line.
“Willa!” Thompson replied, and kept his voice firm and glared at her. Then he smiled at me. “Listen, Charlotte, I’m glad you showed up.”
“Thanks,” I replied in an uncertain voice. “And these people are?” He had about four seconds to tell me before I turned and hopped back through the fellowship hall window.
“Not here,” Thompson put up a hand. “In the kitchen.” He pointed at a swinging door about fifteen feet away from us. “Safer.”
I gave an uncertain nod and followed the group.
Once the door to the kitchen swung shut, I noticed no windows in the kitchen, no outside light coming in at all. The man who spoke to me first turned on a small hologram lamp he held in his left hand. We gathered around the green and blue light after he set it on the long Formica counter top. I pursed my lips and stared at the four of them: two women and two men.
“So?” I raised an eyebrow.
Willa exhaled and shot a dagger glare at Thompson. He ignored her.
“So.” Thompson kept his attention on me. “You’ve met Willa. That’s Glenn, and this is Trina.”
“Allies? How?” I almost choked on my words.
“Damn it, Thompson!” Willa exploded. She gritted her teeth. “How little did you tell her?”
“I told her a lot,” he insisted. Thompson put up his hand. “Imagine the stress she’s under,” he added under his breath.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to worship you or something, oh daughter of the Supreme One,” she sneered. Willa turned to me and narrowed her eyes.
“What did I ever do to you?” I recoiled, but pointed my question right at her. I clenched my hands and got a fist ready.
“Relax.” Glenn had deep-set wrinkles around his lips, chalk-like skin and hollow eyes with pain I could not place. “You must understand something.” He addressed me with a muted Southern accent. “Willa lost her whole family a few months ago. The Party shot them right in front of her.” He paused. “Over a loaf of bread.”
“I guess you all have your reasons to hate The Party.”
“Kinda like that,” replied Glenn as he scratched at the skin about his bushy left eyebrow. “You know,” he mused. “There was a time when all of this, The War with Canada and rule by a Supreme Leader, would have been crazy. No one would have agreed to it.”
“Really?” My thoughts raced through my childhood memories, but I could only remember a few things about the past.
“Really,” interjected Thompson. “People even used to vote for their leaders. They even voted for President.”
“They did?”
“Do you think it’s time to show her?” Trina muted her shrill voice with kind eyes. Her black hair was streaked with grey and she had creamy olive skin. She put a hand on her hip. They all nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” she exhaled. “Show her.”
Each one of them raised the left side of their grey shirts and showed me the skin beneath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The blue and green light from the lamp didn’t illuminate the brand very well, but I saw it. Two intertwined Ss’ and an R surrounded in a circle marked the skin on the stomach of each of them. When I realized what I looked at, I stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen.
“Oh no,” I choked. I had heard of a tattoo like this before, but never seen one in person.
“Yes. That’s right. We are members of the Specialized Secret Resistance — the SSR.” Thompson smirked as if he knew I would react this way.
“Oh no,” I repeated. My tongue tasted like cotton inside my mouth. I swallowed hard.
“At some point, we all wanted a way out. We found it there.” Glenn shrugged.
My mind ran away from me. I thought of all the times we learned about the SSR at school, all the times the teacher screamed about how the Resistance functioned as criminals, and how they told us members of the group became close with Undesirables who fled to Canada to fight our noble goals. For years, there had been no doubt in my mind. The SSR
“Willa!” Thompson replied, and kept his voice firm and glared at her. Then he smiled at me. “Listen, Charlotte, I’m glad you showed up.”
“Thanks,” I replied in an uncertain voice. “And these people are?” He had about four seconds to tell me before I turned and hopped back through the fellowship hall window.
“Not here,” Thompson put up a hand. “In the kitchen.” He pointed at a swinging door about fifteen feet away from us. “Safer.”
I gave an uncertain nod and followed the group.
Once the door to the kitchen swung shut, I noticed no windows in the kitchen, no outside light coming in at all. The man who spoke to me first turned on a small hologram lamp he held in his left hand. We gathered around the green and blue light after he set it on the long Formica counter top. I pursed my lips and stared at the four of them: two women and two men.
“So?” I raised an eyebrow.
Willa exhaled and shot a dagger glare at Thompson. He ignored her.
“So.” Thompson kept his attention on me. “You’ve met Willa. That’s Glenn, and this is Trina.”
“Allies? How?” I almost choked on my words.
“Damn it, Thompson!” Willa exploded. She gritted her teeth. “How little did you tell her?”
“I told her a lot,” he insisted. Thompson put up his hand. “Imagine the stress she’s under,” he added under his breath.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to worship you or something, oh daughter of the Supreme One,” she sneered. Willa turned to me and narrowed her eyes.
“What did I ever do to you?” I recoiled, but pointed my question right at her. I clenched my hands and got a fist ready.
“Relax.” Glenn had deep-set wrinkles around his lips, chalk-like skin and hollow eyes with pain I could not place. “You must understand something.” He addressed me with a muted Southern accent. “Willa lost her whole family a few months ago. The Party shot them right in front of her.” He paused. “Over a loaf of bread.”
“I guess you all have your reasons to hate The Party.”
“Kinda like that,” replied Glenn as he scratched at the skin about his bushy left eyebrow. “You know,” he mused. “There was a time when all of this, The War with Canada and rule by a Supreme Leader, would have been crazy. No one would have agreed to it.”
“Really?” My thoughts raced through my childhood memories, but I could only remember a few things about the past.
“Really,” interjected Thompson. “People even used to vote for their leaders. They even voted for President.”
“They did?”
“Do you think it’s time to show her?” Trina muted her shrill voice with kind eyes. Her black hair was streaked with grey and she had creamy olive skin. She put a hand on her hip. They all nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” she exhaled. “Show her.”
Each one of them raised the left side of their grey shirts and showed me the skin beneath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The blue and green light from the lamp didn’t illuminate the brand very well, but I saw it. Two intertwined Ss’ and an R surrounded in a circle marked the skin on the stomach of each of them. When I realized what I looked at, I stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen.
“Oh no,” I choked. I had heard of a tattoo like this before, but never seen one in person.
“Yes. That’s right. We are members of the Specialized Secret Resistance — the SSR.” Thompson smirked as if he knew I would react this way.
“Oh no,” I repeated. My tongue tasted like cotton inside my mouth. I swallowed hard.
“At some point, we all wanted a way out. We found it there.” Glenn shrugged.
My mind ran away from me. I thought of all the times we learned about the SSR at school, all the times the teacher screamed about how the Resistance functioned as criminals, and how they told us members of the group became close with Undesirables who fled to Canada to fight our noble goals. For years, there had been no doubt in my mind. The SSR
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