CHAPTER 49: A boy Carrying Burdens of Men

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Lewis Kaplan|

Weathered eyes fixed on me when a total of eight guards separated and ushered me out of the van I'd been driven and made to stay in. Instantly the noise that was outside grew with multis that didn't even know me jeered and spat obscenities my way.

On the other side of the Blue Roof's back entry, my name was was jovially lifted up in the air. It was a few full bloods doing the cheering, pride in me evident in their gestures and boards.

None of them knew me.

Multis thought they hated me but for what?

Absolutists thought they loved me, but they were wrong.

I drew my head down and kept my feet moving after the men who'd been made to escort me to my parents. When we stopped at the foot of a runaway my breath caught. "Get in." One of the men instructed, with a perfect ninety degree bow.

I didn't know if it was to mock me or done out of respect. Considering the guard's full blood and our rules.

"You have to get in the plane now, before the crowd gets you." he added, with a kind regard.

The plane was long, shiny, and black: A Bombardier Global 9500, built with all gold and aluminium material, sourced from the South in top secret. She was a monster that could fly herself at the supervision of trained pilots and had been designed in top secret as well. She'd been built for war by the military under my father's orders.

Her passenger capacity was nine people at a time and after I climbed inside I head counted. It was me and about six other people in security. Each person in the selection of security was young—probably mid-twenties or early thirties—and stocky. Three of them had monotoned hair and the other three had logs to theirs. The bizarre thing is I knew two of them amongst the three full bloods.

They were West military under Tanaka's Father, General Cheng.

Ever since I'd turned twelve and my father had seen it fit for me to exercise for the Presidency. These men had been the ones to train me in firearms, explosives, cold weapons and face-to-face combat. I was not a good student of theirs but I knew they were excellent in their trade. Highly trained and exceptionally skilled in surveillance and anti-guerrilla warfare.

Come to think of it, recalling on my notes, the success of the Guerrilla attack smoked on us shouldn't have succeeded, if all things had been constant. The attack really shouldn't have even made a dent through the heavily protected system and force of the West. Something had to have come lose or gone wrong somewhere. Now seeing these men on the Multis side, it explained why the attack had been successful.

"Walk further," another guard instructed from behind me, pushing the butt of his gun into my back.

I obeyed until I made it to the heart of the plane where I saw and counted other people. More full bloods than I thought were on clearly Tiger's side. I looked around, studying the situation and saw her. My sister, her back was strained as she focused on putting on her white lab coat. She was standing over a sterilized cabinet, her back to me.

Then I heard and saw them, my parents.

They were side by side in their seats. "You are picking the wrong side Marshal." My Father's tone was firmly executive but persuasive as he spoke to the full-blooded guard assuming security against him.  "I will extend my offer to you for the last time. Take it and all will be pardoned in full."

Marshal, a clean shaven, bald and stocky guy crouched beside him. He stared directly into his President's gaze to refuse the offer.

This angered my father a thousand degrees, his face strained with veins and rage. His full thick black brows knitted together tightly. Bright blue eyes glazing icily with contained fierce anger.

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