks juice in a bar giving away free drinks? There were plenty of underage people here with beer in their hands, but my trusty old instincts had told me all I needed to know to choose juice.

“I think tomorrow’s a safe bet.” I finally said.

I felt instantly guilty announcing the date when it was still so tentative, but I couldn’t help but feel that Dennis had had a point. I had to take some leadership eventually, since I’d been responsible for ramming the entire idea of the Blood Bank down everyone’s throats.

“You know, if you need someone to bartend down there…” Steve the bartender winked in a way almost too sly for its own good. “You just let me know.”

“Um…okay.” I nodded, not knowing what to make of that. I’d never been in charge of anything in my life. Without the help of everyone else to keep me afloat in the big, vast ocean of entertainment business, I didn’t know what the hell to do. Even something so simple as the option of a bar made my head spin.

“Do you expect to be paid for your services, by any chance?” I asked, finally deciding that there was no harm in simple conversation. As long as I didn’t actually do anything, nothing could go wrong.

“I expect for customers to pay for their own drinks.” Steve said.

“Oh.” I muttered, taking a swig of my freshly squeezed apple juice.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked.

I paused, wondering if I should say anything. I was still very, very new at this, and even when I’d had practice, I’d never been very good at convincing people that I was right. It was due largely to the fact that most times, I was wrong.

“It’s just that…” I took a deep breath. “The Blood Bank is non-profit. I don’t want to take advantage of desperate people in such desperate times, you know?”

I felt my face turn red, and tried to hide it by swilling the last of my apple juice. When I put the glass down, I saw that Steve was smiling.

“I can barely believe it -- someone who still believes in justice is in charge of something.” Steve smiled. He looked oddly pleased for someone who’d just been denied a potential source of income.

“Thanks, I guess.” I said.

“So how about I get you a real drink.” Steve offered, taking my empty glass away. “I’ll get you something real nice. You look like you could handle your liquor.”

I blinked, not knowing what to say.

“I’m underage.” Was all I could summon up. Steve chuckled.

“Maybe back in the U.S. you were underage. You’re here now. There’s no such thing as underage.” He grinned.

For some reason, I couldn’t help but be sad that he’d said that. It meant so much more than a simple change of location. It was a reminder that life wasn’t the same. Some people may have been happy that they didn’t have to wait to get wasted, but I’d rather have never had a drop of alcohol in my life if it meant that the rules I’d followed growing up hadn’t shattered completely.

“So what’ll it be?” Steve asked. “It’s all on the house.”

“Orange juice.” I finally decided. Steve looked a little surprised at my choice.

“Orange juice it is.” He said, taking some fresh oranges from the prep area behind him and slicing them in half. I stared at him press the orange down onto the cone and watched the fluid dribble down with all the undivided attention of someone who’d been hypnotized.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” He put the filled glass in front of me, and proceeded to serve customers who were by far more in need of his services than me. I took a small, squeamish sip of the too-sour juice and fought back an acidic grimace.

I then looked at the arrangement of bottles on the wall behind the bar table. They didn’t look quite as cool as in the movies, but I was certain that they fulfilled their destiny well enough to be pardoned for their plain appearance.

We’d all agreed to answer questions toward closing time, and I was dreading the passing minutes as we approached midnight. The first time I’d been forced to get up in front of a crowd in here had been bad enough, and I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to repeating it.

For the purpose of being the Blood Bank’s spokesperson, Sarah had overpowered me earlier and forced me into white, spaghetti-strap tank top she’d dug up from my overflowing closet. I’d been graciously permitted to keep my own shorts and combat boots on. For some reason, Sarah had thought that they’d gone well with the tank top. Her exact words had been “very tomb-raider”. I didn’t know what the hell she’d meant, and I really didn’t want to know.

My make-shift haircut had been met with love from everyone but Dennis. Scarlett had really loved the bangs that I regretted giving myself. Everyone else had just nodded in confirmation at the praise my new look had earned. I briefly wondered if they were just avoiding injury. If so, then I owed them a hearty pat on the back for exercising such smarts.

Suddenly somebody sat down in the seat next to mine. When I looked up, I saw that it was Valentin. He was holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Having fun?” He asked.

For a minute I wasn’t sure what he was doing. Not only did we hardly ever speak anymore, but we’d pretty much learned that the less we saw of each other, the less likely it would be for problems to arise. I wasn’t sure what it was he wanted. He had to want something if he was talking to me without a cause or a reason.

“Not really.” I answered, rotating the glass of orange juice in my hands.

“Me either.” He said, and took a swig of his beer.

“Why not?” I found myself asking, and cringed.

“I’ve never liked crowded places very much.” He said. “I guess you don’t either.”

At least there was one thing that he’d gotten right about me.

“I guess we’ll have to learn to deal with it.” I said.

He was silent for a while. I looked desperately for things to look at while appearing nonchalant. My orange juice became the subject of my frantic eyes for a while, until I realized that I might just see the future depicted in pulp if I wasn’t careful. So I continued examining the display of bottles on the wall.

“Look, I know that we haven’t gotten along very well.” Valentin suddenly announced.

I was so startled that I turned and looked him in the eyes before I could stop myself. Once I realized what I’d done, it was too late to avert my gaze.

“But I’d just like take the opportunity to congratulate you on all of this.” He said.

I blinked. He was looking right at me. I couldn’t help but swallow. I usually managed to avoid getting too flustered by not paying too close attention to what he looked like, but at that moment it was almost impossible. He looked too good for my comfort zone. The most agitating thing about it was that he didn’t even try.

“Are you drunk?” Was the best that I could come up with in response.

He smiled a private little smile and looked down at his beer bottle.

“Not really.” He concluded after looking at the label. “Definitely more drunk than you are.” He indicated the too-sour orange juice that required Herculean efforts of the tongue.

“No one here seems to get the fact that I’m underage.” I said, finally giving up on forcefully ingesting the juice.

“I guess they figured that if they’re old enough to work, they’re old enough to drink.” Valentin shrugged. There wasn’t much I could say to that.

It was at that point that something strange happened. It got very quiet in the tavern all of a sudden, and people started to back against the walls until they were forming a sort of circle around the room.

It was then that a group of maybe five people came out into the middle of the circle. For a moment, I thought that the Demataxt had decided to pay the local nightlife a visit, but then I saw that they weren’t wearing Demataxt coats. My pulse fell as quickly as it had risen.

The group consisted of men, all more-or-less in their late twenties. They were all big, tall, and scary-looking. I could see that each one had a holster with a gun in it, and was briefly reminded of the police. Something told me that these people weren’t exactly peacekeepers.

“Alright, people!” The ringleader bellowed at the top of his lungs. “The Front For Humanity has an announcement to make!”

I felt my blood freeze in my veins.

Charlie, Sarah, and Scarlett joined me and Valentin at the bar. Although they may have felt more at home with their fellow felons and Blood Bank managers, I would have been much happier somewhere far away, where no one had even heard of running water, let alone the FFH.

Dennis’s words ran through my mind, and I snatched what pieces of information I could remember. The FFH had blown up the Demataxt building. That alone was a feat I couldn’t fathom pulling off. Last I’d heard, they’d caught an agent, and were holding him hostage. Who knew what else they were capable of? Now that I was seeing them up close and personal, I didn’t doubt that they were capable of much, much more.

“As you all know, the war between us and those who would enslave us is close to being declared!” The ringleader continued. “You know of whom I speak. Those scum that call themselves the Demataxt have made their goals clear!”

I swallowed.

“Have they been in here before?” Sarah whispered to Steve.

“Only when they have good news.” Steve replied.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I’d seen too much of organizations like the FFH back in Washington to feel anything but fear if they came to mind, but everyone seemed almost fond of the FFH. I knew Dennis certainly did.

“The Demataxt wants to make humans into slaves!” The ringleader yelled with enough conviction to make the hairs on the back of neck stand up. “They arrest, torture, and murder anyone they choose! And what punishment do you think is passed on the so-called officers of Demataxt law? I’ll tell you -- there is none!

“They haven’t been in power even a decade, and already their plans are as clear as the sky of this last frontier! Egypt is the only land that has yet to be conquered! We must stand up and defend it while we still can!”

There was a burst of cheers and applause from everyone in the room. Everyone but us. We just looked at each other, not sure what to do. We weren’t sure if we were to be afraid or not. They were here to fight for us, weren’t they? Being afraid of them didn’t seem logical, but I couldn’t help but feel that way.

“But we bring good news in these dark times.” The ringleader pressed on. “You’ve all witnessed the first step to achieving our independence. The Demataxt nest of Cairo has been destroyed! There’s nothing left of it except ashes!

“And now the first prisoner of war has been captured. One of the demon scum that they sent to prey on our streets has been caught and imprisoned! Tomorrow morning the Demataxt will be receiving our first official message -- the demon’s head in a box!”

An even louder explosion of cheer and applause boomed to life as true joy lit up in everyone’s eyes. My heart was beating hard in my chest. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Some of the emotion was fear. Some was excitement. A very small part of me felt triumphant, but not nearly triumphant enough.

“And there’s one more thing.” The ringleader said. “I’ve heard rumors of a new power rising up within these city walls. I’ve witnessed the incident on October the thirty-first. I’ve been told first-hand accounts by valuable informants of a place that has recently made its debut.”

By then, I wasn’t breathing. My brain was on autopilot, connecting the pieces on its own, telling me things that I wasn’t quite sure that I could believe. It had to have been Dennis. If Dennis was a part of the FFH and had informed me of its progress, then what was to stop him from telling the FFH about the Blood Bank’s progress? Any violent urges I may have had toward Dennis were squelched by reckless, nauseating fear.

“Who among you is Columbine Wells?” The ringleader boomed.

His voice had been crystal clear and sharp as a stainless steel blade, but I wanted desperately for him to have said something else. Anything else. Anything but what he’d obviously, undoubtedly, unmistakably said.

It was then that Dennis made his way toward me, his face very serious, but twin flames of excitement burning in his eyes.

“Come on.” He held his hand out to me. “Don’t be shy.”

I didn’t feel myself get up from the stool. I didn’t feel Dennis’s hand on my wrist, leading toward the ringleader. I didn’t feel my feet touch the floor. My body had gone totally numb, as if to protect itself. I didn’t know what I’d expected. Pain? It would have made no sense at all. The FFH was definitely here to help. The only reason they looked as scary as they did was because they couldn’t afford not to.

Although I didn’t feel it, I knew Dennis had let go of my hand. There was only three foot’s worth of distance between me and the ringleader.

“Columbine Wells.” He said. “Pleased to meet you. My name’s Charles Harvard.”

Being the brilliant, well-versed person that I was, I immediately summoned a killer response.

“Harvard?” I blinked. “Like the university?”

The ringleader paused. He’d been about to say something, but apparently he hadn’t been expecting me to be so witty. I swallowed. It felt like I’d swallowed a lung.

“You’re younger than I expected.” He said. He’d lowered his voice, but the tavern was so quiet that the amoebas seemed a bit loud to me.

“I keep telling everyone I’m underage, but they keep offering me drinks anyway.” I said defensively.

My face turned skin colored, since it had been the color of a sheet earlier. The furious blush seemed to return my skin tone to normality.

The ringleader paused again. Then he smiled a little. But it wasn’t a kind or happy smile. It was the kind of smile that’s purely functional, and serves no purpose other than to let people know that at least you’re trying to seem human.

“I’ve heard much about you, Miss Wells.” He said. “You seem to have gained an incredible following in a very short amount of time.”

“Following?” I asked. “I wouldn’t really call it a following.”

“If you might consider working alongside me to preserve the independence of this country, I will be very happy.” The ringleader said.

My brain was still on autopilot, so I wasn’t fully aware of what I was saying. I’m almost certain that a part of me had given up on the situation completely, and had decided that I was hallucinating, and that pretty much anything could go.

“Well, I’ll just make your happiness number one on my list of priorities, then.” I said.

“I am being very serious with you.” The ringleader said in a very serious voice.

“The Blood Bank is a dance club. Not a rally point.” I said. “If you want to drop by for a good time, be my guest. But other than that, I’m not sure I can help you.”

“Oh, but you can!” He said. “Just imagine the morale boost. If people are reminded of what they once were, then maybe they will realize that they have to fight back! Don’t you want Egypt to be free?”

I didn’t know how to argue with that. All I could think to say was,

“I’m not looking for trouble.”

The ringleader stared at me. He looked a little disappointed, but nothing more than that. Something told me that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him. My instincts proved to be dead on a moment later, when, as the FFH was walking out, he called out,

“I’ll be sure to visit this so-called Blood Bank of yours!”

And then the autopilot switched off.