The Queer Rebels

Chapter 23: Shattering

"Is that what I think it is?" I say in disbelief.

He promised no one would get hurt. Said we were just sending a message. Letting people know of our existence.

"Lower your voice," Harry says just above a whisper. A non-answer.

I'm not sticking around if we're planting a bomb.

I've made it out of the city before. And last time I had a twisted ankle and didn't know where I was going. So, what's stopping me from leaving right now?

Only one thing: I need to stop Harry.

This is crazy.

Maybe, just maybe, I can convince him to abort the mission.

"If you hurt innocent people, you are no better than the Luddites!" I say, my voice coming out louder than I intend.

Harry grits his teeth.

"I said..." He steps towards me and, in a flash, pushes me up against the grimy wall of the alleyway, one forearm against my bound chest, his free hand covering my mouth. "Lower. Your. Voice."

His hand is salty against my lips, and in an animalistic rage I try to bite him and writhe out of his hold, pushing against him, kicking his chins.

"Calm down," he seethes.

But how can I calm down? He tricked me into coming with him. Bait and switch. I was fine with a little vandalism, but violence? That's not what I signed up for.

If the city catches us, they won't think twice before killing us.

I didn't even say goodbye to Marcy. Just told her I was going for a walk. That can't be the last exchange we have. The last time we see each other.

She's probably worried enough about where I am. About how I just disappeared. I need to make it up to her. Make this right. And I can't do that if I'm dead.

Thinking about her, how I left, makes bile rise in the back of my throat.

But Harry doesn't loosen his grip, and even though we're around the same height, he's much stronger than I am. With his years of testosterone and wider build, I don't have any chance of overpowering him.

"Calm down," he repeats, softer this time. "Listen, Charlie, we're not going to hurt anyone. It's a glitter bomb. The steps of the Choosing Day Center will be covered in pink glitter and confetti hearts. It's a message, not an attack. A message of love. Of loving yourself."

I can't tell if he is telling the truth, or if he's lying so I'll stop fighting against him. He's still wearing the glamor, and I can't read this stranger's steel-blue eyes.

But I saw the glitter on the workbench.

And I know he hates the Luddites. He called them crazy earlier.

So, even though I'm not sure whether to believe him, I nod, pushing the doubt in my mind to a corner.

"I'm going to move my hand, okay?" He raises his eyebrows. "Don't scream."

Harry steps back and I lean forward, hands on my knees, and spit onto the dirty ground. "You should fucking wash your hands more often."

He wipes his hands on his pants, then he holds out the device. The so-called glitter bomb.

It's a brown tube, plain and unmarked. One end looks to be taped off, while the other has some sort of device on it. Now that I'm looking more closely, maybe it's a timer. It has a dial that can be turned.

"Listen, here's the plan." His voice is level, almost as if the last few minutes didn't happen. "When I twist the bottom, it will give us approximately two minutes before it goes off. We're going to walk, as casually as possible, down the street. I'm going to drop it on the steps. As soon as we get to the corner, we find the next alley and hide."