The Federation: Chapter 4

Thursday night, everyone, no matter how dangerous and risky it is, has to meet at the training center, so Lars can lead us to the Compound and the Fed HQ. In my house, I gather a small backpack of clothes and any food and water I have, which isn't much, but I pack it anyways. A knock at the door makes me jump, and I nervously approach, hoping, with everything I've got, that it's not the Fed. I open the door, relieved to see Naomi, Piper, and Wes.

I sigh hard, with relief, and say, "Thank goodness, it's just you guys."

"Did we scare you a little?" Naomi laughs, as they let themselves in. 

"Why don't you guys come in?" I laugh as I shut the door. 

"Don't mind if we do!" Wes smirks. "You ready to go to the training center?"

"Yeah." I said as I swing my backpack onto my back. "Shall we go?" The four of us walk to the training center together. 

when we get here, everyone is nervous, including me and certainly Piper. We all are ready though; each one of us has a rifle with over 50 rounds of ammo, a pistol with about ten rounds of ammo, and a dagger. 

Lars hasn't told us exactly where we're going tonight, but he said we are forming a safe house somewhere by the Fed HQ. I've never been that far. The training center is as far as I've been. 

"Gather 'round, everyone!" Larson stands up on a table from the classroom. "We attack first thing tomorrow morning. Now, there are about 115 of us; we can't all go to the safe house together. It's much too close to the Fed HQ, and will draw too much attention. I have us split into five groups. The first group leaves at-" He glances at his watch. "-Five o'clock, sharp. The next group leaves at five thirty. Then, six. And so on. Check the chalkboard to see who your group leader is and what time you're leaving." He hops down and the whole room floods around the chalkboard. It's a good couple minutes before I get to see who's in my group. When I finally do, I only recognize two names; Harvey Leroy, the group leader, and a friend that Larson has mentioned, and Brody. And we leave at seven, the last group to go. 

We gather and sit around, all bored to death. By six, Brody and I are sitting next to each other, and I'm leaning on his arm, half asleep. All the nurses, younger kids, and some Compound escapees left first with Larson's group. 

Seven o'clock comes faster than I expected, and we all know it's a pretty long walk to the Fed HQ, but we're ready. Brody and I walk together and, after about five minutes of walking, he says, "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"I thought I was, until now. I haven't been this nervous about it before," I admit. 

He looks down, then at me. We hold each others' gaze for a few seconds, then he looks away. We walk for what seems to be about 20 minutes, then reach an old army base, a pretty large concrete building, with walls as thick as I am tall, and a two-inch layer of graphene on the outside of the building, and a thin lining on the insides of the walls and ceiling. The doors are three inches thick, and made of pure graphene, and the whole building is still intact, even after the wars. It was built to outlast them. The outside of the building is a little banged up, but the inside is still standing strong. 

We walk in, and almost the entire inside of the large building is filled with bunk beds. Most of the group has settled into their beds, and most of the beds are filled. Ritchie is on a top bunk, with Tucker on the bottom. Brody walks ahead of me and takes the top of the bunk in the very back corner of the room. I decide to take the one underneath, and follow him. My heart races a little when I see that a girl has the bed next to mine. I don't know who, but the backpack sure doesn't belong to a boy. 

"Damien!" Ritchie shouts from his bunk. I look up at him and start towards him and Tucker. "Come here," He tells me, when I get to his bed. I climb up on top and situate myself next to him. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"As I'll ever be."

Ritchie looks at me for awhile. It's weird, but I don't stop him. After about thirty seconds, he pulls me into a hug. I hug back immediately. I know I didn't know him for very long, but he's my brother. And I missed him nonetheless. 

Later that night, to my pleasure, I discover that Piper has the bunk next to mine, rather than some married woman or something. Larson tells us all to go to bed at eight thirty, after we've all settled and found a bunk. We need the rest. 

I can't sleep. I know I need to, but I can't. It feels like it's almost morning, but I know it isn't. I wish it were. It's probably not even ten o'clock yet. I look over at Piper. She doesn't look asleep. "Piper?" I whisper.

Her head turns to face me. "Hm?"

"Are you nervous?" I ask as I sit up. 

She sits up, too, and replies, "No...I'm terrified." Tears spring to her eyes. I put my arms out, hating that she needs me because we might lose each other tomorrow. I hate that we need each other. I don't know what's going to happen. She drops to her knees, in front of me, wraps her arms around me, and cries, with her head in my lap. 

It hurts. How much I love her hurts. I know there's nothing I can do about it though, I know that. Not without hurting her. 

She catches her breath and gets up to sit next to me on the bed. I put an arm around her and rub her shoulder, as she leans against me. 

"Damien..." She starts, pulling away and looking at me. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Our faces are no more than two inches away from each other. I could kiss her. I want to. But it would hurt more than not kissing her. I look away nervously.

"You okay?"

"Yeah!" I lie. I smile a little and try to make her believe me. She looks distraught. "No, I'm not okay; Piper, this hurts!" I stand up and rub the back of my neck. "It hurts..." I choke on the words and drop to my knees, then look up at her and grab her hands. 

"What hurts?"

"This. The fact that I love you so much that the thing that terrifies me the most about tomorrow is losing you." She looks at me for a second, with tears in her eyes, then, in one swift movement, releases my hands, takes my face in her hands, and kisses me. It hurts, but feels wonderful at the same time. The kiss lasts longer than I expected it to, but I'm okay with it, because I don't know how much longer the two of us will be alive. 

With my face still in her hands, Piper looks me dead in the eye, with tears rolling down her cheeks, and says, "I love you. And I know that we might not live to see the end of this war. But I'm fighting this war for you. And you, Damien, are worth dying for." She smiles at me. "You're worth dying for because you're all I've got. And because I know you'd die for me in a heartbeat," She finishes. She's right. I would die for her, and without a second thought. I get back up and sit on the bed, next to her, my stamina regained, and look at her. 

"Heavens, I love you..." She whispers under her breath. With a sneaky smirk on her face, she says, "Why must you be so amazing and alluring?" 

"I don't know. Why must you be so amazing and alluring?"

She rolls her eyes and gets up, then gets back in her own bed. I decide to lay back down and try to get some sleep, so the two of us get in bed and try to get some rest. After a couple minutes, I look over at Piper, who has successfully fallen asleep. Her chest rises and fall with each breath. I'm not used to seeing her so peaceful, but it's wonderful. 

I finally decide to let myself begin to drift off, my last thought of the day being our kiss.

"All right, all right! Everyone get up!" Larson's shouting wakes us all up, aside from a few deep sleepers that he's shaking. "We attack in just a few hours, I would love it if everyone was actually somewhat awake for the attack! That would be so helpful." He grabs a wooden spoon from the kitchen area, that I hadn't noticed before, and bangs it against one of the metal-frame bunk beds. Everyone that wasn't awake already jumps up and starts prepping themselves for the day. There is little chatter between everyone, considering the most of us are still half asleep. 

"Come on, everyone!" Wheeler climbs on top of the very center bunk bed, sits on top, cross-legged, and continues, "We have a war to fight! We are not six-year-old little girls! We are men!" He finishes toughly, then realizes his mistake and says, "And women!" After a short pause, he starts again. "And boys, and girls, but, you get the point! We are awesome!"

Larson approaches the bed and rests an elbow on the top bunk and says, "Hey, Wheeler?"

"Yeah?" Wheeler smiles wide.

"Get off my bed."

Wheeler nods and hops down, accidentally nailing Larson's nose with his elbow, on the way down.

We are all ready within a few minutes, considering we didn't have to do much more than wake up and comb out our hair with our fingers. Larson gathers up all the food that we brought, including the food that the Compound escapees brought, which is more food than I've ever seen at one time, and starts rationing it out. He gives the kids in his class more food than the escapees because they aren't malnourished, like us. They've been getting plenty of food for awhile. 

After everyone finishes eating, we get our gear and sit on our beds, but the people with top bunks just sit next to the person who had the bottom, so Brody and I sit next to one another. 

"All right..." Larson and Wheeler are at the head of the room, and Larson steps forward, to talk to us before we go. "We attack today, everyone. We haven't been training long, so I know this is a bit..." He clears his throat. "Nerve wracking...but, we can do it. Now; we can't go out there on our own, and I counted everyone- there are 93 warriors. Groups of three! Everyone should be in groups of three. Why? Because, if someone gets injured, there is someone to run and get help and someone to watch the injured person. If you can, carry them back here, it isn't a very far walk, and they can get better care here than out there."

Wheeler steps forward and says, "Hopefully, we won't need to worry about that much...but, I promise, we will...at least a little..."

"Wheeler's right," Larson starts up again. "But we can do this. I'm not saying it won't be hard, it will be, but it will also be worth it. I wish you all the best of luck out there today." 

The Federation: Chapter 3

It's Tuesday. We attack on Friday. No one is fully prepared. I'm scared out of my wits, but I have to go through with this. I can't back down now. 

"Damien, I have some good news." Larson approaches me with Weston behind him.

"Wes!" I shout excitedly as I walk up to him and pull him into a hug. "What made you change your mind, Lars?"

"We need warriors. He was the only one that came to mind." Larson says plainly. 

"Well, then, thanks." I shoot a smile at Piper, who sees Wes and comes over to us. 

"Piper!" Wes smiles. He pulls her into a hug, and a pang of jealousy shoots through me. "Where's Naomi?"

"Oh," I begin. "I'm sure she's around here somewhere." I smile as Naomi runs up to us and hugs Weston. 

"Look, this is nice, and adorable, but we have a lot of work to do," Larson interrupts. Wes and Naomi separate. Lars walks to the front of the room. "We attack in three days, everyone! Does anyone feel ready!?"

No one says yes. Not for a few seconds, anyway. After the few seconds of silence, a hand shoots up from the middle of the group. "I do!" He starts making his way forward, as he lifts his other hand, which has his rifle in it. "I am pumped, I want to smash the crap out of the Fed! They are as bad as dying- worse than dying, I should say." Finally he makes it to the front. He's young, I feel like I should recognize him, but I don't. He's old enough, though, that Larson wouldn't know him from teaching.

Larson looks at him skeptically, and approaches him. "What's your name, son?"

"Wheeler Hawkins," He says with a huge, arrogant smirk.

"How old are you?" Larson asks, looking noticeably less skeptical. "I don't recognize you."

"I'm 23. I work with the Fed."

"How did you-"

"I told them I was taking a break. They actually believed me." Wheeler smiles. 

"Wheeler, how did you find us?" Larson asks, nervously.

"I-I don't know, I walked to the towns, and found this place- I've been training with you guys for the past four days."

Lars' mouth works for a moment. "We have a lot of work to do, but I want to talk to you after training."

"All right." Wheeler smirks again, and head to the other side of the building to train. He goes to knife throwing, and everyone else follows and goes to their stations. I return to dodging, and Weston follows me, only because he doesn't know what to do. 

"What do you think of Wheeler?" Wes asks me. 

"He seems..." I glance at the tall, blonde, mystery person. "A bit sketchy."

"I can agree with that."

I notice Wheeler talking to Piper. "Hold that thought, Wes." I turn around and head straight for Wheeler. Piper looks a bit uncomfortable, which makes me feel much less guilty for doing what I am about to do. I punch him. It knocks him into the wall he was standing by. He towers over me, and is much stronger and broader than I am, but he doesn't rebound the punch. He just gawks at me, along with everyone who was nearby.  Soon, everyone is staring at the scene. I see Brody and Ritch; Brody looks highly disappointed in me, but Ritch Ritch gives me a pleased look. 

"What was that for!?" Wheeler screeches. 

I feel a stab of guilt. Wheeler's cheekbone is already bruising. I look at Larson, expecting a look of disapproval, but, instead, I notice that he's stifling a laugh. Through a half-smile, he shouts, "As you were! All of you! Go on!" Everyone clears out, and he approaches Wheeler, Piper, and I. He puts his hand out to help Wheeler up. "You all right, there, kiddo?"

"I guess so. This one's got an arm on him, though." He smiles at me, instead of glaring.

"Sorry..." My face turns red.

He looks at me, confused. "Why are you sorry?" Piper's gone, so he continues, "I'm guessing she's your girlfriend, eh?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"I can imagine how bad that looked. No problems. I honestly respect you for that. You sure put me in my place!" He smiles wide, and gently slaps my shoulder, as he walks off. I walk back to Wes, who is trying hard not to laugh.

"Shut up, you halfwit!" I chuckle. 

"Larson, what really changed your mind about getting Wes?" I ask Lars on the way home.

"I told you already." 

"You don't think I'm going to believe that, do you?"

"Why wouldn't you? It's the truth!"

"Uh-huh...Sure."

Larson laughs and rolls his eyes. "We needed another warrior!" 

"And Wes was the only one you could get?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." 

"I'm not convinced."

"I can tell!" He chuckles. He sighs and a more serious look crosses his face. "I didn't get him back."

I don't even know what to say.

"His brother did. He told me to take credit for it, but I don't feel right about that. He's only 20, and was willing to cut Wes' tracker off." He looks at me softly, and with a hint of tears in his eyes. "I cut off over a hundred of those, and it's still just as gut-wrenching as it was the first time."  I notice my house coming up. "Don't tell him I told you. He wouldn't be very pleased with me."

I nod. It's hard to see Larson this emotional. His emotions have become stronger since he cut his tracker off, and I think it has affected everyone who knew him. 

As I come up on my house, I turn and head straight for my porch, but I don't go in. I sit and watch everyone else. "Lars!" I shout. He stops and looks at me. "Come back after everyone is home. I'm not done talking to you." I flash him a smile, and he nods and keeps going. 

He's back within five minutes. 

"What did you need, kid?" He sits next to me, on my porch. 

"What is it like..." I pause and look at him solemnly. "What is it like, having strong emotions, now that you cut your tracker off?"

"It's...hard. It's painful- all my painful and sad memories are coming back to me, and it hurts." He says it strongly, fighting the emotions. He's used to fighting them.

"You don't have to fight the emotions."

"Yeah, I know," He chuckles. "It's just-" He stops and his face takes on a more nervous look. a

"What is it?" I ask.

"Get inside."

I don't listen, confused at his orders. 

"Damien Harris! Get inside now!" He stands and lifts me to my feet. "Come on, Damien!" I finally see the problem; the Fed. Their off-road vehicles are racing down the street. I start to follow Larson inside, but we're too late. They saw us already. 

"Stop!" One of them shouts, hopping out of the vehicle, with a gun aimed at me. "Stop right there." He slowly enunciates the words. "Who are you?" He nods his head at Larson. 

"Larson Hanks."

The Fed worker eyes Larson's wrist, where he has a bandage tied over his wound. "What happened to your wrist?"

"Training injury, no big deal. What do you want here, sir?"

"I'm not done. I have a few more questions. What are you doing at the kid's house?"

Before Lars even gets the chance to answer, another Fed worker shouts from the vehicle, "Hey, there's only one tracker on the chart at this location."

The other worker looks at us again, and, in one swift movement, Larson knocks the gun from his hands and restrains both of his wrists. No sooner, five, or more, Fed workers are surrounding us, aiming their pistols straight at us. 

"Let go of him." The workers inch closer and Larson lets go. He puts his hands behind his head, and, suspecting that I'm endangered as well, I copy the action. The worker picks his gun up and joins the circle. Almost simultaneously, they all cock their guns. Larson steps in front of me. I see each of their fingers go to the trigger, but before they pull. I hear someone down the road shouting, "Stop! Stop! It's okay!" A few seconds pass before I can see who it is. 

It's Wheeler. Never did I think I would actually appreciate a Fed worker. 

"Wheeler!?" A worker huffs. 

"Guys, come on, I know this looks bad, but it's really just a misunderstanding." 

"Uh-huh..." He walks over to Wheeler. This morning, I thought Wheeler was big, and tough. He looks like a shrimp next to this guy. "Do you want to explain it, then?"

"It's a long story, Mr. Stokes, and I know you are a busy, busy man."

Mr. Stokes isn't buying it. 

"I'll take care of these two."

"Wheeler," Mr. Stokes lowers his voice. "If you weren't part of the Fed, I would kill you right now. But since I have no authority, I'll at least say this: I can't wait to attend your funeral." He clenches his teeth and continues, "And since I don't any authority over you, since we were equals, I have to listen to you. But I swear, if I ever get the chance...you're so dead." He puts his gun in his sheath and starts for the vehicles. "Break it up! Get back in the trucks!" Everyone listens and piles into the trucks, and, soon after, they drive off.

Larson slowly lowers his arms, and walks up to Wheeler. "Thanks for saving our skins, Wheeler."

"Heck, it was fun! I finally got to put Stokes in his place." Wheeler smiles wide and continues, "You were about to get tracked, Damien!" He laughs hard, and says, "I saved you from a life of freaking misery!"

"Wheeler, cool it," Larson orders.

"Thanks, Wheeler," I say. 

"You owe me, big time." He laughs, waves, and heads back for the training center. 

"I guess I should get home," Lars states, as he starts back home. 

"See you tomorrow."

"They almost tracked you!?" Piper asks me on the way to training, after I told her what happened yesterday. 

"Yeah. But, they didn't, thanks to Wheeler."

"'Thanks to Wheeler?' Yesterday morning, I never would have thought you'd say that."

I chuckle. "Me neither." 

We reach the training center. Wheeler is outside, doing jumping jacks, and counting each one. As I near him, I hear, "205, 206, 207..."

"Morning, Wheeler," Larson says. 

"Morning. 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215..."

"You gonna come in for training?"

"Yep." He stops and walks inside, barely breathing harder than normal. This is next to last day of training before the attack. Inside, all the Compound escapees are waiting for us, just like every day. Larson talks to us, like every day, but the difference today is the emotion in his voice. Rage. He sounds completely, horrendously angry. His emotions are everywhere right now. I sure hope they stabilize before Friday, but I'm not getting my hopes up. 

Training is just like it always is. We train our weaknesses. A couple people polish up on their strengths. Brody and Ritchie work together on knives today. Piper is still at the rifles. Wes is at the pistols, one of his strongpoints. I continue my dodging. It could be much better, but I'm good enough. 

Wheeler is straddling a classroom chair, sharpening a pocketknife. I decide not to question it. He saved me. I don't so much care what he does to me or anyone at this point. Larson looks tired. I stop dodging and watch him for a minute. He has circles under his eyes and he keeps yawning while he teaches the pistols. I have to ask him about that later.

"Lars!" Wheeler shouts as he nears Larson. He says something to him, but they're too far away for me to hear. Larson nods and straddles the same chair that Wheeler had been straddling, and Wheeler starts teaching the pistols. Lars fights sleep for the rest of class. I can tell something's wrong. After about an hour of watching him like this, I decide to confront him about it. 

"Larson, are you all right?"

He looks up at me. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a little...tired."

He clears his throat and sits up. "I'm fine. You need to be training, Damien."

I shake my head. "Not until you tell me what's up."

"Not here, and not now. But maybe later. Go on, kid."

I turn and walk off without a word. Worried about him, I decide to brush up on my rifles, because I'm a little off focus right now. I can't think of what could be bothering him. The air and his emotions are the only logical explanations, but I want more details. I need to know what's wrong, because it's a little scary seeing your only father figure so weak. I can't help but wonder if all the other escapees are suffering so much. I could always ask Brody or Ritchie. 

"Hey, short stack!" Speaking of Ritchie. He comes up behind me and I turn to face him. 

"What do you want?" I ask, probably a little meaner than I meant to.

He laughs. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm worried about Larson." I pause and look him in the eyes. "He's my only father figure, I don't want him to be..." I look at Larson, who was rubbing his eyes to keep awake. "I don't want  him to be in so much pain."

"Oh, come on, Damien, you're such a little wimp! I mean, seriously, he's okay."

"Ritchie!" I snap. "Look at him!" Ritchie's head turns to look at him. "See? He's exhausted, he's a mess."

"Do you know why?"

"No, but I need to find out. He can't be like this on Friday."

"You're right, he can't." Ritchie crouches next to me. "Don't go about this the wrong way, kid. Don't...don't offend him. All right?"

I nod. "I won't. I hope." I watch Larson for awhile. He rubs his eyes again, and clearly struggles to keep himself awake. I don't know how the heck he's going to last through the attack. He looks miserable, which isn't good. I need him- we all need him to be our rock. He's the toughest of us all, and it's hard to see him like this. It actually kinda scares me. 

No...it really scares me.