(yellow) a War for Control, or Chaos?

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This is a story I started and never completely finished, here is what has already been wrote....

I awoke to the damned noise of the alarm clock wretched from hell, to moan in disgusted pain. I rose to disarm it's evil capabilities. Stepping upon the frozen ice-like wooden floor, I grunted all the way down the hall to the bathroom. I turned, shut the door with a slight slam.

Apologetically, I groaned at my own action. Still half-asleep, fearing the light which would blind this ravage beast's hatred towards dawn, I turned on the water instead. The knob squeaked with bitterness, and I awaited.

Roughly a minute later, still standing naked, waiting for some sign of heat within the water's chill; I commanded myself to step into the cold horrible start of a day. It was a shower I took quickly. I dried off, and walked back to my room shivering in my robe. I got dressed, and longed to climb back into my haven, bed.

Disavowing my wants I walked into the hall, down the stairs and saw Ruudin. I stopped on the 4th step from the bottom to ask him, "Hey, what's up with the water? My shower felt like icicles."

"Yeah," he replied, "NationAll Services is sending someone to look at the tenement's water heater. But the government has been busy lately."

"Sounds like crappy public service if you ask me." I replied. "Haven't you read the Primier Union lately? Blizzards out east knocked out numerous main power lines, NationAll is pretty busy; I think our water heater is the least of their worries." Ruudin lectured. After he finished, I walked down the rest of the stairs and sluggishly into the tenement's kitchen.

I approached the table and saw Carl, the eldest of the tenants here at Housing Complex #178. He was about 67, but looked far older; the years of government labor and propaganda took a severe toll on his body. Yet even so, he still followed the brainwashing motto; "Together, Strength For All!" He would echo.

It had been instilled into the fabrics of his mind soon after the revolution. "The Revolution," he would prelect, "created glorious centralization, governmentization, and equalization." That was what the government reinforced. Always continuously called by the Leader's Council, the best thing to happen to us, ever.

After pouring a cup of coffee, I went to the table and sat down. While drinking my dirt-like black coffee, I picked up the newspaper; front page:

Terrorist Strike Parliamentary Office

Yesterday, a group of organized terrorist entered the offices of the People's Premier Minister and planted explosives within the compound. A total of 25 people were killed including, the Premier Minister himself, Brewen Deckon. The remaining four leaders on the Leader's Council were shocked by the horrific news and heightened the national security level. Three terrorist were apprehended escaping the scene, and are under going intense scrutiny.


[Edited on 3-8-2004 by BeingWatchedByThem]

The newspaper article continued, but I lost interest in the fanciful play for the world. To explain things simply, Deckon had a hint of reactionary in him. Consequently, the other leaders perceived him as a threat.

The government testified reactionaries were, "...terrorist plotters, whom demand the destruction of everything the Great Revolution created; all that is out strength!" Yet to the underlying opposition, the reactionaries were freedom fighters, a David versus Goliath.

Taking a break from the disinformation, I looked up. Sitting across from me, I saw Carl and Martha; they were anything but reactionaries. Then there was Natasha on my right. The gorgeous, mysterious, payroll accountant whom worked at the local, Workers Wages & Productivity Office; she kept everyones rations in check.

Finally there was Omeron, a close friend of mine for numerous years sitting to my left on the tables end. We both worked at the mining quarry near the city's northern edge. I was Head Crane Mechanical Technician, and Omeron was the Supervisor of Crane Operations. Both of us sympathized with the rebels, yet we never said we did plainly, only subliminally.

The clock was approaching 6:28 in the morning, and Martha made eggs and toast for breakfast. Since there wasn't much food to go around, everyone in the building pooled their food rations together to form larger meals. Martha was generally in control of cooking, and housekeeping of the complex. That was Martha's occupation, she enjoyed it.

I stood up, walked over to the counter; I grabbed a plate. Scooped up some of Martha's scrambled eggs, and grabbed a slice of toast. I went back to the table, and sat down on the end chair, between Martha and Natasha. Carl was reading the Primier Union that I had set down. Martha got up to tidy the kitchen, humming while doing so.

Omeron got up, put his plate in the sink and asked me, "Are you going to be ready to go today? I don't want to be late again." "I know, shut up." I reflected lightly, as he walked away. Being hungry, I dove into the warm scrambled eggs with ham bits.

After finishing, I topped it off with the remaining cup of bitter coffee. I glanced at Natasha, wittingly winked and smiled. "May I say, good morning to that beautiful young woman beside me." I gleamed. "Whats's the occasion?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mystique. "Just that sparkle in your eye today." I replied, with my tongue in my cheek.

She laughed, Natasha and I often flirted but never anything more; anything beyond coquetry seemed almost forbidden by both her and I. For what reason I still don't know. She was born with an amazing body and exercised her body's amazing slenderness so much she has great spite with other women.. I smiled back at Natasha, and left the table on that good note.

[Edited on 3-8-2004 by BeingWatchedByThem]

I exited the kitchen, and entered the foyer, Omeron was waiting. "Come on, I want to be at least on-time for once in my life." he complained boldly as if it was a threat. "Well what time is it?" I asked stupidly. "Time to go! Come on!" he scorned.

I grabbed my jacket off the hook on the wall and put it on. I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out my winter hat; put it on. I reached into my other jacket pocket to check I had my cigarettes. I did, so I took a moment to brace myself for the cold winter temperatures, and proceeded.

We left the building, and walked down the front steps to the sidewalk. "Burrr! It's pretty nippy today, huh?" I asked Omeron. "Yeah." he conceded. It was a normal Thursday morning, not a soul in sight. We walked against the wind towards the Central Metro Subway Station, which would take us to the edge of town.

"So what do you got planned this weekend Omeron?" I asked, to help pass the time. While talking, I felt a demanding craving for a smoke. "Oh, not much, I had some plans, but I think im just going to relax." Omeron answered. I disregarded my craving for another block until I became rather ravaged for one. "Gimme a sec, I gotta light up, go ahead, I'll catch up." I told him.

I paused between two buildings in an alley, behind a dumpster to light my first and final cigarette until I got my rations tickets after work. After the cigarette was lit, I checked my watch; 6:48 a.m. It was right then, I heard the sound of tires squeal then screech to a stop. Unable to see Omeron, I feared he was hit by a car. I darted to the street sidewalk with the cigarette in my left hand. Being able to see clearly down the sidewalk, I saw Omeron.

Omeron was standing on the sidewalk, 20 feet away, turned towards the street looking at a black van; five men dressed in black from head to toe, jumped out of the van; four had rifles and the last one had a shotgun.

"Sh|t!" I thought, as I jumped back into the alley, threw my cigarette behind the dumpster next to me. I remained there hopeful to be safely unseen. I was in a state of panic, as I stared at the building blocking my line of sight from Omeron. I stayed there, crouched, leaning against the building; listening to what I could.

"Hey you son of a - " the wind cut a deep man's voice off from my ears. "...I know but..." "changed my mind..." Omeron's sentences cut up into segments by the cold, chilling wind.

Curiosity struck me, and I peered one eye around the corner's edge. "Don't be stupid. Help us, and yourself out." the man with the shotgun spoke. "You'll get immunity from all charges." He continued. Omeron stood there silent, with the five men circled around him.

"I told you, no." he boldly defied. The man with the shotgun threatened again, "Well where is your buddy, you know who i'm taking about. Tell us where he is, and you'll live." Omeron lied, "At work, he left early today."

"Thank you, that was easy now wasn't it? Now get going, don't be late for work." The dark agent responded. I took a breath, and took myself out of sight in the alley again. Just as I took a sigh of relief, I heard a ear retching sound; the sound of a single shotgun shell; then silence. "Looks like your going to be late." One snickered, and they all laughed.



[Edited on 3-8-2004 by BeingWatchedByThem]

My butt slid to the ground, legs sticking straight out, my back leaning against the building, I was in disbelief. Murdered! Omeron was murdered by those bastards! I heard them hurry, "...get the body in there..." Then I heard tires peel off quickly.

I was unable to move, think or even blink. I just sat there. What seemed like days, I sat there. Then finally, I heard the sirens. It was 9 o'clock, morning curfew had begun.

I felt, maybe I should hide, and think of what to do. But since I couldn't either, I stayed there. Several minutes later the cold asphalt felt like it had frozen my as$ tot he ground, so I stood up. Only to be seen my a curfew soldier walking by the alley, who commanded at me, "Halt, Don't move!" Aimed his gun at me, and called over another soldier.

Cerfew time was when you had to be either in your place of employment, residence, or escorted by public official; anyone else caught would be arrested on the spot.

The one of the young soldiers called my name in over the radio, leaving me with the other who had me in the sights of his pistol. Minutes passed, then all the sudden a familiar voice relieved the young officers. Walking towards me with his pistol in the holster unbuckled. "I thought Omeron said you were at work." the man bellowed. The voice was eerily familiar. "What a liar." He continued. "Stand against the wall, facing me, I want to talk to you." I complied, and stood against the building.

"We know you sympathize with the terrorist." the commanding officer spoke. I thought, "Sympathize with the terrorist? I may feel for their cause, but I am not one." Then my thoughts were cut off, by the deep voiced man. "You can work for us, and live, or, well you can guess what happens then."

Feeling torn, I pondered quickly, "Why should I benefit a cause I feel is wrong. Even though I am not a terrorist now, why shouldn't I support the cause and become a full fledged supporter?" Again another thought, "I can live, and fight against my beliefs till death, or I can live to fight for my beliefs to the death!"

More thoughts came forth, "I should not sell-out. Omeron was, but later regretted doing so. I should learn from his mistake, and fight to the death; due either choice I take, death will come upon my body; either by the hand of tyrants or myself. I must fight!" Quickly I made up my mind, the answer was logical.

"I have no choice, I must fight for my beliefs! Fight to the death! Kill any tyrants, and their supporters! These are the actions I must take; I must become a soldier for my cause, or as they call us, a terrorist!"

My thoughts continued. "I no longer fear death, I am but a pawn in this game of life, and will put my weak powers to use by attempting to harm the enemy in any way possible!
Any scratch, cut or bruise I can inflict is better than no infliction at all!" My mind was stern set.

I quickly lunged at the man how killed Omeron, and caught him off guard. I grabbed the pistol from his hip, before he even knew what had gone wrong; one shot straight into his skull.

Fragments of tissue and bone, flew from the rear for his head, as the bullet ripped through his brain and exited his skull. "Righteous damage for Omeron's death, and the pain he suffered by fighting our cause! But now, I am not finished. I must avenge those whom have died before me!" I teletyped in my mind. And continued my justifiable rampage, successfully killing the two soldiers who discovered me.

Then the sirens went off again, morning curfew was over. I paused and pondered a rough edge.

Time stopped, "Should I kill those who are not like me, those who do not back our cause, and are impious?"

My brain raced, "Yes! Simply because they lack the knowledge of our cause and the only way to teach about reactionaries is for them to exist, to be seen, heard, and commit actions! It is impossible to support something no one knows of!"

Time continued, and I saw numerous people, walking to work, home, to eat; it didn't matter. I saw a crowd exiting a nearby building. I rushed over with delight, hoping to affect as many of them as possible, to lecture them on the wrongs on our government.

I started off my lecture by shooting a man in the stomach, and a woman in the hip, but as I aimed for another man, my lecture was cut short. A burning sensation, a sharp pain.

Not soon later, more pains, my flesh was being torn apart by bullets, and not one by one. Numerous, there were four bursts going off, from four seperate soldiers.

I was done, I could do no more. Like pawn's should do, I sacrificed myself for the groups greater good. I had done my part; I had helped the cause.

The End

very long short story, but never the less, it was a good read. thanks for sharing.