Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 18

A few weeks passed. It was a middle of June, and summer came into their life for good, bringing unbearable heat, when the Sun was hanging on the sky until the latest hours. Atmosphere was gloom and cold though.

An omnipresent fear, haunting their lives since the day of birth, got stronger as soon as the regime's rigour got stronger. War with Eastasia escalated quickly, leaving the city under the unceasing attacks, recruiting more young people into the army. The government significantly cut all the food supplies, and even though people avoided talking about this from stupidity and blind love to Big Brother, it could be seen on every plate. They weren't dying of hunger, not yet. But they could felt the poverty stronger than eve.

Number of arrestings and executions raised. The citizens stood up on the square, cooped up as lambs, watching with a cruel excitation and the desire for blood this only entertainment they've had. Public death of the captive, reciting the litany of crimes, from the espionage and small acts of terror, to conspiring against the entire Party. And from all of them, probably only one committed — wrongly chosen word, looking the wrong way, having wrong opinions. Who knew? Doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter. They were all going to die, their ashes consumed by the Earth, generations will pass and Big Brother will stay.

It was bad time; George, John, Paul and Ringo knew it pretty well. But the four men bonded. Paul was still hiding at Lennon's house, running away from the "justice", just as the rest of them. John had the hardest job, having to feed not one, but two men. But he never complained. Now they had very little time for meetings, every second spent together seemed like gold.

They knew that McCartney started to completely trust them, when one day, hugging the guitar (which, in fact, nobody could pry out of his hands; Lennon didn't object), he told them his entire story.

"I'm from the proles' family. As you probably guessed. So you know that I lived in poverty... of course, I'm not whining or something!" Paul instantly added. He liked to be in the center of people's interest, but he didn't want anyone's pity, as they noticed. "I mean, everything was alright, as long, as we just kept on working. The Party didn't care about us. Those arseholes treat us at least like animals. Oh, sorry," he apologized, but John only shrugged. "So we lived together, everything was alright, father working, mother curing people. She was helping her patients on a kitchen's table. You know, victims of the bombings and all.
And one day... she died. It was so fucking sad, but when my father told me, I acted like a total douche. Anyway... the real poverty started this day. Father started drinking, visiting dirty bars and bottles of alcohol more than his job. So I had to take it in my own hands; I had younger brother to feed. So I was stealing. Stealing from everyone. Richer neighbors, Outer Party's men, even Inner Party's ones. We could survive! Yeah, but... years passed. And I had to go to work. 'Twas two years ago... job that payed pittance, cheap money. Soon my brother will find a job, too. But for now, I was still stealing. And finally I reached my final straw," Paul laughed bitterly. "And they caught me. Fuckers, probably would kill me. Then, you know... I'm here now." He shrugged and looked down, embarrassed by his flow of words.

Everyone was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. Ringo broke it the first: "I'm sorry. So sorry. I think that we all here know this feeling of losing someone." His blue eyes shined in a comforting way.

"By the way... I still didn't thank you. For all you've done. You've... you've probably saved my life and you know..."

"No need to thank." Richard smiled.

"I think there IS a need," John mumbled, but George kicked him. "Okay, okay, kidding!"

"I want to know how my father and brother are doing..." McCartney gazed at the wall with a thoughtful eyes. "Mike is a cleveris a clever boy. He'll be fine."

Now all the words were said and wistful silence consumed them again. Harrison hugged Starkey, holding him closer, petting his hair. The day wasn't over yet, but they didn't hear any sounds of life from the outside. Silence and peace, with specks of dust in the air and dirty plates, laying higgledy-piggledy around them.

The pair wasn't afraid to show their feeling near John and Paul. Furthermore, they both were making bets, if their friends were also together. George gave three shillings that they are. The biggest argument Harrison had was that Lennon let the boy use his guitar.

"Cheap argument. He lets me, too. Maybe he's in love with me?"

"I won't let him," George laughed and kissed his cheek. "But you know what I'm talking about. They write songs together. They look at each other this way."

"Clever, clever. Finding himself a pretty boy and keeping him upstairs so nobody will hear his screams."

But soon the big surprised found them unprepared. Just a few days later.

The heat was unbearable, in spite of late hours. Crowds of people gathered on the main square, listening to the speech from the Inner Party's member mouth. It seemed like the entire Liverpool, stiff mass, crowded here, making George want to vomit. Thousands, a thousand of sweating, screaming people.

Citizens were standing by their districts, so soon Harrison's eyes found John. They shared glances and Lennon blinked quickly three times; their secret signal, saying I want to talk.

Luckily, the sun went down long before the speech has ended. Now they all should go back to their houses, but the young man walked quietly one of the darker streets, to stop in the back of his friend's old, full of memories house.

John appeared a few second ago, nodding him, and giving a cigarette politely. Two friends smoked in a silence, watched by innocent starlight, until the older one spoke:

"I'll be gone soon."

George needed a moment to fully understand Lennon's words, and looked at him in a pure shock. So many thoughts were racing in his head, so many questions tangled in one, noisy mess. "What? Why?"

John's eyes shined with excitation, the one he felt when he talked about the Brotherhood, maybe even bigger... more crazy. Madman's look and madman's smile.

"We'll run away. Me and Paul."

It sounded only like whisper, so there was a chance that Harrison only misheard. That John hasn't gone completely nuts.

"Run away? From where? John, what are you talking about?" George recalled a memory of their talk about the Brotherhood. The same shock. But now Lennon wasLennon was really tickling death's nose.

"Paul had a plan." Now their faces were pretty close to each other. "Very clever. Before we met, he wanted to enter the board of some ship sailing to the southern isles of Eastasia. Apparently... it's easier there. The life, I mean. We have nothing to lose. It's our chance."

And Harrison... just stood like this, paralyzed a little.

"Leaving it all behind. Isn't it worth the risk? Freedom? George?"

George closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Why?"

The question caught the older one off guard. "What why?"

"Why you and Paul? You don't know each other for so long. Why do you want to throw it all away?" A sudden thought hit him in the head hard, making Harrison shiver. "You love him, don't you?"

John's look, full of pain, was the only answer he needed.

And the younger one could argue. Could scream to Lennon that their plan is crazy, sentenced to failure before it all even begun, that they really know nothing about Eastasia. That it simply cannot work with the complete surveillance of every citizen. He could be angry that his friends want to leave them just like this. Say all the bitter words. But he didn't do it. Only nodded, kinda understanding John's pain. That the man will want to die rather than keeping on living like this. But, most importantly, he knew how it's like to be desperately in love.

So he said: "Good luck." And looked at his friend, patting his back. George really meant this. He really hoped their plan to work, wanted their life to be happy. "Send me a postcard from Eastasia, lovebirds."

"Of course," Lennon smiled. "And you — don't kill each other during our absence."

"Same to you."