Viva La Vida

Part 8

Harry refuses to go.

Liam won't pretend he's not a little disappointed. In what, he's not exactly sure, but—he'd just thought that Harry would have come. He'd taken it for granted.

At least it's not the first unpleasant surprise he's gotten over the past two weeks.

So he ends up sitting with Zayn, Louis and Michael in a car that a girl named Lauren is driving—Louis keeps up a steady rate of banter with her, teasing her about her girlfriend and swapping celebrity gossip, while Michael asks Zayn a long stream of questions about going on missions. Liam feels out of place and uneasy, but somehow less so than usual. It's not a feeling of belonging, per say, but he does feel that everyone in car resents him less for at least being willing to try seeing things from their point of view. Who knows. Maybe when he gets back, this could give him an invaluable insight into the rebel mind.

They don't drive for too long—nothing like the endless hours and days Liam's used to by now—only a few hours, by his estimation. Zayn puts on music, something that Liam is starting to think is another passion of his, plugging his phone into the aux cord and shouting down Louis' protests that all he plays is bad music before turning on Kanye West's Gold Digger.

"It's a classic, Louis, you can't just not like it," he insists, and Liam catches Louis bobbing his head along to it eventually.

The two hour drive flies by, and before long they're pulling into a dingy town like any other that resides on the outskirts of an industrial city in England—the air is clogged with smoke, and the people look equal parts belligerent and exhausted. Liam estimates that they're probably somewhere in the north, maybe Yorkshire. It's not a thought that comforts him; the rebellion in strongest in the northern parts of the country, where the people are poorer and angrier—a thought that's particularly been on his mind lately, brought there by Louis and Zayn's northern accents and dead family members. Maybe corruption is worse up here or something.

"Okay," Zayn says as they get out of the car, Louis and Michael carrying two boxes of unknown contents each. "So. We brought you here cos we had to do a supply run anywhere, but keep in mind that while this town is a little poorer and more rebellion prone than most, meaning they've been hit a little harder by the royal army, most of what you see here you could find in any middle or lower class town in England. It's not going to be pretty."

Liam's throat is dry as the ash that the factories on the skyline belch into the sky. "All right."

"Keep your head down, stick with me unless I tell you otherwise, and don't tell anyone who you are. If they ask, say you're with me and they should leave you alone. If they press you further or recognize you, say you're thinking of joining the cause." When Liam opens his mouth to protest, Zayn holds up both hands. "I don't care if you aren't, that's what's going to keep you from getting your throat slit. People are angry at the crown, and even though most people don't blame you, I don't think that'll stop them from taking it out on you."

"Got it," Liam mutters.

"All right. Oh, and for God's sake try not to make a run for it, okay? You wouldn't do well on your own here, trust me. This isn't no downtown London."

Louis snorts. "Is Lauren going to help us with supplies, then, while you take 'im around?"

"For a bit, yeah. I've got some overdue visits to make later, so I'll probably leave him with you then. Don't want to risk anything."