FEEDBACK HELP NEEDED!

Hello All,

I was wondering since I have such a great community of friends to help me, would someone (or many someones) mind reading the first few chapters of my book and providing feedback? I’m feeling a general low right now and not inspired to work on it. Again I understand that everyone has a busy life, but if you get a chance I would love to hear from you.

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Chapter One
It’s been three years since my brother disappeared. The thought flashes through my mind like the streak of lightning that illuminates the houses outside. My brother was part of the Resistance but went missing about three years ago. The tall trees are like silhouettes against the darkening sky. For the last ninety years, our country has been divided. As the story goes, the once united country is divided because of a political controversy. The two sides continuously fought each other until they agreed to build a wall separating them.
“Fairfax street and Tenth Avenue.” The bus driver calls out in the tired voice characteristic of that job.
That’s my stop. I get up and sling my weathered old backpack across my shoulders.
I pull the hood of my jacket over my head to keep the rain off and trudge home through the foggy lamp-lit street. Walking up the brick porch to the door I fish my key out of my pocket and jab them into the lock. The door opens with a familiar squeak, and I step into the smoky smell of cooking chicken.
“Hi,” I call out.
“Hello, dear.” My mom answers.
I pull my jacket off and hang it up on the rack before hugging my mom. After that, I head to my room to change. Reaching the top of the stairs I walk down the hall to my room, which is at the end of the door-lined corridor. The pattering rain slides down my window as I gaze out into the darkness. A car passes lighting up the street for a few seconds.
 After staring at the window, I shake myself awake. Quickly, I change out of my factory uniform. I let my dark brown hair fall down my shoulders and I frame it around my face. It never stays straight or smooth like mother’s, I’m always fussing with it. I hurry out of my room and scurry downstairs just as my sister Amy calls me down for dinner.
“Coming,” I reply.
Dad emerges from the study as we assemble for dinner.
“Hello, dad.” I smile at him.
“Hello dear.” Dad greets me with a hug.
We sit down and he asks me how my day was.
“Oh, routine. We sent out around ten trucks out today. I also have safety and health inspections tomorrow.” I add, “How was your day?”
“Fine, nothing new at the accounting office,” Father replies as he takes a sip of water.
“And what about you two?” I ask my siblings.
“Awesome!“ Amy replies, her green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I got an A in both my math and social studies exams.”
“Bravo, Amy!” I lean across the table to congratulate my sister and, nearly knock my glass of water over.
Scowling in annoyance, Jonathan viciously skewers a piece of chicken and shoves it into his mouth.
“And yours, Johnny?” I ask, carefully organizing my potatoes next to my chicken.
“Kinda meh, don’t call me Johnny.” He shrugs, sighing at his empty plate.
Though they are twins, ten-year-old Jonathan and Amy are like night and day in terms of looks and personalities. Amy is sweet and cheerful with curly brown hair and brilliant emerald-green eyes. Jonathan, on the other hand, has straight coal black hair, dark brown eyes, and a streak of stubborn independence that constantly rears its head. In this city and pretty much everywhere else that kind of independence can get you into serious trouble. I know because frankly, I have the same bold streak in me. After dinner, I help clean up before going to check my computer, but there are not any new reports. Before I get into bed, I push my window curtains back and look out. The rain has by now stopped, but a fine mist still hangs in the air, creating a silvery glow around the occasional street lamp. Like the mist, fear hangs over the city. A feeling of fear. A fear that has become almost palpable. I wonder how many people are truly content with the way things are. But like me, most just learn to deal with it. In the distance, a streak of lightning flickers across the sky. Out there, I remind myself, is a band of men and women who refuse to live with the way things are, and they have the courage to fight back. Like my brother. Like Julie and her brother. Thunder rumbles in the distance as I wearily close my curtains and drop into bed. In two minutes I am fast asleep.
Chapter Two
I wake up at five thirty the next morning, as I shower my thoughts try to grab what I was thinking about before I fell asleep. I laugh at myself because I remember nothing. Turning off the water I wrap my hair up in a towel and pull on my uniform. The usual uniform is coveralls but occasions like this warrant a navy jacket, white collared shirt, and faded khaki dress pants. I unwind my hair from the towel and braid it. Grabbing my watch I strap it on and grab my backpack from my room. Silently, I slip down the stairs, trying not to make the floor creak, I grab a muffin from the fridge and a steaming cup of coffee. The crisp morning air nips my cheeks as I put my boots on before tossing my backpack over my shoulder. I check my watch and see that I have only five minutes to get to the bus stop.
As I come to the plastic box of the bus stop, someone waves at me. I reach the stop and see that it’s Chloe.
“Morning, Rebecca!” Chloe chimes over her large coffee cup.
“Morning,” I smile back.
“Ready for inspections?”
A knot of dread simultaneously forms in my stomach as the bus approaches.
“So why are you nervous?” She asks as we sit down.
“How much coffee did you have this morning?”
“I need the energy, and you avoided my question.”
“You know how nitpicky they can be.”
 “You say that every year.”
“But every year is the same and this time we have no more room for failure. If we fail, they’ll close the factory down.”
“How can you be so sure?” Her tone implies no further discussion is needed.
Chloe falls silent as she sips her coffee and I look out the fiberglass window. I sigh and close my eyes hoping to get some rest before the day really begins. I have nothing against safety and health inspections, and I think they are crucial. However, I still dread those bossy inquisitors. The last few inspections haven’t gone well, and we are on our last warning before the Health department shuts us down.
The bus halts and a few more people get on. I know that the next stop will be the one where I get off and face the day.
“First and Factory Street” The driver calls out as the bus growls to a halt.
I get up and walk down the narrow aisle. Chloe follows me as we step off the bus. We walk for a minute or two before we reach the main gate of the factory.
“Good luck!” Chloe calls out as we separate, and she goes off to the main office building.
I walk through the main doors, past the reception desk, and into my office. It’s now six-thirty and nearly time for the morning shift to start.
I sit down at my desk and boot up the computer to access last night’s reports, records, and shipping lists. It takes the computer a few minutes to boot up and at least twice that for me to access the logs I need. After printing them I attach them to my clipboard and leave my office. As I walk through the factory, I watch workers swapping out or rubbing eyes from long night hours. One man, in particular, stands out, the janitor, Sandy, who stands scouring in one corner. He always seems to be watching me and appears just about everywhere I am. I watch as cans of food are mechanically filled, packed and stacked in shipping boxes. Despite the fact I’m only eighteen, I hold the position of shipment supervisor. I started working here at fifteen and slowly rose through the ranks. I reach the loading dock where boxes wait to be distributed around the city and to others. As I come into the loading bay I see few of our drivers, including my close friend Tyler.
“Tyler,” I call to the young dark haired man, who seems always be wearing the same faded red baseball cap.
“Ah, Ms. Webbs, how are you this morning?” He smiles. Tyler is a little over six feet tall with dark hair and grey eyes.
“Just fine, Tyler. You know you can leave the formalities off.” I say with slight annoyance. “Here is the shipping list and other things you needed.” I hand him the stiff sheets.
“Thank you, Rebecca.” Tyler grins and takes them. As he studies the sheets he asks, “Excited about inspections?”
“No! There is always that chance of getting shut down.”
“Well, we have never yet failed an inspection under your vigilant eye.” He says with a supportive smile. Then in a slightly lower voice, he says, “Rebecca, be careful of what you say today. The-all Inquisitors report to the secret police if they think there is something to report.”
“The what?”
“Correction, they ARE the secret police.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Suspicious.”
Tyler tips his cap before heading for his truck. I stand back to watch the proceedings as the workmen load the mountains of boxes on the trucks. Watching the loading process is somewhat fun because there is the rare atmosphere of a team working together rather than robots pushing buttons. I sigh and head back to my office.
I enter and sink into the dark leather office chair and spin around to look out the window. Though small, my office has a beautiful view of the river. An orange sun peeks from behind the distant mountains as it rises into the grey sky. The early light catches and glimmers on one of the tall glass-paneled buildings. I turn, back to look at the computer screen which confirms the transaction was complete. Then I remember that inspections start at seven and it’s already six fifty-five.
I spring from my chair grab my clipboard and double check to make sure all my notes are there. After that, I stride purposefully out of my office and towards the front of the factory. I get out into the parking lot and sigh as fresh October air fills my lungs. At least it’s a nice day. I nervously check my watch and see that I have a good four minutes to wait. At exactly seven o’clock, the Inquisitor’s sleek, black, car parks, and the driver gets out to open the door for Inquisitor Kosby. The Inquisitor is a lean man with thin, stringy blond hair and a mysterious air about him. His gracious smile reminds me of a cunning fox.
“Inquisitor Kosby, I’m Rebecca Webbs, our shipment supervisor. It is such a pleasure to have you here today.”
I say shaking hands with him.
“Let the pleasure by mine.” His polite voice sounds friendly enough.
I extend my hand towards the glass doors of the factory and he walks towards the building.
Chapter Three
I open the glass door for him and escort him into the building. The lobby, of course, is spotless. The reception desk sparkles in the morning sunlight and the white floor reflects the light from the sun. As we enter people stiffen and he says,
“Get back to work.”
I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly I forget everything I had to report. Of course, this is my first time touring with the Inquisitor, but I’ve seen it done and have been told what to do. I feel like such a fool though. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck and the knot in my stomach tightens. I don’t realize I have chewed the inside of my lip until I taste blood in my mouth.
“Ms. Webbs, I understand there have been environmental issues as well as worker safety issues.Can you explain them?” He asks.
“I-I honestly I don’t know, sir. We’ve checked all our equipment and it’s in code. As for worker safety, we aren’t sure of what the cause of the accidents. It is a mystery that we have not been able to dig under.” I reply haltingly.
“I suggest that you dig a little harder.” His voice hinting that it’s not a suggestion but a command.
“Yes, sir, I’ll see that we get to the bottom of things,” I reply trying hard to sound professional.
My voice sounds either too soft or too loud, I feel like a coward rather than an independent being. I know there is a spark independence in me, and I have had to smother that spark for many years. My society does not look kindly upon boldness or independence especially in these circumstances. Inquisitor Kosby stops to examine some of the cans that are coming off the conveyor belt. He picks one up and fingers it before setting it back on the belt. I wish I could read his mind and figure out what he’s thinking.
I watch as he bends down to look at the underside of the belt. He mutters something and writes a “2” on his notepad. We move on and he stops to inspect a few more pieces of equipment.
Kosby continues to examine the factory. I watch as his sheet of paper begins to fill with lines and numbers. At the end of the long four-hour walk, we walk back to the main entrance.
Kosby sits down and opens his computer and I slide into the seat across from him. For a moment I sit there nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of my shirt as he types on his sleek chrome computer. Stopping he looks up and asks,
“Do you have the management control sheets with you?”
“I do,” I say pulling them off my clipboard.
“You are aware that some of the numbers are way off right?”
“No, I wasn’t,” I say.
“You know you are a very spirited girl, Ms. Webbs. I would use more cautions if I were you.”
Again! Again someone is warning me about my independence. What good is a republic when you aren’t free to hold your head up?
“Ms. Webbs, you are by far the youngest supervisor I’ve met. How old are you?”
 “I’m almost nineteen, sir.”
“Really, how’d you get to a position like this?”
“I started here part-time when I was fifteen and just stood out. It was early this year when they hired me to be a supervisor…”
Off in one corner nearby I notice Sandy at work. It’s odd that where ever I am Sandy always seems to be around.

Chapter Four
My heart continues to pound as I sink into my leather office chair. For a moment I just stare out the window. Looking at my watch I see it is noon and know that the head manager, Mr. Bell should be receiving the report. Some often wonder and ask me how at the age of eighteen I got the position I have now. The truth is it was our head manager who is a childhood friend of mom’s. When I began working here, at fifteen, I quickly rose through the ranks and he actually hired me to this position. Just then a knock on the door brings me out of thought.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens and Mr. Bell comes in. Mr. Bell is a slightly stocky older man with greying hair. His usually pleasant face looks bewildered as he says, 
 “Rebecca…”
“We didn’t fail did we?” I ask quickly.
“Rebecca, by order of the Kentucky Health Committee we must temporarily shut down.”
“Until what?”
“Until the factory can be overhauled and reinstated with new management.”
“They can’t…How long will this take anyway?”
“I can’t say for sure but in the area of a year or at the most two.”
Suddenly a distant explosion causes the light to flicker. In response, Bell picks up his walkie-talkie.
“Report.”
“Sir, one of the power feeds sparked and caught fire. The suppression systems are nonoperative.”
Then there is the grinding sound of machinery and all come to a sickening halt. A moment of eerie silence follows before there is a large bang!
“What the hell was that?”
“Generator two is out. Evac-!” The signal is cut as more explosions follow. Bell turns to the closed door, which is already smoking. Grabbing the chair in front of the desk he hurls it at the window and shatters it.
“Out there!” he says as he climbs through it.
Gingerly I climb through the broken glass frame.

Chapter Five
Mr. Bell and I run from the building and out to the parking lot where others are gathering. A wail of sirens fills the air as emergency vehicles arrive on the scene.
“Can anyone account for Kosby?” Bell asks into his walkie-talkie.
“He’s here.” Says one.
“Very good.”
As I watch firemen work desperately to quench the angry red and blue flames, my mind refuses to believe it. Everything that I have worked for…the last few years of my life…gone. Gone in less time than it takes to drink a cup of coffee. Someone puts a hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Mr. Bell.
“You had better go home, Rebecca.” He says quietly, “There is nothing more for you to do.” Wordlessly, I nod a lump in my throat keeps me from speaking. I turn and walk out of the parking lot. I choose to walk rather than take the bus, but I can barely see the sidewalk as I am blinded by my tears. I walk not paying attention to anything, except the single thought ringing in my head like the sirens behind me: ‘I failed’. Abruptly, I whack into another pedestrian, and he begins cursing at me.
“Can’t you watch where you’re walking, kid?” He yells.
That almost does it, but I manage to swallow my tears. When I look up I realize I am standing at the bus stop of my own street. Wearily, I walk feeling more tired than I have in my whole life. Reaching my home I climb up the steps and find the door unlocked. As I step in I hear the tv running. No one should be home though I tell myself as I look at my watch.
“Hello?”
“Rebecca” Mother emerges from the living room, her face as white as a sheet.
With a choked cry she runs over and hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. I cling to her, feeling as scared as a child woken from a nightmare. Only this was no nightmare…this is real. Mother releases me and putting a hand on my cheek asks,
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I say wiping my eyes, “I got out before the generator blew.”
Mother puts a hand to her mouth, “So what…”
“I don’t know!” I sob out and turning I run upstairs. I lock my door behind me and slump onto my bed.
“How could you let this happen?” I ask myself over and over.
I press my ice cold hands to my burning eyes. It is then that I realize…I’m crying. I bury my face in my pillow and sob out my anger, my frustration, and my despair. I must have sobbed myself to sleep because I am woken by the sound of a soft tapping on my door. When I open the door I am greeted by my sister. Rather than saying anything, she wraps me in a tight hug.
“Mom told me what happened. It’s not your fault Beck.” She says quietly. I somehow manage a smile as I look down at my sister’s brown hair.
“Are you coming down for dinner?” She asks.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry.” Amy disappears down the hall and I change before going to bed. For a long time, I lie on my bed listening to the sounds of hushed conversation.

Chapter Five
Through my sleep comes the incessant beeping of my alarm clock, and with a groan, I groggily turn over in bed and slap the snooze button. Blinking I half sit up and wonder why there’s more light than usual filtering through the window curtains. I look at the clock. It’s six thirty.This time I sit bolt upright in bed.
“Six-thirty?! Oh my gosh, I’m late!”
Flinging back the covers, I am just about to leap out of bed when full memory comes crashing back over me, Kosby, the failed inspection, the blown out generator. Now that I am awake I wonder what’s the purpose of me being awake is anyway. Somehow, I manage to drag myself out of bed. As soon as I stand up a nagging question begs for attention,
“What am I going to do now?”
I am still thinking about this as I dress and come down the stairs to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of frying bacon.
“Hey Mom,” I say as I walk into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Rebecca.” Mom turns towards me, a greasy fork in her hand. Her cheeks are flushed red from the heat of the gas stove, and little tendrils of dark hair curl about her forehead and face. She continues frying bacon strips as I pour myself a cup of steaming black coffee.
“Any news from the factory?” Mother says from over her shoulder.
I stare intently into my cup and slowly shake my head. “No”
We fry and sip in a depressed silence. Mother finally switches off the stove and begins putting the bacon on a plate. She then turns to me.
“Rebecca, would you mind going out and getting the mail? I think we forgot to collect it yesterday.”
“Sure thing.” I push back my chair from the table and walk to the front door. I open it and look out. Though the grass is damp, the clouds have broken and are floating away. A bright glow in the eastern sky tinges the soaring clouds with gold and soft rose, warming the gray sky to a pale blue. For a wonder, I can hear a solitary bird singing in the lone tree in the backyard. Probably one of the few things in this city that actually rejoices at the coming of a new day.
I walk through the front lawn down to the mailbox, the grass feels ice-cold beneath my bare feet. Reaching inside the dark cavern of the mailbox I pull out a pile of mail. As I walk slowly back to the house, I flip through. A few business looking envelopes for Mother and Father and some gaudy colored magazines advertising special deals on clothes and other deals. Nothing interesting though.
I am about to re-enter the house when I glance down and notice for the first time something white sticking out from under the mat. My heart begins to beat faster as I pull it out. It is an envelope, dampened by the wet concrete, and on the back of it is the letters “R.W.”
“Rebecca Webbs” I whisper, my mouth going suddenly very dry.
For I minute I stand still staring at the envelope. But somehow I manage to shake myself out of the daze and walk back into the kitchen. Mother does not look at me, being to busy pouring milk and setting plates, bowls, silverware, and boxes of cereal on the table to take any notice. I place the mail on the counter and quietly slip back upstairs and to my own room. I shut and lock the door and sit down on the bed, my gaze still riveted on the envelope. Hands shaking, I tear it open and read the following lines:
“Rebecca,
I’m sorry I can’t make myself more clear, but if this were to fall into the wrong hands, it would place you in even greater danger. As it is, I am taking a great risk. If you want me to more fully explain, meet me at the restaurant left to the mall at East Square downtown at noon. For your own sake, I urge you, be careful. Don’t do anything to raise suspicion.
Tyler
P.S. Destroy this immediately upon receiving it.”
The note slips from my nerveless hands and flutters to the floor. A thousand thoughts race through my mind. What does he mean? Danger? How am I in danger? How would it make it more dangerous if this letter fell into the wrong hands? What wrong hands?
Because of the blood roaring in my ears, I barely hear Mother’s call for breakfast. Hastily, I wad up the note and stuff it in a drawer of my desk and go downstairs. As I slip into my seat at the table, Amy peers at me through still-bleary eyes.
“Rebecca, you ok? You’ve got an awful look on your face.”
I manage to force a smile at my sister and say cheerily,
“Yeah, I’m fine Amy.”
She looks at me suspiciously but soon is too much absorbed by eating to pay any more attention.
I pick up coffee, decide that more caffeine is not a good way to calm my jangled nerves, and concentrate on the crisp juicy bacon.
After a long pause, I look up and clear my throat.
“Mom, Dad, is it ok if I go downtown for a little while this afternoon?”
Mother frowns. “Why?”
I take a deep breath. “Well…there’s this guy that I work with…or used to work with… at the factory named Tyler. And he invited me out to lunch downtown this afternoon. So I wanted to make sure it was ok that I could go.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” Jonathan crows. “He’s sweet on Rebecca! He wants to take her out on a date!”
“Shut up, Jonathan!” I glare at him. Right now, I do not want to have to deal with this on top of everything else.
He only sticks his tongue out at me and begins to chant, “Becky’s got a boyfriend, Becky’s got a boyfriend…”
“Jonathan!” Mother’s tone is deadly. “Be quiet!”
This subdues him, for which I am intensely thankful.
We finish the rest of the meal in silence. After that comes the usual chaos of packing Jonathan and Amy up for school. Mother finally shoos them out the door with usual admonitions of “hurry up or you’ll miss the bus!” Standing next to the door, I watch as my siblings run down the driveway, and I wave after them. Only Amy pauses at the end of the driveway to wave back before they head down to their bus stop.
Soon after my parents appear. To my surprise, I realize that my dad actually looks handsome, his grey suit complimenting his salt and pepper hair.
“Bye Rebecca,” Father says. “See you tonight.”
They hurry out, and minutes later I hear their cars starting up and they merge into the stream of traffic flowing down our road.
I stand at the door for a few minutes, and then, making doubly sure that the door is locked, I go back upstairs.
Sitting on my bed, I take the crumpled ivory paper in my shaking hands. I reread the letter at least half a dozen times. Slowly, a familiar sensation creeps over me: the sensation of being trapped. Of being hemmed in with nowhere to go.
I quickly stand up, walk to the bathroom, and shred Tyler’s note. The only thing that I can do is go downtown and hear what he has to tell me. But first, I better find this restaurant.

Chapter Six
At noon I get off the bus at East Square. The day is pleasantly cool with only a few puffy clouds whitening the sky. The square is in a fairly upscale area, the most notable building being the shiny, glass-plated mall where most of the more wealthy people choose to shop for jewelry and designer clothes. The only building that is not so upscale is a tiny cafe with a few small tables and string lights. As I walk across the square I spot Tyler sitting at one of the tables. Even from this distance, I can tell he is anxious. His eyes darting over the square in a way that betrays more than the normal impatience. I wave to get his attention, and I can see the look of relief that washes over his face as he waves back and beckons me over.
The first thing he says as I sit down is, “Did you destroy the note?”
I nod. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
We are interrupted by the waitress, a pretty girl with soft brown eyes and a long brown ponytail, bringing our menus and water glasses. When she leaves, I repeat my question,
“Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
Tyler looks sober.
“It’s a bad business to be in Rebecca. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”
“Tyler, what in the world are you talking about? That’s the one thing that has always baffled me about you. You can be the most secretive person in the world.”
“When you know and have seen as much as I have you’d understand my over-cautious behavior. It’s the secret police, Rebecca. They’ve been watching you.”
A cold hand clutches my heart. The secret police are a group of government agents who sniff out any whiff of discontent against the dictator. Anyone who complains attempts to raise their head disappears. No explanation, no nothing just gone. They just vanish.
“They-they’ve been watching me?”
“For a long time. But only recently has it gotten really dangerous.”
My head is spinning, refusing to take in what Tyler is saying. “Dangerous? Why?”
“The blown-up generator.” Tyler fiddles with the corner of his menu.
“They think you sabotaged it.”
I gaped in disbelief.
“Sabotaged it? That’s ridiculous. I was in my office when it happened and before that, I was walking around for hours.”
Tyler grimaced.
“I know, but try reasoning with them. And it really doesn’t help that the media is spreading the rumor far and wide.”
I shake my head, appalled.
“That’s what I meant about you being in danger,” Tyler continues. “I doubt the police care that your dad works for the government, and since your brother left for the Resistance, that makes two possible strikes against you.”
I nod, trying to cover my fear by scanning the menu. Despite the coolness of the day, beads of sweat trickle down the back of my neck, and my stomach twists into knots. My mind is whirling with fear and despair, and I cannot help thinking desperately,
“It’s over. I’m finished.”
We sit in silence until the waitress reappears to take our orders. I order mechanically, pretty certain that I will not be able to eat anything anyway.
After she leaves, an awkward silence again reigns. Tyler leans back in his chair, staring up at the pale sky. I, on the other hand, concentrate on a crack in the pavement, trying to think of some plan, some way of getting myself out of this mess. Nothing.
After a while, Tyler says absently,
“You know Rebecca whenever I get discouraged I look up to the mountain for hope.”
I laugh bitterly.
“Easy for you to talk. As far as I can see, my options have pretty much run out.”
“Oh, Rebbecca!” He sighs with exasperation. “Did you seriously think that I was going to tell you this and then leave you in the lurch?”
“What do you mean?” Hope begins to glimmer in my mind. Like a solitary star in a pitch black sky.
“The Resistance.” He says quietly.
My pulse quickens, “The Resistance?”
“Don’t just look to it…go find it.”
“You’re asking me to run away?”
“If that’s what it takes, then yes, I’ll tell you how to get there, if you’re willing.”
“Tell me.”
Tyler looks at me intently. “Are you sure, Rebbecca? It’s going to be extremely risky.”
I stare at him. “What other choice do I have? If I stay, I’m in danger, if I go, it’ll be dangerous, but at least I have a chance.”
Tyler grins. “I knew you had the fighting spirit in you. Okay, here’s the plan…”
Tyler tells me that he has Resistance based contacts, who he can connect me with.
“They are everywhere. Hidden in plain sight. The people of the Resistance have no superpower, they are simple humans.”
“But couldn’t you get caught?”
“That’s the name of the game, its run till you get caught. My one contact, if he is still there, is in the next county over. From there you’d travel to Lexington.”
“What’s so special about Lexington?”
“Lexington is where the Resistance gets most of its supplies.”
“So this contact of yours, what’s he likes?”
“His name is Randy. He works as the data analyst with the Resistance intel. But from time to time he gets out and about and helps people get to the movement.”
“So what do I have to do?”
“Did your brother have a map?”
“Yes, it got sent back after he” I choke, “after he died.”
“That map will also help. If he did what I hope, that map will have the route he took. A travel log you might call it. Could you make it to Shelbyville County?”
“I could, but aren’t you coming too?”
“Not yet, I still have unfinished work here.”

Chapter Seven
“Tyler, do you have any family?” I ask suddenly.
His face darkens.
“I don’t know, Rebecca and that’s why I have to stay. I guess it is time you knew.” He sighs, “I don’t know if my family is alive or not. I got separated from them when I was very young. My family tried to cross the wall and we got caught. My sister and I we separated from our parents. All these years I’ve been searching…hoping that they live. I just want to make sure they aren’t out here before I go.”
“Where do you live then?”
“I was dumped here in Louisville and entrusted to a foster family.”
“The McIntyre’s?”
“Yes, they raised me, but deep down I hope…” He trails off.
“What was your mom’s name?”
“Her name was Maria, my dad was Mark and my sister was Emily.” Leaning forward he says, “Do me a favor.”
“Anything”
“If you meet any of them will you call me?”
“I will”
“Thank you,” He says as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Meet me back here in two days. By then I should have things set up.”
As I wait for the bus I think about everything Tyler told me. His contact, his past, to think all these years I’ve known him and never thought that… The bus rolls up and I get on lost in thought. The once spark in me is slowly growing. Then Tyler’s warning comes back to mind, “They are watching you.”
When I get home I find that my parents and siblings aren’t home yet.
Unlocking the door I slip inside, as I pass the kitchen there is still breakfast clean up to do. I decide that I’ll clean up and make dinner since I have nothing else to do. After loading the dishwasher I begin to think about dinner when I’m suddenly aware of voices in the foyer.
“Johnny shut it. Rebecca can go out with any friend she wants.”
“Naw but it was a guy. Bet it’s that Tyler she’s been friends with.”
“Would you button it? She just lost her job and we can give her a bit of space.” With a sigh, she adds, “I wish I knew how to help.”
I stand in the kitchen listening to my siblings. For someone so, young Amy is very observant.
They tramp into the kitchen and throw their bags on the clean table.
“Oh, Beck! I didn’t know you were back.”
“It’s okay, Amy.” I hug my sister.
“So” Jonathan starts.
“Button it Jonathan Michael Webbs!” Amy wheels on her twin. “You keep that mouth of yours shut or I’ll shut it for you. Enough already!”
Instantly, Jonathan quiets and leaves.
“Amy” I lay my hand on her shoulder.
I knew they did fight but I’ve never seen Amy snap so.
“You’re a lot like Patch, Amy,” I say.
“Patch, what was he like?”
Amy and Jonathan were only seven when he left, and I don’t blame him for asking.
“Patch was always kind. He was always standing for those who couldn’t stand. Path did his best to help those in need.”
“I wish I’d known him. I wish he was still here.” She says digging into her pocket.
“Me too, I wish he was still here too.”
Then Amy pulls a small black wallet out of her pocket. Opening it she looks at the picture before handing it to me. It’s the one of them and Patch before he left.
“You keep it with you?” I ask.
“He’s a hero, Beck, my hero. He fought for freedom. He gave his all in hope that we could live freely.” Amy looks at the picture.
Tears well up in my eyes, “Yes, Amy, yes he was a hero.”
“Someday, I’m gonna join too.” Amy looks out the window.
“You and your Resistance” Jonathan scoffs, “freedom we got it, keep your noggin down, look down, salute the flag and follow the rules.”
“That’s not freedom that is submission! Freedom is the ability to look up, to say what you want Johnny.”
“Would you guys mind helping me with dinner?” I ask.
“Sure” Amy smiles
Amy follows me into the kitchen and we get dinner ready. As we work I think of everything Amy said. Suddenly, it hits me. If I leave how will Amy take it?

Chapter Eight
That night after dinner I go to my room and find my backpack and my brother’s stuff. Just then there’s a knock on my door. Opening it I find Amy standing outside.
“I want to ask you something.”
“Sure,” I say.
Amy closes the door behind her, “So how did today go? I wanted to ask but…”
“It’s okay. It went well. Tyler and I kinda talked about searching for new jobs.” Then lowering my voice, “He also talked about the Resistance.”
“The Resistance” Amy’s eyes widen.
“Yes, he’s thinking of going,” I say not wanting to tell her that it’s really me going.
“And what about you?”
“I’m not sure really.”
“Beck, I know you want to go. Why don’t you?”
“You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me.”
“Oh”
“Amy, I wanted to say thank you…I heard what you said when you got home.”
“I was kinda hoping didn’t…Johnny won’t let up.”
“I know.”
“Well, I better let you get ready for bed,” Amy says.
Quickly, I hug her before she leaves. Even Amy can see I want to go.
Chapter Nine
Two days later I meet Tyler in the same spot. I told my family that I was going job hunting.
“Okay, so Randy will be able to meet you. I’ll see you that far.”
“How far is it?”
“A good days walk. There isn’t a bus which goes from here to there. We leave tonight. Meet me here.” He says handing me a slip of paper with an address written on it.
“Thanks.”
“Remember the map.” He reminds me as we part.
Going home I begin to prepare
With my room door locked, I take my backpack and reload it with the essential things I’ll need. I pull out three pairs of jeans and stuff them into the bag. Next, I take out as many shirts as I can and roll them up. I grab several pairs of socks and two of my favorite sweaters. I look around my room and spot the picture of my family sitting on my desk. Carefully, I take it and hold it for a moment before putting it in my bag. From a box under my bed, I pull out an old tattered map and place it into the bag. With the map I pull out a picture of my brother and I. It was taken us before he left. The smile on his eighteen-year-old face is of almost boyish excitement. His backpack hangs over one shoulder and his other hand rests on my shoulder. I turn it over and look at the words written on the back,
“Hope comes to those who need it most. Follow me one day.” Patch
It’s not right to run away, but there may be a day when there isn’t a chance to fight. The darkness will eventually swallow up all life. We must act while we can. What evil? Those beyond the wall are just normal humans. They only disagree with our way of life and what we stand for. It is those who seek to crush our freedom, and our liberties those in power are the evil we must push back.
Next, I go to my desk and write a letter to my family,
“I want you all to know that I love you, and I have not left because of you. I leave because it is my choice. I feel this is the path I must take. This world needs to fight for what it was founded on. The impending doom cannot be kept back forever. It will come and there will be no stopping it. I want to do what I can while there is still time. With love, Rebecca”
Signing the letter, I put it in an envelope and address it to my parents. After that, I stuff my wallet, phone, and a few other small belongings into my backpack. It is close to five pm now and I decide that I will stay for dinner but leave after they’ve gone to bed. When they, at last, go to bed, silently I hoist my bag onto my shoulders and take the letter before I turn my room light off.
Quietly, I open the door and slip downstairs. Once down, I leave the letter on the kitchen table and walk over to the pantry. Opening the door, I take several packs of crackers, a can or two of food and several packets of nuts. Lastly, I grab two water bottles and then head for the door. I open it and slip out.

Chapter Ten
The night air feels somewhat cool as a breeze whispers through the trees. At the end of my driveway, I stop and look at the house where I have lived all my life.
“Goodbye,” I whisper.
A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away. Taking a deep breath, I begin walking away.
“Don’t look back,” I tell myself.
I walk to the bus stop and arrive just in time to catch it. I climb onto the bus and sit in the far back. I know that this bus will go to the edge of the city, which is where I will meet Tyler. A few more people get on and the bus moves. With each mile, I am farther from home and closer to my goal. As the bus drives through the city, I formulate my plan.
I look at the worn map I carry. Written on the map are a few notes that Patch made when he made the trip. The Resistance base is in West Virginia. I swallow at a lump in my throat.
When the bus finally reaches the city limits, I get off. I watch as the bus pulls away leaving me in the dark. Standing by the lamp post is a man with a red baseball cap.
“Ty?”
“Rebecca, you made it,” Tyler says.
“From looking at the map we have to go east,” I say.
As we begin walking, the sidewalk becomes a narrow strip along the road. According to Patch’s notes on the map, he went to Lexington where he met a resistance group. The only light to guide our path is the lights placed along the highway. We try to move like shadows not gliding but moving carefully. I glance at my watch, but it’s too dark to see the time. My bag begins to feel heavy on my shoulders.
“Keep going,” I tell myself.
Just then I notice a sign which says that it’s ten miles to Shelbyville County. Tyler says we should reach it by morning. Then we can take a bus to the edge of that city and then have to walk the rest of the way. As I walk I think about what I’m doing. Another tear slides down my cheek as I think of my family. I wipe it away with the back of my hand and tell myself that if we don’t push back there may never be a chance to.

Chapter Eleven
As the sun comes up Tyler and I stand on the edge of the town. Shelbyville is in a small valley surrounded fields. The town is more agriculturally focused rather than industrial. At the nearest food place, we stop and order something to eat. The combined warmth of the muffin and cup of coffee feels good in my hands.
We sit long enough to eat and rest a few minutes before continuing on. After we eat Tyler tells me that we are to meet Randy at the nearest bus stop. Before we set out, I study the map and my heart sinks. I’m nowhere near close to Lexington.
“Excuse me,” I ask a man ask he passes.
The man stops.
“How far is it to Lexington?”
“Why, it’s a good sixty-five miles to Lexington, lass”
“Thank you.” I manage a smile.
My heart sinks again, “Sixty-five miles.”
That will take weeks to walk. We find one that will take us to the edge of the town. It’s heading east and will knock off a good five to ten miles. We reach the bus stop and looking at Tyler spots him. “Ty, good to see you ma.” Randy greets him
“Randy, this is Rebecca. Rebecca this is Randy.”
“Hi,” I say trying not to let my nervousness show.
When the bus pulls up to the stop Tyler and I part.
“Thank you Tyler, and I’ll look for them.”
“Good luck.” I get on along with other passengers. I sit in the back and watch others get on.
Randy and I sit near the back he lets his backpack fall to the floor and sits down.
Randy, is about the age of twenty, with moppy blonde hair and green eyes.
“So, do you know the way?” Randy asks.
“Yes, and you?”
“I do. I just wanted to see how much you know.” Randy smiles.
“My brother joined three years back, but when he died they sent all of his stuff back. This map,” I pull the map out, “was the one he used.”
By now the bus has stopped and we get off.
“On to Lexington,” Randy says pointing to the east.
As Randy and I walk we talk about our families and the reason we are both running.
“My parents think its best that others handle it,” I say.
“Same here, everyone I knew believed that the Resistance was the bad guys. They think the Grey Wall won’t move. They are right, but there are always ways around the wall.” Randy says.
“Yeah, where is it exactly?”
“It runs from north to south right through Missouri.”