Youth Patrol

by Andrew Lueders

“Sparks!” I hear Jeremin shout. I look around but can’t find him.

  “Sparks!” he calls out again.

  I look up and there he is, seated right across from me. How could I miss him?

  “Yes sir,” I quickly respond.

  “Do you know what our mission is right now?”

  “I think so sir, um, escort duty?”

  “Very good. Do you have any idea what we do on escort duty?”

  “Um. If I remember, it’s uh, um escort the kids to the concert?”

  The others laugh, but Jeremin quickly holds up his hand, and immediately the laughter quiets down. “Yes, that’s the gist of it,” Jeremin says. “But our mission is a little more complicated than that. First, we’ve got to escort a group of Junior Youth Music Singers to…” he pauses. “What school are we going to, Dagger?”

  “Kennedy Elementary, sir,” the driver calls down from the upper deck.

  “Kennedy Elementary,” Jeremin continues. “When we get there, The Junior Youth Music Singers will do their thing; they’ll get the students all pumped up for the concert tonight. Were you a Junior Youth Music Singer?” the Commander asks me.

  “I was sir, just for a short time.”

  “Then you know what goes on. After the pep rally, our job is to get those students on the school buses and escort them to the concert. Seems like a piece of cake, right? Get a bunch of kids to a concert, no sweat. But let me tell you, the Resistance is out there waiting to pounce. They’ll try to prevent us from doing our task. But we won’t let that happen now, will we?”

  He stops talking but continues to stare at me. What’s he looking at? What’s he waiting for? Oh crap, he’s waiting for my response.

  “Uh no, no sir,” I quickly say with enthusiasm.

  Everyone laughs again, but Jeremin remains expressionless as he stares me down.

  “Commander!” the driver shouts from the upper deck.

  Jeremin breaks his stare to answer. “What’s up, Dagger?”

  “The school principle just contacted me and all four hundred and sixty seven kids are accounted for and waiting for us in the gym. They all showed up sir, every last one of them, no rogue kids today.”

  “Ah Shit,” the scruffy guy whines. “I wanted to have some fun.”

  Everyone seems to grumble in agreement.

  “What’s a rogue kid?” I ask.

  “It’s a kid who tries to avoid going to the Youth Nation concert,” the Mexican girl answers with a snooty attitude.

  “Wait, there are kids who don’t want to go to the concert?” I say gullibly.

  “Surprise surprise,” she responds in the same way. “Not everyone is dying to see you dance and sing, choirboy.”

  “That’s enough, Luna,” Jeremin orders. He then looks at me again and smirks. “Have you ever wondered why at each concert, no matter where we are, the arenas are always filled to the brim with kids?”

  I look around and notice that everyone is now watching me, waiting for me to answer this question. Even some of the guys from the upper deck are looking down. I gulp. “No,” I murmur. “I never really thought about it.”

  Everyone groans.

  “Quiet down!” shouts Jeremin. As soon as everyone chills out, he leans forward. “Well, let me tell you what really goes on, Evan. Every morning when the Youth Nation convoy pulls into a new location, kinda like this morning, no one knows we’ve arrived. It’s a secret. The Concert schedule is classified. And do you know why it’s classified?”

  “So the Resistance can’t plan an attack.”

  “That’s the official word. But the real reason we show up unannounced is so no one leaves town. If the public knew we were coming, the towns would be empty, everyone would be gone.”

  “That’s not true, the people adore us.”

  “The kids might adore you, but not their parents, not out here in these rural areas. Ever wondered why we don’t do concerts in the Great Cities? It’s not because we can’t, it’s because we don’t have to. Those people chose to live there, they love the L-Chip; they love the Policies. It’s the people out here that are harder to control. They refuse to accept the L-Chip, they live on farms or in abandoned warehouses. They hoard food and live off the land. And some of them, not that many, give birth in secret so as to avoid their children from receiving the mandatory L-Chip. So you see, Evan, that’s the kind of people we’re dealing with out here. That’s why every morning at the new location, the Senator sends out a message, via the L-Chip to all the kids living in the area. He doesn’t send the message to adults, only to kids. He tells them they better go to school that day, or else we’ll arrest their parents for interfering in Youth Patrol business. He tells the kids to tell their friends that don’t have L-Chips to be there too. For the most part, everyone obeys. But there’s that one kid who feels it necessary to tell his parents about the Senator’s secret message. That’s when the parents panic and try to leave town with their child. And when the child doesn’t show up at school, that child has gone rogue. Hence the name, rogue kid.”

  “And what happens when there’s a rogue kid?”

  “Our day gets a bit more complicated,” Jeremin answers with his usual smirk.

  “No,” interjects that scruffy guy. “ Our day gets more fun, a whole lot more fun. We had a rogue kid last week, didn’t we, Commander?”

  “That’s true, Dirk,” Jeremin answers coolly. “We sure did.”

  “Why is it more fun?” I ask.

  “Tell him Dirk, tell him what happened last week,” urges Luna.

  Scruffy grins with a creepy smile. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell the whole goddamn story. We cornered the kid in his house, but his mom was holding him tight, she wasn’t going to let him go. She told me she’d do ‘anything’ for me not to take her son away. So I said to her, ‘anything?’ And she said anything.”

  “That’s enough!” Perry suddenly blurts out. “No more stories.”

  “What? Why can’t I finish?” the scruffy guy protests.

  “Because I said so!” the medic insists.

  “What’s your problem, dude? You don’t think choirboy can handle my story?”

  Perry doesn’t look at Scruffy; he looks at Jeremin instead with a glare that could melt ice.

  “All right,” Jeremin gives in. “Talk about it another time okay, Dirk.”

  “C’mon Commander. Who’s in charge? Him, or you?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Patroller,” Jeremin barks back.

  Scruffy throws his hands in the air. “What a bunch of bullshit!”

  I start to wonder, what the hell is going on? Why would Perry want to silence Dirk? What was it about the story I shouldn’t know about? I look at Perry but he still doesn’t look at me. Why was the story of the rogue kid off limits? Perry wasn’t even there, so how would he know what happened, unless, it’s one of those things that happens all the time. What really happens when there’s a rogue kid? And how come I’ve never heard about them before? And why don’t the people want their kids to go to the concerts?

  CHAPTER 9

  Time passes, and all the Youth Patrollers inside The Beast start to check their weapons and flip their visors down to make sure all the sensors are working. I do the same.

  “Commander,” Dagger calls out again from the upper deck.

  “Go ahead, Patroller.”

  “The principle contacted me again. Ten, maybe fifteen parents are outside the school. Word must have gotten out.”

  “Why does everyone have a death wish?” Jeremin mumbles.

  “Should I call the local authorities to assist us?” the driver asks.

  “Negative. What’s our ETA?”

  “Two minutes, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Patroller.”

  Jeremin switches on his transceiver. “All right, listen up, Patrollers. It appears that a small group of protesters have gathered outside the school. Shouldn’t be a big deal, just keep to the mission and we’ll be out of there with no problems.” He turns
off the transceiver and then looks over at me. “Evan, I haven’t assigned you to any team yet, so when we arrive, you’re with me, you do everything I tell you, you got that? Don’t even breath without my permission.”

  “Yes. Yes sir.”

  “And one more thing, don’t flip out when you see the protesters. They have a tendency to get a little rambunctious. They might even throw a rock or two, but ignore them, okay. Don’t listen to them, don’t talk to them; don’t even acknowledge their presence. They’re just a bunch of One-Wayer scum, don’t even think of them as human.

  “Commander, this is Wasp One,” Someone radios in.

  “Go ahead Wasp One,” Jeremin answers.

  “Kennedy Elementary is in sight.”

  “Okay Wasp One, count us down.”

  “Sure thing commander. All right, Cheetah Squad, get ready, on my mark.”

  The YP’s unbuckle their restraints and grab their weapons.

  “Five, four, three, two, one. Go!”

  The doors fling open.

  “All right faggots!” Jeremin shouts. “Let’s do this!”

  Everyone jumps up and runs out of The Beast. I stay close to Jeremin as best I can. Did he just call us faggots? He’s got to know that word is illegal. He’s lucky we’re on L-Chip lockdown.

  We quickly run and surround the smaller shuttle van. I assume that’s where the Jr. Youth Music Singers are. I look over at the school. It’s a typical neighborhood campus, nothing too fancy. The buildings are blue with yellow trim. In the front is a walkway with an overhang that runs between two classrooms. That’s where the parents have gathered. Armed school officials are trying their best to keep them from entering the campus.

  I pull up the map of the school on my visor. The gym is about 100 yards past the entrance. We’ll have to run past several other buildings and cross a playground to get to the kids.

  “Dirk!” Jeremin shouts. “Have your team stay near the music group’s shuttle and wait for my signal.”

  “Yes sir,” the scruffy guy answers.

  “And Luna, I want a laser barrier around those parents.”

  “You got it commander.” She runs off with four other YP’s.

  “Dagger, where are you?”

  “Right here, sir.”

  “Take Red Team and check the school buses, scan for any explosives. Make sure they’re safe before we roll out.”

  “You got it, sir.” Dagger motions for his team to follow him.

  Jeremin taps my helmet. “Okay choirboy. Stay close and don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Yes sir.” I wish they’d stop calling me choirboy.

  “Okay, Blue Team,” Jeremin says, speaking through the transceiver. “You’re with me. We’re going in!”

  Ten of us run up the walkway right past the parents. I know I shouldn’t look at them, but I do anyway. None of them have L-Chips on their foreheads, they look weird without them; they look… not perfect. One of the men is bald. Bald. Can you believe that in this day and age? And there’s a fat guy. Shit man, don’t they have any self-respect. They look disgusting. Get an L-Chip people, seriously.

  A plump, scared looking woman pushes her way to the front, waving her arms to get our attention. “Excuse me, excuse me!” she calls out.

  I slow down to hear what she has to say.

  “If my boy tells you I’m a One-Wayer, don’t believe him. I took him to church once. I had no idea it was a One-Wayer church. Honest. I don’t even believe in God.”

  Jeremin grabs me. “Stay focused, Evan.”

  “Sorry Commander,” I say as I pick up my pace. “I… I thought she–”

  “I told you not to listen to them,” he says, cutting me off.

  “I know, I know, but do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “Who cares?”

  “Well, what if she’s not an RF?”

  Jeremin turns around, grabs my throat and throws me up against a wall.

  “Get this through your thick head!” he yells. “All those people out there are religious fanatics. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be here. Don’t let them get in your head. Don’t feel sorry for them. I already told you, they’re not human; remember that. They are not human!”

  He loosens his hold around my neck; I keel over, gasping for air.

  “C’mon, choirboy!” He smacks me across my helmet. “You’re holding everybody up!” He kicks me to get me moving again. I stumble and I fall to the ground. I quickly get to my feet and run as fast as I can to catch up with him. When I do, he’s already with Blue Team, waiting at the gym. “Hey, look who’s late again,” Jeremin jabs. The others once again laugh at my expense.

  He then quiets everyone down and gives the signal for us to enter. We burst through the doors, startling all the kids inside the gymnasium.

  “Stay calm, children,” a man says over a loud speaker. I assume that’s the principle.

  The Blue Team jumps into action. They quickly block the exits while others run up the bleachers, scanning each kid for bombs or explosives. A holographic image flashes on our visors: NEGATIVE.

  Jeremin gets the ‘ok’ sign from each YP. He flips on his transceiver. “We’re good to go, Dirk, send in the ‘Juniors’.”

  A minute passes, then six Junior Youth Music Singers flanked by Scruffy and his team, come rushing into the gym. The performers are young, energetic; they bounce around, waving to the kids. A cute little blond steps forward. “Are you ready to save the planet!” she shouts, but the kids look at each other, not really knowing how to respond.

  “Are you ready to save the planet!” she shouts again as she puts her hand to her ear.

  “Yeah,” the kids respond timidly.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yeah!” they respond a little louder.

  “I have a personal message for you from Valerie Star,” the blond singer says. “She told me to tell you, she can’t wait to see you tonight!”

  The kids become excited.

  “But… you gotta be LOUD!”

  The kids cheer with a little bit more enthusiasm this time.

  I remember the Junior Youth Music Singers first coming to my school when I was kid. I must have been seven or eight back then, but I don’t recall any YP’s being there. And when I was a Junior Youth Music Singer myself, there might have been a few Youth Patrollers that came along, but not like how it is now. I guess times are different. Willenger keeps telling us we’re winning, but if we are, then why are we armed to the teeth just to get some kids to a concert? Is the Resistance stronger than what we expected?

  “Hate was our History. Diversity is our Destiny,” the ‘Juniors’ sing out.

  The kids are finally into it. Heads are bobbing; some are dancing. Of course none of us YP’s can hear the recorded music; we’re on L-Chip lockdown. We can’t hear the music streaming through the L-Chips like the kids can. We can only hear the ‘Juniors’ sing, but even with them singing acapella, they sound really good.

  “They’re not bad,” I tell Jeremin who’s standing next to me.

  He looks at me like I’m stupid. “We’re not here to listen, you retard.”

  Why did I say anything, why? But Jeremin does have a point. We’re not here to listen. We’re not here to listen at all. Jeremin is right, he’s always right. I must remember that. But why does he keep using illegal words? Maybe it’s the pressure he’s under. Leading a YP squad can’t be easy. Maybe it’s hard to speak proper Policy language in times of stress. Who knows? I kind of understand why we’re on L-Chip lockdown now. It’s impossible not to screw up.

  “What do you say if someone says, ‘one way’,” the lead singer shouts.

  “No way!” the kids scream enthusiastically.

  The kids begin to chant. “One way? No way! One way? No way!”

  “Commander, this is Team Green,” Luna radios in.

  “Go ahead, Team Green.”

  “The parents are getting restless out here. Their numbers have tripled. We gotta get ou
t of here right now.”

  “Okay, roger that.”

  Jeremin twirls his finger around, signaling the singers to wrap it up.

  “Okay kids,” the singer announces. “It’s that time for us to leave! Valerie Star and the Youth Music Singers are waiting for you.”

  The kids cheer.

  Dirk and his team quickly escort the ‘Juniors’ out of the gym. The rest of us YP’s direct the kids to line up. They start filing out the doors and walking toward the school buses parked in front of the school. As we get closer to the overhang, the parents begin seeing their kids. They start calling out to them.

  “Cary, Cary! Don’t say anything. Tell them nothing,” a man yells to his son.

  The small protest has now turned into a mob of about fifty or sixty. They’re growing angrier by the second. How are all these people against us?

  Luna and her team are standing shoulder to shoulder, their weapons drawn on the protesters. The laser barrier that separates us from the mob appears flimsy and weak. There’s no way that thing could hold up if they decide to charge.

  “Jason, Jason!” the plump woman we saw earlier cries out to her son. “Over here! Jason, look at your mother.”

  An eleven-year-old kid with black hair and blue eyes, very clean-cut, looks up and sees her.

  “I love you darling!” she cries out. “Mommy and Daddy love you very much!”

  The kid covers his face with his hand, acting like he doesn’t see her. “Do I know you?” he says, joking with his friends.

  “We don’t believe in God, Jason,” she panics. “We don’t sweetie! Don’t tell them that we do! I promise you we won’t go to that church anymore, I promise! Just don’t turn us in!”

  The kid shrugs his shoulders and walks onto a bus. The woman’s face turns deathly pale.

  As more and more kids ignore their parents, the mob pushes forward, testing the strength of the laser barrier.

  “Stand back!” Luna screams. “Stop pushing! You’re interfering in government business!”

  “Stop brainwashing our kids, you commie bastards!” some fat slob shouts from the crowd.

  “Shut the fuck up!” I yell back impulsively. “You can’t disrespect Youth Patrol that way!”

  The fat slob charges the barrier. The tiny lasers rip into his flesh, causing him to bleed, but it does nothing to slow him down. He ignores the pain as the blood seeps through his filthy white T-shirt. He’s now coming straight for me.