Ezra
Sitting between Riku and Jordyn, I stare out the side of the helicopter as we break out into open air. The others form a guard around us, protecting the cargo inside.
"Thomas?" I blurt, looking up. Thomas doesn't take his eyes off the air. Instead, he nods to let me know he's listening. "Where did you get all of this?"
Riku snorts beside me, a clear sign it wasn't an honest means. Yet, the sheer mass of our attack force is mindblowing. The Rebels are a motley crew of broke teenagers and adults. We usually fight with handmade weapons, and yet here we are flying out in helicopters with wi-comm systems and radar tech. I've trained on this sort of technology, but never once have I used it outside the headquarters.
"Let's just say we borrowed it," Thomas replies.
"From who? I mean, who has this sort of--"
My voice cuts off as realization hits.
"No, you didn't," I say, eyes going wide.
Thomas glances back at me, and Riku doubles over in laughter. His voice is almost carried away in the wind. Jordyn watches him curiously, but her canyon eyes tell me that she's really somewhere else. One of her hands is wrapped in Samson's, and the other turns white as she clenches it into a fist. She let go of the handrail once the heli stabilized.
"We didn't have much of a choice, Ezra," Thomas says, and I snap back to attention. "Riku was followed home from your failed mission. Murano's forces raided HQ within hours of his arrival. Everything we had was decimated."
My heart sinks.
"What happened to the orphans?" I ask. The children wouldn't stand a chance.
"We made the decision to focus on getting them out instead of fighting back. Which is why we didn't have much left. We might be outnumbered, but we're not helpless. You know that."
I nod, swallowing. Jordyn's watching her father now, reading into the words. I saw her face back in the control room. She doesn't have a clue who he is. There wasn't even a glimmer of familiarity or sadness--just shyness. I don't know if I can get used to her being fragile instead of invincible.
"Stealing isn't something we generally do," I remind Thomas. "We don't even steal food."
"Then think of it as borrowing, and be grateful. Although, I probably won't be returning the tech anytime soon."
We stop talking after that, a clear sign that I should just let it drop. I'm not happy with stealing, but it was from Murano and we did need it to escape. I guess that justifies criminal acts--necessity.
A long several minutes passes of us staring out helicopter windows and open doors at the landscape below. Ahead of us, there's nothing but empty Texas landscape, patchwork fields of grains and desert. I'm so used to seeing the gray metallic landscape of the city that it's mind blowing to see all this empty land. No buildings blocking out the sun; no black asphalt snakes turning ninety degree corners every hundred-plus feet.
Instead, it's hills blanketed in switchboard green and pocked with microscopic shrubs and desolate ruins of wooden houses. To be honest, it looks like someone dropped a bag of trash and it scattered in the wind. Yet, it landed in such a peaceful and clean way--far enough away from the rest of the trash to look perfectly placed in its spot.
I glance over at Jordyn as she stares out at the land below. What is she thinking about? Does she remember when she used to live down there amidst a land of wild tranquility? Was her home as scattered and unkempt? I've never thought to ask her, and my opportunity may well be lost.
YOU ARE READING
The Island
Science Fiction"This is The Island, a prison designed for minors like me- too young to be executed, too old to be reformed, and too much of a stain on humanity to let exist. It was 'the answer' to the growing crime rate resulting from a world that was falling apar...
