Anthem

I think about the stranger on the way back to the base. As I walk back I actually take the time to look at who else helped me take the lives of those rebels. The two men who came back into the alleyway are both huge. Muscles bulge on their arms and their builds tower above mine. Garrison has dark skin and hair. He doesn't talk much. Lance is constantly tapping his fingers. On a wall, on his thigh, or lightly on the trigger of his gun. The others complain to him about it, not wanting to get shot, but he insists he's been keeping the safety on. The whole behavior seems childish for someone his age but when I ask him about it he just glares at me. If only I was better at reading people's emotions. I'd settle for being able to read my own. Once again it seems I'm the only girl in the group. I'm not the strongest or the most experienced by any means so why I was put here is a mystery to me. The fifth man keeps his helmet low and walks in front of me. I can't tell anything about him except that he also seems disturbed by the executions.
Back at camp I find out that we have a two hour break before lights out, unless your chore infringes into the time. It seems like I've missed the first hour and people are starting to get ready for bed. After looking around I find someone with plastic shot glasses. He stares at me skeptically when I ask for one. "If you tell any of the officers where you got it..." He threatens.

"I won't." I promise. He nods and I go to the sink. I fill up the cup with water and pull out the, slightly bent but still intact, flower. It doesn't mean anything to me obviously, but it helps me think of springtime at home. I put the stem in the shot glass and put it on the windowsill.
"Who gave you that?" someone asks behind me. I turn to see Derrick, a small frown on his face. I smile in response. It's been a long day and its good to see a familiar face.
"No one. I, um, found it." I stumble over the words for some reason. He shrugs and glares over at Murray who's just walking in, looking as tired as the rest of us. I wonder why Derrick is angry at him.
"Well, anyway. How was your day?" he asks. This is probably the first time he's really pushed to have a conversation.

"Exhausting" I mumble. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be telling him what I was doing today.

"Yeah I think it was for a lot of us. You know, I feel like we don't know each other well enough." He says quiet enough for only me to hear. I shift my weight awkwardly on the mattress. Is he flirting with me? I wouldn't know what to expect.

"Yeah. I know" I say with an awkward laugh. I'm not sure if I'm doing this right.
"Well" he says moving his arm off the bunk above mine.

"We should change that sometime." He smiles at me and leaves. My heart flutters uncomfortably and I can tell my cheeks are red. What just happened?

The rest of the week passes without incident. At night we can hear gunshots in the distance but so far we haven't been apart of any firefights. Yet. Derrick continues to talk to me, bumping his shoulder to mine and once even sitting on my bed next to me. I think about just gathering up my courage and telling him to leave me alone, but part of me, a larger pat than I'd like to admit, likes the idea of being wanted. I don't say anything. We continue with our group jobs, cleaning the toilets, cooking the food, washing uniforms, and patrols. I'm pulled aside and notified that I, along with a select group, will be continuing to "commission retribution". Which I take to mean I will continue to be apart of the firing squad. I'm told that it's an honor, but it doesn't feel like one. We're not given any indication when the next one will be for security reasons. The idea nags at the back of my mind constantly. I find out that with our two hours of free time we can leave the facility and go to civilian areas that aren't under the control of the rebels. That evening I go out for a walk. My first stop is the Eiffel Tower. It's close. Less than a mile. I can't get very close. Craters and broken machinery lie everywhere around it and a barbed wire fence cuts off all the roads. Street directories point towards the Arc of Triumph. Its only two kilometers away. A short walk. I've never heard of this monument but I do recognize it when I get there. The roads that surround it is coned off but I go around them to get a better look. The right corner of it is missing a large chunk. The rock around it is blackened with soot. Not many people are here. An older man sits under the arch, eating an apple and reading a book. A young woman sits on one of the concrete truck barricades and glares at the red and black banners of our country hanging from the stone. I wonder if she's one of the rebels. I keep my distance from her. I here someones walking stop abruptly behind me.
"We meet again." A male voice says pleasantly behind me. I turn, perplexed on who could be talking to me.
Blonde hair, golden brown eyes, blue scarf. The boy from the alley.
"Hello." I say politely. I brush some hair out of my face.
"I must say I didn't think I'd be running into you here" he comments offhandedly. His eyes stray to something behind me.
"Would you take a walk with me?" he requests suddenly. The logical part of me says this is a bad idea. I don't know this guy, I'm supposed to be patrolling the area if I'm out on a break, not talking to civilians. Despite what my brain is telling me, my mouth form the words,
"Sure, let's go."