The President's Daughter

C h a p t e r 2

C h a p t e r   2

‘We took you for two reasons. First, and for most, to get at your father, to strike a blow where it hurts-’

I cut him off, for some reason braver than I ever had been when with my father in The City. ‘H-How would it hurt him? He hates me! Your ‘spies’ ought to know th-that.’

‘He may hate you, but at the same time you are his only heir right now, the only chance of the continuation of the LNU how it is, as an empire. And we have you.’

Although I may have said he hated me, it hurt to see that Francis agreed, that most likely everyone else did as well, that I bet even the spies and Citizens could see it. I bet every time they corded us to the nation through the wires and onto the podium as a hologram, they could see it in his eyes. I bet they could see the loathing, even without being there.

‘And,’ continued Francis. ‘Our second reason, was to bring you to our side. Though you have a prosthetic, you are still fast, and agile for short times, and we know you’re clever. Cleverer than you ever let anyone see.’

‘I w-would never j-join you. Not in a m-million years.’

Francis sighed. ‘Why not? Your father does nothing but bad, just as your grandfather and his before him did. He hurts the poor, treats everyone like scum, even his own daughter and manipulates the people’s minds using threats. Why would you want to be on his side?’

‘H-he does nothing of the sort!’

‘Fine. I guess I’ll just have to show you.’

And before I could protest, the cord behind him rolled down, and a video begun to start, one of the old ones, before holographic and cordographic technology, though it was displayed on a cord sheet.

**

There were men there, women and children as well, but an overwhelming number of men. They seemed cramped in a small room, and there was not space anywhere. All were dressed in uniform, the uniform of The Opposition soldiers and officials, as well as their families. People were screaming, children holding on to their parents legs, snot dribbling from their noses, adults trying to open the door, screaming, clawing at it, while others just stood there, looking empty, hopeless. Some of them tried to reason with someone out side, said they could kill the adults, just let the children go. But nothing happened, and the door stayed closed. After a few minutes, they started to sit on the floor, resigned to their fate, whatever it was, and they seemed to be saying goodbye to each other. The women and the men hugged, and kissed, held their children close. Families of five, six seven just sat and cried.   And then the door opened, and the people stood. Three men came in, holding revolvers and machine guns. The gestured to the wall, said something, though they were out of earshot, so you couldn’t hear what, and the people lined themselves up against a wall on the far side, holding their children tight to their chests, some sobbing, some still. The men were stony faced, most of them, but you could see cracks of emotion coming through the hard exterior as they held their families close. And then, one by one, the three men with the guns brought them up to shoulder height, and pulled the trigger, shooting every one, man, woman and child, in the head or chest. Some tried to escape, in fact, soon it was chaos, and they just carried on shooting, every one, every where. Children with no legs, and half an arm lay dead or ding on the floor, their families around them, while others sobbed. Some hid under others bodies, but soon everyone was dead, or about to die. And the men walked out, their faces uncaring, and the door slammed, but not before she recognized the uniform as that of her fathers officers. And then the camera cut of, and the screen went blank.