Young Writers Society

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted a chapter, but here we go again! The (still unnamed) story of Julio and Alejandro, chapter 10. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Several miles away, Julio reclines in a metal chair-sorting through stacks of papers-planning upcoming events.

The surrounding room is a dank, unused meeting room. The only light in the room comes from a lone window, to the opposite of Julio. The sunlight streams into the room through the yellowed glass windows and flows to the small round table, illuminating three faces.

Diagonally to Julio’s left is his Commander of Rebels, Fernando. Likewise to his right is Felipe, his Chairman of Control. Both are slightly smaller than Julio, but like Julio both are adolescents.

It is Javier Gonzalez’s plan that only youth, besides himself, will have leadership roles in this rebirth of Cambia. Eventually they will outlive him, and his replacement will immediately be ready for the position. That replacement, Gonzalez decides, will be none other than his sister’s beloved son.

Julio pulls his shoulder length black hair into a pony tail, and begins the discussion. “Gentlemen,” Julio starts with rehearsed confidence, “Cambia is a clean slate. The question is, what are we going to do with it? We have been given immense power. In all respects we are the government, apart from Gonzalez. Speaking of Gonzalez, he said he would meet us here. Until then let’s try to make some plans of our own. We have a large army accumulating, locals and mainlanders are practically migrating to join us, yet anticipate a war. From what I’m aware of, there is no need for any more bloodshed. Perez is gone, so are his government and his followers. So we can start working on regaining our economic footing. Also, it would be a good idea to establish peace with the mainland.” Julio scribbles on the legal pad before him. Despite his love for a good fight, especially in the interests of revenge, he is smart enough to know that more fighting will just tear the seams of Cambia apart. His father used to tell him: “Son, always put up a good fight. However, the deciding battles are fought outside the battlefield.” If only he could see the youth now- coolly reclined in the armchair, yet entirely capable of running his family’s home nation.

“I’ll take over from here, Julio.” Gonzalez enters with an air of prestige.

“Ok, Uncle Javier.” Gonzalez glares at him from the side of his eye. His face scrunches up into a look of displeasure.

“Do not call me uncle, Julio. Here I am your superior, not your family.” Julio lowers his eyes and shifts in his chair. Gonzalez continues, “Let’s go over that plan. Our first objective needs to be the resistance against the mainlanders.”

“The goal is peace, not war.” The chair screeches back as Julio stands up sharply.

“Peace is impossible while there is a possibility of the mainland attacking us! They supported Perez for decades. Why should their loyalties change with his death?”

“They had a treaty with Cambia, not Perez.” Fernando notes with a tone of forced respect.

“How naïve of you, Fernando.” Gonzalez chuckles, “True the name on paper was Cambia, but behind closed doors their allegiance lies with Perez, and only Perez. They will not respect our cause. The minute we appear to be a threat they’ll invade.”

“They have no reason to attack us, Sir.” Pipes in Filipe.

“Ha, as if that has ever stopped them before. The mainlanders hate opposition.” His voice deepens into a commanding snarl. “They’re the fly swatter and we’re the multiplying hornets. The only way to save ourselves is to get to them before they get to us.” He paces the room elatedly. “We’ll rally our troops, and when they least expect it we’ll capture their city. Then we can present our ultimatum: complete cooperation with our government, or annihilation. They won’t be able to refuse when we have their precious homeland as our bargaining chip. Julio, I’m leaving it up to you to organize this effort.” Gonzalez turns on his heal and walks away from the stunned officials.

Shaking, Julio slumps back down into his chair. The force of his decent causes the chair to tremor. The bottom falls out and Julio is sent crashing to the floor. The elaborate designs of the chair fall apart, piece by piece, until the floor is littered with black metal bars. Julio cannot help but stare at it in pity. “Will I do the same to Cambia?” He whispers under his breath.