The Move

By: Lexi Ronevich

The whispers of fellow rebels filled my ears as I strruggled to leave the safehouse. Their hungry eyes bore into my back with worried expressions and I sighed. Everyone was worried for now reason at all. Their leader was leaving, but I would come back as soon as possible. Keep telling yourself that, My mind whispered. This trip is dangerous, and you know it. Of course I know! I wanted to scream. However, the rebellion needed supplies; they needed information on the government's plans.

Rumors of "the move" were circulating everywhere, and I was determined to learn about it. Those crazy politicians wanted to move humans to space? That was impossible, unessesary, and completely wrong. That was why the rebellion was needed: we had to stop this madness. With delibrately brisk steps, I made my way out of the iron gray gymnasium and into the surrounding forest. The cool and fresh winter pines began to calm me as I jogged along the muddied floor. Stray bits of curly brown hair stuck to my tanned face. The steady rythym of my combat boots crushing the wilted leaves and sticks along the forest path kept my mind from wandering as I traveled nearly two miles to my first destination. It was a risky place to go, but I was certain it would provide some inside information.

Upon nearing the old powerplant I slowed my footing and put the hood up on my favorite black sweatshirt, cringing as I found yet another small tear in the right sleeve. It's still good. I reminded myself sternly. There was no spare money to get a new one, at least not yet, and the rebel's were in need of more essential things than clothing. A grin formed on my face and I stared at my muddy denim jeans, a memory flashing back to me. The first time I had ever raided a department store, my brother David and I had stolen two pairs of the most exorbitant jeans we could find. If he could see me now, David would be so proud of his little princess... My eyes snapped shut as I pushed the thoughts away, putting the task ahead into the forefront of my mind. Making my way around the left side of the old metal building, I analyzed the rusted structure. Back in the 2020's, this old dump had been a secret nuclear facility. Almost thirty-four years later, it still wasn't in such bad shape. The outer walls still stood tall, altho they were rusted, and the old nuclear reaction machines were still there, but they probably had no chance of ever working again; not with the new technology around these days. The only use this dump had now was the one thing I most wanted; this was a hideout for government spies.

Keeping my footsteps light, I made my way to a small, metal side door. The rusted hinges uttered a low creak as it swung inward, and I pressed myself against the wall before edging inside. Warm air sent thrills of adrenaline up my spine and beads of sweat forming in my hairline as I studied the warehouse-like area. A foul stench had begun to mask the air, and a fine layer of dust coated the huge reactors that sat along the walls. Focus Naya, I thought sternly as my train of thought became muddled. Searching around for any other human, a dull itch had started to form on the nape of my neck. A familiar omnious feeling crept into my mind, and I felt sick.

"Oh no," I muttered, my voice low with anticipation. A low rumble filled my ears, and I began to sprint in the opposite direction. I had barely made it out the door before a hard object hit my skull, and I sharp odor filled my nose. A wave of dizziness made my head swirl as I faded in and out of conciousness. The sound of exploding metal erupted close by and pounded in my ears, and everything was a blissful black.

The sound of electronic beeping awoke me. My muscles clenched and tightened as I readied myself for a battle. Struggling to understand my surrounding, three things occurred to me. First, I couldn't move. Thick, cushioned straps held my limbs in place, as well as my throbbing head. Second, I felt off. A strange tingling sensation was going throughout my body, and my thoughts felt mixed and jumbled. It felt like someone had taken my entire being, stuffed it into a blender, and left me on high speed. The world spun around me and my thoughts were incoherent. Third, I was almost certain that this was a government hostpital, if not a laboratory. Tubes and wires connected me to many different machines, needles poked and prodded at my jittery flesh, and the stark white of everything in the room gave me a very bad feeling. I was being watched. The governemt had finally caught me, the rebellion's leader, and they were never going to let me go. As soon as those thoughts came to my mind, I knew in my heart they were true. I was trapped; trapped in the horrible land of my worst enemies.

For the next two days, I was brought in and out of various stages of conciousness. Two of the same men had been visiting me, each wearing white coats and carrying an undefinable amount of needles and medications. The syringe in my arm had begun to feel normal, which troubled me, if only for a moment. My mind was too far away for worrying. My world had become a hazy blur as I continually felt nothing but that ever returning numbness. On that third day though, my mind was beginning to feel brighter and clear, however my limbs were still in a foggy disarray. That was the morning my first important visitor came, as it seemed her possessed a great amount of authority.

The man looked to be older than fifty, but incredibly built. He stood six feet in height, at least a half a foot taller than I, with a stiff crew cut of gray hair and blue eyes like ice. Developed muscles layered his arms and heightened his broad shoulders, making his overall appearance intimidating, even to my well-muscled, lean form. The lines on his stern face were very prominent, as was his mid-sized stomach. How someone could posses such muscle as he did and still have a prominent belly defied my beliefs. I felt myself smirking as he walked toward me, his eyes boring into my form with distaste.

"Hello, Naya is it?" His voice was hard and cold and filled with a hidden menace. I nodded briefly, knowing that they would find my name out eventually, what with all of the information they were sure to have heard from my meek rebellion. "I am General Vega. It is nice to finally meet your aquaintance Naya Dane. I have dreamt about meeting another leader such as yourself. Too bad I could never meet your brother; I had heard that David ruled the rebellion with much more class." He spat the last word, and I cringed as he mentioned David. The horrible memories of his death filled my mind, and a red haze clouded my thoughts as my built anger threatened to explode. General Vega studied me for a moment longer, waiting for a reply. Locking my lips shut, I listened silently as he continued to speak.

"You know what I want Naya. Tell me now and this will be easy. I wouldn't want to have to ruin that pretty face." The muscles in my jaw tightened as he stroked my cheek with a single scarred finger. I fought back the urge to bite his finger; it would only earn me more pain than I bargained for. Of course, he wanted me dead in the long run, but there was no telling how much torture he could give me before throwing me out like a peice of old trash. I would never give him the information he needed; I would die first.

"General, you can do whatever you want to me; I am never giving you the information." The words rolled off of my tongue with a snarl, and my lips formed a deep frown. Cringing mentally, I expected his actions as his palm collided with the side of my face. The slap stung and burned, but I ignored the pain, grinning as Vega stormed out of my white room and slammed the metal door behind him with a loud crash. He had been easy to displease.

Soon after my visit with General Vega, my door swung open once again. This time, a young man walked toward me with an expression of pity. He was tall, taller than the General, towering over me by more than a foot if I could stand. His build was long and lean, with small defined muscles and pasty pale skin. His white skin created a great contrast to his messy black hair, which stuck out at every end and curled on the edges. Sharp violet eyes bore into my own.

"Who are you?" I snapped, lower lip trembling. The man's brow furrowed, but he quickly recollected himself.

"You're Naya Dane, correct?" His tone was sharp and demanding, painfully reminding me of David's tone of distaste. My voice took on the same sharp edge when I was mad.

"That's old news; who are you?" I repeated my question, adding a firmness to my annoyed tone. The man still did not answer; he instead continued to talk. Groaning inwardly, I listened to the man's voice as it began to lighten a bit, taking on a gentle tone, the kind you used when talking to a small child.

"Naya, have you heard of the move?" His question surprised me. I shook my head, hoping he would explain it. The man laughed and gave me a knowing look. "I can see it in your eyes; what do you know about it?" Biting my lip, I tried to choose my words carefully.

"I haven't heard much. Why are you even talking to me like this? Who are you?"

"My name is Finnick, Finnick Vega. I, uh, I want to help you get out of here, if you would take me with you." There was an uncertain tone in his voice as he spoke, but for some unfathomable reason, I believed him.

"Um... are you serious? How do I know I can trust you?" A million possibilities flooded into my conciousness as I waited for his reply. This could be a trap, or it could be my only hope at escaping. The problem was that I didn't know if I could trust Finnick. If what he said was true, he wasn't just a rebel, but also General Vega's son. That information didn't seem like a good thing to me.

"Naya, you have to trust me because..." He took a deep breath, "because I knew your brother. I knew David. He told me... he told me to find you, to keep you safe. He changed me Naya. David changed me; he helped me learn how the world really was." As he finished speaking, a loud high pitched beeping began to pulse in my ears. With a start I realized it was the monitor next to me, trying desperately to keep up with my quickened pulse. Finnick gave me a look of concern and rushed forward, but the glare I gave him made him freeze.

"This all seems like a nice story," I began, "but where is the proof? David is dead. He has been that way for over a year now. Now, if you are saying he is alive, then please bring him in and let me smack him for missing my twenty-second birthday!" My voice rose until I was shouting hysterically, tears rolling down my cheeks and stinging the spot where Vega had smacked me. That was when Finnick, a man I had known for a brief ten minutes, began to hug me. He gently unclasped the bounds to my limbs and pulled off the monitors before sliding the needles out of my veins. Without knowing why I clung to him, crying like a helpless child, and he held me.

"David died here Naya." Finnick whispered. "He met me the same way we are meeting now, and he changed me. Moving the humans to space, that's nonsense. I want to stay on our planet; I want to fight the government. Just, come with me, please." As I continued to cry, he swiftly picked me up, and away we went. Even as I sit here now, at the rebellion's new camp a few miles from the coast of Massaschusetts, I can never truly comprehend what happened as we escaped. The only thought I could remember having was that final trust Finnick had bestowed on himself, the trust that I accepted.