World War Four

Chapter One: Found

You have all the weapons you need. Now fight.  

-Sucker Punch

(Oh, and thanks for the cover! Same person that made my story ad! You're the best!)

3 Months ago

The air I breathed into my lungs in was different than the air in the facility; clean, fresh, everything the elders said it was like. The pavement grazed my feet with faded silver and cracks of lightning. The wind whistled a song of freedom. Freedom. I breathe the word in like fresh baked sugar cookies on christmas. The kind of christmas I'd only hear as folk legends as a little girl. Sweets. I promised myself if I were ever free that's the first thing I'd try. Something sweet. Ironically a bittersweet gush of luscious baked goods and tart coffee mixed in a delicate dance beneath my nose. It was so different from the aroma of lavender detergent and bleach that I was almost shocked.

More shocking were the faces of the men. They looked so... happy-go-lucky. It was like they were brain washed to believe the world is better now that the women are out of their way. Men in cars waved at men with suit cases, men with suitcases waved at men hand in hand with little boys, and men hand in hand with little boys waved at men in cars. I felt sick to the core; this isn't natural. I have to stop this. I have return the world to normal.

Even if it does plunge us into World War IV.

~*~*~

As I neared the semi-abandoned building, I felt eyes etching themselves on my back. I turned and looked around. A tall man hidden behind brown locks of hair that fell over his eyes and a leather brown jacket was looking straight at me. He was leaning against the wall with his foot pressed next to his thigh. His eyes followed me from across the street, too far to tell the exact color they were, yet from afar I could imagine they were almost the color of the sky just before dusk. Something about him made my legs move faster to their destination, panic rising in my chest and limbs. He knew my secret. He knew I wasn't one of them. My thoughts clouded with one word circling my brain, playing over and over like a broken record.

Run. Run. Run.

I was almost there, just a few more yards. He began to pick himself up from the wall and walk. He was just at the edge of the street when the cool metal of the handle on the glass door met my hands. Relief flooded through me. I was safe. A blast of warm air welcomed me into the dealer's hidden location. Two men were sitting on crates, their backs pressed against the wall behind them and cigarettes were held in between their index and middle fingers. A group of men were also sitting around a makeshift table made of a large piece of plywood situated on a few crates, poker cards fluttering from their hands to the table. Some of them were also smoking, small puffs of smoke twisting and curling into the air above them. A little group stood off to the side, deep in a vivid conversation. Some flailed their arms around and other made facial expressions that looked painful.

"Hello beautiful, here for your appointment?" A short man, obviously from New York, sauntered over to me. He was chewing gum, giving me the very ill-favored pleasure of seeing the blue tinted teeth that smacked up and down. He was wearing a worn out pair of sweats the diluted color of the deep ocean. He wore a gold chain around his neck, and his nose took up half his face.

"Yes. I just need to pick up the documents."

"I need to see the money first, pumpkin." His voice was sweet, yet his lips were turned up in a cruel smile, and his eyes were cold as stone.

"Here you go," I told him while pulling the money from my pocket. I thumbed through the bills, letting the air flick across this man's face. "Five grand, like the note you dropped off said."