Connor

Connor is part of the rebel force the Freedom Militia, and in this distopian future, he is constantly on the run from the corrupt government's soldiers. But what happens when he is finally caught?

*Crash!* I opened my eyes to the sound and sat up. Too quickly. I gasped and cupped my head at the sudden tunnel vision. I must have fallen or something because my head was throbbing.

Suddenly Joan’s face appeared in front of mine. “Come on, they’re coming!” she said urgently. Another crash rang through the warehouse.

Why did I get the strangest sense of déjà vu?

I shook my head. Joan helped me to my feet and we rushed to the other side of the warehouse just in time to see Simon pull down another stack of heavy wooden boxes. I looked at the pile of splinters and paper that was slowly growing as the stacks continued to fall. I picked up one of the pamphlets. On it were large block letters reading, “Who’s to Blame?” with a picture of our tyrant dictator, Thomas Devonshire, banging a pulpit.

The three of us, Joan, Simon and I, were part of a strategically placed printing press here in the old part of Angeles. There are hundreds of presses like ours all over New Utopia. Our rebel organization, called the Freedom Militia, was formed at the end of the Second U.S. Civil War back in 2053, over twelve years ago. Since then we’ve been holding rallies, printing pamphlets and even starting riots to try to get rid of Devonshire and his twisted government: The System. We’ve kept our press pretty much on the down-low, but Joan’s urgency indicated “they” had finally found us.

I threw the pamphlet back into the pile. “Connor, go get the alcohol,” Simon said to me in his deep voice. I nodded and took off towards the other side of the warehouse. I grabbed the container of denatured alcohol from the cleaning supply cabinet, then ran back to find Joan and Simon finishing the last stack. I dumped the clear liquid all over the papers, tossed the canister away and backed up, Joan and Simon doing the same. I aimed and shot my laser gun at the center of the pile.

The pile caught instantly, the flames racing across the doused paper and wood. Just then the door behind us burst open. I spun around and quickly dropped to the cement floor as one of The System’s soldiers fired directly where my head had been. I pulled one knee up off the ground to steady myself and shot a returning discharge. The soldier jumped behind the doorway but was replaced by two more.

“Come on!” I shouted, and turned to leap over the flames with Simon and Joan close behind. The soldiers rushed in after us. I turned just long enough to fire at the closest one. The man fell with a cry, the jerk of his hand firing one last rogue shot the direction he had come from. It hit the door frame and the whole thing was suddenly glowing red. The System’s soldiers were always trying out new weapons prototypes. You could never predict what they would do. I couldn’t give it much thought now. I began running again.

We split up, the three of us running through the warehouse, weaving between aisle after aisle of supplies. We were headed towards the back door. There were only a few yards left. Suddenly I saw a dozen more soldiers burst through. I skidded to a halt and looked back. I could see the door, now pulsing red. It was now unguarded, and the only other way out of this warehouse. “This way!” I shouted, taking off back toward the door. I could hear the other two following close behind. And behind them, the soldiers. I sped up, racing towards the door. As we neared it, I saw someone lying on the floor on the other side. Someone who looked…just like me. And there was Joan, coming towards him. Behind her I could see Simon, beginning to tear down the boxes. It was like looking through a window back in time.

My mind raced. I didn’t know what was going on, but we had at least some chance with the door, whereas we had none with The System. So I ducked my head down and sprinted with all my might.

The first stack Simon pulled down was only inches away from the ground when I burst through. It felt like slamming into a wall of solid peanut butter. The air was forced from my lungs, and something hit the back of my head. Then everything went black.

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*Crash!* I opened my eyes to the sound and sat up. Too quickly. I gasped and cupped my head at the sudden tunnel vision. I must have fallen or something, because my head was throbbing.

Suddenly Joan’s face appeared in front of mine. “Come on, they’re coming!” she said urgently. Another crash rang through the warehouse.

Why did I get the strangest sense of déjà vu?