Call of Freedom

Chapter Seven

Under the cannopy of the trees, one can hear swords ringing against each other endlessly, arrows zipping the air, hammers banging tools; frightening sounds really. It's once she sees them that all hope drains out of Deanna. The swords held by weak hands, the arrows rarely getting near the actual target and hammers incapable of creating strong and sharp weapons. Her steps fast over the mud, head low trying to ignore all the mess surrounding her.

She distances herself from all that noise and the pointless exercise. Sunshine through the rain illuminates the path that she must follow to reach the small group of people resting below a shelter. The mud splashes her clothes, the earth almost shakes under her steps. Everyone's eyes turn around and study her, the last thing she wants. Elmer is the first to speak.

"Is everything okay?"

"Does she look okay?" Santana pinches his shoulder.

Deanna doesn't talk, her lips are shut tight at the sight of incapable to fight soldiers. Yet her silence earns more attention than earlier.

"Deanna, it's just the beggining," Santana approaches her side.

"And people like what they're doing," Elmer comes from the other.

They keep talking, one voice for each ear. However, there are voices inside her head too. Worries, fears. Each single voice, in and out of her head, shout to prevail against the others. Her brain starts suffering, aching at all the noise.

"Kids!" Her father's voice silences everything. "I don't think its the present that troubles her. It's the future."

The two shadows from behind distant themselves, Deanna's head lowers unconsiously. Everyone seems surprised at the ability of Errol to understand so deeply his daughter without her uttering a word. "Is that right Deanna?"

"It's the Army..." her voice soft like the rain on leaves, barely audible.

"We are not afraid of the Army anymore, Deanna!" Elmer jumbs up, a wide smile decorating his face. "Are we?"

"Did you see their weapons? They are not made of wood! It's something else, deadlier. I'm not afraid of them, I'm afraid of what..." she breaths out.

"Of what?" Santana titls her head. Deanna's answer comes sharp and cold like a spear.

"Of what we'll have to become in order to win this battle."

The rain drops fall with caution, slowly and softly. People that were once hiding, are now walking outside. Some are heading to the Arena for training, others at the warehouse to built weapons. Deanna's head rises. For the first time in her whole life, she sees something phenomenal in their movements. Free space to move their feet and hands, a purpose printed in their eyes.

"Look at them Deanna," her father urges. In his eyes is the man that he rarely was, in peace with himself. "We were like the Army and lost so much. Now we've changed and we'll fight and we'll win because we are simply not them."

Elmer starts shouting a rebellous melody, his feet jumbing up and down and leading him to the Arena. Santana roars at Elmer's behavior, following from behind. On Deanna's oval face is plastered a smile, her eyes shine at that sight. All her thoughts, buzzing around her head, have stopped. Errol makes his way slowly to the Arena, not to practice, but observe. Do what he does best.

"Don't you dare change your mind," he warns raising his index finger. "I'm too bored to re-decorate Big House."

"Never again, father."

'Never again', but only few may have the priviledge to be certain about deicisions such that. Because when war shows its true self, the one filled with suffering and darkness, it changes everyhing. Turning kids into adults, adults into monsters and dreams into dying memories. But that is something Deanna will be able to notice many years later.

From behind, like a reptile dragging itself across the land, came a voice low and distracting. Her heart heaves at boredom of talking to him. However, Mars like the selfish snake he is, starts talking with that dark voice like velvet.

"Your aspirings Dea, will get you nowhere."

"Mars," she twirls around, his chocolate eyes smiling at her. "Look at the survivor..."

"Yes, my survival skills are excellent," he smiles triumphantly.

"Yes, especially when you somehow seem to know when to leave the celebration and not get burned with the others," his smile dissappears and eyes lock with Deanna's. "What a lucky survivor you are!"

"I left to bring wine to the counsil members. Their guns seperated me from the ground and I found shelter inside debris," Deanna examines his clothes. Black, clean, smooth.

"And you came back now..."

"You can't posibly say I'm a traitor! I'm dedicated to these people just like you are! But unlike you I use logic for protection. The movement you are preparing is simply ridiculous."

She had memorized thoughts like his, had worked them out for years and years but she couldn't convince herself that they were correct. His thought was a simple path, filled with inaccuracies and lies. 'We want protection. Master protects us. We obey the Master. We don't leave the limits.' Deanna had managed to debunk each sentence.

Why woud anyone want protection? Is there anything out there that may harm them and if there is, what is it? Why can't they try and fight it, explore it? Deanna doesn't want protection from what is out there, she wants to know why it's harmful.

If Master is supposed to protect his followers from the outside world, why would he harm them like that? Why punish your 'children' in that horrible way and keep them locked in small pieces of land. Deanna knows the world is bigger than Area21, she has managed to see it.

It was a bright cold day in March, the horizon clear. She climbed one of the tallest trees in the woods and finally, after what seemed to her like hours she reached its top. Ahead of her was the vast land of tree tops, mountains and valleys. Birds of every kind were hopping from one tree to the other. But it wasn't the noises or the smells that changed her worldview. It was the sight of a single string of smoke miles away, like that of her own home. There were more Areas out there, each filled with other groups of people prisoned in their own cells. In between there was nothing harmful, only people hired by the Master to kill his 'beloved' children.

The other two statements could easily be turned down by the above. Deanna smiled, a wave of assurance filled her body.

"Then let me ask you a question Mars," she makes a step forward, watching his aged body tightening. "Why are you still here?"

Offering a tight-lipped smile, his eyes meet the valley filled with people.

"Good luck risking everyone's lives for nothing, Dea."