Night finally envelops the hovercraft as I fly ten thousand feet over the coast of District 1. There is nothing out ahead of me except for black ocean and the unknown of what I am about to face. I input the coordinates from the message into the autopilot computer and lean back in my chair. My mind wanders back to my childhood, growing up with the others in what our mentors euphemistically called the "Rehabilitation and Reeducation" or "R &R" center. Most children look forward to growing up for the little things: getting a driver's license, being able to have their first cigarette, finally move out of their parent's home. I suppose we were not that different, but what we looked forward to the most was simply becoming free. As the oldest among us finally hit seventeen, and invariably chose to leave, the rest of us would celebrate with them, but then soon feel the emptiness of losing one more of our small family. Lydia, who was already sixteen when the Rebels took over, was the first to leave. Antonius was the next to go a year later. I was still a baby really so I never knew them that well. It was the fourth to depart that was the worst for me…
Suddenly, I am seven years old again and curled up on my bunk in the "R &R" barracks. It is well after lights out, and the darkness surrounds me. Tears stream down my face and moisten the scratchy green wool blanket I am lying on. I have been crying because today is her birthday. I know what she will choose because it is what all of them have chosen. How could she leave me? She said she loved me, didn't she? Doesn't she know that once she goes away, she won't be able to talk to me or come visit me anymore? Doesn't she know that she will leave me all alone in this scary place with the scary people…and the scary pictures they make us watch? It is a child's logic, but it is as real to me as any. It is still real to me.
She tiptoes out of the darkness and kneels next to me. I don't want to talk. I'm too angry to talk. I roll over to my other side and stare at the concrete block wall.
"Go away, Venus," I pout. "You know you're not supposed to be in here. You're just gonna get me in trouble." She gently rubs my back trying to calm me down.
"It's ok. They said I could come and say goodbye, little brother."
"Well, you've said it. Now go away!"
"Ares, what's wrong?" I still stare into the wall.
"You know."
"No, I don't. I thought that you would be happy."
"Happy that you're going away? That you're gonna leave me by myself forever?"
"Not forever, little brother. We'll see each other again really soon." Even at that age, I could tell she was lying. I roll back over and look her in the eyes.
"Where will you go?"
"I wanna go to someplace I've never seen before," she says trying to sound optimistic. "I wanna go to the forest where I can wake up in the morning and hear the birds singing in the trees and smell the pine on the breeze. I wanna be where things are alive, and aren't just made from metal and cement. But most of all, I wanna go where I can make things instead of just watch other people destroy each other." The happy picture she paints for me with her soothing voice calms me down a little.
"Can I come visit you there?" I sniffle through my last remaining tears.
"One day, little brother. One day." I reach up and wrap my little arms around her neck.
"I love you, Sissy. Don't ever forget about me." She laughs as she hugs me back.
"I'll always love you, Ares, and I could never forget about you."
That was the only time, for the briefest of moments, I ever considered leaving the Capitol behind when I was old enough, but as Venus disappeared back into the darkness that night, I knew in my heart that she was embarking on a journey that I could never follow on. She just wanted to live for herself, but I couldn't do that. I wanted to live for the others that I saw die every day.
"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP," the autopilot warning rips into my consciousness. I've fallen asleep, but the craft has continued west over the ocean and is now almost to the coordinates. I reposition myself in my seat, trying to bring feeling back into my numb extremities.
I've just finished rubbing my eyes when suddenly the cockpit comes alive around me. Red lights flash, alarms echo from the walls. A computerized female voice announces:
"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock." Instinctively, I grab the controls and violently lurch the hovercraft to left. Just in time, it seems, because a white trail of smoke streaks across the viewscreen right where my flight path had been. The missile tries to correct itself, but the acceleration is too much and it explodes a few hundred feet away, causing the entire craft to shake as if it is about to fly apart. I click on the rear view screen and see two attack hovercraft bearing down on me in the darkness.
"Ghost Ships, Great," I think to myself as I realize this enemy is a lot more advanced than even I was willing to believe. A Ghost Ship is a stealth hovercraft, designed specifically to sneak up on an enemy and destroy them before they know it. That's why there was no proximity alarm before they armed their weapons and fired.
I begin to maneuver my hovercraft wildly, trying to break the death grip they have on my flight path.
"Warning: Missile Lock. Warning: Missile Lock," the computer chimes in again. I click the mute button immediately. That's just too disconcerting to hear right now. Another white smoke trail appears from the second Ghost Ship. I slam the controls violently again, this time bringing my hovercraft into full inverted flight. The missile passes so close this time that I swear if there was no glass in the viewscreen, I would be able to reach out and touch it. Another explosion: this time I'm not so lucky. The shockwave causes several control panels to blow out it my face. I feel the controls grow sluggish in my hands as my stabilizer fails and I bring the hovercraft back around into level flight to avoid a stall. I am now a sitting duck.
I look at the rear view screen again and see the Ghost Ships have closed the distance. They are now right on top of me.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" I defiantly say out loud. They must have heard me. I see the first Ghost Ship fire another missile. The white streak screams directly at me and finds its mark.
The blast of the explosion is so fierce, I nearly black out. The rest of my controls fail and I smell the harsh scent of burning wiring and scorched rubber. My entire hovercraft spins out of control. Out of the darkness, I see the ocean below growing closer and closer. The ejection system has failed; looks like I'm on board for the duration.
The phrase, "Not how I expected to go out," crosses my mind as I brace for the imminent impact. The ocean continues to rush at me until finally I meet its surface. My body slams into my harness straps and I feel the viewscreen shatter in my face. I raise my arms to shield my body from the thousands of bits of Plexiglas as they fly around me. A surge of freezing water envelops everything as my flying machine becomes a submarine, pulling me down towards the depths of the Pacific…
What happens next is more like a dream than reality. I have the sensation of floating, I cannot breathe, and I think I'm drowning. A large shape appears in blackness above me, then a bright white light. I am weightless as the light draws me toward it. Human forms tower above me silhouetted against the brilliance. Their masked faces are speaking but I cannot understand their words. Then, there is a sharp prick of pain in my arm and the blackness returns.
I awake on the floor of a black steel cell, a bitter metallic taste lingering in my mouth. I take stock of my surroundings. There is no furniture, not even a bunk; only a faucet, basin, and metal toilet. A dim, yellow light barely illuminates the space. All my equipment has been stripped from me, and I only wear my black t-shirt, fatigue bottoms, and boots. My legs feel like rubber but I manage to raise myself to my feet. My head throbs and my entire body is sore.
"What happened?" I think to myself until I realize, "Oh right, I was in a hovercraft crash and nearly drowned. Silly me." I stumble over to the faucet to splash some cold water on my face, but as I look down to fill my hands with water, I see my wrist. My communicuff is gone; replaced instead by a black tracelet. I reach down too see how secure it is and manage to slide it about two inches in either direction, but it is firmly locked in place. "Seems like I've come to the right place," I mutter. I'm conscious of the fact that every word I say is probably being recorded, but I don't really care. I run the water into my hands, rinse my face, and then try to wash the taste from my mouth. It is only marginally effective. I then realize that I have no idea how long I've been out. It was night when I was blown from the sky, but there is nothing in here to indicate what time of day it is.
I'm guessing about another hour passes. I sit in the corner of the cell, attempting to give my shattered body a chance to heal, when suddenly a trap door in the base of the solid steel cell door opens and a tray of food is shoved inside. The trap door closes again before I get any hint of what…or who…is outside. I climb to my feet once more and stumble over to the tray. There are no utensils, just what appears to be a plate of beans and a slab of dry cornbread.
"But waiter, I ordered the prime rib and mashed potatoes!" I yell towards the ceiling in a nasal voice that I think best mirrors the old Capitolites, but I am answered only by the sound of my ridiculous words echoing off the empty walls. "Can't take a joke it seems…" Still no response. At that moment, I realize I am starving and haven't eaten in what must be over 24 hours. I reach down and pick up the tray. It's not exactly appetizing, and has a real possibility of being poisoned, but I know that without my strength, I'll be no good at facing the challenges that will probably soon await me. Stumbling, back to the corner, I collapse down to the ground and shovel the beans into my mouth using the cornbread. "Not bad, could use a little salt, but my compliments to the chef."
Another hour or so passes in silence. My mind begins to wander again. I think of the other fifteen, the pictures of their gruesome deaths rolling over and over again through my thoughts. I think of Lizzy and home: our last nights together spent wrapped in each other's embrace. I pray that whatever has happened to her that I am not too late. Slowly, I raise my hand to the wall and lay it flat against the cold steel, somehow praying that she is unharmed, directly on the other side. More time passes, more silence, more thoughts I'd prefer not to consider. Finally, I begin to grow angry. I came here for a challenge, not to be locked in a cage like an animal waiting for slaughter. I rise to my feet and stare defiantly into the dim yellow light.
"Well, your prey has arrived! What are you waiting for?" I yell at the top of my lungs. Apparently, this time they were listening.
The cell door unlocks with a rusty thud. The hinges creek as it is thrown open. In walk two guards, dressed in body armor from head to toe. They carry clubs, but have pistols strapped to their hips. Their faces are obscured by a dark visor attached to their helmets. One leans back against the wall with his hand on his gun while the other raises his club and moves toward me.
"You guys here to dance?" I ask sarcastically. I fully expect to receive a billy club strike across my chest, but at the last moment, the guard silently points his club towards the door and motions for me to step outside. "Alright, I guess we're going." Still no words from either of them.
The hallway is long and sterile. Blue lights run across the ceiling, giving the whole place an eerie, unnatural glow. As the guards lead me toward my destination, I try to take note of the layout of this place, but there are absolutely no reference points to remember. How they navigate is beyond me. Finally, we reach another set of doors. One of the guards pulls out a plastic card from his waistband and swipes it in front of a black plate. The lock clicks and the doors open. He motions with his club again for me to step inside.
"Sorry, I forgot my wallet or else I'd be sure to tip, but the service really was excellent…" I am silenced as he strikes his club against the wall with a loud bang. "Temper, temper…"
As the doors slowly close behind me, I finally hear his voice:
"It's alright, make jokes while you can."
"That was ominous," I think to myself before finally noticing what's around me. I am standing in what appears to be a huge pit. There is another set of steel doors directly in front of me. There is a metal, diamond plate stairwell to my left which leads to a second floor. Banks of computer screens and flashing lights encircle the entire room. A few black uniformed operators run from panel to panel making adjustments. Directly above the steel doors is a balcony with what appears to be a giant plastic tube. Inside, a woman in a white, flowing dress fights to stand: swaying back and forth as if she is extremely weak and on the verge of collapsing. Her head hangs, resting on her chest. The first thing I recognize is her hair, her beautiful red hair.
"Lizzy!" I scream as loud as I can. Her head pops up and her eyes grow wide as she recognizes me below.
"Ares!" She screams back down, banging on the plastic casing of the tube. I am about to sprint to the stairwell when I hear her yell, "Don't move! They'll kill you!" The sound of twenty assault rifles cocking behind me causes me to freeze. I slowly turn to see a line of armed guards towering over me on another balcony, their weapons all trained precisely on my skull. I hold my hands out to show that I have no intention of fighting…yet.
"Ok, so we're not moving." I carefully turn back towards Lizzy and see a figure slowly materialize out of the darkness behind her. Finally, after all these months, my question has been answered. "Of course, it's you…" I say as my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I realize that one of the greatest heroes of the Revolution has become a terrorist. "…It could only have been you."