The Uprising

CHAPTER 1

Jemima Wilson

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The air hung heavy with the weight of 2131. Orion, once a beacon of hope, now reeked of ashes and fear. It had been three years since the Uprising, the day our world shattered into a million jagged pieces. The government, once a shield, was now a phantom, a distant memory whispering promises it couldn't keep.

Every day, the news screamed the same brutal truth: we were living in the Economic Ice Age.  Every day, another headline, another explosion, another life extinguished in the crossfire.  Gang wars raged, fueled by desperation and power, swallowing our streets whole. It was a constant, gnawing dread, a feeling that we were living on borrowed time.

Even amidst this chaos, life went on.  A fragile normalcy clung to the edges, but it felt like a thin veneer, easily shattered.  I went to school, but the air was thick with unspoken terror.  Each step I took felt like a calculated risk.  The soldiers, supposed protectors, were just another face in the endless game of survival.  My heart pounded with each news report, each flash of red and blue, a chilling reminder that danger lurked everywhere.

The air outside my mother's car was thick with a suffocating anxiety.  I  grabbed my suitcase from the trunk, feeling a  familiar chill crawl up my spine.  We hadn't been the same since  Brandon... my brother... had been ripped from us. A tragic accident, they called it. A lie. A hollow word that echoed the hollowness in my heart. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you inside?" My mother's voice was a hushed whisper, her eyes mirroring the fear that gnawed at my soul.

"No, Mom," I choked out, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "You'll be late. I'll see you later."  I forced a smile, a mask for the ache that wouldn't fade.

The familiar scent of fear clung to the campus.  The manicured lawns, the brightly painted buildings,  it all felt like a facade, a flimsy attempt to cover the raw wound of our shattered world.  The laughter of my fellow students, once carefree and joyous, now seemed hollow, a desperate attempt to hold onto the remnants of normalcy.

"Jemi!" Lia's voice, usually brimming with sunshine, held a tremor I couldn't ignore.  Her hug, usually full of warmth, felt stiff, her hands trembling as she reached for her phone.  A deep chill settled in my gut. 

"I have to take this," she said, her voice strained. "See you in class."  She practically ran toward the gate, leaving me with a heavy, unsettling silence.

My dorm room felt like a battlefield.  Lia's clothes were scattered everywhere, the room in disarray.  Water streamed from the kitchen sink, a silent torrent of anxiety.  My heart hammered against my ribs.  Had we been robbed?  Or was this some twisted message? 

My mind raced.  Lia, always so vibrant, always so strong, she wouldn't leave the room in this state.  The air was thick with unspoken dread. 

I had to get to class, the cleaning had to stay until I get back.

The clock ticked down, my heart thumping in my chest. Five minutes. Five precious minutes to escape the wrath of Professor Blackwood's dreaded lecture. I yanked my hair into a messy bun, a rebellious curl escaping to frame my face. The guard dog, a furry beast named Fang, barked a challenge as I sprinted across the lush green lawn. I practically threw open the lecture hall doors, the Professor's voice droning on about the Renaissance as I slid into a seat.

Lia, was nowhere in sight. Typical.  I tried to focus on the lecture, but the words blurred into a meaningless jumble. Something was wrong. My heart pounded like a drum solo in my chest.

Then, it happened.

A deafening explosion ripped through the air, shattering the classroom windows. The world went into chaos.  Screaming, students scrambled for the exit, a human tidal wave pushing me against the door. Smoke filled the air, thick and acrid, burning my throat. I stumbled, the world turning into a swirling vortex of grey. My head throbbed, and a warm, sticky liquid trickled down my face.  I was bleeding.

The smoke stung my eyes, making it hard to see.  I gasped, my lungs screaming for air.  A wave of nausea washed over me, and the world began to fade. The only thing keeping me upright was the cold, hard wall.

Through the haze of smoke, I saw him. A man with a menacing glint in his eyes, a gas mask obscuring his features. He held a gun, the metal gleaming in the dim light. My heart hammered against my ribs, fear tightening its icy grip.

"Looks like I'm just on time," his voice rasped, cold and chilling.

"Daniel, we need to go before the cops gets here," another voice called out, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"Shut up and let me think"

Strong arms lifted me from the ground, and I landed gently against something hard. The pain in my chest eased a little. I wanted to run, to scream, to fight back. But I had no strength left. My lungs burned, my body a leaden weight. 

Then, a sharp pain pierced my arm, and I felt a cool liquid seep into my skin. My mouth opened, ready to scream, but the sound died in my throat. My vision blurred. The pain subsided, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

Had they… helped me?

"Leaving her here?"

The words were muffled, swallowed by the swirling smoke.  Then, darkness enveloped me, drawing me into a silent, suffocating sleep.