DEAD FREEDOM: Part One

Part 1
Quietly I crept around the corner, careful to avoid the lights, and ran as fast as I could until I reached the gymnasium doors. Here came the difficult part, picking the lock, practicing every night for a week didn’t seem to help much. Cursing softly until finally a faint click let the chain and padlock fall to my feet did a sense of relief and accomplishment rush through me. I start running inside as the spot light came swinging around again, pulling my supplies from my bag. Several cans of paint ringing as they bounced together to my pace. Thank goodness they didn’t have any guards at night or surely the noise would have been alerted them to my presence by now.
As I reach the first wall, the victim of my desire to inform the children of the world that came before them, I momentarily feel a little guilty. This was the school I’d gone to as a child and I was going to defile it with blood red graffiti. I hastily remind myself that what I’m doing will do more good than harm for those who will have to clean it. Pulling my scarf up over my nose and mouth to protect myself from inhaling the pain, I grab the stencil of the famous painting of George Washington on the bow of the boat as he crossed the Delaware. I spray a generous amount of sticky red paint over it until I know it’ll withstand all the scrubbing it’ll face when the teachers are forced to remove it. Peeling the stencil away I admire my work for a moment then out to the side in black I spray the date 1776. It wasn’t the most logical piece of artwork to start with, but it was my favorite when I was learning about the revolution. I continue down the halls stopping when I find a wall big enough to hold my painted fragments of history.
In the main lobby of the building I get to work on my biggest work the Bill of Rights. These stencils were the most painstaking to make, so carefully I unroll the large pieces of cardboard onto the floor. Before I start painting I check my watch, another 5 minutes and the silencers would be here. Trying hard to contain my fear I quickly spray layer on layer of words, by the time I reach the eighth amendment I hear it, the hum of electricity. They were already here and their stun guns poised probably waiting for the order to shoot as soon as I run. I stood little chance of getting away, but I couldn’t run until the tenth, and probably the most important, amendment was written. As quickly as I can I spray the paint lightly over the stencil, saddened by the knowledge that the last two will be the easiest to scrub clean. I stand there looking at the bill, wanting it to be the last thing I see before they knock me unconscious and probably kill me, but they don’t do anything. I know I hear the crackling of electricity.
“I know you’re there I can hear the stun guns.” I say softly into the darkness. There’s nothing but quiet and for a moment I begin to seriously doubt myself, then a response comes.
“Finish.” Dumfounded I didn’t understand what he meant at first then it clicked. He wanted me to finish the last two coats of paint over the ninth and tenth amendments. He worked for the government, but he was a sympathizer, afraid to switch sides. I do as he asks, grateful I have the opportunity even if I will be captured the moment I finish.
I step back looking at the work then drop the can of paint placing my hands behind my head. I refuse to betray the man’s kindness by attempting to run. He risked enough letting me finish. A large group of men dressed all in black and a frightening array of weapons and gear rush forward pushing me to the ground handcuffing my hands behind my back. I walk with them out of the school and see the oversized jet black van the silencers are known for and I feel my stomach tightening up so badly I’m afraid I might vomit. I chant to myself I chose this, I chose to fight hoping to calm my nerves some. I knew my acts would mean death, but it’s much different to know something than to face it.
Silently they lift me up into the van. Securing my seatbelt one of the men, probably no older than me, pulls my scarf down from my nose and mouth. He has such a sad smile as he looks at me. Vaguely he looks familiar, like someone I may have gone to school with, but it had been such a long time since I’d seen many of my old classmates I can’t be sure.
“Ms. Johnson, my art teacher from high school, would be appalled to see you doing graffiti ‘true art takes time it can’t be just slapped up on any surface in a single color.’“ The young man whispered as he checked me for weapons and identification. Suddenly it clicked, I remembered, he was the first upperclassman I’d met when I got to high school, Scottie Mayer. I felt bad not remembering Scottie on sight, but it’d been almost ten years since I’d last seen him. I wanted to hug him, tell him not to be sad for me, that I chose this, to joke with him and tell him he’d done a horrible job keeping in touch, but I couldn’t do any of that without putting him in danger.
Instead I gave him the same sad smile and said quietly, “I’m sure your teacher would forgive this one transgression since it’s the content that matters rather than the quality in this instance.” Scottie looked up at me as he was restraining my feet to the bench I’d been placed on. His eyes looked even sadder than before as if he were trying to say, “But that content is going to get you killed.” She tried to smile more and whispered, “Besides my art was never that good anyways.” Scottie couldn’t help but grin a little. We both knew “never that good” wasn’t even close to how terrible my art was. As he finished securing me to my seat in every way possible he swept my hair to the side and pulled out a small syringe. I tensed up not knowing what was in the needle, afraid that this would be it, but as he leaned down he whispered even softer, “I never actually noticed the art I only ever saw you.” I was so stunned I didn’t even feel the needle enter my skin. I started to feel dizzy immediately, the drug obviously moving fast with my heart rate up both from fear and my childhood crush’s confession. I wish I had been able to answer him before everything went dark, to tell him I had felt the same, but I couldn’t seem to make any part of me work. I just saw his sad smile and felt a few warm tears slide down my cheeks.


Waking up after you’ve been drugged has got to be one of the worst feelings. My head felt like it was being ripped in half by the worst headache I’ve ever experienced. Then the fear set in of not knowing where I was, my lack of memory of how I got where I was, and why I was strapped down to a table. Then as my mind started to wake up I remembered slowly. Leaving my parent’s home, living in an abandoned dance studio for weeks, making my first plan of rebellion, and then after two months finally carrying it out only to be caught. Quietly I berated myself for getting caught after only one tiny act of insurgence. I only laid there for a few minutes before a doctor came in and began to look over my body. It wasn’t until he’d arrived that my brain realized it was naked. My cheeks turned scarlet, even though there didn’t appear to be any reason to be embarrassed, this man was a doctor and his cold indifference to seeing me naked should have been enough to fight back the embarrassment.
The doctor pointed with a small tattooed feather on my hip and asked, “This tattoo when did you receive it? The one on your back as well while you’re answering.” Did they really think I would sell out anyone who’d given me a tattoo? Since the dark times began many laws had been passed outlawing many different forms of self-expression. The government would make sure there was no possible way to rebel against them, no rallying point to speak of.
“I’ve had both since long before it was outlawed.” I answered just as coldly though the fact that I had to answer the question at all irritated me.
“Is this your natural hair color? We found traces of chemicals indicating it is not.” He asked scribbling something on his clipboard.
“It is my natural color. I tried to dye it all red many months ago, but the color faded returning to its natural reddish brown.”
He scribbled again and asked, “And would you state for the record what your name, date of birth, and identification number.”
I sighed and answered, “No, I will not. I will have no grave, nor will anyone who cares know of my death, so I see no purpose in telling you any of that.” I didn’t much care if they knew my name or not, it was a moot point really, but I didn’t want them questioning my friends and family about my activity. I would rather my family live thinking I was hidden away somewhere, or had run away to another country, than them know the ugly truth of my death.
“The law requires you to state your information for the record.” The doctor said continuing in his cold and uncaring tone.
“The law requires me not to mention the history of our country prior to the twentieth century, or to spray paint on government property, but I did both of those. I again for the record refuse to give my information.” I said sarcastically. If I’m going to die I will at least go out fighting.
This time it was the doctor who sighed, “Listen little girl, you and I both know you’re going to die. There is no point to keep up this bravado, no one is going to see it, and if anyone did no one would care. We already know your information, it wasn’t very smart to make your own school your target I must say, and they will question your friends and family. So long as they have nothing to hide they will be fine I assure you. We only need you to state your information for the record to show you did not die when you were captured.”
“Why do you need to know I didn’t die when I was captured? Rather what does it matter what I say I’m talking aren’t I? That should be proof enough.” I asked confused.
“Because it would have been an inhumane death to kill you on site, and using lethal injection is considered more humane. We need you to state your information to voice verify your identity with the record we have when you received your identification number.” The doctor explained pinching the bridge of his nose, apparently becoming frustrated, not that I particularly cared.
“I see. Well I still refuse to give my information.” I answered stubbornly.
“So be it then. You may allow him in now.” The doctor called. Ice seemed to run through my veins as I realized they were going to actually torture the information out of me. I looked over toward the door as it opened and my heart seemed to stop as Scottie walked in. I couldn’t fathom the possibility that he would actually torture me, I mean it was Scottie, sweet, playful Scottie, the man who just confessed that he’d held feelings for me when we were kids.
The doctor pulled out a metal tray from under a cart nearby. I couldn’t see what was on it, but when I saw the horrified look on Scottie’s face I knew it could be nothing good. I couldn’t bring myself to look away from Scottie the horror in his eyes scaring me more than I already was. I didn’t know what to do. I knew deep down I needed to just go ahead and tell them what they wanted to know both for my sake and for Scottie, but a selfish, stubborn part of me was trying to dig its heels in and refuse to cooperate.
“Sir this was not what I was lead to believe my job would be. You said I would be able to confirm her identity if she refused.” Scottie his eyes never leaving the tray in front of him. I couldn’t help but think Scottie a fool. He knew who he worked for, of course they would pull such a disgustingly underhanded trick, but he’d always been a bit innocent that way.
“We can’t be held responsible for your misunderstanding. You agreed to this task and you will carry it out.” The doctor said picking up a pair of pliers and pressing them strongly into Scottie’s hands. Scottie looked down at me like he was lost, I knew then he wouldn’t do it, but still even if he didn’t they’d just punish him and find someone else who had no problem with it.
“Sir I just can’t. I promise you this is the girl, there’s no need to torture her.” Scottie said urgently trying to put the pliers back, but the doctor grabbed hold of his wrist and looked him dead in the eye.
“This is an order soldier. You will obtain the information by force and—“The doctor said finally his cold tone breaking into a harsh angry manner, but I cut him off.
“My name is Faith Brear, I am twenty-four years old, I was born on February the fourteenth 1990. My identification number is 0002143581, and I committed the crime of vandalism, speaking of banned content, rebellious act against the current dictator,” I went on my jaw tightening as I felt the tears well up again more from anger than from fear,” and I hope that those who brought this country into this horrible state are brought to justice for their treachery at the hands of the people they oppress.”
The doctor looked down at me his cold expressionless face back in place as he released Scottie’s hand and scribbled down on his clipboard. I looked up at Scottie feeling some relief that the last thing I would see was a familiar face instead of the doctor. I felt a little surprised when I saw that he was now tearing up, I hadn’t expected him to cry for me. I wondered how he even ended up here; he was too gentle of a soul to be working as a soldier. I was about to ask him quietly, but the doctor walked over again this time with a syringe in his hand and two more on a tray in his other hand.
“For your crimes of treason against our government you have been sentenced to death by lethal injection. You will receive three injections to ensure a quick and nearly painless death.” The doctor said sounding like he could really careless, but it was the emphasis on “nearly” that scared me. I’d heard rumors that they actually make the death for traitors as painful as possible, but I’d always thought it was just scare tactic in order to keep the rebellion to a minimum. The fear in Scotties eyes as he discretely took hold of my hand said otherwise though.
The doctor wiped off my arm with alcohol and right as he was about to inject the first dose Scottie threw himself over me. I was shocked and then immediately scared because I heard the whoosh of the automatic injection anyways. I didn’t feel anything, but I had so much adrenaline going into my system I couldn’t feel hardly anything.
“You fool what have you done?” The doctor cried falling back knocking the tray onto the floor and I could hear both the needles snap in two. Then I heard Scottie coughing violently as he stood up taking his stun gun from his belt and shooting the doctor until he passed out.
“S-scottie?” I asked nervously and he looked down at me smiling sadly again as he fumbled to unfasten the belts detaining me. As I sat up to face him, his legs suddenly fell out from under him and he collapsed into my arms. “Scottie! What’s wrong?” I looked down seeing the angry red mark on his hand and that’s when it clicked. The needle had activated when it scraped his hand.
“Well that didn’t go quite as I thought it would.” He laughed weakly, “At least you have a chance to escape now though.” I was overwhelmed with fear that he would die and there would be nothing I could do for him. Why did he have to rescue me? He gasped a few times and went limp. My heart seemed to stop; I could still feel his heartbeat, though it was slowing. I smacked his face several times and he stirred again.
“Scottie Mayer if you dare close your eyes again I swear to God I will brutally murder you.” I said my voice shaking. He smiled weakly and nodded. I had to find him a doctor someone who could fix this, but I didn’t even know how to get out of the building. “Do you think you can point and show me the way out of here? I’m going to try and find you a doctor.” I asked as I sat him on the edge of the table while I stole the doctor’s coat. I wouldn’t get very far bare butt naked after all. Scottie nodded breathing harder now. I wouldn’t have a whole lot of time before the drug put too much strain on his lungs and he stopped breathing.
Even though I was several inches shorter than Scottie I managed to get his arms around my neck and most of his body weight supported on my back. It wasn’t the best way to carry someone, but the height difference was creating a problem. I staggered a few feet trying to keep him balanced on my back, and finally I got the hang of walking. Luckily for us we didn’t pass anyone, I suspected he was taking us the less traveled route of the building, and we managed to make it outside.
“Over to the left there are some jeeps you can take that and get out of the city. I’m going to stay here, I’m not going to last much longer and I don’t want to slow you down anymore.” Scottie said trying to push away from me. I gripped his arms tighter around my neck so he couldn’t go.
“I’m not about to abandon you. I’ve heard of a upper class doctor who helps people in the lower class, he treats it like a game. He might not help us, but some chance is better than nothing. We’re both going and that’s final.” I said and dragged him over to the cars. I loaded him up into the seat, hoping the sitting position wouldn’t be too hard on him, but there was no way to let him lay down in the cramped space. Punching the start button I sped out of the facility and right through a check point. There was no point being subtle about our escape now, they had probably already found the unconscious doctor. My main concern now was saving Scottie at all costs.