Chapter Nine- Red Flags at Half Mast

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Stan opened his eyes and rolled over. He blinked heavily and pushed the rough blanket off his chest. Morning was bright and warm, the smell of dirt and soggy wood, normally present in the small building, was overshadowed by an almost fresh scent of rain and snow. A smoky fire burned in the pit to Stan's left, its heat filling his skin with false sensations of relaxation. Tweek, Kenny, Craig, Token, and Clyde all sat around the fire. The chatter rose above the smoke in equally spiralling clouds.

Something was wrong. Stan sat up and looked around him. There was something missing. Something very important. Suddenly, the air seemed thinner somehow, as though all the oxygen had been released from it. There was a Kyle-shaped space left vacant. Stan spoke the fact that all the others seemed to have overlooked.

"Kyle is gone."

The boys seated around the small fire looked over at their leader. The other dark haired man cleared his throat. "I'm sure he's fine", Craig shifted to throw another piece of scrap wood into the fire, "Probably getting us some more goddamn food."

For a few seconds the topic seemed to be resolved. Kenny coughed. Clyde scratched his arm. Tweek shifted in his seat. Tension.

"He..he wouldn't leave this early", Stan told them. He found his voice cracking, almost in fear. Sometimes it seemed that Craig's wish of becoming the leader had been fulfilled. Stan didn't have the influence he once had. The other man gave him a patronizing stare, as if he didn't know his best friend's habits. Stan opened his mouth to speak again, when Token stole the words from his throat.

"I'm worried about him."

Base turned its collective stare to the man as he spoke.

"Kyle would tell us where he was going. I think he's in trouble."

Craig scoffed. "He can take care of himself."

Stan stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. There was something in those ice blue eyes. Something dangerous. Almost like apathy. When Stan spoke it was in a calm but stern voice, a chilling warning at what might happen if his opinion wasn't believed.

"What if he can't?"

Craig rolled his eyes. He was tired of Stan taking this so seriously. "Kyle is fine, let. it. go."

"What if he's dead?, Stan asked, taking a defensive pose, "Or what if he's in trouble and we could save him?"

Craig walked up to him. He stood inches from Stan's face and he lowered his head until their foreheads touched. Stan took a deep breath. He could feel the itchy, hair-covered skin scratch against his sweaty skin. He closed his eyes. More than anything, Stan wanted to be home. The home he knew. It was bad enough fighting clones, resisting the very real prospect of being made into an organ farm, killing people everyday. But as a drop of sweat traversed the canyon between their foreheads and sank into his skin, Stan knew he had a new enemy. It was a battle of wills, and neither of them were prepared to lose.

From somewhere off to the side, Tweek coughed. The tension broke almost instantly and Craig turned, slightly annoyed, toward the other man.

"Maybe he's right..."

Craig bowed his head. He turned around and sat down by the fire. Stan took a deep breath. Just like that, the confrontation was over. Funny how such simple words could end it. The leader looked over the men sitting around the fire and spoke. His voice was joyless, full of anticipation and worry. Any pretence of a calm demeanour was wiped clean.

"We leave at sunset for the train. I have a gut feeling we're going to find that lab sooner than we thought."

The room seem to nod together as one. There was no protest this time. Only silence.

"How many?", Clyde asked, avoiding Stan's gaze as the boy dealt him his unquestionable fate.

"I want to go...", Stan said, softly, as if to himself, "but I can't go alone."

There was a pause. None of the men wanted to show fear. Not in the face of the unknown, of wherever Kyle might be. Yet whoever answered Stan's veiled question was risking death much sooner than they were now. Finally a shuffling sound signalled that someone was getting to their feet. Craig reached out his arm to grab him, to pull him down, but Tweek stood up. His small frame seemed even paler in the morning light that broke through the rotted planks of wood Base was built of. He shivered from a mix of cold and the fear that always overcame him.

"I will."

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Kyle opened his eyes and attempted to pulled his arm over his chest for warmth. The sharp tug he was greeted with reminded him vividly of his situation. Chained to a statue in a room with sheet-metal walls and wrought iron torches. Kyle grimaced, noticing the tightness of his cheeks when he did so. The scrapes on his arms and legs were now partially scabbed-over, dried blood crusting off as they were rubbed against the rough links. His mind was fuzzy. The room was just as dark and foreboding as when he had entered it. It could be hours now. It could be days.

Kyle took a shuddering breath and sat up quickly. The feeling of dried blood underneath him and the sound of the chain dragging against the concrete floor, echoed off the metal walls, combined to make him nauseous. There was still no sign of life here, no sense of time. Kyle had no fear now, only anger. He had accepted death a long time ago.

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The hollow sound of a silver pistol barrel being tapped against polished mahogany echoed through the room. The Führer was growing impatient. He tapped a button on the radio to his left, static filling the room. Eric growled. He had sent Border Patrol Three out at least an hour ago. The sky was darkening rapidly. He had to know if the rebels were on their way, if they had discovered the missing Jew. The Führer smiled to himself. It was the perfect plan. Like spiders in a web.

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"So will I." To Stan's surprise, and also suspicion, Craig stood now next to Tweek. "He was my friend, too."

Kenny bristed and got to his feet, shooting Craig a glare. "Don't fucking say 'was'", he paused as the eyes in the room drifted to him. "Count me in too".

A small look of relief came over their leader's weary face. As brittle as the hierarchy was, Stan still commanded the authority required to instigate a search and rescue party. It was something, at least. The looks on the faces of the men around him were much less relieved. They knew what this was. A death sentence, a journey against all odds. The diminished and demoralized group of six boys against the Führer's entire clone army.

"If we're going to fight this battle...", Stan ventured, "we might as well try to win this war."

Token sat up straight. "You mean..."

"We take him down. The laboratory. The body farms. Everything."

Again realization and silence broke over Base, each man considering what Stan had proposed.

"We'll die.", Tweek said. Nobody argued. As much as they needed hope, all they could see was reality.

Kenny put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "But we'll die with Kyle."