Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Forty Five

At dinner, Gale calls me over to her table. Over the course of this week I'd noticed her and Victoria muttering under their breaths and flashing glances at the rebels strolling through the tables or eating sullenly, but I didn't particularly feel inclined to join them. So many things have happened since I left them at the rebel hideout that it feels uncomfortable to try to engage in normal conversation. An atmosphere of fear and tension lies over the Dining Room tonight. After these final meals, the rebel troops are going get their last few hours of sleep before rising early in the morning and heading out to position themselves in the streets. Though waking up so early isn't ideal, I'd deduced that being fully prepared before the Hidden Allies' attack is the smartest course of action.
    Gale waves again and I sigh, resigning myself to facing my friends.
    "How are you feeling?" Gale asks, staring at my tray. The only thing on it is a broccoli stem. I sigh again in response and sink down into the empty seat.
    "You don't look so hot," Victoria says in greeting. I almost snap at her, but then realize that she's probably completely right.
    "Yeah, well..."
    "Victoria and I have been keeping busy," Gale announces, trying to sound jovial. I know by her tone that she's attempting to change the subject.
    "Oh really?" I pop the broccoli stem into my mouth and chew on it stiffly. Each of my joints ache, even my jaw. I'm in no shape to go to war against the Hidden Allies in the coming hours.
    "Yeah. All of the enemy's tunnels are closed off now, and we've been preparing food and water rations for the battlefield." Her casual talk about the impending war sends chills through my spine. Victoria watches me raptly, like an eagle. I fear that she blames me for Matthew's predicament. But, like Father said, I can't worry about that now, not with what lies ahead. It's in the past; it's done.
    "Are you two fighting, or sitting on the sidelines?" I wonder.
    "Fighting," Gale replies. There's a feral glint in her eyes. I bet she's remembering her lost husband and drawing strength from the memory of her search for him.
    "I won't be found idle," Victoria mutters conservatively, finishing off the melon slices on her plate. In a rush, she stands and exits the Dining Room. I raise an inquisitive eyebrow and Gale sighs sadly.
    "Don't take it personally. She's worried about her son."
    "As if we all aren't," I grumble, taken aback by the sudden tightness of my throat. Gale stares at me for a long moment before responding.
    "Are you ready for tonight? I mean, truly?"
    "Is such a thing even possible?"
    "No. But you've been known to do the impossible." She shrugs and stands with her empty plate. "I guess I was hoping that you'd surprise me again." The kind, hopeful comment draws a tiny grin to my face.
    "See ya later, Gale." I follow her lean figure with my gaze as she exits the room. If others have so much faith in me, why can't I have faith in myself? Groaning in discomfort, I stretch and toss my tray, heading off to Matthew's apartment for the night. It takes me much too long to get tired. Once I'm finally curled beneath the covers and about to fall asleep, I utter a silent, desperate prayer.
    "Help me."
    It doesn't feel like a minute later when a pair of hands shake my shoulder and my eyes fly open. Leah and Becca smile down at me nervously. The flashing alarm clock reads 7:00. It's time. Now.
    "Get up, sleepy-head," Leah mutters. Still breathing deeply from sleep, I sit up and start to change into more tactical attire. Becca almost shakes with excited energy. It occurs to me that she might not have any idea how serious our predicament truly is. To her, war is late-night fighting practices and sweaty training rooms and the bitter smell of days-old uniforms.
    "What's Becca doing up? She needs to be kept safe." I mutter. My voice sounds awful, like sandpaper rubbing against the serrated edge of a knife.
    "She'll be fine. She and the other kids will remain in the Training Facility."
    "But I know how to fight now, so I can keep everyone safe," Becca adds gallantly. I try to smile at her, but then I remember Ariel. My stomach tosses uncomfortably.
    "Come on, Enna." Leah gingerly takes my hand and leads me away from Matthew's apartment, towards a large gathering of rebel fighters. They stand as a large mass in the middle of the Training Facility. Once a few of them see me, hisses and reprimands diffuse throughout the group until I'm greeted with a waiting silence.
    They're expecting me to speak.
    Feeling self-conscious in my tight, gray tank-top and short black cargo pants, I clear my throat and scan over the group with my gaze. A few faces are familiar, but most of them might as well be strangers.
    Good going, leader.
    "This is it," I mutter dumbly, still dull-minded from sleep. A few people hoot in the crowd, but most remain silent or whisper into their friend's ear. I see Danny's head poking out from the middle of the crowd and I gulp down my nerves. "In a few minutes we'll be out there, fighting for our freedoms against an enemy more terrifying than any of us can properly imagine. Many will die." My voice echoes around the large, silent room. People stare back at me fearfully, and I feel a sudden stab of guilt in my stomach.
    What am I saying? What kind of a rebel am I, calling out the obvious fact that the odd's are dramatically against us? These people know what it's like to suffer and lose the ones they love; they don't need me to remind them. Leah places a consoling hand on my shoulder and I draw strength from her gentle touch. I clear my throat and straighten my spine, shaking out my hands to set the blood flowing through them.
    "A very wise person once told me that you can find happiness--peace--wherever you are if you take the initiative to look for it. We stand here together not as citizens of New York, or Philadelphia, or even the United States. Those are only nametags, only self-erected walls separating us from the whole. Today we stand as human beings. That is all. And it is only our nature to search for peace amid crisis." I pause for breath and several people shout in agreement. The words start to flow through my lips smoothly, without consciousness or judgement.
    "I've witnessed our enemy firsthand, and no matter how different they may look compared to us, we are truly one in the same. The same force that urges us onwards urges them likewise. Yes, they have resorted to killing and underhandedness to achieve their aims. But the same fear in their eyes can be found in your own." Silence presses in on my ears. "I say this not to scare you, but to free you. In our struggle to regain the freedom that we deserve, we must not allow brash violence to overshadow the foundational humanity that fills us all."
    I clasp my hands in front of my stomach to indicate that I'm finished speaking, and then a deafening roar fills the air. Rebels defiantly pump their fists in the air or swarm towards me to pat me on the back. Leah shakes me, smiling widely, and says, "That's what I'm talking about." I blush and shove my hands into my pockets.
    After a few minutes of excited talking, the army starts to head out of the Training Facility. As planned, I hang at the very back of the group. Once we're halfway to the Warehouse, a rumbling, whirring sound starts to gain volume behind me. I turn and look over my shoulder to see Oscar, slowly gaining ground in his chair. He carries a knapsack over-flowing with medical supplies.
    "You didn't think you could sneak out without me, did you?" He asks. His usual comical smile lights up the length of the hallway.

* * *

    "File into your ranks," I call. My throat catches and I repeat the order. Voices fall and the rebels start to organize, pushing and shoving to make their way through the small apartment. Most everything here looks the same, and I think once again of how odd it is to be here. Oscar sits near the back of the room, next to me. Three grown men had to help carry him up the cramped staircase, and even then it was hard for them. Leah's nowhere to be seen, hidden from view by the utter mass of bodies. I utter a silent prayer for my friend.
    "I'm glad Danny saw reason," I mutter to Oscar, glancing at the bag of supplies he clutches. Oscar shrugs and grins lopsidedly.
    "Aw, c'mon. I know you put in a good word for me." I straighten my lips into a thin line.
    "I have no idea what you're talking about..." Oscar laughs and pokes me in the ribs with an elbow. Once his face grows serious again, he says, "Even though I'm remaining here, at least I get to help. Can you imagine how hard it would be to maneuver my chair through piles of rubble?"
    Before I can respond, Danny shouts, "IT'S 8:30!" over the ruckus. I grimace. Because Fake Enna gave us exactly a week to prevent the war, we're expecting the Hidden Allies to attack at 9:00. We have thirty minutes to prepare our defensive lines. It's time to move out.
   "Enna," Oscar mutters, staring up at me. A flash of fear glints across his retinas. "Stay safe. Keep ... Keep Leah safe, alright?" My throat tightens as I realize the magnitude of what's about to happen. I may not step back in this place again. None of us are guaranteed to survive this. I nod stiffly and step away from the back wall.
    "Head out!" I call. The chaotic line of fighters start to file out into the streets, slipping away into their planned alleyways and side-streets. If I planned everything right, I sent multiple groups through routes that would avoid Security Cams. Once they reach position, our rebel troops will be in a rough circle around the Pillar.
    Boxing them in.
    As for me, I'm leaving the safety of this apartment last of all--alone--to avoid detection. My final spot will be directly in front of the Pillar's main entrance, hidden from view of the nearby Security Cams. Gale and a few other people I don't know too well are part of my squad.
    I watch silently for several moments as the fighters leak out of the apartment, and soon I'm the last one.
    "Give them hell," Oscar mutters sadly, staring down at his stump of a leg. I smile shakily, one last time, before stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the humid morning air.