REBELLION (Book Three of The Criminogenic Trilogy 3) Page 2

  Shannon studied his face for a moment. He was clearly rattled by the girl, and Shannon suspected that he was responsible for her being here. Turning her attention back to the burly guards who were manhandling her to be seated, she could see that there was still some light in her. Her pale skin still had some mocha underneath it, a sign of a colorful family no doubt, Shannon thought. Intrigued by her unusual features, Shannon noticed dull, blue eyes skimming over the other patients once she was seated.

  “How beautifully unusual,” she said to Peter, who was still watching Giselle with remorse.

  “It’s my fault that she is here,” he said with a long sigh, “I called the D.A.E on her because she questioned me in my class.”

  Shannon raised a quizzical eyebrow at Peter. She wasn’t surprised that he had done this after their tumultuous relationship that ended in a run in with the Bulldogs. “Oh Peter, really? Who haven’t you reported?” Shannon said before standing up. Peter shot his hand out in front of her to stop her from taking a step forward. He could see her tail of security still close by, and he didn’t want to risk another Treatment session because of her defiance.

  “Please don’t Shannon. Do you really have to push all of the boundaries?” he exasperated under his breath.

  “Yes!” She replied incensed, “I do, because that is why I’m in this God forsaken place to begin with, Peter!” she finished before Peter wrapped his fingers painfully tightly around her slender arm.

  “She is crawling with orderlies, Shannon. Can you at least wait until she isn’t being watched as closely as she is?”

  Shannon rolled her eyes and sat down next to the paranoid Peter, “Oh, I suppose,” she said.

  “Do you suppose she’s of mixed race then?” Shannon inquired after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Peter looked around the room for a fellow patient who would be able to illustrate the answer for Shannon better than he could. Peter had the uncomfortable pleasure of sharing a ward with a man who not only towered over him in every possible way, but also was the reason behind Giselle’s detainment. Once Peter had spotted him, he pointed out the impressive man to Shannon.

  “See that man over there?” he said. Shannon nodded earnestly before Peter continued. “Well, that man just happens to be that young girl’s father.” Before Shannon had the chance to react, Peter continued. “Giselle and I had a misunderstanding during one of my classes because she believed that her father was unfairly detained. He was unemployed and the D.A.E used that as evidence that he could become a thief.”

  “Oh how ridiculous!” Shannon interrupted, getting a silent grimace from Peter in return.

  “Yes, ridiculous as it may be, this is the law. We have both been on the receiving end of that injustice.”

  Shannon looked at Peter incredulously. She had never heard him speak up about the system or how it was run. She knew that she was a Would, not because the State had said so, but because she knew that she would stand up to the system. She knew that she would join forces with rebels if need be, and she knew that questions needed to be asked. Peter, on the other hand, was neither. He had the potential of being a Could, but was too concerned with himself to think that far ahead. Shannon had started to notice that this selfish streak that Peter wore with pride had started to fade with the Treatment. She just wasn’t sure if it was for the better yet.

  “Mr. Ronin, is that a hint of empathy I hear?” she mused, watching his cheeks flush with crimson. Peter shook his head, and turned his attention to the open window once again, leaving Shannon in silence once more.

  Shannon brushed off the cold shoulder that Peter had given her, and made her way toward Giselle. Shannon could see small waves of panic sweeping over the slender girl with each step that she took. The orderlies watched as well. They had been given orders to observe Giselle’s interaction with the other patients. Once Shannon reached her, she knelt down so that her eyes could meet Giselle’s. She placed her hand over the needle-bruised hand that lay limp on Giselle’s lap, and lifted her chin gently.

  “Welcome to the Red Ward. I am Shannon Wright,” she said softly.

  Still foggy from an earlier Treatment, it took a few moments before Giselle started to register that she was being spoken to. Still, Shannon waited for the girl to respond while watching the orderlies hovering around them awkwardly.

  “Relax gentlemen, I’m not going to hurt this one,” Shannon spat viciously. She suspected that they were concerned about her periodic outbursts. They were never aimed toward the patients, but she couldn’t help it when they got in her way.

  Giselle leaned closer to Shannon and studied her face for a moment. Flickers of recognition started to spark in her eyes. Shannon could see the glimmer of fight coming back to the young girl. She could see the defiance returning. With a devious grin, Giselle whispered so quietly that Shannon had to strain to hear her.

  “I’m Giselle Harmon, but don’t tell these ass clowns that.”

  Chapter Three

  A large crowd of people had started to gather in the neglected warehouse. What once served as a rehabilitation treatment for detainees of the State now housed the forgotten descendants of Facility experiments. A nervous buzz filled the large space, the only light coming from the streetlights outside. Cramped and bewildered, the crowd started to get restless while they waited for any sign of life from the offices above them. The Lower Zone citizens had come together for this meeting, waiting for the cover of darkness so that they could sneak out into the night. Mothers and their children propped themselves up against pillars while they chatted among themselves. Fathers stood tall with pride, pointing out their teenage sons and regaling in their shared achievements. Some citizens, who were reunited for the first time since the sanctions were imposed on the Region, were euphoric with happiness. Seeing their long lost friends and loved one proved to take an emotional toll on some of them. Evelyn watched this all unfold before her eyes from the darkened office above them.

  “Come,” she motioned to the legion of hooded silhouettes behind her, “let us begin.”

  They walked out toward the bustling crowd, each still preoccupied with their own conversations. Standing on the ledge above the group, Evelyn looked out into a sea of faces. The people in the assembly represented every race and class; mothers still nursing their newborn babies were standing shoulder to shoulder with the elderly. It seemed to Evelyn as though there was no demographic missing from this meeting. It wasn’t meant to be such a widespread event; she thought. It was supposed to have been a small meeting of outcasts wanting a reprieve. She turned to Calvin, who was searching through the faces with desperation. He was still hopeful that Giselle would turn up again one day. The disappointment on Calvin’s face sent pangs of despair through Evelyn’s body; she yearned for the day when this would all be over. She longed for the day when everyone could be free from the State and when her son could be happy again.

  Evelyn called for attention by stretching out her long arms toward to crowd; silently she started lowering them to her sides. A collection of eyes watched her intently, each sparkling with the reflection of dim lights and the singular flaming torch that Calvin held next to his mother.

  “Thank you all for meeting with us this evening. We appreciate the bravery that it takes to come out so late at night.” Evelyn spoke with clear and concise purpose, she needed to appeal to everyone within the Zones, and she needed them to know that their cause was not in vain.

  “Some of you may not know who I am, while others might see me as an impostor. But I am here to tell you all that I too am a victim of the State’s injustice. I too have felt the fear of being exiled to an unknown hole, hidden away from the prying eyes of the upper class. And I too have lost loved ones to the Facility.” Evelyn heard Calvin shuffle behind her. The crowd listened to her, silently swaying under the glow of the single flame that illuminated Evelyn. She looked like an angel, shimmering and glowing under the radiating warmth of the fire. Her grace and elegance helped put the masses at ease, as s
he spoke to them with compassion and desperation.

  “We are all tired of being less than worthy in the eyes of the State! We are all tired of being treated like cattle, poked and prodded until we can take no more. We are all tired of living in fear that speaking our minds will have our worlds ripped apart.” She looked toward the mothers, hugging their children closer to them as they listened to her impassioned plea.

  “Our children are being dragged from their beds at night and thrown away because they might lash out at the system. Children as young as eight are now being convicted of being Could’s! And we stand idly by while they do it.” She then looked toward the groups of men who were gathering together.

  “Do you remember when your mothers and sisters could walk the streets freely? Tell me, when last did your daughters and your wives leave the house without being tormented by Upper Zone bullies? Why are we still allowing it?”

  Murmurs of agreement starting ringing out from the crowd, men nodded their heads in solidarity, while the women held onto their children tighter. Evelyn saw that her words were sinking in; she just hoped that it would be enough to inspire a rebellion.

  “But what if we don’t want any trouble?” someone cried out from amongst the crowd, prompting a few renegades to agree with their statement.

  “Yeah! What if we just want to go about our business in peace?” replied another.

  “Then do so!” Evelyn shouted over the chaotic voices below her. “Then go about your business. Don’t seek out any trouble. We are not asking that you do anything that you don’t want to. You are free to leave, and free to report this meeting to the D.A.E. But know this; there are those who are tired of being fearful for their lives because they want something more. There are those who are tired of being policed by curfews that dictate how we can spend our freedom. And those who are tired of being guinea pigs to the state, they are the ones that we need to fight for.”

  She let the crowd go silent once more, watching their expressions as she did. Finally, she said with conviction, “Only we can restore the lost faith that we have in humanity, and only we can fight against injustice because no one else will do it for us. You either fight for what you believe in, or fall prey to what you are told. All of you have the chance to make a difference; the question is whether you are ready to take that step?”

  Evelyn took hold of the torch that illuminated her passionate speech to the crowd and raised it high into the air. With a bellowing yell, she cried out: “Who is with me?”

  ***

  Jonathan walked into the penthouse suite that he called home. He was met by a frantic looking Beatrice who was reeling after one or another mini domestic disaster that she had been a part of during the day. He’d received numerous text messages from her demanding that he come home to help her, but he had more important worries to contend with. He was totally zoned out while Beatrice yapped around him like a small lap dog, yelping to get his attention again. Jonathan walked right past her without flinching.

  She continued, undeterred by his annoyance, to get a reaction out of her husband. He had been distant since the attack, and nothing that she could do would snap him out of his stupor.

  “Are you ever going to come back to earth, Jonathan?” She shouted before Jonathan dodged a whiskey tumbler that she flung toward his head. Hundreds of glittering shards of glass tumbled around him as he turned to confront his red-faced wife.

  “What is the matter, dear?” he spat with patronizing irritation. “Not enough attention from your garden club minions today?”

  Clearly hurt by his brief jibe, Beatrice turned her head as she wiped tears from her eyes. “You don’t have to be so cruel to me, Jonathan,” she whispered.

  He waved her away, and poured himself a whiskey out of an exquisite crystal decanter. He kept checking his mobile for any new information on a rebellion that might be circulating in the media, but there was nothing. His attempt at having the media coverage stopped throughout the Regions was stopped abruptly by the Heads of State. They couldn’t justify having more unrest by taking the only outlet away from the citizens. This concerned Jonathan, he needed solidarity within the State, especially if his rebellion fears were true.

  Beatrice continued to whimper in the corner of the room, staring out into the night, she watched the flickering lights of Zone One. Her presence was starting to annoy Jonathan immensely, he just needed some peace and some space to think of what he could do. He knew that there was a revolt coming, he could feel the electric tension around the Region, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

  Since the attack, the State had become sympathetic to his needs, but they were no longer taking him seriously. He had become a liability to the State and as hard as he tried to rectify that, he was being pushed aside. After a meeting with the State Chancellor, he was certain that he would be able to convince them that there was an uprising taking place. He hoped that they would take him seriously and implement further sanctions across the Regions. But they laughed him off, calling his concerns paranoid or delusional. It was only a matter of time before he was pushed out of his Director position, and replaced with one of the pimpled trust fund children that the State kept producing, he thought bitterly.

  “Jonathan! You need to see this!” Beatrice pulled him cruelly from his thoughts, and the color drained from her face as she looked out of the glass wall that separated them from the city. Before them was the spectacular display that Jonathan was right about a rebellion.

  Zone One was a crumbling inferno.

  “Get to the safe house,” he commanded as he dialed police units frantically. Backup generators had started kicking in across the street lined with high-rise luxury apartments. The gentle hum that something was not as it should be resonated throughout the Zone. Beatrice grabbed hold of Jonathan, pleading with him to go with her. She was a Zone One born and bred, she wasn’t able to cope with anything that took her out of her comfort and pampered protection that came with her status. It was becoming apparent to her that her status would mean nothing anymore.

  “I told them!” He grumbled to himself in frustration, “None of them would believe me though and now look.” Jonathan waved wildly toward the catastrophe that was occurring right outside their door.

  There was no warning, no hint that this would transpire at all. Suddenly all of Zone One was a brilliant warzone with no enemy in sight. Strategically placed explosives had all been detonated moments later. High-end stores and boutiques were ablaze, the lavish stock strewn through the streets. There were no looters or rioters running through the streets, and no one was claiming responsibility for the terrorist attack. Zone One residents all frantically headed down to the safety of the bunkers under their homes, while police units patrolled the streets in search of whoever was responsible.

  Jonathan led Beatrice into the shared safety of the bunker underneath the luxury apartment block where they lived. Scared faces turned to him with wide eyes, all hoping that he would have the answers. The only certainty that Jonathan had was that they were all in trouble.

  “What is going on out there, Phelps?” a well-dressed man spoke up from the back of the room, still clutching onto his cigar and whiskey tumbler. This prompted all the inhabitants to ramble off, questioning Jonathan and the D.A.E. Zone One citizens were not prepared for what they were about to be faced with, and Jonathan Phelps realized that he wasn’t either.

  Beatrice looked over at the man who sparked the periodic unrest within the cramped sanctuary, and spoke with clear antipathy. “It’s called an uprising, Albert. We are now all nothing more than sitting ducks.” Beatrice looked to Jonathan with bitterness and anger; she blamed him for anything that happened to them from here on out.

  “Isn’t that right, darling?” she spat viciously.

  Chapter Four

  News of the attack on Zone One dominated the media transmissions. The State had declared it a terrorist attack on a peaceful society. Recovery attempts were being made to get citizens out of the raging wa
r zone that had engulfed the once tranquil capital. The widespread panic seeped throughout the Regions and petrified whispers of updates filled the Facility wards. Doctors and orderlies were trapped within the same walls that they used to keep innocent people captive behind. The increased unrest meant that anyone associated with the D.A.E and the State were prime targets for any attacks from a group known only as the Foresworn. No one knew who any of the rebels were, or how they had managed to go undetected by the D.A.E for so long. The only certainty was that a war was raging.

  Shannon and Giselle sat closely together while eavesdropping on a conversation between two guards. There hadn’t been a staffing change for three days, and their curiosity had gotten the better of them. The Facility was careful to keep any information from the outside world away from the inmates and patients, but flustered orderlies had little self-control when a scandal was concerned. Heads closely together, the two red clad women listened intently as a young orderly retold the horror that had claimed Zone One a few days before. Their frustration with the State was becoming more apparent with each day that passed inside the Facility, they too were now unintentional prisoners of the State.

  Peter sat nearby lost in deep thought. It had been days since anyone had been administered the Treatment, and he too was curious about the reason why. I’m not complaining, he thought before drifting off again. Losing himself to daydreams of freedom and Maggie, Peter wasn’t as interested in the unnerving rumors that circulated through the Facility.