Walls

__Walls__ __By: Katie Scarlett__

Note: Just so you all know, I write novels not short stories, so, for the sake of length, I have only posted the Prologue and Chapters 1-3.

__Prologue__ First Step April 12, 2060

Colin O’Hara stared around the dimly lit auditorium of the high school. At first, he wasn’t sure why Bill Buckley had rented the auditorium for this occasion, but as the people kept piling in, he soon understood. Buckley had gotten the two-thirds that he needed. He was in one of the front rows and kept having to turn around to see who all was coming in. Colin recognized a few, but not many; he was new in The House. Suddenly, the clock struck ten and everyone fell deathly silent and all eyes were turned toward the stage. Colin heard a door behind the curtain squeak and then latch close. Then, he burst through the curtain. William H. Buckley in his elephant boots and ten-gallon hat. He clapped his big, strong hands together and sent a noise like thunder reverberating off the walls. “Welcome friends and fellow politicians!” he boomed. There were at least three-hundred people here, but not a word was spoken. All of them realized what they were about to so, and it was daunting to think about. Buckley surveyed the crowd and his gaze fell on Colin and stayed there. “Senator O’Hara! It’s so good of you to come. I’m glad you changed your mind about coming.” Colin stared up at the large man only two rows in front of him. “Well,” Colin sighed, “your argument was very convincing. As was my wife’s, who took your side of the debate.” “Good.” He continued his scan of the crowd of politicians. “Well, you all know why we are here. Things in Washington have gotten too out of hand. It’s time for a new set of rules,” He paused for a moment, “our own set of rules. This great state of Texas was once and independent state, and we’ll do it again.” Buckley reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a weathered piece of paper. “I’ve drawn up the document; our own Declaration. All I need now is your signatures.” He paused and held up a pen. “Who will be the first to set us free?” Colin slowly stood up and climbed the stairs onto the stage. “I’m with you Bill,” he said, taking the pen. “Thank you Colin,” he said as he patted him on the back. As he finished signing he handed the pen back to Buckley who signed it next. One by one the other Congressmen and Senators came up on the stage and signed the piece of paper that would change all of their lives forever. When all three-hundred signatures were on the document, Buckley held it aloft. “It’s done,” he said. Everyone began to cheer and clap now that the deed was done. Colin stared up at the document and the words that were written across the top would be forever burned in his memory: Declaration of Secession.

__Chapter 1__ The Wall January 1, 2160

The cold Virginia wind blew harshly off the Rappahannock River, cutting through Amber’s jacket to the bone. She pulled her sheepskin and leather jacket closer to her body. It wasn’t far now to the entrance to the tunnel, but she could hardly stand the bitter cold. The dark form of The Wall loomed in the distance, casting a foreboding air over her already foul mood. The Wall symbolized everything that she hated: The War, her father’s death, and the slim chances of unity slipping away. Two years after Congressman Buckley turned in the Declaration of Secession, the South realized the imminent threat of war from the North and commissioned the building of The Wall. War indeed came, but twenty-five years after they had originally thought. The Governor of Georgia, a paranoid old fool, somehow got his hands on foreign nuclear weapons and as the first garrison of troops was formed he fires on the Northeastern part of the former country. The North has been a wasteland ever since, only surviving on trade, but on that, only barely. About fifty years ago everything west of the Mississippi became its own independent country, abandoning the childish feud between the North and the South. Amber had wanted to join them, but her mother forbade it, and now the borders were closed. The King of The Country to the West vowed to keep them closed until the differences were settled. Amber thought that would never happen. She walked quickly through the small town until she came to The Shack. She knocked three timed on the door and a slot opened in the center. A small, round computer popped out of the wood. “Voice recognition please,” the electronic voice said. “Amber O’Hara,” she recited back to the computer. “Retinal scan please,” it said. Amber put her face in front of the computer and waited as the blue light passed over her eye twice. “Voice Recognition and Retinal Scan confirmed. Amber Careen O’Hara. Rank: Lieutenant Nurse. Please continue,” the voice said. The computer disappeared back into the wood and the door swung open. She stepped into the dilapidated shack and swung the metallic hatch in the floor upwards. Only darkness lay beyond, but she knew what was really down there. She dropped down easily since the electromagnetic barriers had been removed by the computer and landed nimbly on the soft, packed earth beneath. Before her, a swarm of activity was going on. Amber saw The Commander running around frantically and shouting out orders in every direction. “Commander!” she screamed above the roar all around. He heard and hurried over to where she was. “What’s going on?” “Yankee troops have infiltrated our tunnels! We’re doing our best to hold them back but we’ve got a lot of wounded men coming in! I need you in the infirmary right away!” “Yes sir!” she replied, pushing her way through the thick crowd. Soldiers ran past her, heavily laden with weapons and heading in the direction of where she assumed the fighting was. The shiny, metallic doors of the infirmary loomed in front of her down the corridor. She pulled the doors open and immediately became disheartened. The beds were all full and injured men were still pouring in. Amber stopped a lower-ranking nurse. “Where is Colonel Walker?” “She’s gone off to where the fighting is, Lieutenant O’Hara. You’re Chief Nurse now.” Amber let her go on and looked around in shock. “Chief Nurse!” a doctor yelled from across the room. She snapped out of her reverie and ran to the doctor and the hospital bed with the dying man on it. Taking her scanner from around her neck, she swiped it across the bleeding man. The readings showed up on the screen and she read them to the doctor. “His fibula is broken and one of his lungs is punctured by a broken rib. Two beamshots to the right shoulder and a…knife wound? That’s strange, Yankees don’t usually use such primitive weapons.” She paused for a moment. “Get him to the operating room or he’s not going to make it.” The doctor and other nurses lifted the man and carried him off. It continued like that for three more hours until, finally, it died down. Amber sat with her head in her hands, utterly exhausted. Suddenly, the metal doors to the infirmary opened and The Commander briskly walked in. “Lieutenant, we have some injured prisoners downstairs. You are the acting Chief Nurse and I need you down there right now,” he said. Amber stood up. “You know,” she said testily, “just because you’re the Commander of this outpost doesn’t mean you can order me around so harshly. I’m still your sister.” The Commander sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was only two years older than her, but this war had turned him into a much older man. “I’m sorry Amber,” he said, “it’s just been a vey long day.” “I know,” she agreed, “it has been for me too.” “Please, I need you downstairs to look over the injured prisoners. We need them alive for interrogation.” “Alright Alec.” “Thank you.” Amber walked away from her brother and headed out into the West Hall. There was a side door that she knew led to the prisons, but that she’d never used before. It wasn’t marked in order to keep unauthorized people out. She quickly trotted down the dark staircase and entered the prisons. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was the stench of molded food mixed with human feces and the rotting flesh of dead prisoners. Amber had smelled some pretty bad things before, but nothing compared to this. She immediately covered her nose, but the rancid smell seeped through the cloth. Men were shouting angrily all around her. Some shouts came from inside the hundreds of cells lining the earthen walls, while still others came from the many soldiers running around with their extra-large beamers. Amber only rolled her eyes at them and the entire situation. “To think,” she muttered to herself, “all of this started because of a stupid wall.”

__Chapter 2__ Unexpected Friends Today had been a really bad day for Logan, and it didn’t look like it was getting any better. Their Captain had come to them early this morning to tell the platoon about their upcoming mission. It was dangerous, along with everything else their outfit did, but they were the only platoon close enough to carry it out. They’d be crossing into enemy territory, but it was for The Cause, just like everything else was. When Logan had turned sixteen he was old enough to be drafted into the army, and, lucky him, he’d been chosen. When he learned where his platoon was to be posted his entire outlook on life became instantaneously bleak and sadistic. He didn’t laugh anymore, or smile, or even make jokes, the only thing he loved to do. And this mission didn’t help his attitude either. But that wasn’t the worst part of the day. During the skirmish he was captured by the Rebels and now was stuck in this rancid, disgusting hell-hole. What was even better was this crazy bastard of a Rebel was giving him even more hell. The soldier was repeatedly kicking him in the stomach and face. He kept shouting what sounded like crude obscenities, but Logan was too disoriented to hear or to even care. Then, he heard something else, a different voice. This voice was still angry, but it was a different type of anger, more of a protective anger. But what was even stranger to Logan was that it was a girl’s voice. “Hey!” the girl screamed, “What the hell do you think you are doing?! Can’t you see this man is already injured without you abusing him even more?! Get out of here you pig-headed, son-of-a-cow!” Logan was intrigued enough by the girl’s voice that he opened his eyes to see her waving her arms wildly, sending her fiery copper hair in all different directions. The big, burly soldier backed away cautiously but took one last look a Logan and spat in his face. “Damn Yankees,” he muttered, but not quite low enough for the red-headed girl not to hear him. “I said get outta here you good-for-nothing, low life, ass!” she screamed. This time he ran instead of simply backing away. Then, something strange came over Logan. For some inexplicable reason he began to burst into uncontrollable laughter. It hurt his ribs excruciatingly to laugh, but he just couldn’t help it. Finally, he realized what was so funny. At the some time, the girl was wondering what exactly that was. She came and knelt by him on the dirt floor. She swept his hair back from his forehead and placed her hand there for a moment. “You’ve got a pretty bad fever, soldier. Here, take this,” she said, handing him a small, red pill. Logan was still chuckling to himself, but he managed to swallow the pill. “What’s so funny?” the girl asked him. Logan stopped laughing long enough to answer her. “You Rebels still call us Yankees.” He paused to laugh a little more. “I think that’s pretty funny.” For a moment, he realized that was the first time he’d laughed in a long time. Then, the girl started to laugh a little. “You Yankees still call us Rebels. //I// think //that’s// pretty funny,” she said. The girl pulled out what looked like a medical scanner from the bag at her side and ran it up and down his aching body. “You’re pretty banged up. Some minor cuts and bruises, a couple ribs are broken ribs, and that arm is severely fractured.” She gestured to the arm Logan was cradling against his chest. “Really?” he asked sarcastically, “I just thought that the excruciating pain I am experiencing is a normal reaction to Rebel prisons.” The girl looked at him with an obvious look of distaste for his type of humor. She again reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a metal alloy splint. When she placed it on his arm it sent a shockwave of pain rolling up his arm, but he tried not to show it in his face. The girl pushed a large, red button on the side of the splint. “This might hurt a bit, it’s going to set your arm though.” The splint snapped into place with a whooshing sound. Logan betrayed his pain this time with an agonized yell, but after a few moments the pain subsided into a dull throb. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “Your ribs will have to set on their own. The Commander doesn’t allow prisoners to be taken out of their cells unless for interrogation purposes.” There was a note of apology in her voice that baffled Logan, and apparent disdain for the rules. “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright,” he reassured her, shaking his head, “I’ll manage.” “What’s your name, soldier?” she asked him. His blue eyes lit up and his eyebrows rose playfully. “You’re falling for me already?” he said in mock astonishment, “I’ve heard of nurses falling for their patients but never this quickly.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I need it for the medical records, you twit,” she said, her voice impatient. “Ah, right. You know, I’ve noticed that you like to call people names, some of which, I might add, are quite impressive. I especially liked the ‘ pig-headed, son-of-a-cow’ comment.” “Your name, please.” Apparently Logan was amusing her because now there was a smile on her face. “Well, if you insist.” He paused a moment to annoy her a little more. “It’s Logan Winchester.” “Thank you,” she said, typing it into her scanner. “Winchester, like the rifle.” “You know your history.” Logan said, in real astonishment this time. “So do you, apparently.” “Well, it is my name after all. It’s just a little surprising, is all.” The red-headed girl stood up and turned to leave. She stopped at the cell door, though. “Until tomorrow then, Mr. Winchester,” she said. “Call me Logan.” He prayed he hadn’t overstepped the line. “Logan,” she repeated softly, and then she left. Logan laid his head against the dirt wall as the sound of metal-on-metal as the door to the cell closed rang in his ears. “I never expected to find kindness in this place,” he said to himself.

*

The red-headed girl came back the next morning, just like she said she would. “Feeling any better today?” she asked. “Eh.” He shrugged, causing a little wave of pain to spiral around his torso. “My arm is better but my ribs are killing me.” He pushed himself off the wall into a more comfortable position. “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything about them. I can, however, give you something for the pain.” “I’ll take anything you can give me.” She reached into her bag a pulled out a shiny object. Everything she had seemed to be shiny, Logan thought to himself. “Give me your arm.” Logan obliged without protest, though it did cause him a little amount of pain. She pushed a small button on the side and a long needle came out of the end. Logan suddenly felt a lump forming in his throat. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of needles.” “I’m not. They just unsettle me. There is a difference.” The girl shook her head and smiled while the syringe penetrated the vein in his arm and she administered the green liquid. “What was that stuff?” he asked, immediately feeling the pain lessen. “Zenophylene, it helps to numb the pain,” she replied. “I can see that.” A shout suddenly rang out from somewhere behind her. “Chief Nurse!” a soldier yelled. “Colonel Walker isn’t here,” the girl said, turning to face the soldier. “I’m looking for Lieutenant O’Hara. Do you know where I can find her?” he asked. “Aye,” she replied, “you’re looking right at her.” “The Commander wants to see you right away.” He marched off again leaving the girl looking confused. “What does he want now?” she mumbled to herself. Logan watched as she snatched up her bag off the ground and looked at him. “I’ll be back later, Logan. Try not to provoke anymore guards today,” she said playfully. She flounced off angrily, her copper waves bouncing, and Logan waited for her to return.

*

When the girl returned she was walking briskly, looking even angrier than before. She checked on a few other prisoners before coming into his cell. “Something’s wrong.” It was a statement, not a question. “It’s nothing, I just…got promoted,” she said sulkily. “And that’s a bad thing?” Logan was confused as to why she would be angry about being promoted. He now noticed the Rebels Colonel stripes on her sleeve. “It’s…,” She paused for a moment, “complicated.” “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” he said gesturing to the imprisoning metal bars. All of a sudden, she became overcome with emotion and she started pouring out her life’s story. She told him little of her childhood, but explained the reason she had joined the army, and revealed that The Commander was actually her brother. The only reason she’d joined the army was because her mother had begged her to look after her brother. Apparently, even though he was older, she was the mature one. But she had never been a leader, and now her brother had made her Chief Nurse, and it was overwhelming her with the prospect of her new responsibilities. After she was finished, he thought for a moment. “There is still one thing I don’t know about you,” he said. “What?” “I don’t know your name,” he said plainly. “I think I should be able to thank the first Rebel that’s ever been kind to me properly.” A look of embarrassment washed over her face. “Forgive me, I suppose I never properly introduced myself.” She stretched out her hand to shake his. “I’m Amber.” He grasped her hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you Amber,” he said. “So, Amber, why do you hate this war so much?” “My father was killed five years ago in this war. If I could stop it, I would. But I don’t know how. And I definitely can’t do it on my own,” Amber said. She looked down at the ground for a moment, “I want to reunite this country more than anything, but I just don’t know how.” Logan watched as tears came into her eyes. “I think I can help you with that,” he said. “How?” There was obvious skepticism in her voice. “I know some people, up North, who feel the same as you do, and as I do,” he said slowly, “They have, over the past few years, been putting together and organization to try to stop The War. All they need are people from the South to join them. I myself have already joined them.” “How could you have joined? You’re in the army fighting this war,” she said in confusion. “I was drafted into the army, Amber,” he said plainly. “I’m fighting against my own will. Many of the others who were drafted have joined The Resistance.” “How old are you, Logan?” she asked. It was a little off subject but he decided to oblige her. “Eighteen.” His answer threw her off-guard slightly. “And what about you? You’re already a Colonel, you’ve got to be over twenty-one, at least.” Amber smiled in amusement. “I’m only seventeen, Logan.” He tried to hide his shock, but did so unsuccessfully. “Well…” He coughed, “that’s quite an accomplishment.” “Thank you,” she said, laughing as his voice cracked a few times. “So, what do you say?” He raised his hands in a wide gesture. “Does The Resistance sound appealing to you?” “It sounds interesting, but what can we really do? How would we change anything?” Truthfully, though Logan did not know it, Amber was skeptical of this “Resistance’s” existence at all. “Some of the members are high up in the army’s inner-circle. They have a lot of influence with the big-wigs.” Amber sat deep in thought for a while and then stood up. “I’ll think about it,” she said, turning to leave. “Good.” Logan paused for a moment, “It’s good to have a friend.” Amber stopped in the doorway and turned, a smile on her face. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

__Chapter 3__ Infiltration

Charleston, South Carolina

When Nikki Skylark first received The High Commanders call, she’d been worried. He never called her into his office unless it was a matter of life or death. The Second Confederacy was his life, and he did everything he could to protect it. Whatever it was he wanted now, Nikki was sure it would be of dire importance. She traversed the familiar hallways and found the correct staircase that she seldom ever used. The High Commander was somewhat old-fashioned, (probably more like an ancient old man), so all that lit the staircase were flickering candles resting in turrets along the spiraling wall. When she reached the landing at the top she knocked three times on the large, wooden door, as was regulation with The High Commander. She heard a voice call from within. “Enter,” it said. Nikki opened the oak door and entered The Tower Study. The High Commander was seated behind hid old maple desk in his scarlet red, high-backed chair. His wrinkled face and wispy, white hair gave him a fragile and ancient look. But his youthful passion and determination was reflected in his intense, crystal blue eyes. “You called me, High Commander?” Nikki said, giving a respectful, and customary, bow. “Yes, Nikki.” His voice was hoarse and rough, but an underlying forcefulness would command the attention of an entire room if needed. “I have received some very disturbing news on this day. It seems that Yankee,” He spat the word, “troops have infiltrated one of our outposts near The Wall.” “How, Sir?” Nikki asked incredulously. “My sources say that they believe the Yankees feigned a skirmish in order to geo their own captured and inside the out post. Their purpose is to gain intelligence and to poison the minds of our brave, young men and women at arms.” Whenever he spoke of the troops in the field fighting for The Cause, his voice always took on a grandiose air. “Poison? How?” Nikki was a little confused as to how anyone could poison //their// minds. “The Yankees are trying to convince them that Unity is better than The War!” he said angrily, slamming a fist on the table. “We know this to be a scandalous falsehood! They want to lure them into a false sense of security by acting like their friends. Then, when they’ve got them where they want them, they’ll kill them all in their beds like cowards!” “What would you like me to do, Sir?” Nikki stood up straight in a militaristic manner. “I can’t trust anyone else with this sacred mission,” he said, his voice quieter and more mysterious. “I want to go up to Virginia undercover, infiltrate the outpost, and stop this blasphemy.” “I will go as soon as possible,” she said. “Good.” Nikki turned to leave and as she turned to go The High Commander spoke. “You will be rewarded handsomely, Nikki. Make no mistake.” Nikki nodded sharply. “Thank you…” She paused, deciding what was best to say, “father.”

END OF PART ONE….