Movie Review: Phantom of the Opera

After all the years of hearing Phantom songs around the piano at Kamp, I finally watched it for the first time tonight. WOW. That's all I have to say. Wow. I have to blog about this movie. I'm not entirely sure what to say, but I have to blog about it. I think I shall review it. Yes. I shall. (If you actually care that much about what happens... you shouldn't read this. Because I don't want to spoil it for you.)

So... here's what it's basically about. Ever since her father died, the beautiful performer Christine has believed that an "Angel of Music" has been watching over her and guiding her through the world of 19th century Parisian opera. Little did she know that this Angel who has inspired her is actually a mysterious, misunderstood man who lives in the crypts beneath the opera house. The Phantom takes his opportunity to whisk Christine away to his world of night, and will stop at nothing, even murder, to convince Christine to be his eternal bride. Torn between the mysterious genius and her childhood love Raoul, Christine must choose whether she will follow her heart... or the music.

The plot... Oh wow, the plot. It was wonderful. More importantly, the characters were amazing. The Phantom was one of the most complex heroic villains I think there's ever been. One minute he's all set to strangle Raoul and the next I'm crying because Christine wouldn't stay with him. He's brilliantly misunderstood. And misunderstood characters are the best characters. Seriously, someone should do a psyche on him. Once his insanity's cured I'll take him, messed up face and all. And he sings! :)

My biweekly rant: The Phantom DID Love Christine. My evidence:
-He WAS her angel. Granted he was kinda a demented creepy stalker angel, but ever since she came to the opera house he was there for her. She just... didn't really know he wasn't a figment of her imagination. He was kinda her best friend when she was all alone. It's sweet. In a creepy way.
-He honestly did want what was best for her. He was trying to help her get the lead the whole time. Because he loved her. :)
-He could have killed Raoul on the rooftop, but he didn't. Because he loved her. :)
-He let her go in the end. She was at the point she would have stayed with him, but he let her go. Because he loved her. :)
-The rose on her grave. Oh. Oh how broken my poor little heart was.
Not that it's okay that he killed people, but I think he did love her. That's my rant.

And Christine totally loved him back! She wouldn't let Raoul kill him, and she was going to stay with him, and you could just tell from the look on her face that she loved him. She did. But no. She married Raoul. Boo.

And of course, the music. It was beautiful. If somebody sang "That's All I Ask of You" to me, I'd marry them on the spot. Haha. Just kidding, probably not. But it's a great song. It just about broke my heart in the reprise when the Phantom sang it instead of Raoul. Of course, the iconic Phantom theme just kinda freaks you out in an amazing way, and in general it all just makes you want to sing. Loudly. In higher registers than you're probably capable of.

Yeah. That's about it. Like I said, it was just one of those "I have to blog about this thing."

What can I say? I'm a Phan.

<3

Chapter 8

Hey there. :)
So I decided a couple days ago that rather than kill myself trying to write 19,000 words in 4 days, I would just PROMISE myself that I would indeed finish and just do it at my own pace. This is already a huge accomplishment for me (the longest thing I've written previously was only 16,000 words or so... as of right now this is over 31,000), so I'm proud regardless, especially considering I started six days late. So yeah. Happy reading.
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Piper looked up at the tree to see Patrick’s brown eyes staring down at her, a look of pain on his face. Her mouth slammed shut, as if on hinges. She looked down in embarrassment, stroking the kitten’s fur to hide her blush. “Sorry,” she said, her voice bubbly from trying to stifle a laugh. “Did I wake you up? Or is my singing just that bad?
He wasn’t wearing his hat. His hair was redder than she thought. His face expressionless, he replied, “Your singing is just that bad.”
She let the laugh go and threw a twig in his direction. She missed. His face broke into a grin. “Nah, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just brought back fond memories.”
She wanted to ask what fond memories, but she could tell from the way his face reverted back to seriousness that he didn’t much care to talk about it.
“So, what’s for breakfast?” she asked. “I would have tried to get something, but I didn’t even know where to begin.”
“The cat,” he groaned, burrowing back into his sleeping bag. The cat hissed at him. Piper threw another twig at him.
“Hey now. That’s my cat. Get your own cat and you can eat him.” She looked down at the little ball of fur, who was still hissing and spitting ferociously. “Cool it, kid,” she said to the cat. It turned to look at her, his screwed up eyes becoming wide and docile.
“Easy for you to say, he likes you,” Patrick said.
“Maybe that’s because I didn’t try to leave him out in the cold to starve.” She ran a hand down the cat’s long gray back. “Isn’t that right, Whiskers?”
“Whiskers? You can’t seriously be naming the cat Whiskers.”
“And why not?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips in an exasperated habit. “He’s my cat, I can name him whatever I want.”
“But Whiskers?”
“What’s wrong with Whiskers?”
“One: EVERY cat is named Whiskers. Two: how’s a guy supposed to feel manly with a name like Whiskers?”
Piper laughed. “Well, what do you suggest, Mr. Hypercritical?”
“I don’t know. Something like Jefferson or Lincoln or Washington. Good strong name.”
They sounded like Backwinder names, but as she looked down at the cat’s squashed face and his sharp yellow eyes, he kind of looked like a Lincoln. “All right,” she sighed in defeat. “Lincoln it is.” The cat, as though aware that the matter had been settled and being satisfied with the outcome, went back to pouncing at a grasshopper on the ground.
“Blue!”
The scratchy voice came out of nowhere. Patrick jumped with a start at the sound of his last name, nearly falling out of the tree as he scrambled down its trunk and toward his backpack.
“BLUE! Answer your commanding officer!” The voice was overshadowed in static, making it even more frightening to Piper than it would have been clearly. It was a Backwinder commander, possibly the man responsible for her mother and brother’s deaths. She shuddered.
So he wasn’t a deserter. Any deserter would know to leave his walkie-talkie behind, especially knowing it could contain a tracking device in it. She opened her mouth to scream at him, realizing he was a spy, that he had been setting her up all along, but his actions stayed her words. She thought Patrick had rushed to answer the walkie-talkie hidden in his pack, but instead he was standing in front of the pack in a pathetic effort to conceal the voice within.
“I can hear it, Patrick, okay? Just answer it.”
“I’m not going to if it’s going to make you—“
“Don’t be stupid, Patrick. They’ll come looking for you if you don’t.”
He stared her straight in the eyes, and she tried her best to keep up a unified front. She couldn’t show any weakness or let on how scared she was…
She got the sense he knew exactly what was going through her mind, but he clicked the button on the receiver anyway. She held her breath, not wanting to betray any superfluous sign of life. If they didn’t know she existed, maybe there wouldn’t be a problem.
“Yes, sir.”
“You were due back at camp two days ago. Report.”
“A distraction, sir.”
“Specify.”
There was a long pause.
“Sympathy for another living thing, sir.”
“This is the army, Blue. We’re fighting a war. If you’re not back to camp by nightfall there will be serious repercussions.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other line clicked off abruptly, leaving nothing but static in its wake. He just looked at her, and she stared back in sheer terror.
“You have to leave me behind, don’t you?”
He said nothing for a long time, finally shifting his gaze from her face to the ground. At last he spoke. “No. That’s not an option. We’ll figure something out.”
“What is there to figure out? I’m a National girl, I can’t just waltz into a camp full of Backwinder—I mean Memorist—men! Even if I was a Memorist I wouldn’t be allowed in there.”
“There’s a women’s regiment not too far away.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t fight for your side!”
The stark differences between them slapped her in the face. Her feeling hadn’t gone away, but at the moment it was eating away at her insides, leaving her in agony. She couldn’t explain the attachment to this boy that had formed inside her in the last few days, but she knew she didn’t want it broken. Not yet.
“Look, the Sergeant’s not as bad as he sounds. I’m sure if we just explained to him—“
“He’d have me shot on the spot. No one’s going to trust me there, Patrick! They’d be idiots if they did. I could easily be a spy.” He shot her a guarded, pointed look, and she hurried to clarify herself. “I’m not, you know that, but they don’t know that.”
“Do I really know that?”
“Don’t you think they’d at least arm a spy? I have nothing. No armor, no nothing. If I was of any value to the National army you’d be able to tell.”
“What if that’s what you want me to think?”
She grabbed his arm in exasperation. “Look at me, Patrick.” She looked him dead in the face, focusing every ounce of energy into her eyes, trying to convey her sincerity with all the strength she could muster. “I’m not lying. You know I’m not.”
He relaxed under her grasp, and she could tell he believed her. She let go.
“What do you want to do, Green Eyes? You must have some kind of plan if you’re objecting to mine so much.”
She wanted to shoot back with a surefire idea, but she had none. Unwilling to admit defeat aloud, she merely looked at her feet.
“Alright, then I guess my plan is our best bet. We’ll go to camp, see the Sergeant, and try to work something out. And if they try to lay a finger on you, I’ll shoot ‘em before they can say National. Deal?”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. They’d shoot you in a second.”
“I know that.” She looked for the smile on her face, but there wasn’t one. He was dead serious. And it scared her. Why was he willing to go to such great lengths to keep her safe?
Gauging his expression, she warily took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”
“We better get a move on if we’re going to get there before the sun sets.”
Piper nodded wordlessly. “How far away is it?”
“Closer than the ocean, but we slept late today.” He looked her in the eye again. “I am sorry, Piper. I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“What did you expect, then?” she said, finding an unexpected harshness in her voice. “If you weren’t a deserter—“
“I was a deserter. It’s a long story.”
“How long can it be? You’re smart enough to know that unless you left your intercom somewhere they’d be able to get in touch with you. Just what exactly were you planning on happening?”
He looked away for the first time since they’d started speaking. She moved to try to catch his gaze, but he avoided her as though she had knives where her eyes should have been. She wasn’t willing to give this up so easily as some of his other secrets. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve heard that one before. For real this time.”
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I didn’t know where we were going, and I’m not lying now. I don’t know. Leaving was an idiotic idea.”
“You’re right, it probably was. And I’m probably going to get myself killed because of you.”
She didn’t like the pained look that filled his eyes. She wanted him to shoot back a harsh word, to retaliate, anything, just to prove her theories. But he did no such thing. He merely looked at her with that look in his eyes that told her she was picking a nonexistent fight. It filled her with such a great sense of guilt that she could not bring herself to keep going.
“But I’d have died if you just left me there, so I guess in the end it can’t really be your fault,” she finally conceded, alleviating some of the hurt from his expression.
“Look, I’m not going to get you killed, okay? Can’t you trust me enough to believe that?” His face broke into a sheepish smile. “Plus, we don’t kill our prisoners. At the very worst you’ll just be imprisoned for the rest of your life.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that helps so much.” But his smile was contagious, and she couldn’t resist when she felt it sweeping across her face as well.
“So do you trust me?”
It was a difficult question. Everybody she’d ever trusted had disappeared from her life in a puff of smoke. How could she trust someone to keep her safe when she wasn’t even sure if she could keep herself safe?
But he’d saved her life once. That gave her some confidence that he could do it again if need be. And he’d trusted her, only moments ago, even without any good reason to do so. At this point, she owed it to him.
“Yeah, I trust you.”
“Do we have to shake on it again or can I believe you this time?”
She smiled slightly, embarrassed at her own inconsistency. “No, we’re good.”
“Alright. That settles it then. I’ll pack up the tent and we’ll go.”
They finally got on the road at what Piper assumed was about ten o’clock in the morning. Once again she tried to pick up the cat, but he refused her arms. An independent little thing, he preferred to assert his independence by keeping a slight distance at all times, but he never let the pair of them out of his sight. She watched the kitten plod along happily, his feet bouncing on the gravel path, and envied his lack of want or worry. As far as he knew he wasn’t heading to his death… Piper couldn’t be so sure.
She found the strange world that surrounded her much more unfamiliar on the way to base. She wondered why her beautiful orange and red leaves had begun to fall from the trees; she was sure some unseen evil, held captive by the cool breeze, was frightening them right off of their branches. She hugged her arms across her chest in an effort to keep warm. She needed to find new clothes somewhere—the wind played with the hole in the shoulder of her shirt, chilling her to the bone.
They didn’t speak for most of the way, whether out of apprehension or exhaustion. The quiet made her uneasy; she had grown so used to conversation. She had always been so quiet in the past, but something about Patrick brought her out of her shell and made her want to talk about anything and everything. She hugged herself a little tighter, trying to fill in the hollowness, but she found that external motions could do nothing for internal problems. Finally he said something, and she felt a few of the empty spaces filling themselves in.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
She laughed. “Quite the conversationalist, aren’t you? Hmm… I can’t sing.”
“So I noticed.”
“Hey now, I doubt you can sing any better.” At this he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Your turn.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Well don’t look at me! Tell me a secret.”
“Don’t have any.”
She gave him a wayside look. “That, my friend, is a lie.”
“What did you just say?”
“That’s a lie.”
“No, the other part.”
She was confused until she realized it herself. She’d called him her friend. “Are we friends, then?” He gave her an interested look.
“I suppose so. Allies, at the very least.”
“I don’t like that. Allies sounds like we’re at war.”
She laughed at the incredulous statement. “Welcome to the twenty-second century, kid. We’ve been at war for the last twelve years.”
“But still. Allies makes it feel like it’s a friendship of necessity.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. Do you think we’d be friends without the war?”
“Well, if it weren’t for the war—“
“I know you wouldn’t know me, but let’s say you did. We’d be friends, wouldn’t we?”
She thought about how easy it was to talk to him, how much she had told him about herself that she’d never told anybody else. And she nodded.
“Then I think we’re friends now. Allies isn’t strong enough a word.”
She couldn’t help but smile a little bit. She’d never been good at making friends, so this felt like an accomplishment.
Before she could get another word out, Patrick stopped beside a gigantic tree. It was almost as big as some of the buildings in Piper’s city, and as thick of ten of her. A gnarled knot stood at the base, looking like the door to some kind of fairy tree. Patrick kicked the knot, and a clang rang through the surrounding trees, nearly startling her out of her skin.
“This is it,” said Patrick.

Chapter 7

I kinda love this chapter. It is lame. It is cheesy. Guys probably don't actually think like this. But I love the bit about the singing. That will make the final cut regardless of what all else does.
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Patrick didn’t know what to make of this strange, naïve girl that had fallen into his lap. She was reckless to the point of stupidity, and completely ignorant of most of the world around her. But he thought of the curiosity that filled her eyes at the sight of the orange trees, at her first rain, at the view of the sunset and the ocean, and he knew that there was more to her than met the eye. A spring of wonder welled up inside her, bursting to get out. No matter how much she tried to resist, no matter how much she pretended not to care about the world around her, her green eyes said it all. She was curious, and found herself in awe. There was so much she didn’t know, and he was eager to tell her everything he knew about the world, about life, to see that look of wonder in her eyes again and again…
He lay awake in the tree, staring up at the stars through the baring branches. He doubted she’d ever seen the stars amid the bright, blinding lights of the cities. He could spot a city from miles away; they were like burning stars, bound to the earth by invisible ropes, having been lured into some kind of trap by a giant or a magnetic field. Their immense powerhouses could make midnight as bright as noon, but what good was man’s light when it blocked out the stars?
He didn’t like the feeling that was filling up the empty spaces in his heart. It went against every rational thought in his mind, and he knew it. He didn’t like the wonder in her eyes or the look on her face when she saw his bloody lip. He didn’t like the way her hand had felt on his face. They scared him, took away his security and certainty, and made him more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. Patrick wasn’t one to show signs of vulnerability. However she made him feel, though, he felt deeper and more painful the look of terror on her face just hours before. He hated that look, that fear, the man who had frightened her, and tried to do worse… he hated that much worse than any uncertainty she could create in him.
But she was a National. He was a Memorist. She was a temporary influence on his life, the hole in the clouds on a gray day. She’d be gone the minute she found her brother, or anyplace better to be. She had no reason to stay otherwise, and he had no reason to expect her to. He had no reason to will her to stay.
But he did.
It was the companionship, he was sure. He hadn’t seen a girl since he left for the battlefield over a year ago. She probably wasn’t quite as pretty as she seemed to him. Surely it was just the excitement of seeing a feminine face that stirred his emotions. She probably wasn’t all that unique where she came from, either. Any number of Nationals would be ignorant as to the normal processes of the earth… but would they all be so amazed as her? The adults, the real Nationals, had chosen their paths. They’d decided not to give the past a chance, to leave the natural workings of the world behind in the interest of extreme progress, but where was Piper’s choice? What would she choose had she been given the initial choice?
Did she have a choice now?
That was a hope for Patrick, the light of reality shining at the end of his doomed fantasy. She had a choice. She was slowly beginning to see all that the world, this world, the world outside the cities, had to offer her. She’d seen the changing colors in the leaves. Who would trade that for synthetic trees with copper trunks? She’d seen stars. Who would trade those for blazing white lampposts? As to her own city, it was gone, lost in a raid. He’d gathered that much from talking to her. What was left for her?
Her father and brother. That’s what was left for her. And they’d probably kill him on sight just for wearing his uniform.
He wanted to wish she’d never find them, that she’d wander forever looking for them, but he couldn’t imagine the painful expression that would scar her face if she discovered that they were gone. No, she’d have to find them. He sighed aloud in exasperation. Part of him just wanted her to disappear. It would have been easier to let the soldier carry her off…
No, that wouldn’t have been easier. He never would have forgiven himself.
It was stupid to feel this way, stupid to allow her to get under his skin and affect him this way. These things didn’t happen in a period of forty-eight hours. It took a lifetime to learn to trust someone. He had never told anyone else about his mother, not a single man in his regiment. He had even shied away from the subject, and yet this strange, green-eyed girl, a National, no less, had broken his defense without even trying. All she had to do was ask a simple question, and the answers came spilling out. He wondered if his father had felt this way when he and Patrick’s mother had met. Did he know before they even started that she would leave? Or did it sneak up on him? Had he believed she would stay? Patrick had believed she would stay. Patrick hadn’t seen anything coming.
He’d woken up on a Saturday morning, gone downstairs like usual. He had cornflakes that morning. At first he didn’t notice anything was wrong, but before long he began to realize the eerie silence that had crept over the house. Mom wasn’t singing.
For as long as he could remember, Mom had sung in the mornings. She could never hit the notes right, but that didn’t stop her. She sang everything from show tunes to little songs she made up around the house, striking the notes with stunning inaccuracy. It always bothered him until that day. Then he realized that the singing was assurance, security. He knew Mom was there when she was singing, however bad it sounded. And he realized he would give anything, anything in the world, to hear her off kilter notes rising into the rafters one more time. All at once his memories of Mom singing were transformed from bothersome to the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.
He knew, without anybody telling him, without another moment’s thought, that he’d never hear that awful, beautiful sound again. She’d left, and she wouldn’t be back.
And ever since that day, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t make the same mistakes as his dad. He wouldn’t trust somebody to stay. He’d trusted his mom, and she’d let him down. That was enough to ruin his faith. Why should he believe in a National girl with no reasonable commitment? He didn’t have anything to offer her, didn’t even know how she felt about him. He knew better than to let himself feel anything for her, because she’d leave. Just like his mom. Worse yet, she’d be taken like his dad. Either way, he had no way to keep her, so he had to make sure he didn’t care.
Somewhere amidst his thinking and battering emotions, exhaustion won over, and he drifted into a deeper sleep than he’d had since she came. He woke to the blinding sun in his eyes and an unusual noise. He was sure the stupid cat was dying, being strangled by some wild animal…
Until he looked down from the tree and saw her with the cat in her arms, singing to it. Singing in the morning. Just like his mom.
He had sworn ever since the last time he’d heard that noise that he’d never fall victim to this.
He had sworn to himself that he’d never fall in love.

Chapter 6

Cross your fingers for me Wrimos... I have 9 days to write 27000 words. Ooh boy. This chapter is either lame or great. I can't decide which.
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“Do you know where we are?” Piper finally asked after hours of walking.
“Of course I do. How many times have I been through here?” Piper’s guess was maybe once or twice.
“I told you this was the wrong way, there weren’t enough trees this way. I have a photographic memory, you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. Trust me,” he said. She looked up at the sky, noting its purple and orange hues. They’d never get home before dark. She sighed in exasperation. Backwinder men were just as stubborn as Nationals. The same thing had happened back in the city, the first time she and Branson had been out by themselves… and the city had street signs.
Sure enough, the sky faded to black, and stars began to peak out from behind their black blanket. They were far more visible here, amongst the trees, than they had ever been in the city. There were thousands more of them than she’d realized.
“So… I’m not really too worried about the patrols, but what kind of wild animals were you talking about earlier?” She’d heard legends about the beasts that haunted the world outside the city, and none of them sounded too pleasant.
“Wolves, mostly. Few bears. You’d hope there were some deer around, they make for good food for a week if you can hunt ‘em.”
“Wolves? Are those the ones with the teeth?” Coltrane Thornton had told her about the wolf-beast who could live both on water and on land, and had three rows of poisonous fangs.
“Yeah, they’ve got teeth. Do they have dogs in the city? It’s a big wild dog, just not tamed. Not too pleasant.”
This creature didn’t sound nearly as fearsome as the stories she’d heard. Piper made a mental note to henceforth disregard everything Coltrane Thornton had ever said to her. She was about to ask what a bear was when they heard a rustle from one of the bushes by the side of the road.
“What was that?” She instinctively grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself behind him, not wanting to be in the way of the horrible creature that might soon present itself.
“I don’t know.” He pulled his gun from the strap on his back and pointed it at the bush. A low rumbling growl came in response. Piper cowered even more. Patrick cocked the gun.
“Rrrrr…. rrrrREOW!”
A cat jumped out of the bushes, hissing and spitting at the pair of them as though they’d ruined his every chance at happiness. He was a kitten, not even as big as Patrick’s backpack. Piper laughed.
“Oh, how cute!” She rushed toward the kitten, and it skittered away, back into the bushes.
“No, Piper.” Patrick just shook his head at her, a slightly amused expression on his face. “Another human mouth to feed I can handle, but I’m not giving any of my food to a lousy tomcat.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s adorable.”
Glowing yellow eyes peeped out of the underbrush at them, looking scared.
“Ah, see, he even knows we’re talking about him. Just look at him, Patrick!”
He rolled his eyes at her.
“I’ll give him some of my food or something. He’ll die out here all on his own! We have to keep him, it’s a matter of life and death! Come on, Patrick, show some love for a fellow living thing.”
As though he could understand their words, the cat sauntered slowly out into plain view, looking pleadingly up at Patrick. He looked from Piper to the kitten in total and complete exasperation. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Piper put her hands on her hips and cocked one eyebrow, shaking her head. “You want to. Somewhere deep inside your soul you want to keep him, I know you do.” She grinned at him. He just shook his head.
“You know, he looks just like you. Maybe you should keep him.”
She took one look at the kitten. As adorable as he was, his face was rather squashed, as though he had been hit face first by a Lex car. She punched him in the arm. “That’s it, he’s staying whether you like it or not.”
Just then, they could hear footsteps marching methodically in the distance. Without a word, as though she was being pulled by some cosmic string, Piper felt herself being yanked into the bushes.
“Is it a patrol?”
Patrick said nothing, only stared stoically toward the road.
“Listen to me! Is it a patrol?”
“Shut up, Piper, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“It could be Branson, I have to—“
“NO, Piper.” He tightened his grip on her arm. All at once she hated him again. And she wanted to prove it. With a spurt of strength, she extracted her arm from his grasp, and entered the road just as the army passed by.
It was a patrol, all right. She saw the familiar uniform and felt a burst of National pride. These men were a thousand Bransons, a thousand Dads, marching toward victory at the will of the Diviner. There was a chance, a small chance, one of them had to know about Branson…
“Excuse me—“
None of the soldiers even looked at her. Finally she got the attention of one, but he brushed her off as if she was some sort of pestering insect. Not until the end of the procession did she finally begin to gather looks. One soldier made eye contact with her and smiled.
“Well, well, well, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing way out here?” He grinned at her.
“Long story, not important. I need to know if you know my brother. Branson Conrad?”
“I don’t know him, but I’d sure like to know you, Green Eyes. What d’you say we ditch this overblown parade and go find us someplace nice to—“
She began to back away. “Stop right there, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Shoot, I don’t care what kind of girl you are. You sure are pretty.” He ran a finger down her face and onto her shoulder, toying with the hole in the shoulder of her T-shirt. She froze in fright. The rest of the regiment had already disappeared down the road.
“Get your hands off of me or I’ll scream,” she said through gritted teeth.
“What’s a matter, honey? Hasn’t anybody ever loved you right…” He gripped her other arm hard, still running his finger along the bare skin of her shoulder. His face bowed, getting closer and closer to her…
“You don’t understand, I’m a National, I’m not—“
“Haven’t you heard me, honey?” he moaned, his voice now just above a whisper. “You can be whatever you like, just so long as you don’t fight back.” He grabbed the hole in her shirt forcefully and pulled, making it bigger. She screamed, not caring if there was no one there to hear her…
The butt of Patrick’s rifle hit the man in the head.
He was shocked enough that he loosened his grip and she was able to slip away to freedom. “You dirty—“
Patrick had him at gunpoint. His face was like a rock. He cocked his head, motioning for Piper to get behind him. She couldn’t be more happy to obey.
“If you touch her again, I swear, you’ll be dead before you know what hit you.”
“Couldn’t you get yourself someone your own breed, traitor?” he spat at Patrick, looking at Piper’s hand at his shoulder. “And you, you disgusting waste of space. You’re even more of a traitor then he is. Running around with the likes of him. Thanks for sayin’ something, Backwinder. I’d never be able to scrub off her filth.”
Patrick began to lower his gun, and as if taking it as his golden opportunity, the soldier punched him square in the jaw. Before either of them could retaliate, he had disappeared down the road.
His jaw was bleeding, and Piper was crying. Her thoughts were so blurry that she could hardly force out a complete sentence.
“How could I have… I was so stupid… I’m so so sorry.” That came out the most— I’m sorry. She said it over and over again until the words began to sound like nonsense.
“It’s nothing, don’t—“
She cupped his jaw in her hand and looked at his mouth. “Are you kidding, what do you mean it’s nothing? He got you pretty good. Do any of your teeth feel loose?”
She looked up to meet his eyes and found herself frozen. Again she was reminded of dark chocolate, bitter and sweet at the same time. A strange feeling welled up inside her, as though electricity was crackling around in her stomach, electrocuting her from head to toe. She felt like she’d just been defibrillated; her heart was beating unnaturally fast. Something was wrong with her, there had to be. This wasn’t a normal feeling. Slowly she lowered her hand and broke eye contact, hoping the feeling would go away. It didn’t.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. When she finally looked up again, he was still looking at her.
“You can keep the cat, if you want. We’ll figure out how to feed him.” She hadn’t noticed the kitten, who was playfully pouncing at her heels. On an impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and started to cry again.
“Thank you,” she said quietly through her tears. He stiffened under her embrace, as though not quite sure how to respond; but soon he tightened his arms around her. She felt safe, safer than she had since the bombings had stolen her life away from her.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. She hoped he knew she wasn’t talking about the cat. Finally he let her go, and she felt the cold air of the world around her again. She didn’t like it. She wrapped one arm across herself insecurely, for the first time not sure exactly what to say.
“I think camp is that way,” he said, pointing down a fork in the road behind them. “If we double back on that, we’re bound to get back soon.”
She simply nodded, running a hand across her eye in an effort to wipe away the tears. She tried to pick up the cat, but he hissed at her, as if to say “Don’t touch me.” However, when they began to walk, he pranced along at their heels, trying to be their friend and yet maintain some independence.
Patrick stayed a few steps ahead of her the entire way home. She wondered if she’d somehow offended him. He rubbed his jaw, and she felt another pang of guilt. She hated herself for doing this to him… if she had only listened…
And the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach still hadn’t gone away. Maybe it was the fear of the soldier still lingering about her… No, that couldn’t be it. There was an element of fear in the feeling, but that wasn’t all. There was a warmth to it, mixed with sadness and excitement. She couldn’t decide if it was a pleasant feeling or not. She supposed there was a good chance being in the wilderness for so long had made her ill. Yes, that was it. She just needed some sleep.
They finally reached the campsite around what Piper guessed was midnight.
“’Night, Green Eyes,” he said as he pulled herself into the tree.
“’Night,” she said with a quiet smile as she disappeared into her tent. She didn’t know what she thought, didn’t know what she felt, didn’t know what was going to happen, but one thing she knew for certain: she wouldn’t sleep well tonight.

Chapter 5

Sorry I haven't posted this in a few days. I'm about 7000 words behind... AAH! This chapter is currently more than half my word count. Oh wow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rise and shine, Green Eyes.” She snapped awake. At first she couldn’t remember where she was, or whose voice she heard through the thin walls of the tent. She pulled the blanket farther over her shoulders and groaned. He chuckled. “Come on. The ocean’s calling. If you don’t get up now we’ll never get there before one, and we want to be able to get back before sunset.”
She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. The sun was making leafy patterns on her brown tarp roof. “Fine,” she moaned, crawling toward the door of the tent. She peaked her head out first.
“Not a morning person?”
“Not even close,” she replied, ruffling her hair between her fingers. It was greasy and tangled. What she wouldn’t give for a bath…
He laughed again. “Me either. Or at least I wasn’t until I joined the army. Gets drummed out of you pretty quick when you have to be up at the crack of dawn for drill every morning.”
She walked sleepily to the fire pit, where Patrick handed her a piece of meat. Real, hot meat. She took an eager bite. It was a little gamey, but the flavor was delicious. “What is this?”
“Rabbit. Shot it while you were still asleep.”
She almost choked. “Rabbit? As in bunny rabbit?”
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
“People eat bunny rabbits?”
“Probably not where you come from, no, but when it’s shoot the bunny or starve your best bet is to shoot the bunny.”
He had a point. She took another bite. It was good enough to overcome her initial disgust.
“So how far away is this ocean thing?”
“Quite a ways. It’ll take us a good five hours, but it’s worth it. Trust me. And we walked a lot further than that yesterday. You can take it.”
She nodded as she finished up her rabbit. He was getting his backpack ready.
“Shall we go?” She licked her lips and nodded.
For the first two hours or so they walked in silence. She almost enjoyed the comfortable quiet. It was non-threatening. However, when he finally spoke, that didn’t bother her either.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Like what?”
“Anything. We just might as well get to know each other.”
She took time to think, then said, “I love coffee. Nearly nobody else in the city drank it, but my grandmother did. She got me started on it.”
He raised his eyebrows in approval. “So you’re a little old fashioned too, are you? Nice.”
“Your turn.”
“I’m kind of a neat freak.”
Piper thought of the clutter in her room at home and laughed. “And that’s where the similarities end.”
He smiled. The scar under his eye wasn’t nearly as visible when he smiled. “Your turn.”
“I get cold really easily. Even when the sun’s out.”
“Aren’t you glad I made you take the tent, then?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I’ve got a question. Don’t be offended or anything, but how did you get your scar?”
He looked down and she wondered if she’d touched a nerve. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I understand.”
“No, it’s fine. I got it the day my dad died. Bullet ricocheted off the wall and just skimmed my face. I’m lucky it didn’t go through my head. By all accounts I should be dead.”
She nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
There was a long silence, the first awkward one she had experienced around him. At last he broke it. “Your turn.”
She smiled. “I’m deaf in one ear because I fell out of a tree. Granted it was a synthetic one, but still. It was a long way down. I should be dead too. We should start a club.” She realized what she’d said and gasped. “Not that yours is the same as falling out of a tree, I didn’t mean that.”
He smiled slightly. “No worries, I knew you didn’t. It’s fine.”
Another pause hung in the air. She laughed.
“Your turn.”
“When I was a really little kid, I was obsessed with Peter Pan. I had the hat and everything.”
“Who’s Peter Pan?”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, I forgot. In your world Peter Pan doesn’t exist. Good grief, no old school Disney movies.”
Piper wasn’t sure what a Disney or a movie was, but she liked the sound of it.
The conversation went on for hours, stretching to cover everything from family situations to little quirks. Piper confided everything to him, talked about Branson, talked about Nana, talked about her life before the bombing. She almost questioned her incessant trust; she wasn’t used to opening up to people so much. However, other than Patrick, she was completely alone in the world. Who else did she have to confide in?
She could hardly believe her eyes when she looked up to find the sun hovering in the zenith of the sky. It was noon or later; they had to be getting close. The trees began to scatter and fade into the distance, and the ground became softer and softer.
“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly. “You have to get the full effect.” She smiled in amusement and followed his order. “Keep coming,” he said. She stumbled over a rock, but he caught her arm before she lost her balance. “This way.” He let go of her arm. “Alright… open.”
There was blue. Shifting, turbulent blue for as far as her eyes could see. The ground beneath her feet was thin and powdery. She leaned over and clutched some in her hand, and it slipped through her fingers. The sun played happily the water, creating twinkling daylight stars in the reflection. Piper only had one word:
“Wow.”
He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Yeah. Worth it?”
“Definitely.” She returned the smile. He started to walk toward the waterline, and she followed eagerly, in case he had something else to show her. When he crouched by the surface, she copied him. He extended a finger toward the water.
“Now if you look real close there…”
She hunched over the water eagerly, but jumped back as the cold water hit her face. He laughed as she brushed the water off her face.
“Oh, sure, right now you’re laughing,” she said, not at all pleased. Without warning she seized his shoulders and pushed him backwards into the chilly foam, cackling like a maniac. Her mirth, however, was shortlived, as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the water after him.
She was terrified. The water swirled over her head, twisting and distorting the graying sky overhead. It burned in her nostrils, and she could taste the salt drying and chapping her lips on contact. Finally, in a moment of panic, her head found the surface, and her lungs the air.
“Ha,” he said once she had overcome her disorientation. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“Are you crazy? I’m scared of water!”
“Well you should have thought of that before you pushed me in, now shouldn’t you?”
She tried to be mad at him, to hate him like she had so easily just twenty-four hours ago, but she couldn’t force herself to do it. Something inside her had shifted in the past day. Patrick was still wrong about a lot of things, no doubt, but something about him held an irresistible fascination for her. He made her think more than anybody else she had ever met in her life, except perhaps for Nana. So she didn’t retaliate, didn’t accuse him of trying to kill her, didn’t storm out of the water in a fit. She merely swept her hand across the cool surface of the water, shooting a gleeful wave into his face. She laughed. Hard. For the first time in the last day, for the first time in her new life, she was truly happy.
CRASH.
The noise didn’t sound like any other bomb she had ever heard, but it frightened her nonetheless. She jumped in fright and involuntarily grabbed Patrick’s shoulder.
“Afraid of thunder?”
“What’s thunder?”
“Man, they must just keep the weather out all together, huh? Thunder is, well… to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure what it is. It’s a sound that comes with lightning.”
“What’s lightning?” He rubbed his hand over his face again. It seemed to be a habit of his when he was particularly exasperated.
“You have to know about electricity, right? Nationals obsess over it.”
She nodded. She knew everything there was to know about electricity. Since more than half the population of her city became electricians, an entire class on the subject was required to graduate secondary school.
“Lightning is electricity, but it comes out of the clouds. And it usually only comes with…”
Before he could get the word out, she saw it: a brilliant flash of light across the now cloudy sky. It only lasted about a second, disappearing as quickly as it came. Almost instantaneously, a drop hit Piper’s nose.
“Rain.”
Another drop of water fell. Then another. Then another. A cascade of water was falling from nowhere, and it didn’t seem to be phasing Patrick at all.
“We oughta get out of the water,” he said. “Don’t want to get electrocuted.”
“Is this another season thing?” she shouted over the sound of the drops hitting the larger body of water. Patrick nodded. “Well, it’s not just fall. It can come in just about any season except winter around here. But it is a weather thing.” He stopped and stared at her for a minute. “Unbelievable. You’ve never seen rain before.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms in an attempt to keep warm.
“You want my jacket?”
She shook her head. “You’ll freeze.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well I do. Keep it. Really, I’m fine,” she refused.
“Is this just another knock on chivalry?”
“No, I just don’t want you to get pneumonia and die. You’re my only way to get food.” She laughed and scuffed the sand with her foot.
“Brat,” he said, but he was smiling too. “You know what pneumonia is, but you’ve never seen rain. Unbelievable.”
“Is this where the ocean comes from?”
“What, rain?”
She nodded, and he just laughed.
“What? There’s no stupid questions, right?”
“Nah, it’s not that, there’s just… so much you don’t know. Don’t think that’s your fault, but it’s kind of incredible. I guess in a weird way the ocean does come from the rain, but not the way you’re thinking. There’s this thing called the water cycle… it’s hard to explain. But when it gets hot some of the water goes back into the clouds and falls as rain so it can go back up into the clouds again. If that makes any sense. I’m no science teacher.”
She didn’t really get it, but she pretended she did.
“They don’t even teach you the water in your schools? You’d think with their obsession with progress they’d focus as much on science as they could.” He paused for a minute thoughtfully, then kept going. “I think I get it, though. They only teach you about the things it’s easy to harness and use for yourselves. There’s not much they can do about rain… so they pretend it doesn’t exist. Like the past.”
“I want to see the book,” she said abruptly.
“What?”
“The book, the Apocalypse Journals, whatever it is you prefer to call them. I want to see it for myself.”
He raised his eyebrows, looking almost impressed. “Wow. I didn’t think we’d made that much progress. Unfortunately, I don’t have the Journals.”
“Who does?”
“Base.”
“And why can’t we go to base?”
He refrained from answering for what seemed like forever. “It’s a long story.”
She decided to let it go for now. He’d been so open with her today already that she felt she’d lose trust by asking for more.
“Maybe someday I’ll get to see them,” she said, and left it at that. She looked up into the clouds that were dumping their contents onto the earth below. On an impulse, she stuck out her tongue, attempting to catch the droplets on her tongue. Patrick started to laugh.
“See, that’s what all the normal kids do. You’re a natural.”
She giggled. “I like rain. It’s nice.” She flung her head back again, finally managing to catch a raindrop. It tasted salty, just like the water in the ocean had. The water cycle. He couldn’t be lying about that. Patrick hadn’t somehow fabricated the grandeur of the ocean before her, or made water fall from the sky by magic. Not only was he not crazy, he knew more about the world than anybody else she knew. Perhaps the Backwinders weren’t quite as backwards as she’d always assumed.
Branson would kill you if he knew you were thinking like that, she thought herself. Branson and Dad both. She didn’t like the thought, or the conflicting feeling it created in the depths of her mind. Branson and her father were fighting, risking their lives, trying to prevent the spread of the very ideas that were entering her mind at this moment. Dad would disown her if she knew she was traipsing all over the wilderness with a Backwinder boy.
It’s not traipsing, she justified. It’s survival. Big difference. This thought sat much better in Piper’s mind, so she welcomed it to stay. It pushed the conflict to the back of her head, and brought out Piper’s original point: she wasn’t a National or a Backwinder. Not anymore. She was a girl facing the world, and that’s all there was to it. If Patrick could help her do that, then so be it.
“What’re you thinking about?” The boy’s voice broke through her self reflection and brought her back to the present. He was eyeing her again, giving her that feeling that he already knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t find the feeling so repulsive as she had the day before.
“It’s a long story,” she replied.
“Fair enough.” The rain began to slow from a heavy downpour to a slight trickle. No longer assaulted by the water, Piper began to notice how truly soaked she was. Either he had the same thought, or he really could read her mind.
“I’m sorry, I should have thought to bring something to keep us dry.”
She rolled her eyes. “How quickly he forgets. Who pulled me all the way under the water?”
He raised his arms in upset. “Who pushed me in the first place?”
“Touché.”
“Ha.”
She gave him a wayside glance. “Fine, kid, you win this one.”
“We should get back to camp. I don’t know how long we’ve been here and we don’t want to be out after dark.”
“How come?”
“Wild animals, patrols, all kinds of things. It’s just not a good idea.”
“And the wild animals can’t get us inside the camp?” She stopped short. “Wait. What patrols?”
“National patrols. What other kind of patrol would I mean?”
“You mean they march right through here?”
“I’m not sure. They never have before, but they tell us to be ready for that during drill. If they were to come through I definitely wouldn’t want to be in their way. One look at my uniform and I’m history.”
“History?”
“It’s—“
“Never mind, you can tell me later. If they came through, what do you think the odds are they’d know where my brother and dad were?”
“I bet they have intense databases for that kind of thing, but you’re with me. You’d be in just as much danger. They’d take you for a spy in a second, especially since you don’t have a National uniform. They have no reason to believe you’re not a Memorist.”
“But there’s a chance, isn’t there?”
“Not a reasonable one. Don’t go looking for them, Piper. Please. Promise me you won’t go looking.” He’d called her Piper. Not Green Eyes. Piper.
“Fine. I promise,” she said after a lot of deliberation. “I don’t see why it really matters to you. I’m just another mouth to feed, remember?” She didn’t know why she felt like making him feel guilty, but she did.
“Come on, Green Eyes, you know that’s not what I think. I don’t drag myself all the way to the ocean for another mouth to feed.”
“Then what do you think?”
He looked her straight in the eye. It was a different look than she’d gotten before. It was neither angry nor tender, and she didn’t have a clue how to read it. “I don’t really know,” he said, with a little lilt in his voice. He began walking back toward the tree line.

"All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive..."

My novel is hitting a wall, so I'm doing the only thing I know to fix it: writing about something else instead. :)

Today the world changed. Today is a truly great day in the history of music. Today the entire Beatles catalog became available for download on iTunes.

Oh. Joy. RAPTURE. :D

Okay, so maybe it's not the most amazing thing that ever happened, but I'm pretty excited about it. This makes it so much easier for us younger fans to get the music and not pay a completely ridiculous amount of money. (And while we're here, may I make it quite clear that I'm not one of those obnoxious teenagers who claims to be a Beatles fan just because it's cool but doesn't actually know a single Beatles song. I have an Abbey Road poster in my room and could sing you any song off Rubber Soul word for word. Yup. I'm a fan.) I bet this also means Michael Jackson's estate gave up the rights to the songs, which is WONDERFUL. I mean, really, the fact that Paul McCartney couldn't even recovered HIS OWN SONGS on an album was rather sad.

I think the wonderful, timeless thing about the Beatles is how simple they are. Sure, they throw in their beautiful metaphors, but it doesn't take a massive intellect to understand them, and their messages are so universal. (I mean, "I Am the Walrus". Who doesn't relate to that?) For real though, some of the most inspirational songs of all time came from the pens and voices of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

So, my playlist for today (because I like lists) in no particular order:
1. "Till There Was You" -- Yes. Yes yes yes. "The Music Man" + the Beatles = pure gold.
2. "She Loves You" -- This may be the catchiest song of all time, even if the lyrics are simple.
3. "I Want to Hold Your Hand" -- Ditto the last song.
4. "Ticket to Ride" -- My mom used to play the Carpenters' version of this all the time. And I HATED it. And then I discovered the Beatles version. And I fell in love. :)
5. "Penny Lane" -- I will go there someday. I will. And Abbey Road too. And I will walk across Abbey Road barefoot and pretend I'm dead Paul. :D
6. "Yellow Submarine" -- simply because no Beatles playlist is complete without this song.
7. "Eleanor Rigby"-- I LOVE this song. Especially when I feel like a lonely people. "Waits at the window, wearing a face that she keeps in the jar by the door..."
8. "Eight Days a Week"-- I think this was the first time I ever heard the Beatles on the radio. I was in about 6th grade. "I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship..." Hehe. I love it.
9. "Drive My Car"-- this is definitely my ringtone right now. So catchy.
10. "Help!"-- So simple yet so true.
11. "Paperback Writer"-- Because this is my theme song. Of course.
12. "I Will" -- This is the kind of song I wish somebody would sing to me. It's so cute and sweet. :)
13. "Hey Jude"-- One because it's a classic, and two because I love it. All the way down to the five minutes of "Naaah nah nah nanananah, nanananah, hey Jude."
14. "Blackbird" -- How does anybody not like this song?
15. "Can't Buy Me Love" -- Like several other Beatles songs, this just makes me feel happy inside for no good reason. It's just fun.
16. "Across the Universe" - "Kangaroo Day, um..." haha. Just kidding, that's not what he says there, but it sounds funny. It's a really pretty song otherwise though. :)
17. "Ob-la-Di, Ob-la-Da" -- Life goes on!

Alright...
As a "Paperback Writer", "I Will" listen to the Beatles while I "Drive My Car" down "Penny Lane" and all "Across the Universe". I would have taken a train "Yesterday", but I couldn't get a "Ticket to Ride" even "With a Little Help From My Friends." I suppose I could have taken a "Yellow Submarine" but I don't really need one because "I am the Walrus".... okay. I'm done with this. Hahahaha.

Thanks for wasting your time on this.

Long live Paul and Ringo!

<3

Chapter 4

“We’re going to camp,” he finally admitted to her a few miles from the lake. She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Camp? As in the army camp? As in all your people?”
He shook his head. “You really aren’t in the military, are you? No. That would be base. We’re headed to my camp, the one I set up myself. I’m living there right now. It’s not much, but it’s relatively safe.”
“If you’re living there, then what were you doing way out here?”
“Hunting. Sometimes there’s a few ducks on the lake. Truth be told, I was just as surprised to see you as you were to see me. I heard you brushing around and figured you were a duck.”
Step. Step. Step. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“So what’s your story, Green Eyes?” She hated him calling her that, giving her nicknames before he even knew the first thing about her. The nerve of him. It took her a while to consider her answer, but she finally replied, “There was nothing left for me there.”
He nodded in wordless understanding.
“That’s why I joined the army,” he said after a few moments. “It’s not mandatory for us, but it’s not like I had anything better to do.”
Another long pause hung in the chilly air. This time, it was Piper who broke it.
“You mentioned your father, but didn’t you have a mom? Or brothers and sisters?” It was none of her business, but curiosity had gotten the best of her.
“My mom left us a couple of years before my dad died.”
“Left?” Piper’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “But how could she? The state couldn’t possibly have allowed—“
“We don’t do things the way the Nation does. Memorists marry for love, not for progress.” He looked down at his shuffling feet. “Unfortunately, love involves a much greater risk factor.”
What a selfish idea, she thought. Picking your own partner in life, with complete and utter disregard to the good of society? Of course, most National couples grew rather fond of each other, and some even fell in love after marriage. She’d always thought her own parents were rather lucky to have come across their love nearly on accident. In the end, however, the Nation was more important than the self; the Diviner mentioned this fact in nearly every one of his addresses. An intelligent man could never be expected to marry an unintelligent woman. The children could hardly reach their full potential intellectually.
“If it was love… why didn’t she stay?”
He didn’t speak for a long time, and avoided her eyes, determined to face the ground for as long as possible. “The only problem with love is… it’s easy for people to convince themselves they’re in it. People like feeling like they mean something in the world, even if it’s only to one person. Sometimes people think they’re in love with someone who loves them… but in the end they’re only in love with love. And when the fluttery emotions disappear, so do they.”
She felt a pang of hurt for the boy, in spite of herself. “I am sorry. Truly.”
“Not your fault,” he said, his deep voice growing louder and sharper. She could tell that he didn’t like showing weakness either. “Life is life. Just got to deal with it.”
And silence overtook the pair once again. Piper had always spent most of her time in silence, even before the bombings, and this silence was not uncomfortable like the many that had filled in the holes in her past dealings with people. It was merely a thoughtful lull, a quiet recharge before the next topic of conversation.
“Hang on,” she asked suddenly. “What did you call yourself before?”
“What?”
“Before, you were talking about your people and how you do marriage different. What did you call them?”
“Memorists. We call ourselves the Memorists.”
“You mean you’re not Backwinders?”
“Not within our own circles. You call us Backwinders because you think we’re uselessly backwards. We prefer to think of ourselves as the ones who have retained the memories of what used to be, as the protectors of the past. The Memorists.”
“But the past you believe in never existed. It’s a figment of your imaginations.”
He stopped walking and looked up, making sure to catch her eye. She hated that feeling. She was sure every fault she had was written in her eyes, and he was reading them like they were books.
“Events can’t be erased by a single man’s insistence that they never happened.”
She could think of no witty remark, no comeback that could convince him. She simply knew he was wrong. It was as simple as that. The boy, however, wasn’t finished.
“We have more records beside the Apocalypse Journals. There are letters, books, memoirs, music. There’s a whole world in the past that the Diviner tells you never existed. A world before the Nation came on the scene.”
“But there wasn’t a world before the Nation. We were the first and only inhabitants of the planet.”
“It wasn’t the first, and it wasn’t the only. It isn’t the only.”
“Not anymore. Not after your people left.”
He shook his hand. “You don’t understand. There are whole other continents. Six more of them, actually.”
“Continents?”
“Land masses. Surrounded by oceans. I forgot, do they tell you about oceans?”
She shook her head eagerly. “What’s an ocean?”
He smiled silently.
“Come on, tell me!”
“I’ll tell you what. There’s one not too far from camp. There won’t be time tonight but tomorrow we’ll go to the ocean, all right? You can see for yourself.”
She stopped walking. “Is this a trap?”
He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. “Look, it’s worth nothing to me to trap you at this point. Sure, you’re part of the Nation, but you don’t know anything about its inner workings. You probably know even less than we do. You haven’t tried to kill me, so I don’t think you’re a threat. Everybody should see the ocean at least once. It’s just a fact of life.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. This gesture seemed to be reserved for moments when he was trying to get her trust. Finally curiosity got the best of her. “Alright. Tomorrow we’ll go to the ocean. Deal.” She held out her hand, and he looked at her in surprise. She didn’t usually offer him trust like this. After a moment of shock, he shook it.
“Deal.”
The following lull in conversation allowed Piper to focus on the scenery around her as they continued to walk. She had never seen anything like it before. There had been trees in the city, but she’d never seen anything like the ones that lined the road before her. Not only were they taller than the synthetic trees that grew in the city square, but they were… orange. Orange, red, and yellow garlands of color filled in the empty spaces between the brown branches, creating a kind of fantastical wonderland.
“Why are they that color?” She tapped Patrick’s arm and pointed at the trees.
He gave her a wayside glance. “You kidding?”
“No, do I look like it?” She grinned in anticipation. “They’re so beautiful.”
“It’s September. The leaves change color in the autumn.”
“Autumn?”
He actually stopped to look at her. “You’re killin’ me. The season? Don’t tell me they’ve gotten rid of seasons where you come from.”
“I’m not sure exactly what you’re talking about.”
He sighed heavily. “I can tell. Man. They got rid of seasons. They just never stop, do they?”
“Wait. Does it have to do with… snow? Is snow a season?”
He laughed for the first time since they met. “Snow is precipitation. Winter is the season when it snows.”
“And snow is white, right? And really cold?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“I remember snow. It snowed in the city once when I was little.” She bit her lip and grinned. “It was like clouds froze and fell from the sky. It stuck to everything, backed up everything for a week… ice on the roads or something. The Diviner wasn’t happy about it, he promised later it wouldn’t ever happen again. It messed up the Lex cars, got in the way… I couldn’t see why it was a bad thing. It was so pretty. Me and Mom and Branson went outside and played until we froze.”
A lump formed in her throat. Mom.
He looked at his feet thoughtfully. “Glitch in their system. They probably have some kind of covering up to prevent the weather from getting through…” He looked up to meet her eye again. “And you don’t even know how much you’re missing, do you? You don’t know how much they’re not telling you.” He gestured toward the gorgeous orange leaves. “Will you take this as some proof that I’m not crazy? Your Diviner would tell you those trees don’t exist. Autumn is a myth. Your people, the people in charge, they just erase whatever they don’t like. There’s so much more out there than they’re telling you.”
She remained silent.
They arrived at Patrick’s camp just as the sun was setting. Ethereal brushstrokes swept across the sky, painting it lavender, crimson, and gold. The campsite itself set on the crest of a hill, with a perfect view of Piper’s newfound autumn trees lining the ground all the way to the horizon.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “See what I mean? Never seen anything like that before, have you?”
She shook her head in speechless wonder. After a few minutes his voice pulled her away. “Come on, it’ll be there everyday. We gotta eat.” He pulled the pack of beef jerky out of his pack and threw it to her. “Sorry it’s not much. It was a terrible day for hunting. Hopefully we can get something good tomorrow.”
She snapped open the package greedily and tore a piece of the dried meat off with her teeth. She was starving— anything edible was good enough for her. It took some discipline to force herself to hand the bag back to him. He traded her for an apple. It was rich and juicy, bursting with flavor in her mouth.
“You can have the tent,” he said, gesturing to the shelter behind her. “I’ll take the tree.”
She looked up at the gigantic tree at the edge of the camp and shook her head. “You can’t sleep up there. You’ll fall out or something, I know it.”
“Did it the first night I was here. If I strap myself into the sleeping bag I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. You’re the lady. You take the tent.”
“Hey, I can handle whatever you can. Just because I’m a girl—“
“Another thing you’ve lost. Chivalry. Guess that gets in the way of progress, huh?”
She stood and placed her hands on her hips, trying to look as offended as possible.
“It’s not about you not being as good as me, as strong as me, whatever. It’s about you being better because you’re a girl. You deserve to be treated better, okay? And yes, it’s old-fashioned. And I don’t care. You’re sleeping in the tent.”
She could tell she wasn’t winning this battle, so she surrendered. “Fine.”
“You oughta go ahead and get some sleep, too. It’s been a long day.”
She cocked one eyebrow. “Is that chivalry too?”
“No, but I think it’s in your best interest if you want to see the ocean tomorrow. It’s a ways away and you want to be wide awake for this.”
He’d done it again, dangled a possibility in front of her that she couldn’t resist. That’s what he seemed to be best at. “Fine. I’ll go to sleep and we’ll go see the ocean tomorrow. You’ll have to wake me up in the morning.”
“I can do that.”
“Alright. Well, good night, Patrick.”
“ ‘Night, Green Eyes.”
To her surprise, the nickname didn’t fill her with resentment. Maybe it just took some getting used to. No one had ever given her a nickname but her brother.
“Hey, Patrick?”
He looked up from the fire he was trying to start. “Huh?”
“Thanks.” She disappeared into the tent.

My life! The real one!

...Haha... weren't expecting that, were ya? For real, I probably should be working on my novel, but I'm procrastinating a little bit. I have writer's block. So maybe writing aimlessly will free me up a little bit. So, here it is... you know the drill.

Cool God thoughts:
1. God didn't have to make us the way He made us. Me and my friend Lorel were talking about food the other day and I realized God could have made us so we all just plugged into the ground and recharged or something. But we get to EAT! And not only that, we get to LIKE eating!! Cool.
2. I've been meaning to put this on for a long time, but every one's a minister, because ministry has a ton to do with service. That's my Wednesday night class at church this quarter. I'm lovin' it.
3. Subcategory -- cool Heaven thoughts (a lot of this is speculation on my part... but it's cool speculation!).
~You know how on earth you click with some people ridiculously well, but then there are those other people whom you love just as much, but can't carry on a conversation with quite as easily? I bet in Heaven everybody clicks perfectly. Which is awesome.
~Past conflicts between people are gone in Heaven. Like you don't even remember they've ever happened.
~My grandpa is in Heaven right now, and he gets to hang out with Rachel's grandpa, and Laesha's grandpa, and Warren Wilcox, and Emmett Roberts, and Paul! All at the same time! (Do you think they have like "anniversary of coming to heaven" parties in Heaven? That'd be cool. Happy belated anniversary of going to Heaven, Grandpa. :') )
Yeah. I like Heaven. Excited to go there. :)

Things I did this week:
1. Tried out for my school musical (and made it into chorus!)... but I'm having doubts as to whether I'm actually going to stay. Some of the jokes are extremely bawdy and I'm not comfortable with it. (And if you go to my school, NO, this has NOTHING to do with the casting. They can cast it however they like. This is purely based on my convictions.) They're still cleaning it up though, so I'm not quitting just yet. I'll stick around to see how much better it gets and we'll go from there.
2. I'm up to about 14,000 words on my novel... HOLY COW! I think this is the longest thing I've ever written and I've only been working on it for a week today. Wow. I'm really loving it... it's cathartic. The NaNoWriMo website calls it "thirty days and thirty nights of literary abandon"... I like literary abandon. It's a fun place to be. :) Again, if there are plot discrepancies and they're confusing you... sorry. Also, if the name "Henry" popped up anywhere in the last chapter... I meant Patrick. He was originally Henry but I changed his name. I think I caught 'em all but if I didn't, yeah. It's Patrick.
3. Somehow I misplaced a $15 iTunes giftcard... sigh. The days of frivolous whim-based music buying are over until Christmas.
4. Had a dream about an old friend from elementary/middle school last night-- I need to call you Katherine!! (I don't know if you actually read this or not, but that's ok.)
5. FINISHED MY TERM PAPER ROUGH DRAFT!!! It was quite the undertaking, too. I'm nervous... my teacher is a tough grader.
6. Got my two of my besties back from Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and wherever else in the world they were... I take my girls for granted! Hol and Aimee... I love you. And I'm glad you're back. :)
7. Rediscovered iPhone Bananagrams... fun stuff. What a fantastic waste of time. :)
8. It SNOWED!! And I watched it snow!!! I love snow.
9. I turned my clock back and got an extra hour of sleep... and the benefits end there. I hate being off Daylight Savings time. Hate it. Yesterday I got home at about 5:30 and it was dark. Boo. Boo on Daylight Throwing-Away time.
10. I saw a CHIK-FIL-A COMMERCIAL!! I've never seen one of those before in my life.
11. Oh! I discussed Scarlet Letter in English... aaah! I love that book. Unlike everybody else, I liked Dimmesdale... what do you think? (Yes, Aimee, I am talking to you. Because no one else has read this book. Hehe.)
12. I watched "Avalon High" on Disney Channel last night, and was severely disappointed. It's based on a book and they completely changed the ending, and it was so clever in the book! They made it all "preteenish"... oh well. I'm slowly losing my Disney Channel love.

Things I still need to do in the near future:
1. Two physics labs (well, I've done about half of both of them... so one physics lab?)
2. An article for CFYC
3. Start working on a persuasive speech for Friday... my argument is that music stimulates brain activity, hence helping you study. I am living proof of this argument. :)
4. Start working on the Kite Runner... I still haven't started. What a bad book club leader I am.

Random things you probably could care less that you now know about me:
1. I kinda love awesome socks. Plain white socks are desperately depressing. I'm currently wearing a Buzz Lightyear sock on one foot and a Rex the dinosaur sock on the other. So they're friends. But on my feet.
2. I have a weakness for Chewy Chips Ahoy. It's bad. Two of them have 180 calories, and I have THREE just about every day. And I wonder why I'm gaining weight.
3. I love taking long walks. They help me sort things out or just relax. The other day I discovered I can walk all the way to the park about a mile away from my house without even getting tired. I'm kinda really sad the weather is getting cold because now it's harder to take walks.
4. In my house there's this spot on the rightmost cushion of our couch. It's the comfiest part of the couch and has the best view of the TV and the closest proximity to the outlet where I have to charge my laptop. And it's DAD'S SPOT. I never get to sit in Dad's spot. Sigh. Well, I say never... actually I'm sitting in it right now, 'cause he's upstairs. I'm such a rebel.
5. I type a lot slower when I'm cold. So this cold front is not helping my novel-writing pursuits.

Thoughts of the week:
1. People need to learn to show some respect for other people's feelings, in both directions. (And if you don't know what I'm talking about, that's ok. If you're supposed to, then I can guarantee you do.)
2. The most entertaining part of the GA/Auburn football game is the Pirates of the Caribbean/Star Wars music. (No, I am not directly watching the game. If I were, you would know, because the world would be coming to an end as we speak. I can just hear it from the other room. I am, however, going to move into that room because my laptop is about to die and I need to plug it in.)
3. Christmas comes AFTER Thanksgiving. Santa comes at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and then it is the Christmas season. That means the Christmas commercials should come on AFTER Thanksgiving and decorations should come up AFTER Thanksgiving. I'm looking at you, shopping center by my house. Christmas decorations up by November 1st. Good grief.
4. Some people get very worked up over nothing at all... and that's all I'm gonna say.


Songs of the Week:
1. "Taking the World On" by Meese-- I don't necessarily relate to the lyrics, but they're just so beautiful. "It's like one voice in the choir buried by the rest..." Sigh. I'm sad I didn't get into this band before they broke up.
2. "Breakeven" by the Script-- I like it all except for the "prayin' to a God that I don't believe in" part. Because I definitely believe in God. So I change it to "hangin' on a hope that I don't believe in." And then it's a good song!
3. "November Blue" by the Avett Brothers-- I bought the live version. And it's gorgeous. Yup.

Alright, my novel is calling, whether I know where it's going or not. At 2000 words a day, I can't afford to get behind. Thanks for checkin'.

Chapter 3

I rather like this one. New characters make me happy. And give me words. :)
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Piper saw the sunlight on the horizon and thought it was fire. Before last night, she’d always thought her worst fear was drowning. Wrong. It was fire. The crackling noise still writhed and sizzled in her ears, mixed with her mother’s sobs and Baylor’s terrified screams…
She’d been walking for just over four hours, and was frankly surprised she hadn’t yet fallen over dead. Her legs felt like water… water… Water would be nice. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth like she’d just downed a particularly syrupy mug of drinking chocolate. What she wouldn’t give for some drinking chocolate right now…
The true stupidity of Piper’s plight hit her that moment. Where was she going? What did she plan to do? For all she knew she could be waltzing into enemy territory, just begging to get herself killed. The wisest plan would be to make for the next closest city to Iretum—if she only knew what that city was, or how to find it. She cursed her own ignorance of the world around her. Why hadn’t they mentioned this in Current Events class? What to do when a war breaks out in your hometown and you end up stranded in the wilderness. She couldn’t remember any lesson like that.
Distracted, Piper began to notice the ground grow softer and softer beneath her feet. She could scarcely bear to get her hopes up… could it be that the soil was growing darker, richer? Could it be Nitro dirt? Could she be lucky enough to come across a city so quickly ? She looked up, and the sight tore her hope to shreds. It was a pool of water surrounded by tall grass. She thought it was called a lake—there was an artificial one for swimming in the middle of town. Her shoes squelched in the now nearly liquid ground, trying to stick behind in the mud.
As she came to the edge, she cringed at her reflection in the water. Her once perfectly straight black hair hung in wild mats around her face, and dark circles lounged lazily under her tired green eyes. There was a cut on her cheek that she hadn’t even felt before; she was sure from the looks of it that it would leave a nasty scar. The shoulder of her navy blue blouse had been ripped clean away, leaving her entire right arm exposed to the elements.
Scooping some water from the lake, she brushed it over her face in an attempt to get clean. It felt so good that she considered slipping completely into the water and giving herself a full bath, but she was only a few hours into her journey. She wouldn’t yet sink so low as to bathe like a Backwinder. She cupped more of the water into her hands and took a sip, and her parched tongue thanked her profusely. It wasn’t water from the city, not even close. Flecks of dirt tinted it a light brown, but it tasted decent enough, and it would keep her going at least a little longer. Recharged, she stood up and stretched, feeling the tension in her limbs. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired before.
Yawning widely, she turned around to find herself at the end of a gun. She gasped.
“Where do you think you’re going, Green Eyes?” the boy asked.
He looked older than her, but not by much. His eyes hid beneath his cap, masking any emotion she could have deciphered. All she could make out was a clenched jaw and reddish hair, about the color of Branson’s, peaking out from under the hat. His uniform, however, said everything she needed to know. It was brown with brass buttons, and on the breast was a book encircled with laurel leaves.
He was a Backwinder. She cursed herself for letting him sneak up on her like that. If it weren’t for her stupid ear…
“Just let me go,” she said, trying to brush past. “Just let me go and I’ll pretend I never saw you.”
“And what good would that do me?” He held the gun steady. “What side are you on?”
“My own side,” she said bitterly. The point lowered from her heart to around her belly area.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really,” she replied in defiance. This boy didn’t plan to hurt her. She could feel it in the tone of his voice; in the way he carried himself. Somehow, someway, he was just as lost as she was, and nobody willingly gives up a kindred spirit.
He lifted the bill of his cap, so she could see his eyes. They were chocolate brown, and they looked sad. A large scar on his left cheek marred most of his face. “Fair enough,” he said. “Ask you no questions, you’ll tell me no lies.”
“That’s about right.” She shifted her feet. “Will you put that thing down? It’d be a lot easier to have a pleasant conversation without death staring me in the face every waking minute.”
He lowered the gun and strapped it back into the carrier on his back. “What’s your name, Green Eyes?”
“Does it really matter?”
“It’d make it a lot easier to have a pleasant conversation.”
She raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Piper. Piper Conrad.”
“Patrick Blue.” He extended a hand. She eyed it for a moment, not sure whether she trusted him or not.
“Where are the rest of your people?” she asked.
“My regiment?” She nodded soundlessly, never taking her eyes from his face. His eyes shifted, refusing to meet hers. “Not here. That’s all I can say.”
So he was a deserter. She glanced at the pack on his back. It probably contained food and water, and maybe even some kind of portable shelter or a compass. She couldn’t make it around her on her own, that much she knew. She needed an ally. His hand was still extended.
“I don’t bite,” he said.
She took his hand, and he shook it firmly. “Nice to meet you.”
“What’re you doing way out here?” She could feel his eyes staring into her, noticing her civilian clothes. “Whichever side you’re on, you’re old enough to be in the army, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m sixteen and I’m half deaf, okay?” She thought of the boy back at the station. Maybe this boy wanted to believe she was a deserter too. She refused to be thought of as a coward.
He could tell he had touched a nerve. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to figure you out.”
“I thought you had decided not to kill me.”
“Yeah, but while I’m here I might as well decide whether or not it’s worth it to stick around.”
“Oh, thanks,” she said sarcastically.
“It would be pretty pointless for me, you have to admit,” he said. “You have no resources, not much stealth, and a very poor sense of your surroundings.”
How dare he come along and tell her all the things she was doing wrong? He must have seen the offended look on her face. “Come on, don’t take it personally. You have to admit you weren’t exactly being careful. I could have shot you before you even knew I was there.”
“Yeah, well, why didn’t you? Take pity on the poor little lost girl, put her out of her misery.”
“Are you determined to hate me or something?”
“Look, you don’t even know what I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. I hate the world right now. I don’t expect you to understand.” And your uniform doesn’t help your cause, she thought.
He paused for a minute and looked at her thoughtfully.
“I watched my father die when I was twelve years old. Shot by National officials. Try me.”
He was lying. The Nation didn’t kill people unless they deserved it.
“Just go away,” she said.
“Look, Green Eyes—“
“Quit calling me that,” she said tersely.
“Whatever. Piper. Bottom line is you can’t make it on your own. We both know it. Even if you stayed here, with plenty of water, in three weeks you need food if you want to live.” He pulled a brown package out of his pack and opened it. The scent wafted over into Piper’s nostrils: beef jerky. The peppery scent made her mouth water. “Plus, I dare say you want to go somewhere, even if you don’t know where somewhere is. Come with me. I can help you. I’ll get you wherever you need to go and then I’ll leave you alone. You never have to see me again.”
Every cell of Piper’s brain told her not to trust the boy. Alliance with a Backwinder, even for the very best reasons, meant treason. In the end, though, it depended which she valued more: the Nation and the Diviner, or her own life.
And in the end, her life won out.
Maybe I can become a spy, she thought. Win the war for the Nation. Any justification she could find helped.
“Fine,” she said. The boy smiled, looking very unsoldier-like. He needed to be careful if he was going to keep up his image. He wasn’t nearly as frightening when he smiled. He began walking away from the lake.
“Wait!” she called, running after him. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” he replied with a wry smile on his face.
“What!?”
“I. Don’t. Know.” The twinkle in his eyes made him look like he was playing a very amusing joke on her. She hated him. With every fiber of her being she loathed this smug, arrogant, manipulative liar of a Backwinder who had lured her into this trap. She planted her feet in the cool mud.
“I’m not moving until you tell me where we’re going.” He turned around to look at her, his eyes boring into hers like bullets. They weren’t angry or unfriendly, by any means, but she had the strangest sensation that he was staring straight into the depths of her soul.
“You really don’t know how the world works, do you?” he asked with a slight edge to his tone. “I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart. It’s no skin off my nose if you decide not to come. In fact, it would make things a lot easier for me. You’re not going to be any help and you’re just another mouth to feed. Stay here if you want. I really don’t care.”
“Then why did you offer to help me in the first place?” she retorted, more frustrated than ever. “You obviously don’t want to. Are you just going to take me straight to your Backwinder general? String me up as a spy or something? I can tell you, I don’t know anything. You’re not going to get anything out of me, so you might as well just save yourself the trouble. You could get demoted for going to all this trouble for no information.”
He paused for a moment. “So that’s what side you’re on.” Almost as a reflex, Piper clapped her hand over her mouth. She had probably just ruined any chance she’d had for survival. To her own surprise, tears welled up in her eyes. “My mother died last night. And my little brother. He was only five years old.”
His cold eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“YOU SHOULD BE!” she screamed at him, lashing out with every emotion left inside her fragile body. “Your people, it’s all their fault! You! This cause you’re fighting for is murdering five-year-old boys over a stupid BOOK!” She wanted to hit him, do something to retaliate, to avenge Baylor and her mother, to play the hero for just a moment, but she didn’t have the strength. Against her will, she fell to the ground, as if the full weight of the last few days had finally landed on her shoulders, and she didn’t have the strength to bear it.
He didn’t touch her. He simply spoke.
“War isn’t a pretty thing, is it? People seem to think it’s a romantic cause, ‘fighting for the Diviner, bringing honor to your country.’ Maybe those causes are legitimate, I don’t know. Maybe war is an essential part of life, maybe sometimes it has to happen. But any war that crosses that civilian line has gone too far. That’s when it stops being noble.”
She gritted her teeth and looked up at him, trying to regain a little dignity. She hated appearing this weak. “What are you, a politician?”
“Hey, it’s a free country. I have the right to express my opinions. Although being a National you wouldn’t exactly understand the whole free country thing.” He turned around and started walking away.
She let him go for a few minutes, sobbing into her knees and simply hearing the squelching of his feet in the mud. Soon it disappeared as his feet trod on drier and drier ground. She looked up. He was already several yards away. She hated herself for being upset, hated herself for wanting to trust him…
“Wait,” she said almost in a whisper, so low she knew he couldn’t hear her. “Hey, wait!” she called, much louder than before. She got to her feet and dashed after him, and found him standing still.
“You coming, or not? You better make up your mind right here. You can’t keep slowing me down like this.”
“I’m coming,” she said. “I don’t really have another choice, do I?”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” He gave her another pointed look and turned around again, walking out toward the horizon.
And this time, she followed him.

An interlude, or, my lousy attempt at a subplot

If I figure out how to make this subplot make sense, it'll be pretty sweet. Right now... it stinks. Honestly, it's only here for word count, not that it's very many words. But that's ok. The next chapter is pretty good. Wait for it.
*Note: the italics indicate that it's separate and apart from the main action of the story. Just so you're not confused. :)
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Holding her breath, Abigail peered up through the brambles at the blue-clad Union soldier. How could she have known they’d be patrolling this area? They never had in the past. She’d traveled this route many times, delivered the letters with no fear of capture. Someone had betrayed her. That was the only answer. She cursed the unknown traitor under her breath.
“Who’s there?” The soldier’s voice, though stern, gave away his age; he couldn’t be more than twenty-two. Abigail bit her lip. Did she dare take the risk? If it worked, she could get to the rendezvous point easily… but if it didn’t, it would cost her life.
She’d never been one to shy away from danger.
“Please, don’t hurt me. I just want to get back home, and—“
She rose slowly from the bushes, and found herself at the end of a musket. The boy was handsome, with cocoa brown eyes and a chiseled jaw. Perfect. She extracted herself from the thorns, well aware of the gunpoint that followed her every move. “Please, sir. I didn’t know you were, and…” She cupped her hand over her mouth, as if confiding a secret, “I had snuck out to meet my beau. I thought you were my mother.” She laughed a girlish giggle, and tried her best to blush. The musket slowly began to lower.
“Although, truth be told, you’re much more handsome than him.” She drew out the words and placed a dainty hand on his shoulder. “Please, won’t you let me go home? I don’t need any more trouble.”
His stern eyes twinkled at her. “You’re a minx, you are. Run along home, morning glory. Your secret’s safe with me.”
She beamed her best smile at him and kissed his cheek. Freedom at last. She picked up the hem of her skirt and dashed into the darkness. Once she was far enough away she spat on the ground and wiped her mouth, determined to get the dirty Yankee off her lips. How idiotic they were, what backwards views they had of women! How easily they believed in the naivety of a young girl! She patted the hidden pocket of her gown, feeling the parchment of the plans between the folds of fabric. She had three hours to make it to her rendezvous point in New York. If she had anything to say about it, the Confederacy would win this war.

Chapter 2

Oh, fine. More NaNo. I kind of don't really want to post it anymore, but I suppose I will. The beginning of this chapter is garbage. The middle of this chapter is garbage. The end of this chapter is redeemable garbage. There are already several plot discrepancies. I know. Editing is later. Don't judge me. On the upside, I at least have a plot now and kinda know where I'm going with it. If it makes no sense to you... quit reading. Save yourself from this torture. :)

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Piper never thought she’d see the day when she missed sharing a room with her brother.
The spiraling oak tree, the one responsible for her loneliness, for her deaf ear, scratched at her windowpane with its branches, as if trying to torment her. She was used to Branson’s heavy breathing in the next bed over, and the shrill shriek of wood on glass proved to be much more unsettling. She sat up to let the lateral sensors know she was awake and they should turn on the light. The rays made her eyes ache within seconds, but she knew her chances of sleeping tonight were slim.
Yawning widely, she turned to her bedside table and picked up Nana’s book. She ran her finger over the black letters on the first page again. “1776… Revolution or Evolution?” Her finger left a pile of dust in its wake. She fanned the book through the air and blew on the pages. Finally, she turned the page.
As the first shots of the Revolutionary War flew through the night at Lexington and Concord, no one could have known the impact they would have on the world as a whole. No one could have known that a new nation would be born out of bloody rebellion, and in fact, no one expected it to survive. Such a revolution was unprecedented. Revolutionaries had everything to lose, but everything to gain.
Mother England had oppressed the Patriot colonists enough. They would gain their freedom, or they would die trying.
Piper was vaguely reminded of the current war, the Rebels, the Backwinders… but these Revolutionaries were different. The Backwinders deserved what they were getting, they were dangerous… but the Revolutionaries had been wronged.
The next part was a blur of names she had never heard before… George Washington, Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams… she assumed they were the main characters. One of the names very nearly gave her a heart attack—Branson Conrad.
“What?” she said aloud in confusion.
“Of course I was there, sis. You were too.”
She looked up to see Branson standing in front of her. Her brother looked good in his uniform: green for prosperity and change with white buttons for hope. The national symbol, a light bulb surrounded by a wreath made of wires, was stitched on the breast of his jacket.
Jumping up from her bed, Piper ran to her twin and threw her arms around his neck. “You’re back! You’re back, the war’s over! It has to be, right? Oh, you didn’t even have to fight and I was so scared—“
“What are you talking about, twaze?” She laughed at her old nickname, but cocked her head in confusion. “Neither one of us is home. We left this morning, remember?”
She narrowed her eyes in wonderment. “But I couldn’t… my ear… I was just at Nana’s…”
“Nana’s here too,” he said, pointing to the corner of Piper’s room. It was Nana, alright, but over a hundred years younger. Her short white hair had returned to its original reddish brown, every wrinkled had disappeared, and her eyes were more blue than gray. She was more beautiful than Piper had ever seen her, even in the old memographs. She, too, was dressed in uniform.
“Nana would never be in the military… she hates it…”
CRASH.
The house quaked.
“The Backwinders are coming, Piper. With bombs.”
“This isn’t a battlefield, they wouldn’t bomb here.”
CRASH. She gripped Branson’s arm in terror. “Tell me they wouldn’t come here, Branson. Promise me.”
He gave her a sad, knowing look
“TELL ME!” she screamed in panic. “THEY WOULDN’T COME HERE, IT’S A CIVILIAN AREA!” She tried to shake his shoulders, but she wasn’t strong enough. She ran to the window. The neighborhood glowed with firelight as flames consumed the house across the street. CRASH. Dirt clods and wood flew through the air as a third bomb went off. Sirens began to blare.
“NO!” she screamed. “YOU LIAR!” She pointed at Nana. “YOU SAID IT WOULD BE OKAY, YOU SAID IT WOULD BE OVER!”
But before Nana could answer, a piece of the neighbor’s wall flew through the window and hit Piper in the head. The smell of smoke filling her nostrils, she slipped into the darkness…
And awoke in her bed. Thank goodness it was only a dream. She sat up, telling the lateral sensors she was awake… turn off the alarm…
But there was no alarm. It was the sirens.
It was a dream, it was a dream, it had to be another dream!
“SISSY!”
Baylor.
The five year old came running into her room in a panic. He leaped onto her bed and into her arms.
“What are the scary noises?” he shouted, more an exclamation than a question. “They won’t stop!! Make them stop, Sissy!!” He buried his head in her shoulder.
“I don’t know, bud, but it’s going to be okay, okay? We’re going to go get Mom and she’ll know what to do.”
No sooner had she stood up than another CRASH shook the house so violently that the floor shook. She fell with a thud on her back, holding the boy on her chest. He sobbed uncontrollably, screaming through his tears.
“Hush, buddy, it’s ok,” she said, stroking his hair and standing up. She opened the door to her room and entered the hallway toward her mother’s room.
CRASH. Crackle.
She’d never heard the sound before, but she’d been taught about it in Current Events class. Fire. It was orange and red, and sizzled and popped like bacon cooking on an electric stove. And it was dangerous. Very dangerous. Fire.
She steadied Baylor’s head deeper into her shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see. She couldn’t bear to see the boy anymore frightened. She dashed into her mother’s room to find an empty bed and nothing more.
“PIPER!”
She heard the voice from her room. “PIPER! BAYLOR!” How had they missed each other? She ran back down the hallway to meet a wall of fire.
“MOM! MOM, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” she shouted over the sirens and flames.
“GO! GO TO THE STATION!”
“No,” Piper whispered under her breath. “NO! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU HERE!”
“TAKE BAYLOR!”
Piper looked from the flames to the little boy in her arms. The time for crying was gone, but a lump in her throat kept her from speaking. The flames crackled in a steady rhythm, like the ticking of Nana’s clock... Time’s running out, dear heart…
“I LOVE YOU!” Piper shouted into the flames. She could only hear tears. Fighting her own, she flew down the yet un-scorched stairs and into the darkness.
“It’s okay, Baylor, we’re going to be okay,” she said to the little boy as they stepped into the night air. Though riddled with smoke, it still felt like salvation to her lungs.
Baylor wriggled out of her arms. “MOMMY!” He began to run back toward the house.
It was like watching a clip in Current Events class. She knew exactly what was coming, but felt herself powerless to stop it or react in any way. Her brain tried to force her vocal chords to wake up, to scream. It tried to force her legs to run toward her brother, to scoop him into her arms and save him from what was coming. Maybe fate stopped her. Maybe it was fear.
CRASH.
Piper lost her brother behind a cherry red wall of flame and ash.
Reality kicked in. This wasn’t a film clip. This was her life. A life that had become hell.
“BAYLOR!” She screamed into the inferno, but she heard no answer. She dashed toward the flame, hoping to snatch the boy out of its grasp. She recoiled as her arm grew so hot it was almost cold, and turned red and raw. Frozen to the spot, she watched as her childhood house went up in flames, along with her mother and brother.
There was nothing she could do.
At last she could bear it no longer. So she ran. She ran and ran and ran. She ran to the station. Because if anyone was left, if anyone else had survived this nightmare, that’s where they would be.
The station was the most ominous beacon of hope Piper had ever seen. Sitting in the dead center of the city square, it was formally the station for the Lex cars, but on occasions such as these it had the capacity to hold the entire town. Its reddish copper plated walls glistened in the firelight, as though laughing at the pain and turmoil that could not harm it.
There were at least five hundred people inside, and all of them were silent. The only sound reflecting off the metallic walls was the collective breath of hundreds who were only just learning how to use their lungs again. Piper searched the room for Nana. She couldn’t find her.
I need peace. I’ll be ready whenever my time comes, if sooner or later.
Had Nana known somehow? Had she known this would happen when they talked this afternoon? That seemed so far in the past… and it didn’t matter. She would never know. Nana wouldn’t have left her house, she wouldn’t have run to the station. She wanted to go.
Piper ran to the station door. There was nothing worth staying here for.
“Miss,” one of the Guard said quietly, “miss, I can’t let you go back out there.”
“Then you better turn around,” she said, not even bothering to look at him.
“Let the deserter go,” a boy a little younger than her said with venom in his voice. “She’s not worth anything to us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Thought you were too good for the war, huh? Thought you were too good to fight for the country that’s let you live within its borders for years, you miserable scum? How’d you fool the draft, huh? Lie about your age?”
Piper threw a hand to her ear.
“Shut up.”
“Go, then!” the boy shouted. “Go out there and die! Maybe dying a civilian death can make up for your lack of honor.”
She wanted to throttle him. She wanted to grip his throat in her fist and squeeze the air right out of his lying lungs. But she couldn’t. She hardly had the strength to pull open the door and run into the night.
She didn’t know where she was running. She didn’t really care. All she knew is that the war was over for her, and a new war had begun: Piper versus the world.
How she managed to survive, she wasn’t quite sure. Debris was flying through the air, miraculously missing her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like a river. All she knew was that she had to keep running. She just had to. After all, what else was left for her?
The copper roads of the city didn’t give her feet as much traction as she would have liked. She looked back on the flames and saw the towering city that had once been her home. The place that had once glowed with hope and love, with her family, with her friends, with life, now glowed with flames and chaos. Once. As in not anymore. She banished the word from her mind.
Finally shadows and moonlight replaced the brightness of the flames, and the crashes of the bombs disappeared. The road beneath her feet stopped abruptly to meet dirt and grass. An owl sang its eerie song somewhere in the distance, as if it could feel the turmoil rising from the bowels of the land. Wind kissed her cheek in a semblance of comfort, but it only brought her pain and loneliness. She, Piper Conrad, was desperately, utterly alone in the world, standing at the edge of the city she had never left.
She struggled with the idea of stepping across the crack between copper and dirt. Copper said strength, conductivity, progress. Dirt said hard work and little result. Only the Backwinders still paid any attention to dirt. And if there was one thing Piper Conrad wasn’t, it was a Backwinder.
The city had always been big enough for her. It had never bothered her that leaving wasn’t allowed. It was for her own good, after all. Society had become so far removed from the surrounding wilderness that it was no longer safe. The stories that circulated amongst schoolchildren had been enough to keep Piper within the city limits. Some of the milder tales contended that only the brave of heart could face the edge of the wilderness, and it was for this reason that the soldiers could leave for their posts. The more gruesome, and probably more truthful, said that the Guard had set a forcefield around the borders to keep unwanted visitors out. Forcefields themselves were the stuff of legend. Nobody was sure exactly what they did to a person, as they had been developed by the Diviner as a top secret military project. Coltrane Thornton’s older brother had once put his hand through a forcefield, and it just disappeared, disintegrated into ash before his very eyes. Or at least that’s what Coltrane Thornton had said.
She had never given much thought to the matter until now, when her very life might be depending on her crossing of this line. She looked back in the direction of the main square. Armies didn’t bomb a city for no reason. At this very moment the Backwinders were probably taking over the city, destroying the control systems, killing whoever was left…
Her stomach turned. She couldn’t go back. Her only option was to move forward.
Shaking in anxiety, she slowly lifted a hand, looking down at the black crack below her. Slowly but surely she moved, placing the tip of her finger at the edge of the line… then a little further… then a little further…
Nothing happened. Perhaps the forcefield had been taken offline by the bombings. Maybe it had never existed at all. Either way, it was safe to cross.
Piper had felt dirt under her feet before, but never like this. The dirt on this side of the line was as hard as the copper, maybe harder, nothing like the soft, rich Nitro dirt found in Nana’s garden or city park. No, this was firm and rocky, and unhealthy, with its milk chocolate hue. Nitro dirt was so enhanced by its various fertilizers and nitrogen pearls that it was almost navy blue in color. The grass outside of town was yellow and brown, not green like Piper’s eyes. She sighed. How did the Backwinders love this degenerate wilderness? They were even more backwards than the people of the city realized.
She tentatively took a few steps on the dry earth, half afraid it would crack open beneath her feet and send her into some dark abyss. Finally she decided it was safe. But what to do now? Her old life was gone, swallowed up in a ball of fire… her new life was yet to be revealed. The Diviner always said in his addresses that they were to “move forward, at all costs…”
So she took a step. And another. And another.
The Diviner, of course, couldn’t really see the future. However, he was said to be the very soul of the nation, the core of patriotism and honor. His primary duty was to lead the country into his vision, to constantly move toward progress and encourage all others to do the same. In a way, Piper supposed, he could see the future: not the specifics, but merely the ideal. The Diviner saw in his mind’s eye the future that he wished to come to pass, and instilled that vision into every mind in the nation. The Backwinders, the rebels, had no Diviner. No Diviner, no vision, no progress, no victory. The Diviner himself often expressed his surprise that the insolent rebels had managed to keep up the war for so long.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
She wondered if the Diviner knew anything about the bombings, if he had foreseen it in his planning. Maybe she herself had been naïve to believe she was safe, to settle into her complacency. Iretum City, her city, was one of the most prominent and progressive in the entire nation. Of course they would want to capture it, destroy it, take out its power lines. Without cities, without progress, without unification, the entire Nation would fall to pieces.
Maybe those Backwinders were smarter than she gave them credit for.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
The war had all started over a book. She was standing here in the wilderness, alone, because of a stupid book.
She’d heard the story told many times. The Diviner himself had come across the journal in the vault of the capitol city. Legend had it the book itself was a record from thousands of years ago, predicting the end of the world. It told of a threat bigger than anything the Nation had ever seen, a black monster coming to consume and destroy the Nation as it had destroyed its predecessors. The journal, of course, was a lie. The Nation had no predecessors. The Nation was as old as time itself.
The Diviner saw the book for what it really was: a hoax. But his assistant begged to differ. The document deserved further consideration, he said. Perhaps it was right. He insisted it held several details that revealed a fascinating world, without electricity. He wished to study it. If it were true, it could proved to be useful.
The Diviner, of course, saw no point in troubling himself with the fictitious tales of a backward society. Such pursuits wasted time that could be spent moving forward, making new innovations, leaving the past behind. Lyman Windross should have known that the Nation could not be destroyed. After all, that was not a part of the Diviner’s vision for his people. It never had been in the past. It never would be in the future.
Lyman Windross should not have challenged the authority of the Diviner. Lyman Windross should not have started a revolution.
One day Windross disappeared, along with the book. The Diviner didn’t boter to pursue him, the rebel scum. He had wiped the man clean from the slate of his mind, until the others started disappearing too. Throngs of people began flocking to the city limits to start new lives in the wilderness, clinging to supposed traditions drug up from their imaginations. The Diviner continued to insist no danger would come to the Nation, but they refused to listen. They hid inside their makeshift camps, hoping that cloth and wood could protect them better than copper and steel. Even as millions of people fled to the outskirts, the Diviner let them be. A few maniacs in a country of five billion people were to be expected.
But they grew. They convinced people of their insanities. They had children and named them bizarre names, some of them names mentioned in the rebel book of lies itself.
Revolution was unprecedented. Never in 2400 years on Earth had any one man dared to rebel against the government, against the Diviner himself. But there they were, two billion Backwinders, stuck in the ways of a world that had never existed. That’s what a Backwinder was, anyway: a miserable, spineless, cowardly worm with not enough courage to face the coming future. Backwinders lived in the past. Backwinders never moved forward. Backwinders only looked back at a fabricated past that gave them comfort, and never planned for what was to come. And the Backwinders, named for Lyman Windross himself, would never win this war. Victory was always part of the Diviner’s vision, and victory had always come to pass.
She stopped to breathe in the night air. Victory would come to the Nation, there was no doubt of that. But that war was over for her. In the war between Piper Conrad and the world, the outcome was yet to be decided.