The Tag Bearer

Chapter 10 - The Secret Rebellion

Planes meant only one thing. 

Slowly, from the protection of a wilting shrub I turned back and observed as a young man climbed up onto the tallest point of a nearby house. He stretched himself as tall as he could, towering over the rubble of his neighbors place. His grey shirt clung to his chest and he slowly raised his eyes to the sky, laughing as a crack of thunder lit up the sky. Calmly, he pulled out the bright red flag from the back of his belt and flew it high up into the rain.

The planes thundered overhead, roaring in on the outer city. The whistle of bombs screeched down from the sky, mixing with the frequent crack of thunder. The extra noise made it impossible to tell if they ever hit the ground or who was winning the battle in the sky - the President's last stronghold. 

And yet here this man stood, barely a hundred feet away from me, and symbolizing everything I thought the Rebellion was. His strong body held him in a god-like glory, and I had smiled, knowing he was fighting for our oppression to end.

The longer I watched him for, the more I had become jittery. I willed him to get down, the world would need fighters like him if the President won this round. He was wasting his life on top of a building. And then, just like that, he was swallowed up in an eruption of flames. I shrieked, falling to the ground to avoid the debris as the rubble ignited in a furious blaze and it crumbled to the ground in a mixture of dust and fire.

I found out months later who had won that final battle. They ruled this country now like the tyrannical leaders they'd promised not to be. The Secret Rebellion were trying to piece together the world whilst becoming so strong, a democracy could never overthrow it. That's what it had tried to do, and that's what it was doing now.

I had no idea how I tied into all of this. Little old me never participated directly in the fight for suppressed freedom. Whatever this leader wanted; I couldn't think of any possible scenario where I was needed. 

My eyes shot up as the sweet sound of a violin reached my ears, echoing from outside and into my dusty room in one fluid motion. A brief transfer of communication took place outside the door, shaking me free of any past memories I'd conjured and putting me on edge.

I fixated on it; scared and out of breath as I waited for something to happen. 

The door swung open and I squeezed my eyes closed in terror.

"Time to go," a strong voice ordered, getting closer to me and forcing me to open my eyes in a frenzied panic. I followed Sergeant Hill's path as he entered the room accompanied by four Officers. The Drone that guarded my door hovered close behind them, bleeping a blue light. He motioned to two of the Officers.

"But it's only been a few hou-" I tried to argue. He cut me off, forcefully letting his Officers grab and pull me up off the ground. I wrestled and screamed, but they only held on tighter.

"We need to go now. If you fight, I will sedate you," Sergeant Hill calmly said.

A wave of anger came over me. Why was I in this mess? Oh yeah, that's right, Matthew! My anger soon vanquished into dread as the violin's blare was halted mid note. The Sergeant noticed this change like an eager bird of prey and bolted in a marching pace down the hall. Startled, the Officers quickened their pace to keep up and I began to stumble over my own feet as I tried to stop myself from falling over.

We trekked through the corridors to the entrance of the building. Its double doors were pushed open strenuously and we proceeded down the stairs to a waiting line of military vehicles. The iconic rebellion flags were gone and the whole camp site appeared to be inside the ten or so awaiting military trucks.

Militia ran around us urgently grabbing last minute supplies. They mixed in with the sound of shouting Officers and the buzz of the Drones. Crates were still being loaded into the string of waiting trucks and mechanics worked tirelessly on the engines to ensure they ran as smoothly and as quietly as possible.

The whole base was alive.

A mechanic, covered in grease and still holding a spanner, jogged up to us. "We're all ready for transport. Just waiting on your command, Sir," he said with a salute.

Sergeant Hill nodded and walked to a significantly modified vehicle in the middle of the line. Its tyres were bulked up and an artillery of guns were attached to the roof and sides of it. A tent-like cover with a flap was draped over the back.

I was shoved towards it and propelled up into the back as the four Officers followed Sergeant Hill in. In astonishment, I looked on as another six Officers boarded in with us: each manning a large automatic gun.

A radio was passed into the Sergeant and he grasped it like it was a precious hamster. The uniformed lady winked at me as she left, making me shrink uncomfortably into the trucks edging, before she patted the back of the truck so the metal tinged.

The engine roared to life before succumbing to a quiet hum. We slowly rolled forward and then stopped again. I gathered we were waiting for the six or so trucks in the front of the convoy to roll forward too.

"What's going on now?" the Sergeant muttered, getting up, frustrated that we weren't moving. He went to poke his head outside when we began to pick up speed. Satisfied, he relaxed back down into his seat, running his hand over his brow. 

And just as we did, someone shouted and the guns on our vehicle roared to life.

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