The Secret Citizen (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 3)

by Kyle Andrews

  She passed an old lady who was sitting on the front steps of a building that hadn't existed for years. The stairs led only to a steep drop. The woman looked lost and sad. Rose called this woman 'the Good Lady Mopesalot' on most nights, but as she passed the Good Lady this time, she didn't feel like making light of that woman's pain. Whatever the Good Lady once had, it was gone now. The loss was obviously devastating. Nobody deserved to live their entire life like that.

  Rose cut through an old restaurant and a grocery store, hoping to keep people from following her once she finally made her way into the abandoned bank. Down the stairs. Through the security room.

  This wasn't the only entrance to the Garden, of course, but it was the one that seemed most popular.

  When the cabinet opened and Rose saw Wally, the man who stood watch at night, she could see his eyes moving up and down her entire body. He wasn't checking her out, as he normally did. This time, he was assessing how horrible she looked.

  His eyes locked on the gun in her hand and he stood from his chair.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked her.

  Rose tried to smile, but it hurt her eyes too much, so she just said, “From the HAND officer that I shot with it.”

  “Is it loaded?”

  “I didn't shoot her with good intentions.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don't know. If someone is making toast, then I'm probably fine. If not, then I'd say there might be some brain damage.”

  Wally raised one hand, in which he was holding a slice of toasted bread, smeared with jelly.

  Rose nodded and said, “Score one for the girl with the gun.”

  She patted Wally on the shoulder and continued on her way into the Garden. Along the way, she passed a number of people that were standing in the tunnels, talking amongst themselves. They looked almost as bad as Rose. Lost. Sad. They kept their eyes locked on Rose as she passed them, as though they expected her to do or say something, but what was there to say? The entire night was a mess. Everything was upside-down. She wasn't going to make it better with an inspirational speech.

  Or maybe they were just waiting for her to fall flat on her face. She was feeling weaker by the second. Once she was in the tunnel, she tucked the gun in her belt, pretty sure that nobody in the Garden was going to try to kill her.

  She made her way into the main lobby of the Garden, where people were gathered around TV screens and reading data off of computers. The place was buzzing with activity. She wasn't even sure that anyone had noticed her walk in at first, but then one head turned toward her. And another.

  It wasn't as though she got the attention of everyone in the place, but she looked bad enough to get some stares. She tried to put on a smile for their benefit, but it was too heavy and threw her off balance. She collapsed as the world went dark around her.

  ҂

  She didn't dream. At least, not that she could remember. Instead, Rose's next memory was opening her eyes, expecting to see a rush of people coming toward her, wondering why she had collapsed like a fool. But there was only one person near her when she opened her eyes, and she was no longer in the lobby of the Garden. She was resting in a hospital room, with an IV dripping into the back of her hand.

  The woman standing over her was a nurse, Lacy. Rose didn't know Lacy well, but they'd seen each other around enough to know each other's name.

  When she saw Rose starting to wake up, Lacy asked her, “Is it going to stick this time?”

  “What?” Rose asked, putting a hand to her throbbing head.

  “You've almost woken up a few times now. Flailed your arms. Moaned. Groaned. Called out for someone named Paul,” Lacy told her. When Rose heard Paul's name her eyes widened and Lacy smiled. “There she is.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  Lacy looked at her watch and said, “You've been here for five hours.”

  Rose started to pull herself up, but Lacy put a hand on her shoulder and held her down. She said, “You should rest.”

  “I need to see Aaron,” Rose told her. “Libby...”

  Lacy looked down, and then turned to look at the person in the bed next to Rose's. The other patient was asleep.

  Lowering her voice, Lacy turned back to Rose and said, “He knows. Everyone knows.”

  Rose stopped trying to get up. She looked toward the ceiling and took a deep breath. There were so many questions that needed to be asked. Why was Libby out there? Who let her leave the Garden? What the hell was going on? But she wouldn't assault Lacy with a barrage of questions that the nurse would not be able to answer.

  Maybe there weren't any answers at all. Maybe things were just happening because the world was destined to fall apart.

  “Aaron said that he'd come in to see you when you woke up. I'll give him a call and let him know that you're awake. Unless you want to get some more sleep first?” Lacy said.

  “No. I want to talk to him.”

  Lacy nodded and finished up what she needed to do before writing something in Rose's chart and walking out of the room. A second later, Lacy poked her head back into the room and said, “By the way, if Paul was that guy who was sitting out in the hall for three hours...”

  Lacy didn't finish that thought. She simply raised an eyebrow as though telling Rose that she was impressed. Then she grinned and once again walking off.

  Rose was left alone with her roommate, who was sleeping deeply and breathing loudly. He was a flu patient, no doubt. He was breathing through his mouth and every so often, he would start to snore. The sound would wake him up just enough to stop snoring and adjust the way he was positioned in the bed. He never opened his eyes. Rose envied him.

  She sat in that room, trying not to think about Paul, while listening to the sick man's breathing for what seemed hours. In her mind, she tried to turn that noise into the sound of waves crashing onto a sandy beach, but it didn't work. There was no changing that sound into anything other than what it was—A highly contagious man, suffering only feet away, undoubtedly spreading his flu germs all over her.

  The urge to get up and walk out of that room was strong, but she had to wait for Aaron. She didn't want to talk to him about Libby in the lobby, in front of everyone else. It seemed disrespectful somehow.

  Rose looked over to the table next to her bed. There, hidden behind the pink plastic cup that she probably wouldn't want to drink out of—the bedpan that was sitting far to close to that cup—and next to some packages of unopened bandages, Rose saw a little radio. She reached for it, which hurt her head for some reason, and pulled it close.

  Making sure to keep the volume low, so that she wouldn't disturb her noisy roommate, Rose turned on the radio and put it to her ear. She wanted to hear what the news was saying about the previous night's riot and Libby's death. She wanted to see if anything good had come out of any of it.

  Only one station was working inside the hospital room. It was a news station, but something was wrong. They weren't talking about what happened the night before at all.

  “I'm joined in the studio by Senator Fax Larson, who is widely considered to be a frontrunner in the upcoming presidential election,” the male host said with a monotone, almost whispered voice. “And also Dr. Trin Cole who is a former adviser to President Ryloff, author of the book 'Pledge of Compliance: A Guide to Modern Civility', and all around swell woman.”

  There was a female chuckle, followed by a husky-sounding female voice saying, “Thank you very much.”

  “You forgot her Nobel Peace Prize,” said a new male voice, who Rose had to assume was Senator Larson.

  “I didn't want to say anything,” Dr. Cole replied.

  “So sorry,” the sleepy-sounding host told her. “I wish I could have been there when they were giving them out. I've always wanted one.”

  “Maybe next year,” Dr. Cole joked, though dryly and without much humor.

  “I want to talk about the topic on everyone's mind right now. The elections are coming up in—what is it�
��a year and a half?”

  “Something like that,” Senator Larson agreed.

  The host asked him, “What do you think the biggest issues are for this election cycle? What do you think we need to accomplish?”

  “How long is your show again?” Larson quipped. “But seriously, we're looking at major issues with the workforce. The Economy. Food distribution.”

  “You've been very critical of the President on some of these issues,” the host said to him.

  Larson agreed, “I have, in the most respectful way possible. Despite our being of different parties, I truly believe that the President wants to do what is right for the people. I just don't think that he is doing what is right for the people.”

  “What do you think needs to be changed?”

  “Well as you know, I've put together a packet with what I'm calling my 'Restructuring Plan.' It's an intensive reform of the system. It puts more power back in the hands of the people.”

  That last comment piqued Rose's interest.

  “How so?” the host asked.

  “Look... Right now, we have a flawed system when it comes to food distribution. I have worked with my colleagues on the other side of the aisle to try to reform this system. To allow people to maybe have a set of options when it comes to their shopping lists, rather than a hard line that tells them what they must eat.”

  That was it? He wanted to allow people to choose between pretzels or popcorn?

  The host turned his attention to Dr. Cole and said, “Doctor? What do you think?”

  Dr. Cole took a deep breath and sighed before saying, “We have been trying to work on plans like this for years, and we've made a lot of progress. Senator Larson himself was instrumental in blocking a bill that would have allowed citizens to remove foods from their list which they were allergic to.”

  “That bill was stuffed with other issues,” Larson shot back. “It increased the work week by five hours per week. It put restrictions on fuel licenses...”

  “By putting those restrictions in place, we would have lowered the cost of fuel by a significant amount.”

  “While making it impossible for plumbers and contractors to haul their equipment across town.”

  “Plumbers and contractors are eligible for exemptions.”

  “But only if they file within the window of opportunity. After that, they're out of luck.”

  Rose turned off the radio. Those people could talk for hours and never actually say anything. People like the good Senator Larson always went on and on about giving power back to the people. He always claimed to be on the side of the everyman, though it was unlikely that he'd ever actually met a common citizen on the street. When it came time to fight the good fight, he and all of the others like him chose the path which would cause the fewest ripples. 'Working across the aisle' was code for 'Not fighting even a little bit.'

  He didn't represent the people. His idea of giving power back to the people was pushing curfew back an hour on holidays, not putting an end to the entire notion of a national bedtime.

  And then there was the other side. The ones who claimed to be fighting to give more to the people. To give them more food. More health coverage. Better housing. All for the low-low cost of the souls of every civilian. Penalties for speaking out of turn. Prosecution if you looked at a HAND officer the wrong way.

  The two parties argued back and forth all day long, but when it came down to it, they were all on the same side. They were out to protect their lifestyle. They wanted to keep their class of people safely protected in their bubbles of wealth and power, congratulating each other on climbing the ladder in their chosen professions, while denying the average civilian the right to even have a chosen profession. Hell, the average citizen couldn't even have a chosen meal—Well, unless heroes like the brave Senator Larson managed to win that valiant battle for snack food options.

  Two parties, scratching each other's backs and making it all look good for the camera.

  As Rose put the radio back on the table next to her bed, she noticed Aaron standing in the doorway. The hall behind him was brightly lit, causing him to look dark and mysterious as he walked into her dimly lit room.

  He sat on the edge of her bed and didn't say anything at first. He looked as though there were no words to properly express what he wanted to say. But he tried anyway.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her, easing into the conversation that she knew would be much more involved than him simply checking in on her.

  “I've been better, but I could be worse,” Rose replied. “How's Justin?”

  Aaron didn't answer her right away, which told Rose that he didn't know how Justin was doing.

  “He's not back?” she asked.

  “He's one of two that we sent out, who haven't reported back since everything happened,” Aaron told her. He hesitated for a moment and then quietly added, “I'm not counting Libby in that. We didn't send her.”

  “How did she get out?”

  “We weren't holding her. I never thought that she... I didn't expect her to leave like that.”

  “So she just walked out? Nobody stopped her? What is that?”

  “Freedom,” Aaron told her, but he didn't sound very enthusiastic about his response. After a few seconds passed, Aaron asked her, “Did you see Justin out there at all?”

  “Yeah. He walked by me. I thought he was on his way back here. He should have gotten here before I did.”

  Aaron looked down. He didn't like that answer or what it might mean.

  “He's not dead,” Rose told him, knowing it to be the truth. “He might be messed up right now, but he isn't dead. He'll be back.”

  “I hope so.”

  Rose didn't want to think about the possibility of Justin being dead or captured. She could tell that Aaron wasn't convinced that he was safe, but she knew in her gut that Justin would be back. He just needed to breathe. He needed to let things sink in. Until she had reason to believe otherwise, she was going to assume that he was just taking some time. Losing someone like that would be hard for anyone.

  Then the thought occurred to her, “What about Libby's mother?”

  Aaron's eyes met hers for a moment, but he didn't say anything. It was obvious that nobody had been in to talk to Amanda.

  “You can't let her sit in there, waiting for Libby to come back.”

  “I wanted Justin to talk to her,” Aaron said, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes. For the first time, Rose saw how tired Aaron really was. He had obviously been awake all night and she could tell that there was more weighing him down than Libby's death.

  He looked to the other bed, at Rose's roommate who was still breathing loudly. He then said, “It's worse than we ever thought.”

  “What's worse?”

  Aaron used his head to point Rose's attention to the man in the other bed. He said, “The flu. We sent a team out to the hospital to get their hands on one of those scanners, so we could...” he trailed off as he realized that he was about to start talking about Libby again. Correcting, he said, “The news isn't reporting how bad it is.”

  “How bad is it?”

  Aaron turned to face her and said, “Bad. A lot of people are dying. The hospital's morgue was full of them.”

  “Aren't morgues usually full of dead people?”

  “Floor to ceiling.”

  “Oh,” Rose nodded, finally catching on. “Damn.”

  She looked over at the man in the other bed, as though he could die at any moment. Silence fell between Rose and Aaron, but she finally had to ask, “Did they get the scanner?”

  He nodded and said, “Simon's working on it now.”

  “Did we lose anyone?”

  “No.”

  No matter how badly Rose wanted to stop thinking about what happened to Libby, everything kept coming back to her. It was insane. Rose hadn't even known the girl for all that long, but it seemed as though everything depended on her. Libby wasn't just the keeper of the library, she was a symbol f
or what it meant. More than that, she was Rose's friend and she didn't deserve what happened to her.

  Rose could feel tears starting to bubble up inside of her and she tried her best to swallow them. She cleared her throat and told Aaron, “I'll talk to her mother. We'll just let her sleep for a while.”

  Aaron nodded. He stood and prepared to walk out of the quiet of that room and back into whatever chaos was unfolding in the rest of the Garden.

  “Take care of yourself,” he told Rose.

  “You too.”

  Aaron smiled and said, “That's not part of my job.”

  He walked out of the room, leaving Rose alone with the sleeping flu patient once again. She wanted to go back to sleep, but she couldn't. Instead, she kept trying to figure out a good way to tell a woman that her daughter was dead. The scene played out over and over in her head. When she couldn't take it anymore, she turned the radio back on.

  “...killed last night. Though officials have not yet released an official statement on the homicide, we are hearing reports that the victim was heard screaming for help while his attacker used racial slurs...”

  Rose closed her eyes and listened to the sound of real news being swept under the carpet.

  8

  The sunlight coming through his window was blinding. Justin was in his own apartment, on the couch, and the sun seemed to be targeting him specifically. No matter how he turned his head, he couldn't escape it.

  He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to wake up. All he wanted to do was pretend that he could hold onto that brief moment when he first woke up and couldn't remember anything that had happened the day before.

  Libby's death wasn't the first memory that came trickling back to him that morning. The first was the memory of sitting in Amanda's hospital room, eating a hamburger with Libby. Watching her smile. Watching her taste real food.

  At first, the sweetness of that memory brought a smile to his lips. His heart tightened in his chest, and for that moment, he was happy to be alive. Then, in one sudden flash, he remembered the sight of her on the ground. Her lifeless body, limp. Blood everywhere.