I am at my assigned position. A typical place to be on a Friday night for a teenager except there is no game, and I am not in the stands cheering on my team. I am hiding. I am hiding up on the hill behind the concession stand on the visitors side. The place is lit up like it should be on a Friday night of the big game. The light has drawn others to watch to see what is going to happen. They have heard about it, but they do not believe it.
So many people do not believe their fate even when the rumors have a ring of truth. We deny, but there is a rule my dad taught me - Listen. There is always a hint of the truth in even the wildest rumor.
I watch and wait for the signal to begin the surprise attack. I am alone. I am patience. And I am breaking one of dad's rules.
This rule says no praying. Praying, like crying, will get you killed. No waiting on someone or something to rescue you. Help yourself. But, I can't help myself because I have another set of rules, and my new rules are the opposite of help only yourself: Rule one - Help others. Rule two - Leave no man behind. Rule three - Save the prince.
But, where is Torin? I look everywhere below me, but he is not here.
There is finally some activity in the end zone. A make-shift stage on wheels is rolled out. A sound system squeals on. How do these assholes always have power? It must be why they are winning. Everyone loves electricity. Everyone likes the power on. Control it, and you control the world.
"Testing, one, two, three."
Seriously, did the asshole really just say that? It feels like someone is getting ready to belt out the national anthem and then flip the coin. It almost seems normal. Except me and my colleagues and about a hundred gathered townspeople are getting ready to witness an execution or two or three.
I sneak a glimpse at the gathered citizens. A few of them are our people intermingled in the crowd. The town people look haggard and hungry, but mostly curious and almost eager to see what happens next. While I should be angry at their compliance and complacency, I know I can't blame them. I was them not so long ago, just waiting in line for my share of the milk.
My fellow citizens of my hometown are as captured here as my about-to-be-executed friends.
I watch as the firing squad enters the end zone. Six soldiers marching like soldiers do with single-minded focus. I notice how clean and healthy and well fed they look. They look young and vibrant and like the winning team. They have a bounce in their step. Other soldiers follow. There seems to be more of them now than we counted earlier.
A heads-down group of hostages arrive. My team on the field, made up of what is left of the Resistance, looks like they missed a meal or two even though I know they have been eating good lately. I guess all of Mr. Thomas's good food hasn't yet made up for months of starvation. Just as I think this, who do I see but my old neighbor, the fat bastard himself, Mr. Thomas.
He steps on stage and goes to the microphone and takes it from the warm up speaker. He clears his throat and begins with, "Thank you for coming tonight."
Seriously? This is not somewhere we want to be.
He continues, "The One Nation Army is finally here to liberate you. You are in for a treat later because our leader, General Kerry One Nation, will be arriving within the day. He is personally coming to take possession of an enemy of the people - Prince Torin Henry James Albert of Wales."
I look around. Most of those in attendance look almost bored, and like they don't care about a prince. They want to know about the post-execution food giveaway. I know they do because I have been in their shoes before.
Mr. Thomas continues his speech. "Despite the lies your newspaper has spread." He holds up one of the last copies of The Mount Airy Daily News and then spits on it. "This prince is a child murderer and shall answer for his crimes. Insurgents in this town have been protecting the prince and spreading lies, and they shall be executed tonight for harboring this fugitive."
Lies, all lies about Torin, but he does say they have my prince. I feel myself clinching my gun even tighter. I am to take the first shot - the first shot that will signal our attack to begin. I look to my right and see Steven and his ballplayers behind the visitors stands. I want to make some contact with them to say "what now?" because of the prince, but I am well hidden behind some bushes and above everyone else on the hill, so it is useless.
Other soldiers enter the field and what is left of the Resistance, the hostages, are lined up before the goal post and Cindy Lou's old sign with the new message. I see my friends - Leia, Adam, Hellman, Sarah, Smith, Carli and three other, older soldiers from my town and one of their wives that I never got to know. Ten, only ten, and then I see Cindy Lou. She trails behind, holding her baby doll and waving at the crowd. My throat tightens when I see her. I know she has no idea what is about to happen. I pray she doesn't.
"Keep waving Cindy Lou Who," I say under my breath.
I see what is left of the Resistance, and I see soldiers on the firing squad lead Carli over to their side and hand her a gun. Carli is now on the wrong side of the firing squad. They lead a limping Smith, he has lost his cane, to the wrong side and hand him a gun too. Carli and Smith both carry guns and stand like they are reluctant to join the winning team, but they are there. Why are they not using those guns to fight? Have they decided to join and not die?
"Selection," Mr. Thomas continues. "What you have just witnessed is called Selection. The One Nation Army is all powerful and mighty and just, but we are not without mercy. Some of you will be given the same choices as these insurgents - Join or die."
I can see that the citizens in the stands are starting to look uneasy. Mr. Thomas motions for someone to come forward, and the warm-up speaker takes the microphone back. He continues with a speech that is so monotone that I believe he finds it boring: "There are many benefits to joining our cause - electricity will be restored, you and your children will be fed, and there will be medical supplies and doctors for those who need them. I know many of you came tonight for a warm meal, and I want you to know that we are roasting a pig tonight."
I am not exaggerating here when I say that, as quickly as this is mentioned, a roaster is rolled out onto the field. I hear a gasp from the crowd, and suddenly everyone is talking and their noses are in the air sniffing. I can smell the delicious mouth-watering aroma of barbeque, and I am distracted momentarily.
I can see that some of the once uneasy citizens are now leaning forward. A few are smiling and rubbing their stomachs. I hear laughter, and there is excitement in the air. It's feels like a real football game before the ball is kicked high, high, higher. We hold our breath.
Mr. Thomas steps back onto the stage and pulls a man on stage with him. "I have your prince." He raises his shoulders and makes himself look almost regal himself. "I found him myself." He points at the Resistance about to be executed and adds, "The prince will be turned over to our leader, General Nation, after his protectors and fellow murderers are executed."
Even from here, I know that I am looking at Jack Taylor and not my prince. Oh, he has shaved his beard too, but the hair is not right. It is not the right color and it is so long, it is in a ponytail. It is definitely Jack Taylor. He stands a little cockier and with his chin tipped up like he is daring you to strike first. He does look like Torin though, and I am not sure that Mr. Thomas knows the difference. He only saw him the once.
But, Cindy Lou Who knows. She starts giggling and laughing and holding her stomach like she can't hold the joke in. She does not act like someone about to be executed. Cindy is about to give it all away, and still Jack Taylor acts like he is the prince. He holds his head high, not bothering to deny that he is not our prince.
How did captured Jack get on that stage, and where is Torin?
Mr. Thomas answers my question like he hears my thoughts: "Even the Prince knows it is futile to resist the mighty One Nation Army. He turned himself in. He just wants to go home. He is not the hero you poor people have made him out to be."
Cindy Lou Who continues to laugh, and now she is doing some kind of victory dance.
"What is so funny, you idiot?" bellows across the sound system.
There is dead silence as the spectators, some I am sure who know Cindy, stop talking about the pig and start paying attention. Without a microphone, in her loudest voice so that she can be heard by her fans, Cindy Lou says, "It is not nice to call people idiots. And you are an idiot. That is not my Prince Torin."
Mr. Thomas looks at Jack who shrugs his shoulders, and the realization that he may be wrong makes no difference to Mr. Thomas. This tells me all I need to know. Professor Nation, who is now a general, does not like mistakes. Mr. Thomas does what any scumbag would do in his situation - he goes forward with the lie.
"Imbecile," he screams at Cindy and then points to Carli and then Cindy Lou Who. "Thanks for volunteering to go first."
"Oh no," says Cindy, "Never volunteer, that's my motto."
One of the soldiers grabs Cindy and puts her in front of the goal post. Another soldier places Carli about ten feet in front of her and pulls her gun up to fire point blank at Cindy. Cindy looks like she is ready to run, but then stands up straight, and as the soldier says, "Ready," she yells "Ready".
I pull my gun up at "Ready" and have Carli in my sights, but my gun is shaky. In one split second I go from "I can't kill my Carli" to "Steady, steady". I am going to fire at "Aim", but before I can, someone grabs me from behind. He places his hands over my mouth so I cannot scream. I struggle, but I cannot get loose.
I hear "Aim" and Cindy's echo. I catch a glimpse of Carli. I cannot pull myself free. Whoever has me is so strong that he lifts me up off the ground. My feet kick air. I hear "Fire", and I hear Cindy yell "Fire".
I hear the shot. I see Cindy drop to the ground.
I can't breathe. My attacker covers my mouth and my nose. I can't get any traction to push back because my feet are dangling. I squirm. I twist. I see a soldier walk up to Carli and punch her in the face and take her gun. I see Cindy Lou on the ground, and there is blood on her chest because even Carli couldn't miss from that distance. I try to punch my attacker in the face, but he is strong and knows what he is doing.
Suddenly, someone else joins my struggle. I feel an extra pair of hands on my arm pulling me. Do they think it takes two of them to kill me? Please. Someone grips my left arm so hard it feels like a pinch. This is crazy. I am being suffocated in a game of tug-of-war, but all I can think about is, hey - quit pinching me. No fair.
I hear laughter. Am I imagining this? No, someone is laughing loudly over the intercom. Mr. Thomas is laughing. Just before I am gone, I think that I am going to die not even knowing who killed me. I kick one of my attackers one last time in the knee, but it does no good. I feel something push us all to the ground backwards. It does not matter.
I am gone. I am dead.