RISING

14

"Marshall," she looked at me directly, her light brown eyes mirroring the sadness in mine. She took a deep breath as the air became completely still. "Freedom calls."

And those were the last words I heard from her.

I was hoisted up and thrown into the vehicle, the door slamming closed behind me. I threw myself against the window, watching my mother, my father, and my previous life fade away in the distance.

I sat as close to the window as possible, hoping, praying something would happen. There were seven other kids in the vehicle with me. We were all in the same age range, some younger, some older. A few hours passed before anyone dared to speak. The girl sitting next to me watched a few others talk about the situation we were all in. She slowly tapped the shark decal on her pink shirt.

"So, why do you think we're being taken?" A boy with glasses asked. Fear was the only emotion visible on his face.

"You really haven't heard?" Another kid responded, a girl with choppy hair responded. "We're being taken to be trained as soldiers. You should've at least seen military convoys roaming down the streets." She scanned the seven other kids, including me. "Also, stealing kids is free. It won't put America further in debt."

The girl sitting next to me chipped in. "You look around at the world we live and you honestly think money is the issue? That's pretty sad."

Choppy-hair girl glared at the girl sitting next to me. "And you think it isn't." Her voice had a certain edge to it.

I agreed with the girl with the ugly hair though. If my parents had more money, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation. You never see the rich families get their kids taken. You never see military vehicles drive through the neighborhoods with the upscale houses. You never see-

"That's enough," a stern voice came from the driver's seat, interrupting my train of thought. "I want you all silent for the rest of the ride." And silence reigned for a while, until a boy with precariously grey hair for his age tapped the window twice. Outside, you could see the faded print on a sign that was disappearing rapidly in the distance.

It read: Now Leaving New Detroit.

We all shared looks of exasperation. I decided that staying awake wasn't worth the energy, so I rested my head against the interior of the vehicle and fell asleep. With the way the vehicle hit the asphalt, it was unnecessarily difficult, but I managed. The roar of the engine became my tainted lullaby.

|♖|

I woke up from someone tapping my shoulder. We had arrived at our destination, unfortunately. Hopping out the vehicle, I slowly made my way into the line with the rest of the children. The soldier at the front led us towards a set of double doors, the open entrance ironically unwelcoming.

A woman with dull green eyes counted us off before disappearing down a corridor, out of sight. The eight of us were taken into a large room with a stage that stretched from wall to wall, with many other kids already sitting on the floor in wait. A man stood on the stage, arms behind his back, watched us join the crowd.

"Seems like we joined the party late," someone behind me mumbled.

As we walked in and took our position, the man on the podium coughed to signal our silence. He scanned the group of kids before him and as I watched his dark brown eyes move, I could swear they flashed a shade of crimson. Something you would see if a photo turned out wrong.

"Alright," the man on the podium began, toying with the cuffs on his black military jacket. "Welcome to the very first facility under Conway Laboratories. Who I am is vastly unimportant, but who you will be is."

Murmurs began spreading through the crowd, but when a soldier to his left fired a gunshot into the ceiling, they were quickly quieted. The man looked at the soldier with disdain. "You all have been chosen as part of the Deus Initiative."

The man continued. "You all, my children, will undergo a project that will create a landmark in history. In the next few years, you will see yourselves transform into the most elite task force this world has ever seen. Until then, you will be sufficiently clothed and fed. Rest assured, we'll take great care of you, assuming you cooperate as well."

A child roughly a few yards away stood up. His jeans were slightly tattered and his hair was messy. "If you really wanted to help us, then why'd you kill my family?" My eyes flickered between him and the man on the podium, who looked at him with contempt. The child didn't seem to understand he'd made a fatal mistake.

With a snap of his fingers, the soldier to the left hoisted his rifle up and fired a single shot, dropping the child where he stood. Blood showered over the little girl sitting next to his lifeless body, staining her walnut-colored hair. I couldn't see her face, but she began shaking. No one in the crowd dared to say anything else.

"Let this be an example of our teamwork. You cooperate," the man's voice suddenly took a darker turn, "and so do I. With that warm introduction, you'll be escorted to your living quarters until further notice." The man looked over the crowd of children one more time before saying one final word. "Vivere."

At this point, soldiers stood us up and separated us into two groups by gender, male and female respectively, and led us down different corridors. What they called living quarters, I called jail cells.

In the room I was forced into, there were a total of sixteen beds, eight on both the left and right walls. They were stacked in a bunk bed fashion, but no one was rushing to claim the top bunk. As we all took a bed for ourselves, the soldiers closed the door, the click of the lock echoing though the room.

Leaning over the bed, I looked at the other boys in the room. The only familiar face that stood out was the boy who I met in the car ride, the one with the unusually grey hair. He was the one who pointed out that my old life was undeniably over.

He matched my stare. We didn't say anything to each other, but we didn't need to. Words couldn't describe the situation we were in, and that's something I've come to learn won't change.