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.