Young Writers Society

          Once, I smiled. Everyone used to, I’m sure – but not anymore. I remember those older times, in which the sun would shine upon my back and wrap me in its warmth. That’s also when my mother was alive. She made me smile too – and it was only she who could make me laugh – a true, virtuous laugh. Then she was gone. I can’t remember how, but that’s not what I like to think about. I want to remember her as she was in those happy days, those days when we would smile together, laughing about who-knows-what. Now it is a dark time, full of no reasons to smile – at least from my point of view. In this new world I feel alone, even though there are others like me. All of us – The Rebel Force – have been lost since the Time of the Plunge. Many have given up, but like me, there are some who have chosen to seek for the sun again – for the smiles – or at least be able to die trying. I only hope we find them soon, because I know I can’t go on much longer without something more than just a glimmer of hope.

~~~

          Commanding shouts and the sharp sound of blasters awaken me from sleep. I blink, but the world stays dark around me. It is dank and musty in these caves in which we had been forced to escape to. I sit up, and I am alone among a nest of empty sleeping sacks, barely outlined in the dim lantern light. It is hard to see – even placing my hand in front of my face looks fuzzy. My body begins to quicken its pace as I hurriedly pull on a leather belt and thrust myself to a standing position, taking my blaster with me as I go. By now the sounds of combat are becoming louder, and I can hear the shouts and yells of my commanding officer more clearly as I jog towards the tunnels through which the sounds of battle are echoing.

          “Gatlin! Obdris! Help the Right Wing! Warren! – WHERE’S WARREN??” Scrambling forward into the darkness I head towards the sharp callings of my commander. There are thin bars of red and blue light shooting across the blackness that I can see – lasers; the most modern weapons of war. Fired from our blasters, they are powerful enough to pierce through any metal at the speed of light. The thud of bodies and clad of metal can be heard every so often. I don’t know if we are winning. We have been at this for days, probably weeks – but who could tell without a sun or much sense of daylight?

          “CYRUS BOY, GET IN POSITION!” Officer Carter grabs my shoulder, shoving me in the right direction. I am still disoriented from sleep, but I try not to let it show. A weary soldier is no good for The First League of The Rebel Force. I am no weary solider.

          The firing and constant action of fingers on cold metal wastes no time waking me up the rest of the way. The enemy lines are barely visible with each burst of laser light that hits them, but with every second of visibility, they seem to be getting closer and closer. Then it happens. A sudden eruption of light and heat exploded somewhere down our line of troops, blowing us all backwards. As I hit the hard ground a splintering pain makes my shoulder throb. My world goes black – and this time, I can’t even see the outline of my hand in front of my face.

~~~

          Slowly, my mind begins to register again. I am vaguely aware of voices around me, and I realize my name is in their conversation.

          “He was the last one they found – no, the others are dead – just these three now – Warren I think.” As I begin to hear more and more I realize that I can also feel – I lay on a smooth surface, but it is cold. My neck feels wet and sticky. My shoulder is throbbing – and then I remember the explosion.

          “Look, he’s stirring.” One of the voices, gentler, speaks again. I am suddenly aware of a presence very close to me. I blink open my eyes, which is hard – they must be crusted with dirt – or blood. Directly above me a face peers down, light hair outlined in lamplight. Another face blocks the light almost completely, with blue eyes staring intently.

          “Yup, Warren’s finally up. They did say he was a heavy sleeper,” the second voice says, with a spark of humor in his tone. All the while my eyes are adjusting to the new light, and I quickly realize I am no longer in the caves. I begin to sit up, and sturdy hands help me. I feel surprisingly stronger, except for the pulsating pain in my shoulder.

          “Where am I?” I am squinting, taking in the view around me when I get an answer.

          “You’re safe with us,” the woman tells me, which I find irritating.

          “Where?” I say again, and this time, a more familiar, but sarcastic voice answers me.

          “They’ve relocated us to Durwen.” I look to my left, and see the face of Zara Obdris – not exactly the most comforting person, but familiar. “You know where that is, don’t you Slug?”

          “Of course he does, his mommy taught him everything before the war. Didn’t she, Warren?” I know whose voice that is too. It’s no wonder that Gatlin and Obdris are the only other survivors. Just my luck.

          “Shut it, Merek,” I say, and begin to slide myself off the cot I lay. I am rewarded with a fresh sting of pain and I cringe. I know I need to get out of this place, but I also know the people in charge would not ever let me. I would have to make them let me.

          “Woah there, you need to relax,” the woman says to me. “Your head was knocked pretty bad back there.” I let them help me back onto the cot, reluctantly. Questions are drowning out my other thoughts, namely: How was I going to get out of here? I don’t trust doctors of any kind, not since I lost my mother. The needles and sterilization and artificially calm voices all make me feel like their experiment. Silently I reposition myself as far as I can without awakening another wave of pain. I look to my right, and then to my left. Zara and Merek both lay on metal cots as well. The glass door is not far off, and the room is remarkably bright. If my eyes can adjust fast enough, I could grit my teeth and make a run for it–

          “Time for injections.” My heart leaps in my chest at those words, and I watch as the male doctor holds up a needled syringe. Inside its clear tube resides a stale-looking green liquid, and it’s enough to make me want to gag. The doc heads toward Merek’s cot first, who just lays there, prepared to take it. He’s braver than I thought – of course, I’m kind of a sissy when it comes to needles. Then something awful happens: as the gross liquid enters into Merek, his whole body tenses up. His eyes become widened with a mix of fright and stiff pain – I have never seen the guy so startled before. His body seems totally frozen; out of his control. “You should feel a bit of numbing,” says the doc, whose tone of voice is full of mock, and whose hand is already reaching for the next needle. Now I know I have to get out of here. Pronto. I glance toward Zara’s cot, where she has remained in a sort of half-sitting, half-laying position. Her eyes only meet mine for a mere second, but it is enough to confirm my worries about the mysterious green liquid: it is poison.

          “I don’t think I need that,” I state dumbly as the female doctor starts towards me, venomous needle in hand. It had to be a poisonous draught of some kind – either that or some weird, rigor mortis-inducing drug.

          “Oh sweetheart, hold still,” comes the reply, but the tone of the word “sweetheart” does not at all sound sweet. I look over again at Merek, who is now beginning to have a shady green look about his complexion – oh great. Even for a guy who always liked to find a way to butt heads, this was not right. Someone had to do something – no, I had to do something. Hastily my mind formulates a solid plan – okay, half of a plan, which isn’t very solid, either – but still a plan. As the woman and her needle come closer, I lay still, pretending to be obliging. I wait until the last possible moment – until I can see the whites of her eyes eagerly gleaming with something much different than the caring nature of a doctor. Then I act.

          “No, I really don’t need that, you scum.” As I mutter the words through gritted teeth, I suddenly spring up, my hands grabbing the syringe from the doctor and turning the needle-end to face her body. I try my best to ignore the rush of pain that comes to me, and can feel myself beginning to lose my balance from weakness. Yet my maneuver has made both of the experimenters freeze and look a bit pale, as if they themselves had just been injected. I point the syringe at them like a gun as I move towards Zara, who has also risen off her cot. The door is just a few feet away from us, but as I start toward it, she holds me back in panic.

          “Cyrus, what about Merek?” Her voice is so full of concern that for a moment I thought she must not be the same Zara I had known for years. I follow her gaze towards the far cot, where Merek is writhing in pain, his form still looking numb and slightly green.

          “It’s too late for him,” I decide aloud, and practically have to drag her back towards the door. Yet at this point the docs have caught on, and once again stand between me and my future. With the syringe still in hand, I decide to use it. Lunging forward, with Zara on my heels, I slam my body into the woman, knocking her off balance and into a cart full of syringes, which are knocked off the cart and down to the floor, shattering green glop everywhere. Then the man is coming at me, and I charge back, jamming the needle-end of the syringe into his left forearm as I come close enough. Immediately he weakens at the knees, and Zara and I push past him through the glass doorway, out into the bright, artificially lit hallway. I become aware of an alarm sounding, and an invisible voice echoing through the hallway.

          “All units to Sector Three. Repeat, all units to Sector Three.” I can hear the pounding of feet coming rapidly closer, and take Zara by the arm, starting to run. Normally it would have been quite difficult for me to run under the painful circumstances I was in, but as the adrenaline starts to kick in, my body finds a way. We run for what seems like forever, until we come across a bleeping red exit sign. A miracle. Without hesitation, I push on the door, sounding off another alarm and alerting the rest of the world of our presence. The hot outside air hits me with an unfamiliarity – it feels strange and unnatural to be above ground, having been fighting in the caves for so long. Yards ahead of us stands a tall, metal fence and gate, and beyond that lies desert. Just in front of us are parked a variety of vehicles, like an all-you-can-eat get-away-car selection.

          “Oh, Merek,” I hear Zara with a slight cry in her voice, and I really don’t blame her. I look back to her, and notice somehow in the midst of this madness she has obtained a blaster.

          “C’mon, let’s do this for him,” I say, and taking her hand, run towards the nearest vehicle, a motorcycle. Somehow I find its keys already set in the ignition, and all I have to do is press the accelerator to start speeding forward – right towards the gate. Zara, sitting behind me, seems rather content with her arms around my waist – a little too content for a girl who usually swears she despises me. As the two of us zoom across the yard on the motorcycle, I hear a pack of something being released some way behind us. I turn around for a quick glance, and my jaw drops. Ferociously chasing us are what appear to be half-human, half-wolf-like creatures. They have a slight greenish tint to their bodies.

          “CYRUS!” Zara apparently cannot believe what we are­ seeing either – who could? She points the blaster, but cannot seem to pull the trigger. That greenish tint…those awkwardly stiff bodies…

          “Zara, the gate! Shoot the gate!” I am practically screaming now, as we zip towards the metal bars that are the only obstacle left blocking our exit. Still, the creatures are gaining on us, and there would be no time to stop to climb the fence, which probably had some electrical charge at the top anyway. Zara snaps back to attention, aiming the gun at the hinges of the gate, and fires the laser beam. A mini explosion makes the metal swing open, just enough for the motorcycle to shoot through, and it does.

          Then it is suddenly just us and the desert. I slow the bike down, eventually to a standstill. We both look back towards the black, nightmarish smudge in the distance. There are no words spoken, but a fact remains clear to both of us. The Rebel Force lost a great soldier in Merek. At the same time, the two of us might be all they have right now. We are the remains of the First League. We have to keep fighting, seeking for the sun once more.