Rise Up ~ Fahrenheit 451 Sequel

Day Two

A loud cry of voices shook Montag out of deep slumber, and he woke up blurry-eyed and wondering what was going on. Someone shook his shoulders, and he sat up, taking a clear look of his surroundings. Everyone else was awake, and they were all huddled in a circle around something, whispering in hushed voices.

"Wha' going on?" Montag asked, drowsily wandering to where everyone else was.

"It's... It's... It's poisonberry. Someone - or something - left it here last night."

Montag questioningly stared at the group, not understanding why they were so terrified.

"Montag, do you know what poisonberry is?" Granger asked him, in a quiet, gruff voice. Montag shook his head. The wilderness was confusing, though he could infer that it wasn't necessarily a good substance.

"Poisonberry is the most potent ingredient in QuietDeath. The supplement used for killing 'criminals', and suicide," Granger said, a shudder going through him, and Montag couldn't help shuddering himself. A few of his childhood friends had used QuietDeath before, the first instance being when they were eight years old. The pill was about half a centimeter in diameter, and took less than five minutes to take effect. It was quick, painless, and there was no anecdote. It was not widely used, unless one knew one of the secret manufacturers, living in shadows for the government.

Nobody said the obvious. Whoever had left the poisonberries had expected some of the group to commit suicide. There was uneasy silence, in which Granger gingerly picked the berries up with gloves, careful to dispose of the gloves and the dirt on which the berries were found. He threw them as far as he could, making sure nobody was exposed.

"That was an interesting start to the day," Mr. Simmons raspily murmured, still lying down, too tired to move. Black helped him sit up against the side of the tent, small shouts of pain escaping him as portions of glass delved further in.

Black stared at Mr. Simmons for a full second, before running his fingers down Mr. Simmons' arm, carefully removing the shards. He stiffened for a moment before continuing, refusing to look at the other men. Montag took the cue, and sat down next to Stoneman. He would take out a piece, then Stoneman would do the same for him. Every man was paired with another, huddled in small groups. In the beginning, the men worked in silence, but as the awkward tension melted away, they started to talk to one another. Stoneman was interested in Montag's life at the city, straying away from any talk of the city's destruction. Anyone listening into their conversation could easily assume that the city was alive and well, and progressing as Montag said it was.

It was a positive discussion, both Stoneman and Montag talking for a while, without even realizing that they were still healing, slowly progressing and removing glass by glass piece. Stoneman explained what living with the book people was like. Apparently, there was a small city hidden in the woods. The men who were now traveling with Montag were part of a group of people sent out to scout for him. It was pure luck that they had been the group to meet up with Montag and explain what they were all about.

Stoneman's favorite color was amethyst purple. He prefered dogs over cats. His favorite subject in school had been science. He had a girlfriend back at the city, who was a year younger than him, and they'd been together for two years. Montag told him about Mildred. His favorite color was orange, and he liked cats now. The pair talked about the similarities and differences of each city, how living in a world with true education changed someone.

The one similarity everyone now had was confusion. Neither of them knew how they were going to continue. Montag was sure Mildred had died, while Stoneman wasn't sure if his girlfriend had survived the glass boom. It was a sore topic for each of them, and so they ditched the topic immediately after divulging into it.

As the midday sun rose, Montag looked around. Perhaps one-third of the glass had been removed, a far improvement from the pain of the night before. Everyone was still chattering loudly, and then Granger smiled at his partner, got up, and beckoned Montag over. The men, by some miracle, mutually agreed to switch partners, and after seeing Montag and Granger do so, the others followed suit. Montag was now paired with Fred Clement, and the men smiled at one another, restarting the cycle of learning more about one another, straying away from painful topics.

They did this twice more, and at the end of the day, Montag felt much more at home in the group. The men he had spoken to were each individuals, who proved their worth and continued living on. None of them were conforming to society. Each of them had their own opinions and thoughts, and there was no one to stop them from having them. These men were... Truly happy. And hopefully, when this ordeal was all over, they'd get their happiness back, and give it to everyone.

Most of the second day was spent just talking and healing. A few healing balms less powerful than Dittany were used, and small patches of pink skin, raw and new were exposed. Now it was just strong itch, but again, Granger had more balms to try and combat it. The peeling skin would have to stay until they found a proper amount of sand to rub it all off.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the men made a fire, glowing bright against the open terrain. Hope was drip, dripping down into Montag's soul, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was vaguely familiar. It brought a smile to his face, and he felt it miraculously. It couldn't have been that long since his last smile, but this was completely different. Montag felt as though he could smile forever. It brought warmth to a cold heart, love to someone who was deprived of it. The men around him were his team now, and they'd get together through thick and thin, Montag was sure of it.

"Shall I lead in prayer?" Granger asked, when everyone was properly situated. Though the others nodded, Montag looked confused. He knew what a prayer was, but not how to 'do' one. How does one talk to another, when there is no response?

Seeing his baffled features, Fred, who was sitting next to Montag, whispered, "Just repeat after Granger. You'll be fine, if you have faith, which I know you have."

Granger closed his eyes, and the other men followed suit, holding each other's hands. It was silent, until Granger quietly began, "Oh Lord..."

"Oh Lord..."

"We stand here tonight, looking into the warmth You have given us. The path ahead is difficult, and we wish not to be alone. Support us as we continue, for You are our constant in this ever changing world. Amen."

"Amen."

That night, then men decided to have a little fun, and caramelized a bit of sugar over the fire, coating it over some nuts. The nuts were sweet, crunchy, and sticky, still warm when Montag savored them, carefully enjoying each individual imperfection.

The nuts were gone quickly, and Montag's eyelids began to droop. The constant warmth was making him feel drowsy, and so Montag was the first one to turn in that night. Unlike the night before, he fell asleep immediately, cradled in darkness.

"Oh, Montag... Montag, how I wish I could help you..."

Montag's eyes were shut closed, and he tried to speak to the voice, which was feminine, and very familiar. He wanted to hug this voice, even though he had no idea why. His heart was racing, he wanted to reach the voice, to recognize it, but he couldn't.

And this dream too faded away, until the only thing filling his mind was one letter. L.