Fourth Generation

XIX: Generation One

People gasp around us, and Amell's hand finds my arm. Lowering his lips to my ear, he whispers, "We need to go."

He pulls my arm, but I yank it back. "Wait, I want to listen."

The woman on the screen takes in a breath and continues, "The group call themselves Generation One, and on Tuesday night, they and their sympathizers broke past the Second Generation border and invaded a First Generation home."

Amell looks around with a cold expression on his face. His body rigid, and his eyes don't hold a drop of the familiar warmth or softness I am accustomed to. To no surprise, his voice matches his demeanour, "We need to get back before panic breaks."

"I need to know what the panic is about," I whisper with the sharpness of a knife. "Generation One is a rebellion whose motives I understand. What they do and why they do it is important."

"The death toll includes four unidentified Second Generation guards who were stationed at the manor." The news lady brushes her hair aside and looks directly into the camera, bracing herself, "And Mr. Hugh Flem."

Amell shakes his head and flips his helmet on. I follow his lead as people gasp and begin to call others on their cellphones.

"The suspects are still at large, and it is advised that all citizens remain in your homes with all entries and exits locked." The woman says and places her stack of papers in front of her. "May you all be safe during these uncertain times."

The screen goes dark, and the previous program continues to play. People all stare at the door with a foreboding look on their faces. I follow Amell out the door, who effortlessly hops onto his bike and starts it up. I climb on behind him and watch as the citizens pour out of stores and businesses, racing to their homes and families. The street becomes clogged with honking cars while Amell flies between them, people yelling at us as we do.

We finally escape the city and speed back to the Sanders home, winding through the forest before I decide to say anything.

"Who is Hugh Flem?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.

"He's a man with a lot of power." Amell sounds reserved and distant as if he doesn't want to say anything.

I shift away from him, my grip barely becoming a light touch. He clearly doesn't want to talk about it. I shouldn't pry.

Amell sighs and slows the motorcycle down a little, "You probably haven't heard of him because he came into his position within the last six months."

"What position?"

"The Chief Executive Officer of the Prenatal Development Sector."

"Oh my god..." I whisper, "Generation One killed the man in charge of creating life?"

"Appears to be the case." Amell accelerates again, and we fall back into our taciturnity.

They're going for the people with influence and power in society... the families of the First Generation. Mr. Sanders is involved with the armed forces. That must be why a few of the newest DEU members are training in his house. That's why Zale is here... and still not talking to me.

When we return to the manor, everything and everyone is rushing to different places. It is dark, and most of their shifts have already ended, but they are frantically moving around. To describe the state of the household as a chaotic disaster would be putting it lightly.

Amell pulls into the garage, and we take off our helmets.

"How- how has this information eluded the Third Generation for so long?" I ask and set the helmet down.