Chapter 11 - Ben
"I think we are pretty well set up." I placed the final mine in the ground.
"When they come around, they are going to have a good fight. They probably expect us to be holed up with a bow and arrow or something."
"Morgan, we are about to take the first step in restoring freedom - real freedom, not an oppressive dictatorship that tries to associate themselves with the word."
Freedom, the word was like honey on my lips. Even though I was very young before the war, I still remember the wonder of it. The whole word of it just feels foreign. It's almost...almost as if it isn't even a real thing at all, just an intangible idea that someone put in my head.
"I hear you. But a free system can easily turn into something equally as bad as what we have now. Not that freedom is a bad thing, not that at all, it's just that nothing can be truly free."
How can freedom not be free? I mean there would have to be checks and balances of course, and laws, and ways to control them. The more I think about it, the more his explanation actually makes sense. Even with freedom from oppression, there will always be limits to it. Just like a bird cannot go anywhere it wants simply because it has wings, it is limited to its own strength.
"I guess I've never thought about it that way."
We continued placing mines and setting up our defenses. I was beginning to wonder if we were going overboard. If someone does come along, it's not like we will be able to bunker up here. This is just a temporary hiding spot.
"Hey Morgan," I started. "do you remember whe..."
"Shh!" Morgan directed as he sternly held up his finger. He seemed to have heard something off in the distance. His ear pointed towards the forest, he intensely listened. Then, there was a rustling in the bush. Quickly and efficiently, he looked over at me and gave me a signal.
I had seen this signal many times before. When we were little we would play "war" with little plastic dart guns. We came up with a whole language of signals. We sometimes would use them when we were in school so that we could talk in class.
He reached for his pistol that was holstered in his belt. He raised it to the point the rustling was coming from. I joined him with my rifle.
Whatever was in the bushes kept creeping closer. I moved over to Morgan's side and put my hand on his shoulder to let him know I had his back. He stalked forward towards the brush. It was almost like a reenactment from a scary movie, when the main character slowly walks towards something and then it jumps out and eats their face off or something.
But this time it isn't a movie. If something jumps out, it isn't going to be a zombie. It will be an armed and dangerous NASR soldier.
Morgan motioned me to stop moving. Just then a hand reached out through the brush. Morgan raised his pistol. I followed his lead and backed him up. The hand was followed by a body trying to break its way through the brush. Everything finally broke through.
It was not a NASR soldier. It was a boy. He looked to be about Seth's age.
"Get down!" Morgan demanded. The boy looked shocked and wasn't responding. Morgan walked around, gun pointed at the boy, to his back and forced him on the ground. He put his knee on his back and patted him down for weapons.
Morgan took his knee off his back and the boy stood up and dusted himself off. Both Morgan and I still had our guns pointed at him. He looked at us with an almost comical look.
He had short sandy brown hair that lay carelessly atop his head. He had striking blue eyes. It reminded me of colored contacts that people used to wear before the war. He was wearing a basic black t-shirt, but I could see that he wasn't scrawny underneath. That wasn't good. He must be trained.
He cocked a smile. "Bad neighborhood, eh?"
"Who are you? Why are you here?" Demanded Morgan.
His expression went cold. "Tough crowd. Well I suppose I could ask you the same thing. I was just walking around the area, trying to take my mind off my hunger."
Morgan relaxed his grip and dropped his arm to his side, and let out a sigh of relief, or annoyance; I couldn't really tell.
The boy's expression changed to inquisitive. "What are you doing here?"
Just after he said that, Morgan looked off into the distance. He was squinting after something. I was about to ask him what he saw, but he suddenly dashed at the boy. I thought he was attacking him at first, but I realized he was shoving him out of the way.
Just then, the sharp ring of a high powered rifle sliced through the air.
