A New Fear

“This group of individuals is trying to destroy and discredit all we’ve managed to achieve. We took down FEAR. We have recreated society, and it’s people like these that are bringing about corrupt-”

Connor flicked the radio off, very nearly snapping the knob off of the infernal contraption. The rest of the room joined him in invariably peeved silence, the morale in the kitchen having plummeted to drastic levels. We each shared a look, expressions laced with concern and worry. Free Will had been gaining a lot of news coverage lately, ever since Alex Brown had gotten caught infiltrating the Wild Ones’ headquarters with much of Sector One. Our fearless leaders had not wasted any time in harshly criticizing the organization, partaking in any media segment they could to spread propaganda. The citizens met this news with mixed emotions. Some became fearful, some became supporters of the new reform, but most reacted with anger, having pledged to serve the Legion with tooth and claw.

It was less than encouraging. It was less than upbuilding. It was less than, less than, less than.

Free Will had gotten the order over the next several days to lay low and stay out of the limelight, as if we weren’t already doing enough of that. It was hard to pinpoint members of our organization when everyone in the country looked mostly the same, all dark hair and tattered clothing. Nonetheless, wanted posters popped up all over the city, and looking civilians in the eye became increasingly harder to do.

It was less than encouraging. It was less than upbuilding. It was less than, less than, less than.

I noisily sipped on a lukewarm cup of coffee as Connor stomped away from the room, fists clenched and steam pouring from flushed ears. My older friend and confidant, Georgie, stared after the hotheaded young man, her eyebrows cinched together with misgivings. She held this position until he disappeared off into his bedroom, hands rubbing the tired skin of her eyes. “I’m not gonna live to see thirty, am I?” Georgie asked exhaustedly, giving me a questioning glance. I knew it was a rhetorical, but I shrugged at her anyways, content to stay out of the matter. My friend groaned at my passive attitude, collapsing lamely into the couch and curling up. Barely a minute of silence passed before she spoke again, voice muffled by cushions, “Jacky, can you go buy some more milk? We need it for dinner.”

Now it was my turn to groan, and groan I did. I groaned standing up from my chair, I groaned putting on my coat and shoes, and I inwardly groaned as I skulked my way through broken Detroit all the way to the grocery store. The line for the checkout was unusually long on this particular day, and I found myself growing impatient in waiting, the earbuds stuffed deep into my head doing nothing to remedy the situation. Instead, the music just made me a very peeved young woman who was illegally listening to Eminem. The only people in Detroit that would bat an eye at my behaviour would be the Legion’s most loyal of slaves. Homeboy was from my city - sometimes I’ve just gotta represent.

“Have a wonderful day, m’am,” The crass cashier grumbled, a cigarette dangling from her lips. I bid her likewise and crept slowly out of the store, eyeing my surroundings paranoidly. Now was the time when you stuffed your cracked mp3 players and iPods deep into your pockets, put away your crosses and burned up your bibles. What once was the USA, land of the free, was now more like the third reich. The Legion’s cops crawled around almost every corner of the city, ready to jump you at the worst time and search your person. Religion was outlawed, many genres of music were outlawed, certain styles of dress were outlawed - having privacy was outlawed.

It left a bad taste in many people’s mouths, which eventually led to the formation of Free Will, who aim to earn back the personal rights we all once held. People in the Free Will did not reveal themselves, or tried not to. A couple weeks before now, and everyone outside of the organization wouldn’t know a damn thing about us, but Alex Brown had to go and fuck it all up.

I ground my teeth at the thought, trying in vain to ward off the negative feelings I was getting. She’d taken it upon herself to jump the gun and try to take down the Legion without so much as a plan. Plenty of our friends on the West Coast had died, been taken prisoner. Plenty of them were probably being tortured right now, and it was all her fault.

I’d gotten so wrapped up within myself that I almost didn’t notice the shady, official-looking figures trailing in and out of houses, scribbling in notepads and shouting orders to others. My heart rate tripled, pulse stumbling momentarily. I struggled not to let the trepidation get to me and kept walking, focusing on looking natural. As the men and women traipsed up and down the street, I tried to get a good look at what they were doing. Ultimately, I didn’t even need to expend the effort in doing so, as they were quite vocal about it.

“You there, soldier, search the three houses on the left side of the side - the ones towards the end,” An assertive older man order loudly to a subordinate, who promptly marched off to where he was indicated. I swallowed thickly as I watched the groups of cops barge into people’s homes, my walking speed increasingly steadily until I was moving at a slow jog, hopefully none faster than any other jogger that were rarely seen nowadays.

None of the officials seemed to take any notice of my frantic movements, and I managed to skate by them unbothered. I had to warn the others. I had to tell them to hide all of our shit. We were screwed if I couldn’t get home in time. Cursing inwardly, I ditched the gallon of milk I’d been carrying on the sidewalk, hopping over a distant neighbor’s fence in hopes to travel unseen. My feet dragged me sloppily all the way home, the skin of my arms now covered in scratches from the bushes and wire fences that I had to skirt by.

Breath labored, I hopped the last fence that I needed to, collapsing shortly to the dirt before I managed to stumble my way back into the house.

“Oh - hey, Jack,” Connor quipped in greeting, stirring a pot of some unknown substance, making the whole house smell of cooking. Clearly he recovers fast from emotional trauma.

I rested my hands on my knees, heaving loudly, very nearly losing what had been my lunch. Georgie came into the room as well, the two of them staring at me confusedly. “You okay, hun?” The tall brunette asked dubiously, coming closer to try and comfort me.

Pushing her away lightly, I stood up straighter, spewing out nonsensically, “They’re fucking coming.”

Neither of them comprehended the meaning behind my words, and I fumbled to recover. “... Did you get the milk?” Connor questioned offhandedly, continuing to stir his pot without taking his eyes off of my apparent mental breakdown.

“Screw the milk, dumbass,” I spat, arms gesturing aimlessly, wildly, “It’s like the goddamn Gestapo out there! They’re searching everyone’s houses!” Georgie reacted before any of us did, scampering around me and out the backdoor.

“I’ll open the crawlspace!” She called back inside, and the ear-piercing scraping of stone could be heard from all around, “Gather up all of our shit!”

Connor cursed to himself, dropping the plastic spoon into our dinner and fishing it out hastily. I ignored his troubles and ran frantically around our house, gathering any and everything that could warrant suspicion. When I returned to Georgie, who was already busy shoving things underneath our house, I had hoards of things gathered in my arms and in bags that I’d haphazardly thrown over my shoulder. I had electronics, I had notebooks, I had maps, books, posters, CD organizers - everything I could find. At this rate we would run out of room to put our illegal things.

Never in a million years did I think it would come to this.

We were all back inside after several minutes of this went on, Connor deleting messages off of our home phone and Georgie and I wiping the internet history from our cruddy computer. The three of us tried our best to look natural, but a small group of very intense individuals sitting at the dining room table didn’t look too normal, especially when none of us were eating anything.

Then came the knock at the door.

Notes