Kennedy King; 9:15 A.M.; Mall; Wilmington, NC

“Kennedy! You have to go! RUN!” my mother screamed to me, tears falling from her eyes like raindrops in a storm. 

Okay! Sorry. I am getting a little bit ahead of myself. If you were me, you would understand that the split second it took for the United States of America to fall to even more chaos than it was already in was just that--a split second. On account of that, you’ll have to forgive me if I seem a little rushed in telling my story. I’m not rushing. It just (oh-so-surprisingly!) didn’t take but a second for our nation to become under attack. The funny part is that in the attack on our beautiful country (*cough* *cough* sarcasm), the attacker just so happened to be (you guessed it!) the United States of America. That’s right. America against America! For those of you who don’t see the problem with what I just said, you need to stop being so egotistical! I can’t exactly call the war America versus America because--get this!-- America includes WAY more than these here United States. Yep. Hard to believe, I know. Here I was thinking our country was the whole goll-dang world! Newsflash: it’s thinking like that that gets us into wars like this in the first place. I bet you ten bucks that had “Americans” not been so freaking stuck-up and disrespectful to the rest of the world (You mean the USofA is NOT the entire world?!!!!! Goodness me!), we might not be telling you this wonderful story, another documentation that “America” probably plans to put in its giant book of secrets! Don’t worry, “America.” Your secret’s safe with us! 

As you can see, I’m not very good at this whole staying-on-topic thing. I’m sorry if I have mini-rants like that. It’s just kind of hard not to when you’ve been put through an entire war because of stupid reasons like ego and things of that variety. The point is… all right, let’s go back to when it all started. 

My mother and I were dress shopping at the famous (again, more of my world-renowned sarcasm) Wilmington Mall at 9:15 that morning because the next day I was supposed to go to a ceremony and receive an award for a performance I had participated in with my high school, and I wanted to dress up a little for it like any teenage girl would. I never received that award, but looking back I probably didn’t deserve it anyways if we’re being honest. 

“I really like this one, but I can’t seem to find the price tag. I’ll go ask that employee,” I told my mother, looking at the man a few feet away from us. That was when I was young, naive, and stupid. I miss that girl… 

As I walked over to the man, I noticed that he was talking to himself. At least, he looked to be. I figured my mind was playing tricks on me, however, and walked over anyway. I tapped him on the shoulder and began politely asking for his help. “Excuse me, Mister. I was just wondering-” Of course, I never actually got to finish my request. 

“GET DOWN!” he yelled like a crazed maniac (is that redundant? If you’re a maniac, you’re already crazed… Sorry, I’m doing it again). He made a move like he was going to swing at me and I ducked just in time. That was when I heard the very first gunshots. Screams pierced the air as the man standing not even two feet above me fired with a rage so intense that I first pegged him for a monster. I didn’t realize at the time that I was as much of a monster as he was. 

“GO!” My mother’s shriek could be heard over the shots being fired just above me. It was as if the man had forgotten I was there. He began to move away from me, but I was still close enough that I could see that he was sweating up a storm. He was nervous. He probably HAD forgotten I was there. My mother and I had been into the same store countless times, but never had he looked like the type to kill if such a look even existed. That’s why he hadn’t shot me. Still to this day I don’t believe that was ever his intent. He didn’t want to kill me. If he had wanted to kill me, he would have. 

“MOM?!” I screeched, covering my ears as more gunfire joined what was already happening. I saw workers new and old firing pistols at the customers. “What’s happening?!” I yelled. 

“EVERYBODY DOWN! On the ground NOW unless you wanna get shot!” a policeman (yes, the people who were supposed to be protecting us were in the midst of killing us and holding the survivors as hostages. How unexpected) ordered us. 

“I don’t understand what’s-” One little girl began to whimper before the policeman shot her in the chest. I heard the parents wailing and my heart stopped for a few beats. This was no joke. This was really happening. People in the world were really capable of doing something as horrible as killing an innocent child. I was an innocent child. 

“This is that crap with the government, isn’t it?” A Mexican man piped up. “You can shoot me if you want, but you won’t silence me. I’ll come back from the dead if I have-” He was the next one shot. I put my hand over my mouth as tears welled up in my eyes. No one was doing anything to help us. Everyone was in on this. 

“That’s enough, Cedric,” a female officer ordered the guy that was shooting the innocent people. 

“The government said they wanted everyone that made it out. Not the ones that resisted and not the ones that were weak. I had valid reason to kill them both,” Cedric defended himself. 

“Oh? Is that why you’re shooting? So you can breed out the weak? The people that don’t get shot get what? The prize of being in the presence of you majestic people? In that case, put me on the kill list,” an Asian woman stood and said. 

“Your mouth is gonna get you in a lot of trouble, lady. And just because you said that I’m gonna make you suffer. No kill list for you,” Cedric smiled at her sarcastically. 

Her vibrant green eyes seemed to challenge him. “You won’t get away with this,” she assured him. 

“We already have,” he laughed. 

“You so sure?” another man asked. He pulled a Glock out of his pocket and began firing at the mall staff. He was dead before he shot one person. 

“It’s no use. There are too many of them,” I said softly, unsure if anyone had heard me. 

“Ah! We’ve found the smart one, ladies and gents! What’s your name?” Cedric asked me. 

“My name?” I searched for the quickest lie I could come up with. “Naomi Waters.” It was the name of a small character in the performance I had just put on with my high school, the one I was telling you about earlier that I was supposed to receive an award for. 

“Well, Naomi, you’re a smart, smart girl. You see, you need to get your buddies in here on the same page as you. You can say you aren’t going down without a fight, but you’re going down either way, so I suggest you let them know that they don’t have to keep resisting. We’re only doing this to help you,” he explained to me. 

I snorted. “Okay.” 

“Naomi, something funny? Care to share with the class?” he asked. 

“I think it’s really funny, actually. See, we’re all stupid. We see that mall security has been boosted and we think it’s in an effort to help the people. You have us go through metal detectors and check us for weapons before we even get access inside the building. Well, except for my old Glock buddy over there who definitely had the right idea. We’re all so stupid because we thought all of that was in the interest of the people. Now we see it was all some elaborate plan to help the government. So tell me, Cedric, which by the way is a very unbefitting name seeing as how Cedric is the good guy that dies in one of my favorite book series, and you wouldn’t know the first thing about a good guy. What’s your game? What’s this all for? Please. I think we’d all really love to know,” I said. 

He stared at me so intently that for a second I thought he might be trying to read my soul. “It’s called operation RON. We’re doing this to help you. It’s the Rearrangement of the Nation. We’re breeding out the weak, testing the strong. But we know you all don’t want to participate. We’re not kicking people out of the country, we’re just killing off the weak. Our society will be so much better when we’re just all the same and all controlled,” he tried to persuade me to believe. 

“Really? Well, Ceddy, my boy, what exactly do you think defines the weak?” I asked him. 

“The weak are the people that resist. The weak are the people that corrupt our perfect society. Don’t you see? The weak are the people that are different. They want America at war,” he answered. 

“And you don’t think this scheme is America at war?” I felt the bullet in my side before I knew what was happening.