alaska.

.:chapter three:.

I was struggling to slow down my breathing and heart rate. Seeing that symbol meant I was in danger. If you were found to be having any affiliation at all with the rebel forces, you would be put to death by the EAAC. Preferred method of execution was the firing squad for most people. However, if you actually were in the rebel forces, you would be tortured, strained for information, and then put to a slow, much more painful death than just the firing squad.

Quickly, I shoved the letter into another envelope, sealing it and marking it as an order I needed to fill. What did he think he was doing, just walking into my store and giving me a letter that marked me for certain death?! I had only seen him once before in my life, and now he just barges in again, giving me a death note. I was mad but scared at the same time. At that point, I knew I had two options- burn the letter and forget it ever happened, or join the rebels and get caught because I always manage to screw things up somehow. One of those choices involved dying, so I decided that I would burn the letter. Alaska likes her heart just the way it is, warm and beating.

I grabbed my things and the letter, hurriedly running out to my truck. I fumbled with my keys, finally getting the truck unlocked and open. I climbed in, almost falling off the foot rail. I'm not a very graceful person. Once I was inside the truck, I turned the keys in the ignition and drove as fast as possible. The risk behind this was threatening to give me an anxiety attack, and I needed to get home before it had a chance to kick in.

The yellow and white lines on the road blurred into a stream of colors as I started pushing eighty-five. My knuckles paled when I started gripping the steering wheel harder than I was just a few seconds ago. I was getting more and more distracted from the road, but I snapped back into reality as soon as I felt my foot unconsciously slam on the brakes for a cub running across the pavement. My heart stopped for a second, my chest heaving up and down while I processed the moment.

"I... just almost...ran over...a....baby bear. A baby bear. Great. It's not even five o' clock yet, and I've already almost killed a little animal that was just trying to get across the freaking road. Fantastic. You know what? Alaska, let's get you home. You're going to go home, drink some coffee, get a nice hot shower, and maybe read a book or two. You're going to curl up in one of Dakota's old shirts and wrap yourself in a fuzzy blanket. Okay? Okay. Sounds great, Alaska," I muttered to myself.

It did little to calm me down. Attempted murder charges against an animal? Ha-ha! Guilty as charged. Treason against the state alongside affiliation with a rebellious force? Guilty as charged. Emotionally compromised with a chance of breaking down at any second? Three counts in the first degree. Might as well turn myself in right now!
I didn't realize tears were streaming down my cheeks until I noticed the dark stain of mascara on my face in the rear-view mirror. Knowing I could hurt myself due to the lack of concentration, I quickly pulled over.

Jacob couldn't have been Dakota's commanding officer. A government official wouldn't frame the younger sibling of a soldier. So why had he given me the envelope with a rebel seal?

Realization dawned on me like having ice water thrown on you. Jacob was probably a rebel working inside the government army. That's why the letter had the seal. But why would he set me up like that? I had nothing to do with him other than he oversaw Dakota. However, it didn't matter anymore. The government was probably tracking me at that moment and would kill me, no matter what my excuse was.

So that left one reason- Jacob wanted me to come with him and gave me the letter so I wouldn't have a choice. But why? Why did he want me?

Why is this happening to me? I thought. I've done nothing.

Dakota's "commanding officer" shows up after seeing him once in my life. He sabotages me, and in a way, blackmails me. I could be being tracked at this moment and I knew that the letter gave me two options: be found and be killed even if I was innocent, or try to relocate Jacob and go with him as a rebel. If I wanted to live, I have to go with Jacob.
Trying to bring myself together, I pulled back onto the road and drove home as fast as I could. Seeing the long, out-of-the-way road that led to my house, I turned in and sped down it until I saw the familiar house come into view.