Prologue
Secret Service
My father and mother told me to get ready quickly, that we had to get moving. I didn’t understand; it was Saturday afternoon, and no one went to school or worked after noontime on Saturday. They were in the habit of going out around this time every week, but they always left me at home. I was nervous, but I followed their orders. I noticed that father slung his semi-auto carbine over his shoulder and give mother a revolver before we left. Why didn't he give me a weapon? Why did he bring his weapon? Did we need weapons? Those were all the questions I had. I wasn't afraid of guns, but I was afraid of what we might be going to that needed them.
After leaving our large ranch house and walking about half a mile down the gravelly stretch of the unnamed road, we turned onto the property of one of our neighbors, Mr. Riley. I asked father what we were here for, and he told me he would answer when we got inside. We walked up to the doorway of Mr. Riley’s barn, which was probably the oldest building for miles around. But Mr. Riley kept it standing strong, and he was respected in the neighborhood for it. Father knocked on the giant double-pannel door in a funny pattern that almost sounded musical. It was opened, and a man allowed us in.
Father told me to look around while he spoke with someone. I shivered as a cold wind blew through the old gaps in the walls; this place really was coming apart. I petted one of the horses in the stable in a corner and took a seat in one of the two rows of benches set up. At the head of the rows, there was an elevated stage, with a simple wooden lectern. A man dressed in regular clothing with a black blazer stood next to it, and he was talking with my father. He wasn’t an intimidating or terribly impressive man, but something about his calm, slightly round face, his neat head of brown hair, and his confident stance made him seem powerful in a sense.
I looked around, and noticed other people, many of them our neighbors, were starting to funnel in, some sitting on the benches, some talking in hushed tones, all of them armed with some type of gun or other. Was there a violent plan about to be made? I didn't want to be involved in any violence, I hated it.
After a few moments, I saw Stephanie, the girl who lived on the property next to mine. She was checking over her father’s rifle while he talked to the man in the black blazer.
“Stephanie!” I called, walking over to her.
“Oh, hi there Joseph!” She said. “I haven’t seen you here before, is this your first address?”
“Address? What are you talking about?”
“Your parents haven’t told you about it yet?” Stephanie gave me a perplexed look.
“About what? That everyone’s meeting here?”
Stephanie put the rifle down on a bench and looked up at me. Despite being a year older, I still had several inches on her. “You really don’t know why we’re here?”
“No. Is this a religious service? Why aren’t the Grizzlies supervising?” The Russian enforcers in their brown burlap coats and multi-pocketed cargo pants were present at every public gathering.
“Don’t talk about the Grizzlies here. They don’t know about this place, or this meeting, and they aren’t supposed to,” Stephanie said forcefully.
“Why? What is it?” I persisted.
The man at the lectern pounded on it, and everyone took their seats. I sat next to Stephanie, as she nodded to the man on the stage. “Just listen to him, it’ll all be clear,” she told me.
The man in the black blazer looked over the faces of everyone on the benches, nodding to both of the rows. Another man, who I recognized as Mr. Riley, stood at attention at one corner of the stage. “Thank you all for coming here this afternoon. We know that much is risked in gathering today, and your loyalty is appreciated. Let us all turn our ears to delegate Ingels.” He turned around to face the stage and nodded his head.
“Thank you, Thomas,” the man said. He must have been delegate Ingels. “All please rise for the presentation of the colors,” He declared.
I stood with everyone else as two men on the stage behind delegate Ingels stretched out a flag I had never seen before. It had a big blue square with white stars, and red and white stripes. It looked nothing like our country’s flag of a white bear shape on a field of brown. Everyone saluted this red, white, and blue flag, and Stephanie elbowed me in the side before I got the hint.
“Bugler, sound off.” Delegate Ingels ordered. At the side of the stage stood James, Mr. Riley's son. He raised a strange brass instrument to his mouth and played a musical tune, during which we all stood erect and gave our attention to the flag. When he was finished, the flag was folded by its bearers and taken offstage, while Ingels stepped up to the lectern.
“For life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” he said. The crowd copied his words.
“My friends, as we gather here this Saturday in Thomas Riley’s barn, let us remember the cause of our gathering, and our lost rights as Americans,” Ingels said.
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. I’d heard some kind of talk about what America was like before the Russians were here, but they’d been here all my life, so I didn’t know we had lost anything. I didn't even know we had anything to lose before. Weren't the Russians doing a great job of running this country? That was what I had always thought.
Ingels went on to talk about current events: things like the hockey league standings, which the Washington Capitols were leading, the state of production of all the farms in the area, and the news that had aired the previous night on TV. He allowed an open forum discussion, and some people offered their own insights. I kept quiet and listened.
After some time, one of the crewmen handed Ingels a leather-bound book. He opened it to a marked page near the front cover and laid it on the lectern. “A passage from the Declaration of Independence,” he said, and read from the book.
“Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. --Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government.”
When he finished, I was surprised at how well I understood the old English syntax. He was talking about how when a government is around for a long time, it shouldn’t be changed, unless it is in the best interests of the people. I felt very inspired hearing it. Although, I didn’t have much time to reflect before he put the book away, and the crowd stood again.
Mr. Riley opened a smaller book and flipped a few pages. “All who are able, please join in our following song ‘Battle of Hymn of the Republic.’” They all sang a song that I didn’t know the words to. I wished I could have joined in, but I was content to listen to lively tune.
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn them eventually,” Stephanie whispered to me after it was over and we sat down again.
Ingels read another passage from what he called “the U.S Constitution,” and then he brought out three metal bowls and laid them on the stage.
“May life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness be strong in you all,” he said to the crowd.
“And you as well,” the crowd answered.
“Today’s vote is concerning which family will receive a personal portion of this month’s corn harvest,” Ingels explained. “The candidate families are the Coopers, the Smiths, and the Walters.”
Three men: Mr. Cooper, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Walters, all stood and went to stand behind a bowl on the stage. One of the stage crew passed a piece of paper and a pencil to each of the people on the benches. I didn’t understand what was going on, but Stephanie told me to write the name of the family who I thought should get the extra corn. I knew that grandmother Walters had been ill lately, and he had had to take time away from work for her, so I wrote his name and put it in the bowl he stood in front of.
After all the votes were cast, Ingels counted them up and announced that Mr. Walters had the most votes. He was congratulated by the other families, and the crowd applauded for him. After he took his seat, Ingels spoke again.
“As was granted to us by our fathers’ forefathers, let us remember our right of democratic privilege, and vote for our opinions on equal ground,” he said. The audience nodded agreement at irregular intervals.
“Now, let us recite our democratic goal in the words that our founders gave us,” Ingels declared. The audience stood and spoke with him. I noticed the action, and quickly stood as well, but just listened.
“We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and to our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the United States of America.”
I didn’t know what those words were, or what they meant, but everyone else seemed to, so I regarded them with respect.
“The address is ended, go in glory and the pursuit of happiness.,” Ingels said. He stepped down from the lectern and the crowd broke its structure. Several men and women went around to greet and speak to each other, a few went to speak to Ingels, and several of the other teenagers took their guns and went out to hunt. I didn't want to leave though, the past half hour was the most fascinating thing I had ever experienced.
I looked around for Stephanie and saw her among the people talking to Ingels. I walked over, and she nodded to me. “Oh, delegate Ingels, this is my friend Joseph. He’s Mr. McFarlane’s son. This is his first address,” she said.
“Well it’s good to have you here Joseph,” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“It’s a very interesting thing you do here,” I still wasn't sure what to make of everything.
“Isn’t it? It’s my job, and the job of all delegates to help us Americans remember our rights," he explained.
“What rights are those?”
Stephanie sighed, but Ingels chuckled as he realized that my parents hadn’t told me anything. He started from the beginning, and explained everything: The great power of the United States (I wasn't quite sure what he meant by states), the Russian invasion and conquest, and our current communist regime that took away our democratic rights. I was fascinated, and even more so when Ingels told me that addresses like this were forbidden because they were kept secret from the Grizzlies and that they promoted rebellious morale.
Once he was done explaining, I said goodbye to Stephanie, and went home with my parents. They asked me what I thought of the address, and I said I liked it a lot. They were both pleased, and once we were home, they let me have the day off from chores. I was excited, and immediately grabbed my journal and went out on the back porch of our ranch house to write about the day.
************************************************************************************************************************************************
For several months, we went to addresses led by delegate Ingels every Saturday. It was never held in the same place two weeks in a row, in order to keep it discreet. The thrill of wondering where we would go next was always fun. On the day of my 15th birthday, Ingels offered a song for me during the address. He became my idol figure. I wanted to be a delegate like him when I was older.
My 15th birthday was the day I really became aware that a revolution was in the making, and that the Russians had no tolerance for insurrection.
I had been out hunting all evening. A lot of birds were out, and I'd managed to bag a few pheasants before turning to head home. I turned on my flashlight to better navigate my way through the thick collection of trees, but clicked it off when I broke the tree line and saw a bright yellow light ahead. I had to squint for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the new brightness.
I stopped; the light was coming from our road. That wasn’t right; nobody had any lights that bright. I dropped my flashlight and ran towards my farm. Curiosity, and a bit of anxiety were creeping into my head. When I broke out of the trees, I had to do a double-take on what I saw. Our barn was on fire, and the horses and cows were running around in frenzy. I kept low, away from the crazed animals, and continued walking closer to the house. I worked up my courage to look inside the house, took a big gulp, and saw my father through window. His hands were up, and he was facing a man in a brown coat with an automatic weapon trained on him. I almost vomited when I saw it. The Grizzlies were here. I wanted to cry, but I didn't; I couldn't. My mind still hadn't processed everything that was happening.
I saw my father look directly at me, and the look in his eyes said “get out now. I’ll be okay.” I wanted to rush inside and help him, but I knew I had to obey, so I ran. I went down the road, keeping to the left side. Grizzlies were running all over the farms on the right side of the road, and I kept my distance from them. I ran across as fast as I could to Mr. Riley’s barn, almost tripping on the rough gravel surface of the road. The farm house was on fire, and the blaze was too bright to look directly at. But the barn was untouched. I snuck in through an open door, and I found Ingels and a few other men gathering with guns. As they heard footsteps, they raised their weapons.
“No! It’s Joseph McFarlane, don’t shoot!” I said, throwing my hands into the air. They lowered their guns in the candlelight, and I walked up to them. “What’s happening, delegate Ingels?” I asked.
“The Grizzlies found out about our addresses being held here. They’re looking for the delegate,” Ingels said.
“What? What do they want with you?”
“Probably names. Names of conspirators of revolution."
“What will you do?” I asked him.
“I’m going to go out fighting for my country, just like my father did years ago.” He cocked his gun. “Alright men, we’re going to keep to the shadows and take the long shots. If you’ve got multiple targets, wait for my signal. Let’s move out.”
“What about me? Should I come too?” I asked.
Ingels shook his head. “No Joseph, this is even more dangerous that the addresses. I know you’re a good shot, but I don’t want to risk your life more than I have. Find your friends and hide until we’ve driven the Grizzlies off.” The man who had only this morning worn a powerful black blazer now was dressed in simple farm clothing. He looked every bit like a true militiaman.
“Good luck Mr. Ingels,” I said.
“Kyle. It’s Kyle Ingels,” he corrected me. With a grin and a nod, he and the other men dashed out of the barn and across the road.
I cocked my rifle; the bolt felt like a thousand pounds of led to push and pull. Several houses and barns were now burning, and I could here many loud shouts in Russian and English. Bitter smoke flowed into my nostrils, and began to draw tears from my eyes. No shots had been fired yet, so I had hope.
As I walked away from the Riley farm down the road, a few yards further, I saw a Grizzly pushing a man forward, and kicking him when he fell to the ground. Another behind him was half-leading half-dragging a woman by the arm. Even from 20 or so yards away, I could hear her sobs and cries, pleading for her life, and her husband's.
I thought I could take them both, and raised my rifle to look down the sights, but I lowered it again when I saw two more Grizzlies walk up behind the first two. I ducked down behind a tractor and peeked out to watch what was happening. The man on the ground hopped up and clocked his assailant on the side of the head, then pulled a knife and stabbed him with it. As he was falling, the man slashed at the two other Grizzlies, but they grappled with him and subdued him as the one holding the woman pushed her away, pulled a handgun and shot her in the back. I could have sworn I heard the crack of her spine under the crack of the shot.
"No! No!" The man shouted, fighting and squirming in his captors' grip. The Grizzly he'd stabbed was dead, but the third who'd shot the woman pushed him onto the ground and kicked him. As he fell, a girl came running out from behind the house a few yards away from them, but stopped as she saw the commotion. My knees buckled and I almost fell out from behind my cover when I saw her.
"Stephanie! Run! Get out of here!" The man, her father, called out to her, sputtering as the Grizzly kicked him again. The two who were previously holding him turned and shot into the woods as Stephanie bolted away from them. I felt tears entering my eyes as I saw the Grizzlies hurdle over her mother's corpse and run after her.
Her father tried to crawl away, but the remaining Grizzly flipped him over with his black boot. He took his main weapon, a high-gauge shotgun and aimed it at his face. Even through all the fire, screaming in English and Russian, and collapsing buildings, I heard his words clear as if I'd said them myself.
"Where's your star-spangled banner now?" He said, and blasted him with three shotgun shells.
Rage ignited in my stomach as fiery as the houses around me. I raised my rifle and shot four bullets into the lone Grizzly's back. His scream of agony as he died filled me with gratification as I ran further down the road.
I was suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled into a shed a few yards away. My assailant spun me around, and I had to take a moment to get my bearings back. Once I recovered from my dizziness, I looked up, and was confronted with the iron-masked face of a Grizzly soldier. He was tall, but not bulky. He looked maybe about 18 or 20. His carbine rifle wasn’t pointed at me, but at the ground.
He helped me up off my butt and put a hand over my mouth before I could scream. I tried to bite his hand, but they were protected by thick gloves. I was hyperventilating, because the strong cover of his hand made it hard to breathe. I could see the brown of his jacket and pants even in the dark. However scared I had been when father got angry at me, this was a hundred and six times worse.
He spoke in a lightly accented voice. “Keep quiet and follow me if you want to live,” he said. He opened the door of the shed and took off across the open pitch behind the Riley barn. I was scared to death, and I didn't trust him at all, but I followed him anyway. It was better than the alternative of running and getting shot. After a minute or so of running, we crossed the street and ran into the woods. He led me along several half-blazed trails between the trees, and eventually he hopped down into a trench. I followed his lead.
He looked at me sternly. Only his eyes were visible through the holes in his iron mask. “Wait here,” he commanded, and hopped back out of the trench.
I was three times as confused as I had been during my first address. I had no idea what was happening. I knew the Grizzlies were here, but I didn’t know why one had told me to come here, or how they had found out about our addresses. I shook off the shock as best I could and walked along the trench. It was about four feet deep, so I crouched to stay hidden. As I came to a fork, I took the left branch and was nearly penetrated by a bullet passing a few inches away from my right shoulder.
“It’s Joseph! Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” I said. I took a gamble revealing my name, but I felt that I was about to die anyway, since the Grizzly brought me here.
“Joseph?” A voice called out. I was more than relieved to hear it.
Stephanie ran out of the shadows and hugged me tightly. “Oh, thank god you’re okay!” She said.
“Thank god you’re a lousy shot," I joked, hugging back.
“Did Marko bring you here, or did you find it yourself?”
“I don’t know who Marko is, but a Grizzly brought me here and told me to wait."
“That’s Marko. He’s on our side, don’t worry. Follow me.” She led me down the path in the trench to a sort of bunker made in the ground. Three other teens from the neighboring farms were there was well. I recognized them all: Tanner and Kara Cooper, and Lewis Smith. They all greeted me as I entered with Stephanie.
“What’s going on around here?” I asked.
“Our families are involved in a resistance plot,” Tanner said to me. “Because we’re so close to a major industry city, the Grizzlies were already on high alert. Someone turned traitor, and now they’re raiding the area looking for delegate Ingels.”
I had never known that my parents were involved in any kind of resistance. I’d heard historically of failed attempts by rebels to overthrow the Russian regime, but none had come close to success, and I figured no one could challenge them.
“So why are we here? Why did that Grizzly help to protect us?” I asked.
“He’s a resistance member too,” Stephanie said. “He’s been keeping the Grizzly patrols away from our area so we could have our addresses. He’s young, but he has a high standing. He’d a very good friend of delegate Ingels,” she explained.
I admired Stephanie infinitely in that moment. She'd just witnessed the death of her mother, and the brutal beating of her father. I could see that her green eyes were red around the edges, Her voice was dark and wavering, and she sniffled a few times when she spoke, but she kept it together. She refused to let herself be shaken by the chaos ensuing before us.
“Did you see Mr. Ingels? Is he okay?” Kara asked.
“I saw him and a few other men head out to fight off the Grizzlies. I don’t know how successful they’ll be,” I answered.
An explosion rocked the ground, and we all ducked into the bunker. Tanner looked out and was not pleased with the sight. “Mr. Riley’s barn is gone,” he said grimly.
I looked up to see if I could spot the remains, and I saw a Grizzly come running through the trees and towards us with a body draped over his back. He hopped down and entered the bunker, then he set the body down on the ground. I was heartbroken to see that it was Kyle Ingels. But I was relieved to see him sit up, cradling his arm.
“You’re shooting is a mite too good, Marko,” he said in a strained, but thankful voice.
“Your delegate’s men were gunned down. I had to shoot him in the arm and follow him into the woods to get him out alive,” Marko the Grizzly said. His lightly accented voice sounded metallic behind his mask.
“Well, Marko, you’ve done good tonight. Your service to the resistance is valued,” Ingels said to the young Russian.
“Do not thank me yet. We have to get moving. Children, your parents ordered me to bring you to safety, and I will. Come on.” Marko tied a bandage over the bullet wound he’d given Ingels and hefted the man onto his shoulders. The five of us followed him as he led us out of the trench and through the woods. I hadn’t heard any gunshots, and I wondered if my parents were okay. I didn’t have much faith though. I’d seen the Grizzly in my home, with his rifle aimed at my father.
And that was the night I really became a revolutionary. Marko would tell me in the morning that there were no survivors of the attack on our homes. I wasn't sad though. I didn't cry, like Kara, or stay silent in brooding, like Tanner, Lewis, and Stephanie. I was energized, filled with vigor and anger towards the Russian regime. I knew as we left our homes that night that all I wanted to do was free our country, and fly the American colors once more over a proud nation.
Starting with nit picks ...
Just trying to help. 
Instead this is just maing the whole thing drag on; instead, take some of the dialogue out and replace it with action.
I really do like this idea, and I can just see what it would look like with a bit of editing. Good luck, and if you have any questions/comments/ need another review, feel free to ask. 
Gender:
Points: 3196
Reviews: 94