To Be A Leader

Chapter 5: Seaside Rendezvous

"Look, can we get on?" Amelia huffs, crossing her arms and pouting like a spoiled two-year-old.

While I can't see Sam's face, the sigh of annoyance he gives gives me the idea his look mirrors that of my own.

"You know as well as we do that we have to wait for the flag," He says. "Just because we've got the king on our side now-just because he's doing the rounds of undecided territories, building our support-doesn't mean the rules have gone away."

She huffs again, glancing at me while I keep my eyes on the flag post, waiting for the flag to raise and signal we can head onward to the settlement.

"Not long to go," Amelia says. "Devil Flesh leave Worthington-on-Sea at precisely fifteen minutes past the hour."

"Devil Flesh?" Maxine repeats, cocking a brow. "Is that as sinister as it sounds?"

"Oh, no. They're just the combination of Barree and Venment colonies. You must remember. After the war between Radial and Connor? When they poisoned each other's leaders?"

She shrugs sheepishly. "I uh, I lost track of that when Radial formed. I couldn't work out who they were allied with."

Amelia glances at me, her raised brow and slightly expectant look a silent of question, the same question. I simply shrug.

"I have enough problems to be worrying about. I can't focus on someone else's battles. If they want to fight, then go at it. Neither were exactly allies of Abel, so there was no side we were obligated to help, and they never went against Abel either. So I don't see why I needed to watch them."

She scoffs. "Well, if you will ignore world politics, it's your lookout, I suppose. You understand the purpose of Worthington-on-Sea, I hope."

"Uh, well, I know it's neutral," Sam says. "And different groups take turns, and no one's allowed to bring weapons."

"There's a transmitter in the spur here erected by a coalition of the Ministry, the Exmoore Militia, and the Psychoanalyst Enclave."

"The Psychoanalyst Enclave?" He repeats, and she nods.

"They had a lot of dirt on a lot of important people. They've done very well in this apocalypse. Anyway, no one was able to outright control Worthington, and an uneasy peace ensued, as is the style these days."

She's not wrong. Abel has a treaty with Worthington now, which is why I'm more inclined to keep an eye of them then I am with Devil Flesh. Abel people can go in, send or receive messages and make trade.

We did send some messages not too long ago. Nicole and I... We aren't close. Our bonds are still shaky, but we were able to use Worthington as a way to send out a message to our mother in America. We used letters, since those could be burned and not traced back to us. Sam actually found some diaries of Alice's, figured he should use this opportunity to send them to Frances, Alice's little sister. She's on some island or something. I don't know.

But I thought it was nice. Alice's sister deserves to know what happened to her, even if we are a bit late.

I just hope she's still alive to see them.

The loud sound of a cannon makes me flinch, the sound echoing through the air, the air cracking and shattering around the sound. Amelia simply rolls her eyes. I'll never understand how she's so... calm. I understand she's been here before. She and Seventeen were the ones who came and had our letters sent out, but still.

"Gosh, they make everything so bloody formal. There's the cannon, and here comes the flag. Come on. We haven't got long. Run."

We start off, my legs feeling stiff and achy in the morning air. The sun has only had its head peeking over the horizon for an hour or so, and the chill that still lingers proves that. Although I suppose that even with the sun up the cold will still stay. The February air has no mercy and no warmth. But, as the years have gone by, I find myself able to breathe and ignore the slight sting in my lungs and the burning of my throat. Instead I focus on my fingers, stiff and weak and aching in a way that only comes from not using them for a good eight hours. It's easier to focus on things such as this. It helps distract myself from the dreams, from the knowledge of what is to come.