Story: Children of the Revolution

Synopsis: In a futuristic setting one hundred years from our time, the entire world is in ruins from The Big War, a war which every country was involved in. Dictators work together and against each other to make sure their regions, as they are now called, remain oppressed. However, an English reporter named Martin Thelms, a "wannabe revolutionary", has found someone who can help stop the injustice. The question is, will he succeed in convincing her to help - and in winning her heart?

Rating: Rated 'M' for language, violence, and sexual content/dialogue.

"Martin. Martin? Oy, Thelms!"

Martin Thelms absently glanced over at the doorway of his office and saw his photographer, Jonathan Timburwald, standing there in anticipation.

"What is it, Jon?"

"The meeting officially started two minutes ago."

"Oh, shit!" Martin exclaimed, looking at his watch and bolting out of his seat in alarm. "Shit, shit, shit... I'm missing the meeting right now! The boss is gonna kill me!"

"Not if you hurry!" Jonathan replied, and he and Martin started heading for the conference room where the staff meeting for The People's Press, the newspaper that the men worked for, had already begun without them.

"I can't believe I'm late," Martin groaned, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "I keep losing track of time..."

"Dreaming about becoming a hero again, were we?"

Martin glared at Jonathan. "The correct term is revolutionary, and if you ask me, they are heroes."

Jonathan chuckled. "Just forget it, man. You'll never become one of them. You're too wussy for it."

"Am not! I could knock you out any time I felt like it."

"That doesn't prove anything except for the fact that you hit hard when you get mad at someone. Revolutionaries get mad at the government, sure, but they don't just punch people. They use guns, they go undercover... they risk their lives."

"That's why they're heroes, and that's why I wanna be like them. I could be like that, if I really wanted."

"Well, quit talking about it. They don't want us talking about things besides work in the meeting."

Martin and Jonathan then entered the conference room, closing the door behind them and taking their assigned seats at the table.

"How kind of you to join us, gentlemen," Darwin Hobbs, editor-in-chief of The People's Press, said to the two men sarcastically, causing the other employees to snicker and causing Martin and Jonathan's faces to grow hot.

"Sorry, Mr. Hobbs," Martin mumbled, looking down at the meeting agenda on the table in front of him. "It won't happen again."

"You said that last time, but no matter," Mr. Hobbs said, and then he cleared his throat, a signal for his employees to look up at him and give him their undivided attention.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, as you know, the eleventh anniversary of the so-called end of The Big War is coming up in three months. In honor of this, the entire November issue of The People's Press is going to be about The Big War."

An excited murmur started going through the staff. They were going to write about the biggest war in history - a war so big that there was no other name for it except "The Big War"!

"Because of this," Mr. Hobbs continued, "we won't be working on any new issues for September or October. We'll all be too busy working on our biggest issue yet to be making those. Now, I called this meeting today so that we could decide what kind of articles we're going to put in this paper, and when we've decided on those, we'll decide who's going to write those certain articles. Do I hear any suggestions for an article?"

Jemina Wellington, one of the more well-known writers of The People's Press, raised her hand. "I suggest we write an article about the effects this war has had on all of us, and we could interview different people - dictators, common citizens, former revolutionaries -"

"Former revolutionaries?" Wilma Cross, one of the photographers, scoffed. "You're not going to get very many of those, if any at all. All of the former revolutionaries were killed or went into hiding, especially after Andie DeWitt died. Nobody wants to admit that they used to be a revolutionary now that she's gone."

"She's right," Austin Cross, Wilma's writer and brother, agreed. "They're not much without her - they were practically nothing until she came along. Now that she's gone, they're all scared. Besides, you couldn't get a very good interview from anyone besides Andie. She knew everything about The Big War, especially since she was the biggest part of it. She's in three-quarters of what's in the books written about the war."

Martin could feel his hands start to tremble from excitement at the mention of Andie DeWitt, the now-deceased leader of the now-disbanded revolutionaries and possibly the most important person in The Big War. She'd only been 14 when the war had started, but she'd led the revolutionaries without question until the end of the war three years later, when she was imprisoned and had died in custody of the government police five years after that. Andie was by far his biggest influence for becoming a revolutionary; he wanted to be exactly like her. She was undoubtedly the bravest person he'd ever heard of.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jonathan nudged his shoulder and whispered, "Oy - quit daydreaming, mate. She's gone."

Martin sighed, shook his head, and then looked up at Mr. Hobbs, saying, "Perhaps we could find someone who was close to Andie and knew her well - someone who, like she was, isn't afraid of being caught. We could get an interview from a former revolutionary, but they'd have to have her guts and her knowledge of the war."

Mr. Hobbs nodded. "Good thinking, Martin. Jemina, do that, won't you? Find someone like Andie."

"I'll try my best, sir," Jemina replied, glaring at Martin with jealousy from him thinking of the idea before her.

"Good." Mr. Hobbs then turned back to Martin. "How about you give us another idea, Martin? What else do you think we should write about?"

Martin looked thoughtful for a moment. What could he suggest? There were many things to be written about, but he wanted to do something important... something that he could find good information on so that he could make a good article.

"Well... I could interview someone about the war itself - not necessarily a revolutionary or a dictator, but someone who knows about the war pretty well. Maybe I could interview one of the people who wrote a book on the war, as they obviously know a lot about it. I could interview anyone, as long as they know a hell of a lot about the war and exactly what went on in it."

"That's very good, Martin. Do that - I like that idea a lot."

Martin nodded, and then he wrote a note to himself down on his hand in pen: Find someone to interview about B.W.

"All right," Mr. Hobbs said. "Any more suggestions?"

Martin sat back and decided to tune out other people's suggestions so that he could ponder about who he could possibly interview who would know about The Big War - someone who would know a lot about The Big War.

He knew who he wanted to interview the most - Andie DeWitt. He wanted to meet her anyway, but to get the opportunity to interview her about the thing that made her a common household name that was whispered in the dead of night was his ultimate fantasy.

Andie was a lot to look at, too. He'd seen pictures of her, and she certainly wasn't common as far as appearances were concerned. She'd had seemingly endless waves of chocolate-brown hair that shone in the light, eyes the same color that were always full of expression, and a tan complexion she'd received from endless hours in the sun, fighting and planning to fight for justice, that covered her perfectly thin, muscular body.

However, he knew that this would never be possible - Andie was dead; she had been for almost six years. There was no way to get in contact with her, no matter what psychics and fortune-tellers said.

But the fact that she was dead didn't mean that he couldn't fantasize about meeting her...

He could see a small cottage in front of him, surrounded by a small but beautiful garden that was constantly taken care of. This was it. He was here.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way down the walkway and knocked on the ruby-red-painted door. Then he waited, feeling breathless out of nerves and anticipation.

The door opened, and there she stood - the most beautiful, most brave, most intelligent woman he'd ever heard of, dressed in her typical outfit of ripped jeans, a tanktop, military boots, and a brown leather overcoat, her dark hair tied back in a loose knot. Andie DeWitt was right in front of him.

"Martin Thelms?" she inquired in her American accent, smiling a luminous smile that could brighten the entire world at any time.

Too enthralled by her to speak, he nodded silently.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Andie DeWitt."

"I know," he whispered, taking her hand and, instead of shaking it like a reporter fixing to conduct a professional interview, kissing it. "I know..."

After they stared intently at each other in a revealing first moment of eye contact for a moment, she cleared her throat and removed her hand from his, stepping aside. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure; thanks," he replied, stepping inside as she closed and locked the door behind him.

"Follow me, please," she said, making her way to the back of the house and out the back door to the back porch, where a table piled with food and drinks and two chairs were waiting for them.

"Feel free to eat and drink what you like before we start the interview; make yourself comfortable," she offered, sitting down in one chair as he sat in the other.

"Thank you," he replied, sitting and beginning to eat and drink.

After a moment, he noticed that she wasn't eating or drinking anything. Instead, she was sitting in her chair, staring at him and watching his every move.

"What are you doing, may I ask?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed, giving him another smile. "Just thinking about how hungry I am."

"Well, then why don't you eat?"

She laughed softly, rising and making her way around the table until she came to where he sat. "I'm not hungry for food," she replied, straddling him in his chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm hungry for you."

Then, without waiting for him to reply, she pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around him even tighter, as he let out a soft moan and wrapped his arms around her waist.

After a moment, she broke away from him, and she said the words that would forever change his life.

"I love you, Martin Thelms."

"Martin! Martin! Snap out of it, man!"

After a moment, Martin, a dreamy expression on his face, realized that he was being lightly slapped on the cheek, and he looked up to see Jonathan standing there.

"Oh," he sighed, his voice as dreamy as his expression. "Hey, Jon."

"You were dreaming again, weren't you? About being a hero?"

"No," Martin retorted, his voice no longer dreamy, a smile slowly starting to spread across his face. "Something much better."

"Whatever," Jonathan replied. "C'mon - we've gotta start trying to find people who you can interview."

"What? Is the meeting over?"

"Yes, you dolt! Look around you; everyone's gone! I've been trying to make you come out of your trance for the past fifteen minutes."

"Oh," Martin said as he looked around and saw that Jonathan was right - the conference room was empty except for them. Then he sighed and rose. "Well, then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and made his way out of the conference room and to his office. Jonathan followed him.

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Up next chapter: Martin, who is starting to think that he won't ever find anyone to interview, gets some help from one of his co-workers.