Apocalypse Before Finals, Julie Steimle [black authors fiction txt] 📗

embarrassed and nervous, striding over to the usual table that he once ate at. But he stopped, his eyes resting on the three scarred boys, Jennifer and Jessica on the far side of the table along with the three other 'whelps'. He noticed that Kevin was gone. And Darren was talking with one of his new fans across the senior lawn at the time.

"Can... can I still eat here?" Adam ventured to ask.

Hearing him, Brian's looked up and broke into a grin. "Sure you can, Adam. Where have you been?"

Adam rubbed the back of his neck and tried to smile. His face was still red. "Around."

Mark started to laugh and waved him over. "Come sit down."

Adam smiled and sat on the bench. He still looked nervous, but he relaxed as Jonathan and Mark started to joke around again like they used to. Brian was still quiet and introspective though. Adam looked up at him pensively. At last he said, "Did you know that they were...?"

But Adam couldn't finish when he saw Brian turn to look at him.

Brian shook his head. "No. Only Jennifer and Darren knew."

"Kevin didn't know?" Adam turned around and looked at him.

Jennifer groaned, covering her head with her arms.

"He wasn't trusted with the secret," Mark interjected.

Jessica swatted him.

"No," Brian said, shaking his head. "Darren told us all about it when those other soldiers came and took the People's Military away. The entire story. We made him." Then with a chuckle, Brian shook his head. "You know all the stories Zormna and Jeff told us about going to Florida and Arizona?"

Adam nodded.

"They were true."

Adam laughed. "Yeah... I saw the TV episode. That Agent Sicamore guy said they were meddling in FBI operations."

"That's not what Darren says," Jonathan cut in. When he had their attention, he explained. "Darren said the FBI had been messing in Martian affairs, and Zormna, being an important officer of the Surface Patrol was doing damage control."

"They were retrieving Martian property," Mark said. "Or so Darren says."

"Solving a murder that the FBI wanted to peg on Jeff," Jonathan retorted.

"Something about a crashed alien spaceship, ten thousand years old in Florida," Mark shot back.

"That was a different one," Jonathan bickered. "The murder was Florida. The crashed ship was Arizona."

Lifting his hands to end a debate which they had already had before, Brian said, "Yeah anyway. Point is they were busy dealing with dangerous stuff."

"Really dangerous," Jonathan muttered.

Mark nodded.

Brian then smirked and shook his head. "Remember the last thing Jeff said to us?"

Adam shook his head.

Mark and Jonathan stopped horsing around. Jonathan lifted a finger, quoting, "I do. 'I can't talk about it.'"

Brian shot him an impatient look. "Besides that, Jon. Remember, that day Jeff got a telephone call in the middle of class."

"And Mr. Humphries confiscated the phone, I remember," Adam said, nodding.

"And what did he say afterward? You know, at lunch?" Brian looked at him, raising his eyebrows and waiting.

All three boys thought while Brian waited.

"I accused him of not being my friend, remember?" Brian coaxed.

Mark nodded. "And he said something like, 'I am your friend. That's why I won't tell you.' Right?"

Brian nodded. "And then he said 'There are some things that shouldn't be told.'" He shook his head. "At the beginning of the invasion we met a guy. Adam, be glad Dural Korad did not find you. This guy said after nearly beating us to a pulp that we should be glad Jeff didn't tell us anything, that that was proof he was our friend."

"I thought that was weird," Jonathan said, nodding.

"I understand it now," Brian said, looking at the table.

Adam blinked. They were all silent.

"I don't," Adam said.

Mark laughed and patted Adam on the shoulder. "What has the news been saying about Jeff now? What did that FBI guy report?"

Their friend nodded and said, "That he was a leader of a clandestine organization - a rebellion against that army, or whatever, that first attacked us. But didn't he also say that Zormna was a military leader of that other group? They're only... well, she's only seventeen. And Jeff, well, he may be a year older, but how can he possibly lead a rebellion? He's a punk."

Brian laughed. Hearing that old view of Jeff was almost refreshing. He shook his head. "Zormna is fifteen, first thing. Don't you remember her birthday party? But yeah, I still don't get that. I mean, they both are still... well, like us, aren't they?"

Darren strode over to the group just then. "Ah, but you forget. Their society is not like ours. Zormna was an adult at twelve, and Jeff was one at fifteen. They have a test, you see, that proves your adult status. So young geniuses like them can take it and - "

"Shut up, Darren!" Mark snapped, shoving him back while rising from the picnic table. "You may have been right about all the Martian stuff, but you are still annoying."

Darren flushed. He folded his arms and scowled. "You would just rather wallow in your ignorance."

Mark clenched his fists. Jonathan hipped up to hold his friend back. "Yes, Darren, let us wallow, please. We have had enough ideas shattered for one year, thank you."

Gazing dryly at him, Darren turned away and huffed, walking off.

"Good riddance," Mark snapped, relaxing his clenched fists.

Jonathan let his pal go.

Watching Darren then the rest, Adam shook his head. "Shouldn't you be nicer to him? Isn't he also Zormna's friend?"

Jennifer snorted then smothered her mouth. All of them turned to look at her. She blushed.

"Darren?" Jennifer sighed, chuckling more. "You could say Zormna was his friend, but they only became friends with him to shut him up. Zormna used to always complain about what a blabbermouth Darren was. And Jeff... well," she laughed again. "He just put up with him because he was worried the FBI might figure out Darren knew a lot more than he let on, and then blow everything."

The table of people laughed. Adam shook his head and joined in.

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen: Battles

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The mouse has caught the cat."

 - Gavrouche, Les Miserables; Victor Hugo -

 

 

They had been firing at the barricade for nearly an hour, but the onslaught merely destroyed the beautiful doors. The last of the governing house would not budge a centimeter, cornered in their last stronghold, the Great Hall. This hall, historically, used to be the royal hall. It still had its characteristic pillars and carved stone floor - though covered now with sturdy carpet and metal siding. The floor itself had numerous chairs bolted down where the Great Council usually sat when in session. The large seat of the governing head, or the Great Head as they called him, stood at the front of the hall also bolted to the floor. All the old royal décor had been long sent to the museum.

"Come out! Surrender! We do not wish to bring the battle into the room. We do not wish a slaughter!" The amplified voice of the Surface Patrol Alea from Gamma District echoed in the Uppercity.

Cries of "Never!" and "You have to take us, you Tarrn loving sons of roaches and fleas!" came through the once beautiful doors - which of course infuriated the besieging forces.

"We are giving you one last chance to surrender!" the Gamma District Alea broadcast in again.

Behind him, five more flight scooters joined the group of armed soldiers in green and silver as well as the plainer dressed citizens. Everyone was armed to the teeth. This group inside the Great Hall was the last of the fighting forces of the People's Military. The rebellion had the Uppercity complex surrounded, all exits and air tunnels blocked. They had even shut off the air and heat inside the building to drive them out. So far, no one surrendered.

One of the uniformed soldiers in black hopped off the lead flight scooter. Her companion jumped off a junkier flying vehicle wearing a beaten up helmet and a dusty black jacket which many found familiar. Both of them drew weapons as they rushed to the back of the platoon, pushing their way through the armed soldiers and rebels. The others of their squad also followed them on their relatively junky machines, excluding one, which was as new as the first. All of them pushed forward to the lead Alea.

"What's the status, Alea Bren?" the strong female voice asked through the helmet transmitter.

The man in the silver suit turned around and sighed. "Alea Zormna. Thank the Creator you are here. We have them cornered, but we can't seem to get them to surrender. It's like they want to die and take us all with them."

Her companion, whom everyone knew by his dusty black Kerzan Zeldar jacket, nodded. "It might just end up that way, Alea."

Alea Bren nodded but murmured in grief, "I'd rather it wasn't. They may be P.M.s, but I can't let them suffocate in there, and I won't risk my men in that trap."

Zormna nodded. She turned to the man in the dusty jacket and said, "Have any ideas, Jafarr?"

The young rebel leader put his gloved hand against his helmet as if to grab his hair to think. He shook his head. "The only thing we can do to get them out is to get them angry. Give them a target."

"The war has to end today." Zormna nodded. She unclasped her chinstrap and lifted the round white helmet off her head. She shook out her fiery hair and nodded to the young man at her side.

Jafarr took his helmet off also and placed it on the heap of junk nearby. "Let's go."

Rising, the two teenagers stuck their heads over the barricade to be seen.

"Come out and give yourselves up!" Zormna yelled, her voice carrying over the debris. "You have lost this war! It is better that you surrender and live than to die miserably like roaches!"

A laser shot zipped where her head had been, but Zormna had already moved.

"We will never give in to a foul Tarrn!" the man behind the door shouted.

"So then you prefer to die?" she yelled back over the barrier.

Three more shots skimmed over their heads.

"Use this time to take the doors. They'll be near them and have to move things to get close," Jafarr whispered to the head Alea.

Alea Bren nodded and turned to his subordinate officers, whispering commands.

Jafarr stuck his head over the barrier. "What lousy shots you P.M.s are!"

A barrage of fire now came from the doors. Both Zormna and Jafarr ducked down flat.

"Do you have to goad them that much?" Zormna snapped.

"Whatever works," Jafarr whispered back.

But it did work. The Surface Patrol soldiers rammed the doors open when the firing slowed down. The armies outside were soon within the room.

The fighting, even now, should not be described.

It had been the bloodiest battle of the entire war. Not just for the desperate attacks of the cornered opposition, but also for the fearsome anger as the enemy fired and fought, using whatever they had at hand from broken metal to grenades. Few People's Military officers survived. And as for all the former leaders of their once proud government, all lay dead with self-inflicted wounds.

It was the worst.

Zormna stood over the last soldier who had tried to kill her, clenching her wounded arm to suppress the blood flow. Her green eyes glazed over