The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

59. The Broadcast

The boy sat in front of his small television. To his left, his younger sister huddled against him for warmth. The television had been a gift from the new government, the People's Government, as a symbol of change. It marked the end of their poverty, they said. The boy had known, though, that they'd still be considered Sevens, the low. Their house would always freeze them inside during the winter. The boy stared at the television, in which Adeen Orson stared back. She had two black eyes, and her lips were covered in blood, and her hair was a mess, but she stared defiantly at the camera. Her black eyes were two bottomless pits staring back.

Staring back.

Staring back at the girl, who was sitting alone on her bed. She had a mug of hot chocolate on her right hand, her television's control on her left hand. She'd been skipping through the channels, waiting for her best friend to call her and let her know what the plans for their Friday night were. She was a Three, and the girl stared, bored, at Adeen. Something about the fallen rebel stirred an ancient feeling of uneasiness in the girl. Something about those black eyes, about the way they made her face look like a skull, something about her gaze... The girl shook her head and was about to change the channel when she heard what their new ruler -president- Golmes was saying.

"The execution will take place tomorrow morning. At 1200 hours, we will finally be able to move on."

The little girl stared at the screen, tears puddling in her eyes and threatening to block her vision. Adeen stared back, defiantly, as if she wasn't hearing the death sentence Golmes was proclaiming on her. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe the footage was old, and Golmes was simply uniting his voice and her face. Maybe Adeen was already dead. No, the little girl shook her head. Adeen wouldn't leave her. Not like the rest had. Not Adeen. But as Golmes repeated the message once more, and the screen turned black and the little girl was left alone in her new family's room, she could feel her heart breaking. Five weeks, she'd been in this hose with this family for five weeks, and still she couldn't get used to it all. To the luxuries, to the life that she'd adopted as a Two, hiding until it was safe for her to appear once again. Until... The little girl looked at the television, and she sobbed quietly. No, she half-heartedly reminded herself, Adeen would never leave her. She was her little sister, and the girl knew Adeen would never leave her little sister.

~

June stood outside the metal doors to the bunker's hangar. Behind her, dormant planes stood. She sighed and turned to her right, where Skander stood.

"You're sure she's still going to be there?" June asked him.

"Yes. It's been too little time for them to discover who she really is. To them, she's only a two." He ran a hand through his already messy hair. "We take Liz out, bring her here, then Adeen's mother. Once we do that, once we have both of them safe with us, we will be able to rescue Adeen without having to worry about them using her family as blackmail."

June nodded and turned sideways to check the screen where they'd set up an improvised mission control center, where they were constantly receiving and monitoring the operation. Just then, a soldier came running at them. He was no older than fifteen, probably one of the newest recruits. June hated having to send kids younger than her to war, but they had to. Otherwise, they would never win. The soldier stopped in front of them, saluted Skander, and caught his breath for a few seconds. Finally, he spoke.

"Your Majesty," he said before bowing to Skander, "your brother requires you, both of you, in the main control room."

Skander frowned and turned to the makeshift mission control, but the soldier shook his head.

"I'm sorry to hurry you," he said, "but your brother said it was urgent."

Skander turned back to the soldier, then nodded. Together with June, they speed walked to the main control room."