"Alright, be careful," Caleb said, holding out his hand.
She laughed, "Don't you worry about me. I've been doing this for a long time now. But I will take the help," she said jokingly, as she grabbed his hand and lowered herself down onto the rocky path.
Once she had gotten on the ground below the ledge, she sat and began to carefully crawl backwards down the slope. "How is it?" Caleb asked.
Through grunts she replied, "We'll be fine here. It's not bad at all."
Caleb tucked the shotgun under one of his arms, then gently lowered himself down off of the ledge, and onto the path below. He mimicked what Alice had done, sitting down and slowly inching his way forward. It took a while for them to finally reach the bottom, but both of them made it safely. "There. That wasn't so bad now was it?!" Alice said excitedly. It seemed to Caleb that she had very much enjoyed that little adventure.
He laughed, saying "Did you have a good time?"
Alice grinned. "Come on! Let's go grab some water!"
She took off toward the stream in the center of the valley. Caleb stayed right behind her, and they reached the water together. They dropped to their knees and began taking big gulps of water in between deep, heavy breaths. Alice took the small canteen out of her pants pocket and filled it to the top with water. After she returned it back inside her pocket she said, "I'm still not sure what we're going to do about food. I'm starting to feel pretty hungry."
Caleb hadn't noticed that until just now. "Yeah, me too. Let's try to find a way up the other side there," he said, pointing toward the other end of the valley. "Maybe we'll get lucky and find something."
"Sounds like a plan," Alice said.
Caleb picked up the shotgun from the tall grass and started heading toward the hill on the other side of the valley. After a little bit more walking, they found an area that looked good enough to climb. It was a much gentler slope than the other side was. They were able to walk up this side of the valley with hardly any effort at all. Once at the top, Caleb stopped and looked back across the valley to the opposite side.
"What is it?" Alice asked, reaching the top behind him.
"We came from that way, right?" he asked, pointing upstream.
"Yeah. We need to keep heading along the edge, away from the sun."
Caleb nodded and began to walk back toward the way they had come, but now on the other side. After a mile or so they could see the brick building ahead of them. "There it is," Caleb said.
Alice grabbed Caleb's hand as they drew nearer to the dark brown structure. Most of the windows were broken. Shards of glass lay scattered within the grass below them, and more still clung to the sides of the openings. "It's really quiet," Alice whispered.
"I was thinking the same thing," Caleb said. Disappointment began to build within him. Was there nothing here? If they couldn't find the Resistance group, what would they do next? He walked toward one of the windows and peered inside.
"It looks empty," he whispered to Alice. "Here, take this." He handed the shotgun to her. "I'm going to go to the doorway across the room. Wait here."
Alice took the shotgun and crouched down just outside the window. Caleb slowly pulled himself up and over the brick wall, through the window and dropped down inside.
After a moment Alice asked, "Caleb, what do you see?"
"Nothing. Just a lot of broken chairs and papers scattered everywhere."
Alice could hear the cracking sound of glass, and the rustling of papers with every step Caleb took. Slowly he inched his way across the large dusty room to a set of heavy metal doors. He grabbed ahold of the handles and gently pulled on them. Nothing. The handles wouldn't budge. He turned back toward the window and said, "Alice, I can't open the doors. I think they're..."
Before he could finish his sentence, one of the doors behind him creaked open and an older looking man slid a large rifle through the crack. "Move it, over here, sit down against the wall," a calm, deep voice commanded.
Caleb stood staring at half of the man he was able to see hiding behind the door.
"Let's go. Now!" the voice shouted.
Caleb walked over to the wall and sat against it.
"Ok, good. Now how about you, little missy," he said, peeking over toward Alice, who was trying to stay hidden behind the wall below the window. "Why don't you come in here and join us?" She remained perfectly still. "No matter," he said, then whistled.
A group of five men, armed with rifles, rushed around a corner outside of the building toward Alice, who then stood up and slowly lowered the shotgun to the ground. "Now ...," the voice continued. "Why don't you come on up here?"
This time Alice obeyed. She climbed up into the room and rushed to Caleb's side, grabbing his arm. "Keep your hands out on your laps," the voice warned.
The men from outside jumped through the window one after another and stood before them. The old man opened the door all the way and stepped into the light shining from outside the window. He was short and thin. His hair was gray, and pulled back in a ponytail behind his head. There were several scars and gouges around his left eye. He slowly paced back and forth in front of them before saying, "Now then. Who are you? Where are you from? What are your names?"
Alice looked over at Caleb without saying any words, the question of what to do next in her eyes. "Nuh, uh, uh," the man said, "It's a simple thing to do. Keep your eyes on me and answer the question. What is your name?" he asked again, looking toward Caleb.
For some reason, Caleb didn't feel that the man standing before him meant to do them any harm. "My name is Caleb," he said calmly.
"Good," the man said. "Now we're getting somewhere." He took a few step away, then turned back toward Alice. "And how about you miss?"
"Alice," she said, quietly.
"Alice?" the man asked. Looking off into the distance, remembering, he said, "I used to know an Alice. A long time ago. She was very young though. Her father was a good friend of mine." He took a few steps closer to them and crouched a few inches away from their feet. He sat silently for a moment, then said, "My name is Martin."
3.2 (Resistance)
It was still night when a middle-aged man, restless and unable to sleep, pushed himself from beneath his silky blankets and walked over to a large wooden desk. He sat down in a large leather chair, and took a briefcase from the floor, gently setting it on the desk's surface. He switched on a small lamp that was sitting on the back corner of the desk. The room became illuminated with white light. Elaborate drapes hung over a massive window on the front wall of the house. Behind the man seated at his desk was a king-sized bed with silk sheets and a thick warm quilt. The high vaulted ceiling held a chandelier in its center, decorated with glass, and trimmed with gold.
The man flipped through a pile of neatly organized folders from within the briefcase, eventually removing the one he was searching for. He opened up the bright yellow folder, and took out several pages of paper filled with print. He began to thoroughly read through the pages. Later this day, he was to present the policies proposed in the bill to the leading members of the Inner Circle. When he reached the end of the document, he saw the scribbled signature of Aaron Browitz, and his own, Martin Lensky.
Before long, the sun began to glow brightly around the edges of the thick drapes beside the desk. Martin jumped up and pulled a large tassel hanging beside the curtains, pulling them apart, allowing sunlight to fill the room. He returned the document back to its folder, and that back inside the briefcase. It snapped shut and he walked out of the bedroom into a large hallway. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. Picking up a small remote control, he flipped on a screen that was embedded in the wall. A stern man was talking about some riots that had broken out within one of the Labor Sectors. Several people had been killed, many more wounded. ‘Horrible,’ he thought, ‘Hopefully, today we'll be able to help them.’
He looked at a large clock hanging above the kitchen doorway. Time had been moving very fast. Aaron was going to meet him here a
ny minute now to bring the bill down to the Central Building. He moved over to a large island in the middle of the kitchen and set the briefcase down on it. Just as the briefcase hit the marble, he heard the sound of an engine moving quickly, nearing the area. He walked to the front of his house and looked out through one of the large windows lining the wall. A black Humvee was barreling across his lawn toward the front door. Three armored men with rifles jumped out. He dropped the glass of orange juice that he had been holding onto the ground, and sprinted back into the kitchen. He heard pounding on the front door. His hands were shaking. He fumbled through one of the drawers and took out a large steak knife. Then he ducked inside a small walk-in pantry before the set of glass doors leading out onto the patio. From inside he heard two sets of footsteps rushing up his long stairwell to the upper floor of the house. He stood, heart racing, palms sweating, mouth drying, inside the pantry. He could hear doors being pushed open with great force overhead and footsteps methodically moving throughout the upper rooms.
From his place within the pantry, he saw a lone man, dressed in black, slowly move across the crack between the pantry doors and vanish out of sight. Martin knew he had to get out of there. It was only a matter of time until they found him. If they were here, it was to kill, not to capture. He slowly pushed open one side of the pantry door and peeked out. He could see the armored man creeping toward the glass doors leading to the patio outside. This was his only chance. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the knife, and slid out of the pantry. He emerged several feet behind the intruder. Sprinting toward the armed man, he gave him no time to turn around. The knife plunged deep into the side of his neck. The force of the action sent both of them crashing through one side of the glass doors, spilling out onto the patio. Martin could feel the blood pouring over his hand, leaving the knife lodged where it stuck. Shards of glass from the impact splintered around his left eye, cutting him in several places. Almost as quickly as he had landed on the patio outside, he pushed himself back to his feet, and ran as fast as he could toward the trees lining the back end of his yard, about fifty yards away. He knew the other armed men inside had to have heard the commotion, and without as much as a glance back toward his house he continued his escape. It wasn't until he was a good distance into the forest, that he remembered that Aaron was supposed to be meeting him. Oh God, Aaron. Please be late ... please be late.
The other two men dressed in black raced quickly down the stairs. After seeing the body of the other armored man lying motionless in a puddle of his own blood on the patio, they slowly walked out toward him. One of them spit on him saying, "Pathetic. Couldn't even handle one lousy economist."
One of them walked back into the kitchen and picked up the briefcase which Martin had left lying on the island. He walked back outside to the other man still standing over the body. "It's locked. What now?"
"Give it to me."
The second armed man handed the briefcase over to the first, who smashed it with great force against the concrete until it burst open. Papers came pouring out, scattering around the lawn beyond the patio. Kneeling down, the man searched through the paperwork until he found the folder he was looking for. He skimmed through it, making sure it was the right one, then flipped to the last page containing the two signatures. He folded the papers up and pushed them into his vest.
"What are we going to do with him?" The other man said, pointing down at their dead squad member with his gun.
"Throw him in the back of the Humvee. We'll get rid of him. Then we go for Aaron Browitz."
3.3 (Resistance)
Caleb and Alice sat silently against the wall inside the littered room. They watched Martin as he slowly paced back and forth in front of them. The other five armed men stood several feet behind him, keeping their eyes focused on the two. Their weapons were lowered, but they remained at the ready.
"There are protocols we follow here. Anyone who finds us from the outside is required to comply with them," Martin said as he walked back and forth in front of them, glancing toward them in between steps. "I can tell just from the look of you that you're from one of the Labor Sectors, isn't that right?" he continued, as he stopped pacing and looked directly at Caleb.
Caleb didn't respond right away. He looked down at his lab coat with the numbers 759-47A printed across one of the flaps. Then he looked back at Martin and asked, "How could you..."
Martin cut him off, "Now. I can also tell that neither of you are Inner Circle members." He walked closer to Alice and studied her. "As for you, I can't be sure. You don't have any of the Sector-issued uniforms, so you weren't kept in one of them. You also don't have the type of clothes the Inner Circle would wear."
Alice looked down at her flannel shirt, cargo pants, and leather boots, the clothes that her father had given her from one of the bags he brought with them to the cabin when they made their escape from the Inner Circle’s living area. ‘Huh, interesting,’ she thought. She had never wondered where the clothes had come from. Were they Patrick's or her father's? Did he stash away clothes from the time before the transition? Then she began to wonder where her father was, if he was alright. She was clinging to Caleb's words from before that they would all be heading to the same place. And she was comforted by the fact that her father was wise, he knew what to do in situations where their lives were in danger.
Martin broke into her thoughts, "My guess is that you have been surviving out here somewhere, Alice. Am I right?"
Alice glanced over at Caleb out of the corner of her eye, but Caleb didn't notice. He was still intently watching Martin, wondering what he was going to say next, and trying to figure out how to broach the topic of the Resistance.
Martin bent down in front of Alice and looked her in the eye. His tone softened, he sounded comforting and reassuring. "Miss. We aren't going to hurt you. But we need you to answer our questions."
Alice slowly nodded her head. Quietly, she answered, "Yes. I've been living in the forest."
"Thank you, Miss," Martin said with a smile, as he stood up and took a step back over toward Caleb. “And I don’t need to ask you where you’re from. I already know the answer.”
Caleb continued studying Martin, trying to figure out how to ask him if they were who he suspected. Without being able to figure out any other way around it, he just directly asked the question: "Are you part of a ... Resistance group?"
Martin stood up and walked over to the five armed men behind him. He whispered something in one of their ears and the man disappeared through the doors into a dark hallway. Caleb could hear his footsteps thumping, growing more distant, as they rhythmically faded into silence. The other men walked over toward the door and stood on either side of the opening. "Okay you two. We're going to need to take you with us to continue with questioning. Just know that you aren't in any danger. At least for now. Stand up, put your hands behind your heads, and follow us."
With that, Martin headed toward the door, stood in the opening and waited for Caleb and Alice to comply. They slowly stood to their feet, put their hands behind their heads, and walked toward Martin. "Step outside and face the wall," he said as they neared the spot where he was standing.
They both walked through the doorway as Martin moved out into the hall, followed by the four armed men. They waited in the hallway momentarily as one of the men shut the door behind them and turned a small rust-covered silver key in the handle, locking it in place. Martin signaled for two of the men to start walking down a long, musty hallway. The floors had a rough layer of carpeting spanning up and down, wall to wall. There were papers strewn about, lights broken, dangling from the ceilings. The only light that shone into the hallway came from doorways that lined either side. Some of them were shut, others open, and several without doors. Caleb glanced into the open rooms as he passed. They were much like the room they had just left. Broken chairs, papers scattered throughout, messy. Toward the end of the hallway they turned a corner and were facing a set of heavy-looking gray doors. Martin wa
lked over to them and knocked three times, with a short pause between each. From the other side of the door they could hear a metallic rattling sound, then a click. The doors slowly propped open, revealing two average men. One was holding a long metal chain in his hands. Martin moved into the room.
"Alright, step inside," Martin said, motioning for Caleb and Alice to enter the now open doorway.
The man who held the chain shut the doors behind them, turned a key into the handle and then wrapped the chain tightly around both of the metallic handles. Then he took a large steel lock, slid it through the chain links, and snapped it shut. The group walked up a flight of stairs and came to another set of doors, identical to the ones they had just come through. The same exact procedure was followed here, and after a short while they found themselves in an open area, lit with dim fluorescent lights. Caleb and Alice looked at each other in shock. The room held about forty to fifty men, all armed with varying types of rifles, pistols and shotguns. There was a row of boxes with screens lining the center of the room which several men sat in front of. They reminded Caleb of the holo screens from his living quarters inside of the grid, where his schedules would be posted. There were numerous windows lining the room, none of which were allowing any light in from outside. They were boarded up with wooden panels. Above them, lining the ceiling, were three rows of long tubes of white light, the only light that was being allowed in this area.
Martin walked toward a man sitting at a small table that held some sort of machine on it. He quietly spoke to him and then turned to face Caleb and Alice. "Ok, Caleb. You're going to go first. Come over here."
Caleb was still overwhelmed with what he was seeing in front of him, but nervously asked, "What's that machine?"
Martin reassured him, "It's ok. We aren't going to hurt you. This is something that will let us know if you are telling the truth when we question you."
Sector 27- Assignment Page 11
