Rising From the Ashes :1: Updated

Chapter One

With my eyes wide, I stand on the edge of the circle, watching as my powerfully muscled father grappled with a man half his size. The sun shimmered brightly in my father’s flowing, coal-black mane as he swung around and slammed his balled fist, muscles standing rigid along his arm, into the other man’s jaw. Blood flew as the man’s head whipped back with a sickening crunch. His uniform turning red as the blood soaked into the thick cotton fibers. He fell to the ground on his back, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sullen spring sky.

Standing over him, sweat gliding down his face, his mouth turned downward into a hard line, my father stared. Silence swept over the small crowd that had gathered and it remained until my father lifted his gaze. His dark blue eyes swept the crowd and he lifted his arms, palms skyward. As he spoke, every eye fell upon him and only him.

“These are the people we fear?!” my father’s voice was deep and resonant. It drove straight into a person’s mind and demanded… no, commanded, attention. He was not a man others messed with, nor did they dare to mess with his family.

I watched him silently, my mouth slightly open at his audacity, his disregard for the consequences of his actions, and his bravery. Ever since I could remember, I dreamt of being just like him, willing to face down the unbelievable odds and come out victorious. But, even at the tender age of ten, I knew he was in grave danger. Those in charge would take notice and they would come for him.

“Why do we fear these frail beings?” my father spoke softer, his gaze locking with the eyes of every man, woman, and child watching him, “They are no more than human, like us. Only, unlike us, they rule by fear and threat. They treat all others as though they are beneath them.”

A strong hand gripped my shoulder as I watched my father and those who listened. I squeaked in both surprise and protest as I was dragged backwards, away from the spectacle of my father. Looking up, I spotted the grim visage of my mother. Her dark gaze was directed at my father, but there was nothing but concern in the dark brown depths of her gaze.

“Mom! I wanted to hear dad,” I protested, but she put a finger to my lips and shook her head solemnly. The dark brown tail of hair flipped back and forth with the motion and I went silent. Rarely did my mother stop me from speaking because I rarely spoke, but when she did, I knew it was serious.

Turning, I followed her, gripping her hand tightly, even as I looked back over my shoulder at the small crowd of people. I could no longer see my father, but his voice was as clear as though I had remained standing there, on the edge of the ring. I could hear him, rallying the people of the Wilds into something forbidden; something that could get a lot of people hurt, or worse. And my heart swelled with pride.

Mom and I waited for him that night. We sat at the kitchen table, our eyes staring at the pieces of the game between us. Neither of us had made a move in over an hour. It was simply our way of going through the motions of waiting without panicking. I’d never seen my mother panic and doubted I ever would. Both she and my father were made of stronger stuff. I, on the other hand, had panic attacks at regular intervals. It was a condition that had made me unfavorable to those who controlled our lives.

That night dragged on endlessly. My father never came home and, by morning, there was a parcel sitting on the front stoop of our tidy little home. It contained my father’s few belongings, the ones that he always had with him. Wedding ring, Bible, and a small stone I had given him when I was a toddler. Seeing those things, tossed haphazardly into a package, one of my attacks edged into being and I ran. Mom’s clear voice shouted after me, but I ignored her, running until my legs hurt and the breaths were ragged coming from my lungs. I stopped when I reached the fence, gripping the chain link tightly as I leaned down, my throat raw and my face tight from dried tears. The fear that surrounded me was nearly palpable. I felt as though I could reach out and touch it.

Releasing the fence, I dropped to my knees and curled up into the fetal position, my dark hair sweeping out from my head and onto the moist ground as I succumbed to the anxiety inside of me.


***  


Seven years later I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, pulling my long black hair back from my face and tugging it into a high tail. Wisps of hair slipped from the smooth sides and top. I didn’t bother flattening them down. I’ve never really cared what others think of me.

Turning from my reflection, I grabbed my schoolbag and slung it over my shoulder. Jogging through the door into my bedroom I made my way toward the front door. My mom stopped me on the way and tossed me a paper bag. Grinning at her, I waved my goodbye and pushed through the door into the spring sunshine.

Stopping on the front stoop I turned to shut the door. It was plain wood with our house number etched into it. It was mirrored all around me and up and down the street. All of the houses were wood constructs, only the varying ages of darkening marked differences between them. The yards alone were completely different. It seemed no one, at least in Cheyenne Hill, wanted to be exactly like their neighbor.  Some had fences while others were plain grass and flowers. Mom replanted our yard Dad’s disappearance.  As I turned I looked at the brilliant mixture of white, orange, yellow, and purple that ran the length of the yard. A small Maple tree sat in the center of the left side with a ring of stones around its base. This tree represented my father, strong and stalwart against the strongest of winds. I hated to think about it but Mom has always told me that it is important to think about my father and his sacrifice for us all. I didn’t see much point to the sacrifice of his life. Everyone had simply moved on, as they always do following a disappearance.

Walking past the tree, I looked at its rough bark and sighed. Tied around the trunk was a bright red ribbon curling into a pretty bow. A small flag of defiance in the faces of the Regime. My mother was pushing her luck again. But, then again, she always does at this time of the year. Putting the small memorial to my father out of my mind, I pushed through the front gate and stepped out onto the cracked and broken sidewalk. The street was silent with only the sounds of birds and insects calling out to one another. This silence was broken when my neighbor from two houses down called out to me.

“Calleigh!” William’s voice tore through the silence like a knife cutting string. It seemed too loud and harsh. Still, I looked up and grinned at him. William Yellowfeather and I had been friends since we were two years old. He had never let me down and I hoped to never let him down again.  

William mirrored every man in Cheyenne Hill. He had deep, dark brown hair, deeply tanned olive skin, dark brown eyes, and high cheekbones. He was well muscled for his age, due to his excessive interest in working out, so all of that coalesced into chiseled good looks that drew the attention of every girl in our class.

“Morning Will,” I greeted in return, softer and more gently than his yell. Most people described us as exact opposites. I was quiet, shy, and calm, often being compared to my surname of Clearwater because of this fact while William was… well, Will was loud, charismatic, and an all-around fun-loving guy.

“Ready for the adventure of a lifetime?” Will asked and I put my finger to his lips to make him quiet down. The last thing we wanted the Regional Police to hear was that we were planning upon leaving the confines of our ‘safe little village’.

“Yes, but we’ll be going nowhere but the detention center if you don’t pipe down,” I chastised, smirking at his apologetic look.

The detention center is a cluster of five buildings nestled in the center of a large chain-link fence that is topped by barbed wire. I’d never been inside that fence and neither has Will, but we had met a few people who had been. Their horror stories were enough to keep you awake well into the dawn’s light. That was how the Regime operated. They didn’t bother with public executions or beatings to deal with their unruly populace. They let the rumor mill fuel the fear and, if it seemed as though that was not having the desired effect, they made a show of taking several people off the streets for no reason and tossing them into the detention center for a week or more. When those people came out, we were reminded why we should be very afraid of garnering the attention of the Regional Police.

“Sorry about that,” Will apologized with a slight shrug of his shoulders. His bag lifted up and down on his smooth back and I caught myself watching with baited breath.  

“Apology accepted,” I laughed lightly, brushing hair from my face as we started to walk once more.

Our path to the school would take us past the village center. Will and I walked side by side, keeping our distance from the others walking in the same direction. The village center was a six block radius of government buildings, hospital, and shopping complex. It was roughly circular in structure and hemmed in by four streets and one tall, chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Only people with official business were allowed inside. The shopping complex was for government employees only except on Saturdays. Residents of Cheyenne Hill were given an allotment of clothing, food, and essential items each week by the government. These items were delivered to our doorsteps. There was little reason for us to venture past the high fence and into the lion’s den of the center.

I kept my head down as we walked past the large, rolling gate that crossed the first western street. The guards paid us no mind at this gate. They were too busy trying to control a man who had been to the detention facilities one too many times. The doctors there had done something to his brain and he now seemed to have the delusion that he was an official from someplace called Russia. The only Russia I’d ever heard of was a country that no longer existed; it had been blown off the map like so many others well over three hundred years ago.  At least, that was what our Regime-approved text books said. One had to take the ‘facts’ in those books with a heavy dose of healthy cynicism. The further we walked past the first of the two western gates, the quieter it got.

Looking up, I watched as men and women milled about. A number of the women were dressed in clothing my mother would call inappropriate attire. They were selling themselves for food and whatever else they may need. Most likely drugs or alcohol, both of which are highly illegal in the Wild. However, when your clients were the same men and women who made those laws, you were most likely safe from prosecution.

William reached out and pulled me closer as we reached the second gate. It had two guards patrolling it and neither of them was busy. The older guard, a man with graying blond hair and a scar running the length of his face from his left temple to his chin, looked up at us. He did not react to our presence other than to watch us as we walked toward them. His partner, however, had a look on his face that I had seen several times. It was one of predatory interest. He was one of the Regional Police officers that all of the girls of Cheyenne Hill had been warned about our entire lives. He was the third one I’ve met in my seventeen years.

We tried to walk past, quiet and meek like good little residents. But he was having none of that. Before we made it halfway past the gate, he stepped out and I could smell the weed on his breath as he bent down to look at me. I’m not a wimp or a push over, but I know better than to show my strength to a guard of the village center. I sank into William’s arms and watched the guard’s twisted mouth through my eyelashes, praying the anger I felt inside was not visible on my face.

“What have we here? Two delinquents, late for school?”  he asked and I looked at him, pretending to be scared.

“School doesn’t start for another half an hour,” William answered, his grip tightening on my shoulders as he tried to scoot us around the guard.

“You contradicting me, boy?” the man snapped and I caught sight of a row of crooked teeth in his mouth. They were darkened by the weed he’d been smoking. It was called Devil’s Weed and was expensive to buy and deadly to smoke. I wished he would drop dead right now of a heart attack brought on by the stuff.

“No sir,” William answered softly. It was horrible, hearing that gentle reply coming from a man the size of William.

“Good,” the guard nodded and stood up straight, bouncing his baton on his shoulder as he walked around us.

Shivers ran down my back as he came up behind me. I felt him there and knew what was about to happen. Without thinking, I pulled myself away from William and spun, slamming the guard with my backpack in the process. It was full of books, an e-tablet, and paraphernalia for our trip into the woods. The guard moved back from the impact but did not go down and I stepped back from the twisted look of hate that showed on his face. I no longer had to feign fear as dread filled my stomach and crept throughout my body. My heart was pounding and my head swimming. I had just hit a Regional Police officer. There was no worse crime, in their eyes.

“Hey! Jaxon, leave them alone!” the older guard snarled as he approached. He stepped between us as his partner, Jaxon, regained his balance and made to step forward and, no doubt, grab my arm.

“Mack, didn’t you see that? She hit me!” Jaxon snapped and the older man crossed his arms, looking over his shoulder at me. I swear he winked and smirked before his expression turned cold again and he looked back at his young partner.

“Looked to me like you got too close and she turned,” Mack answered, “You need to remember that these kids only have real books in those bags, you’ll get a broken nose next time.”

Jaxon snarled but relented, stepping back and straightening his back as he looked over at us. I tried hard to look repentant, but I knew it was a lost cause. William and I had just made an enemy out of a Regional Police officer and a guard of the village center at that. We would have to avoid this gate from now on. That meant walking through the underground, a tunnel that ran beneath the village streets and was home to every misfit and deranged citizen Cheyenne Hill had to offer.

“You two go on now, before you really are late to school,” Mack had turned on his heel and was looking at us.

“Yes sir,” William took my hand and turned, pulling me after him. I followed without complaint, my heart racing from the altercation. I felt as though I could run the remaining distance to school. But William maintained a calm, steady pace though I could feel his heart was pounding as well.    

As we reached the empty lot beside the school grounds, William and I released twin breaths. Boys and girls ranging from the age of six to eighteen milled about us, all dressed in vibrant, bright colors. It was the latest style, one that I had no interest in, preferring to keep to soft earth tones. A few of our classmates looked at us, noting our entwined fingers, there would be rumors today but I didn’t care. The guard had scared me badly and I needed the comfort of William’s strong, warm hand. I hated it when we had to part ways.

Over the course of the first class, I calmed down and was able to focus on the good things in life. Namely in William and I going into the woods that day. I tried to pay attention to classes, but as usual they were pointless. History reiterated the story of how our ancestors had been thwarted in an attempt to over through the Regime. The teacher made certain to highlight every battle where they were soundly pummeled. Never did we hear stories of the battles our ancestors had won. It still amazed me that, just under two hundred years ago, our ancestors had tried to do the unthinkable. They had tried to remove the Head Magistrate from office and return the Nation to a government controlled by the people who lived in it. Of course, they had failed. The Regime had a well-trained army with top-of-the-line war machines while the revolutionaries had only handheld weapons and whatever else they could find. Still, they had given it their all. In the end, it hadn’t been enough and the Wilds had been formed. Those who were not deemed traitors and put to death instantly were transferred to the five hundred mile stretch of land that separated the Nation from Canada.

My biology class, on the other hand, was fascinating. Mr. Graystone lectured on the different aspects of the biology and anatomy of the stagwolf, a creature that had not existed prior to the war. One of the Regime’s genetically altered creatures, the stagwolf stands four feet at the shoulder with broad front quarters and narrow hind quarters. Razor sharp antlers protrude from its skull while equally sharp teeth fill its muzzle. During the war, these creatures were released into the midst of the camps of the revolutionaries, devouring everything within reach. Today they live in harmony within the dense woods that surround and separate the five villages from one another. It seems the Regime released them into the Wilds as a means of keeping people in their designated villages. It wasn’t going to work with me, but I know many of my fellow students fear the creatures and refuse to go into the woods because of them, among other things.

By the time lunch came around, I was getting antsy. My legs ached from all the sitting and my back hurt from being hunched over a desk all day long. I practically jogged through the halls, my backpack bouncing up and down on my back as I went. Kids stood around their lockers idly chatting with their friends. Mostly the top of the conversations was the Nation and how much ‘cooler’ it must be than the Wilds. I rolled my eyes at this. I was probably the only one who thought the cities of the Nation sounded more like a prison than freedom. A thought that will never be spoken aloud while within the confines of the school or on a village street. That is a thought that could easily get me taken to the detention center and reminded of just why I was a citizen of the Wilds.

Entering the confusion of the cafeteria, I stood up on the balls of my feet to look over the students taking their seats at the long tables. At five feet four inches I am not the tallest girl in my class, but I’m also not the shortest. Still it was not easy to see over all of those heads. When I finally spotted Will, I was disappointed to see him sitting with the other athletes. I don’t know why I always feel this way. I’m not a selfish person normally but when it comes to Will, I want him to be mine and mine alone. Shaking the feeling off, I turned and headed for the table of misfits near the back. I was popular enough to fit in with anyone I chose, but the misfits were more entertaining.

“Hey Calla Lily,” Jeremy Rosewood greeted me with a hand in the air, unmoving.

Waving, I shook my head at the old nickname. When I had told Jeremy and his little band of trouble makers my name, he’d been a little under the weather. He had thought I’d said Calla instead of Calleigh. Ever since, he had insisted upon calling me Calla Lily, a flower I didn’t even like. The rest of the table simply nodded their heads in greeting before looking back at Jeremy.

I followed their gazes and took in his round face, full lips, and hooked nose. His dark eyes glittered with a mischievous light as he looked back at us all. He leaned forward and the earrings in his left ear, at least a dozen of them, jingled as they hit one another with the movement.

“I’ve got a plan to ruin the Nation-ites’ day,” Jeremy boasted as he swept a strand of hair back behind his ear.

“Really? What is it?” Michelle Snowbird asked. She leaned forward eagerly and her blond-tipped hair swept the table. The fashion for those who did not want to conform was to get piercings like Jeremy or to die their hair different colors. It seemed like telling the Regional Police to come get me, as far as I was concerned and wanted to take no part of it.

“We’re gonna show ‘em all what it’s like to be a National,” Jeremy stated. He did not elaborate and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Oh, come on, don’t hold us in suspense, man,” David Blackcrow pushed.

Before Jeremy could respond, a strong hand settled on my shoulder and I looked up to find Will standing behind me. His eyes were dancing with the barely concealed excitement.

“Hey Calleigh, the guys and I are going to go out and practice, you want to come with and watch?” Will asked it lightly but he was glancing at the table of misfits around me with concern.

“Sure,” I stood up and waved at the little group. Each waved back at me in turn before I followed Will out of the cafeteria with his arm slung around my shoulders lazily. His group of friends formed a half circle around us and I ignored their conversations about sports, working out, and possible joining the Regional Police. Okay, that last one was new.

“Wait, what?” I looked at them all in shock, “You want to join up?”

The Regional Police are exactly what their name implies, our police force. Unfortunately they had bypassed the whole “Protect and serve” part of the orientation and gone straight to “We’re stronger, faster, and armed with nobody to tell us we’re being too forceful with you”. Everyone in Cheyenne Hill was terrified of having an officer appear on their front stoop, with good reason. There was little crime in Cheyenne Hill and to have a uniformed officer show up at your home meant only one thing, that you or someone you loved was in serious trouble.

“Well, Cal, there aren’t a lot of choices, you know?” Will’s used of the old nickname was a warning. He didn’t want me to blurt out something I shouldn’t and gain unwanted attention.

“I know, but the police? Doesn’t that mean you might… you know, have to leave Cheyenne Hill?” I asked. I was trying to push it off as a friend not wanting to lose her best friend after school was over. It was a stupid question though, since there was no way the Regime would allow an officer from Cheyenne Hill remain in Cheyenne Hill. You couldn’t terrify the people you loved.

“Well, training happens in Old Detriot then you receive your orders and placement from the brass at Regional Police Headquarters in Indianapolis,” Will explained and I nodded along stupidly. He had actually learned about it and that meant he was seriously considering it, not just humoring his friends.

“I see…” I didn’t actually understand at all. Will was like me or always had been. Neither of us had ever wanted to do anything for the Nation. I loathed the Regime and I thought he did too. Maybe I was wrong.

I didn’t speak again as we made our way to the field. Will and the guys split off as I went up into the bleachers to watch. Slinging my backpack against the long wooden bench, I flopped down and propped my feet up on the bench in front of me, watching as they split up into teams and started to play an impromptu game of Hardball. I watched for the first few minutes then got bored and reached into my bag, past the supplies for the journey into the woods, and pulled out my tablet. Queuing up the novel for English class, a novel called Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, I started to read. The story wasn’t really something I enjoyed. I simply had no choice in what we were to read.

Ten minutes before the bell rang to end lunch, Will was at my elbow, his heavy breathing warming my neck and moving my hair. More strands had fallen free of the band at the back of my head but I ignored them and looked up at his flushed face.

“Let’s get out of here,” Will’s suggestion made my heart surge and I grabbed by bag, dropping the tablet back into it and zipping it closed, before following him down the bleachers toward the grass.

Leaving school is always easy. They never consider the idea of anyone being brave or stupid enough to wander about during the day without permission. We walked off of the school grounds and made our way along the sidewalks toward the north end of Cheyenne Hill. It was not a far walk, the village was only about ten miles across, but we moved with caution. If a Regional Police car appeared, we were both in a lot of trouble. I looked down at the band around my wrist. It was metal and held a computer chip within its glossy form, a chip that held my life’s story on it for all to see, if they had the proper equipment. That chip would also betray us as playing hooky, should an officer show up.

“Wish there was some way to hack into those things,” Will’s comment startled me and I looked up at him curiously.

“Thought you were slipping into the fold,” I quipped and he stopped walking, pulling me back into a shadowed alley as a black and white cruiser turned the far corner.

“I was just talking,” Will stated but I could tell he was not so sure himself, “I can’t have my buddies thinking I've gone rogue.”

Going rogue is the same as being a traitor because you are refusing to do as you are supposed to and the Regime takes that very seriously. I looked up at him and waited for him to elaborate.

“Have you ever thought about what you are going to do after school ends this year?” Will asked.

I took a moment to think about it, watching as the cruiser slid past silently. Its red lights were darkened and the officer behind the wheel looked uninterested in doing his job today. Probably a good thing. If he had looked to the left he would have seen Will’s bright shirt clear as day.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” I admitted as I reached down into my bag and pulled out one of my father’s old shirts. It was dark brown button down that would blend in with the trees. I tossed it at him and he caught it deftly.

“They’re going to ask and you can’t say you don’t know, Calleigh,” Will reminded me and I fought the urge to snort and roll my eyes. He was right of course. People that didn’t know what they wanted to do after school ended were sent off to do menial jobs like clean up after all the kids have gone home from school or push papers around in the mail room of the detention center.

“I know Will, but I have no idea what I would be good at or even like doing,” I stated. He looked down at me and sighed slightly before reaching out and gripping my shoulders.

“You’re excellent in math and science, you could have a career in the Nation,” Will’s words drove into my heart and I felt an explosion of anxiety at the mere thought of being shoved into one of the Nation’s cities with all those people. Instead of giving into the fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm me if I allowed them freedom, I turned to anger.

Shoving his hands off of my shoulders, I turned and stalked out of the alley to return to my original heading of north, “Will Yellowfeather, you don’t know me very well to have made such a suggestion.”

“You can beat the anxiety, Cal,” Will pushed, keeping pace with my short strides easily.

“No, I can’t,” I snapped, “And I don’t want to. I like it here, this is my home, Will.”

“I know that, but you can’t do anything here with that brilliant brain of yours,” Will continued, “No matter what, if you want to do something that requires training, you’re going to have to face that fear of yours and go into the Nation.”

“Just drop it,” I snarled, cutting the air with my hand. I was disgusted to see and feel it shaking.

“Cal, I can’t. If I do, then I’ll lose you forever,” Will grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a stop, “I don’t want that to happen.”

I didn’t say anything, I just stared up at him. A flurry of emotions was running through my head as I heard those words echoing about in my brain. Had he actually said that? What did it mean? We were friends, nothing more. We had never wanted anything more, or so I had thought. But I’d also thought he’d never seriously consider joining the ranks of the Regional Police.

After a few more seconds of my silence, Will sighed and turned, still holding my wrist. Without argument, I followed him as the thoughts continued to swirl about in my head. Before I knew what was happening, we had reached the north end of town and were hiding behind a dumpster. The pavement turned into dirt directly behind the final row of buildings. These buildings were made of brick and formed an impenetrable fence around our village. There were no back doors or windows in them and they were all connected to one another.  Two Regional Police officers stood at the exit, staring out into the woods. Neither of them looked thrilled about their positions.

Will pointed up and I nodded. We climbed the fire escape ladder that clung to the side of the brick structure until we reached the flat roof. Looking around, I spotted what I wanted and walked to the edge. As Will reached my side, I looked down at the two officers and considered where it would be best to send the distraction. Deciding that it was safest to send them to the south, I drew back my arm and let the piece of brick fly. As soon as I heard it hit the third building down, I ducked down. Both guards went to investigate.

“Well trained,” Will mouthed and rolled his eyes before turning and running to the ladder. I followed him and we were both back on the concrete. Darting around the edge of the building we looked down to the south and watched as the guards ambled toward the piece of brick. Once they were around it and completely engrossed in the piece of refuse, Will and I ran for it. Halfway between the edge of the village and the woods was an old tank. No one knew what this tank used to hold or why it was still sitting there, but I took it as a sign that we were supposed to break this silly rule.

Ducking behind it and getting to the end, we watched as the guards argued and stared up at the edge of the building. Clearly they thought the brick had fallen from the building’s edge. When it was obvious they were not returning to their post any time soon, Will and I made our way across the weedy meadow and into the dense woods. The moment my feet touched the thick pine needle-laden floor, I breathed deeply and relaxed completely. This was where I belonged.