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Jonathan just got himself into a bad situation if anyone is interested………… he thinks he’s going to attack an Agent car and rescue one of the child soldiers and run away with him….. I don’t think he thought this one through.
Jonathan snuck forward, along the street. He spotted the car and broke into a low run, keeping to the shadows. The car wasn’t in too much of a hurry, and it was easy to see as it was the only one out. Jonathan had no idea what he was going to do once he caught up to the vehicle. He just knew that he somehow needed to stop them. If I can get the kid, we’ll just run away. He can come and live with all of us just like what happened to me. I just have to get my hands on him.
Ahead, Jonathan saw a red glow. For a moment he wondered what it was. Then, he knew. Traffic light! I wonder if they’ll stop since it’s only Agents and soldiers out at night?
Jonathan raced closer and came to a stop in the shadow of a large building. The car slowed as it approached the light, and then it came to a stop. Jonathan didn’t think.
He just acted.
Racing forward from his cover, Jonathan’s shoes hit down on the road. He sprinted toward the car and grabbed the back door. He wrenched on the handle, and to his relief the door was unlocked. Jonathan heard shouting, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the boy’s arm and jammed a hand down on the seatbelt’s buckle.
The boy wrenched free and drove a fist into Jonathan’s side. Jonathan jerked away in surprise. The boy, free of the seatbelt, rose up and followed the first strike with another, and then grabbed the collar of Jonathan’s sweater and slammed his head against the front seat.
“Cut it out! I’m trying to help you!” yelled Jonathan.
The next instant someone had grabbed him from behind. Jonathan kicked and felt his shoe slam into something. There was a curse, and Jonathan wrenched lose. He was no longer after the kid. He just needed to escape.
He tried to turn, but he was caught in the triangle formed by the car and open door. Someone grabbed him from behind again and Jonathan tried to brake lose. Both Agents were on him, and the boy was adding his own swift, sharp punches. Someone slammed Jonathan against the car and his vision blacked out for a second as a wave of dizziness hit him. A fist drove into his side, knocking the breath from his lungs and Jonathan’s legs buckled. The next moment he was on the ground and one of the Agents was roughly handcuffing his wrists. Jonathan struggled, but it was a weak effort. A hand grabbed his hood and he was dragged into a sitting position. Jonathan choked and pulled free, coughing and gasping for breath.
One of the Agents was talking on his radio. “Male…about sixteen to eighteen…suspected rebel…Khaki pants, black hoodie, torn up running shoes…. Attempted kidnapping of one of the Firstborn…. Yes sir… no sir… right away sir.”
Jonathan looked to where the boy stood, his feet shoulder’s width apart and his hands clasped behind his back. “You little idiot! I did this to save you!” spat Jonathan. “Why did you fight back?”
The Agent behind Jonathan struck him hard in the back of the head. Jonathan winced and gritted his teeth. The boy stared straight at Jonathan, his eyes cold. “Rebellion of any kind will not be tolerated. How dare you go against Government orders! It is people like you who are the cause of every problem this great nation faces. District 5 is a worse place because of you and your kind. All of you deserve nothing lighter then a death sentence.”
Jonathan stared at him open mouthed. All at once, he started laughing. It was a strange, choked sort of laughter that shook his whole body and made him feel lightheaded. “Listen to you! Your so proud of the lines you can perfectly rehearse! You’re just a tool!”
Jonathan received several more painful blows to the head and back as a reward for his words.
The boy’s mouth curled into a disdainful sneer. “Radicals. All of you should be treated as less then human. You could never understand what it’s like to be one of the Elite. One of the Chosen,” he spat at the ground and then turned to one of the Agents, snapping to attention.
The Agent motioned to the car and then turned to his partner. “Backup will be here in a moment, and then we’ll continue.”
Jonathan glanced down the street. He knew he should be frightened, but for some reason all his emotions seemed to be broken. He was dizzy and everything seemed like a strange dream. The only thing he could feel with clarity was the pain in his head and back.
There was a flash as the headlights of a second car came around the corner. The driver put it in park and stepped out, leaving the car on. He walked up to them, a hand resting loosely over his sidearm. “What’s going on here, 113?” he asked as he joined them.
“Got a kid out after curfew making trouble,” replied 113.
At that moment, another car swung into view and came to a stop beside the first two. The door of the driver side opened, and a man stepped out. He walked to the passenger side and opened the door, coming stiffly to attention. A figure slowly stepped from the car and walked up to where the threesome stood with Jonathan. He came to a stop. Dressed in black combat-boots, a grey uniform, carrying black handgun at his side, and being a head and shoulders taller than any of the others, he was an imposing and intimidating character. The worst of all the Agents Jonathan had met so far. By the decorations on his uniform, Jonathan knew he was someone important.
“Lieutenant, I’m glad you’re here,” said 113, with a salute.
The Lieutenant nodded briefly, and then turned his gaze on Jonathan. He was surprisingly young, twenty-seven to be exact. He had sandy-blonde hair and a scar that ran across the left side of his face, starting near his eyebrow and dropping to just above his jaw line. His blue eyes held an icy look that caused a slight shudder to run through Jonathan.
“113, 110, take the transport to base.”
The two Agents saluted. The one holding Jonathan was replaced by 107, the Agent who had arrived a moment before. Jonathan glanced toward the car and saw the boy was watching him with a sneer. Jonathan glared back, hating the child, but hating even more the system that had turned him into what he was now.
The car sped off, and Jonathan looked at the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. Two soldiers stood behind him, both of them about Jonathan’s age, and another Agent hovered in the background.
The lieutenant stepped forward until he was standing almost directly over Jonathan. Jonathan ducked his head and averted his eyes.
“They tell me you tried to kidnap one of the firstborn,” said the Lieutenant. “You were trying to ‘set him free’ from us?”
Jonathan refused to answer. The Lieutenant gave a nod, and the man who held Jonathan yanked his head back, forcing Jonathan to look up at the officer. Jonathan’s eyes flashed but he remained silent.
“I don’t think you know what freedom is. Have you not paid any attention in school?” asked the Lieutenant.
Jonathan was furious. “I know what you say freedom is, but that is not freedom,” he exclaimed angrily. “We have lived in bondage all our lives. You take our children, you control our lives, you do what you please and we are forced to comply with whatever fancy you might have. It is unjust. It needs to stop.”
“So, it talks,” drawled the Lieutenant.
Jonathan seethed.
“Listen, my ‘wise friend’, you want the children back? Look at me, I’m a first born. I was taken when I was twelve, and here I am, an officer. I’m far greater than anything you could ever dream of being, and you want us to take that away from them?”
“Yes,” retorted Jonathan.
“I suppose you want it this way because you’re jealous that you aren’t a firstborn,” remarked the Lieutenant.
“Nothing in me would want to be one of those poor, frightened children that you lie to and abuse,” Jonathan snapped back.
The Lieutenant’s eyes flashed, and his fist shot out, striking Jonathan in the side of the mouth. Jonathan gasped in surprise and pain, his head jerking from the force of the blow. He spat blood to the ground and was thankful it was only a busted lip. He blinked rapidly to clear his watering vision and looked up at the Lieutenant. He was angry and frightened enough now that he would have fought all five of them, if only his hands weren’t cuffed behind his back. As they were, all he could do, was glare furiously.
“That’s enough mouthing off from you,” stated the Lieutenant coldly. “Now, who are you?”
Jonathan set his teeth and refused to answer. He jerked his head free of 107’s hand and glared defiantly at the Lieutenant. He knew they would eventually find out, but he decided he wasn’t going to give an inch more ground than he absolutely must to this proud young officer.
“Search him,” commanded the Lieutenant.
107 thoroughly frisked Jonathan, but there was no ID to be found. The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes. He took a step closer. “Tell me your name, or I will force it from you.”
Jonathan visibly set his teeth.
107 pressed his knee into Jonathan’s back, pinning his arms while forcing him forward. Jonathan winced as pain began tarring into his shoulders. He wished with all he was worth that he was on his feet. Then he could put up a fight. Sitting on the ground like this, he was completely vulnerable. Suddenly, Jonathan had an idea. He looked up at the Lieutenant, grinning defiantly. “My name is Kid,” he spat.
The Lieutenant arched an eyebrow.
“Call of you dog,” growled Jonathan. “I answered you.”
“Not to my satisfaction,” replied the Lieutenant.
“Oh, you want more of my names?” Jonathan laughed harshly. “How about Boy, Skinny, or String-Bean?”
“I rather like Skinny, but I think it could be better replaced with Coward or Idiot,” remarked the Lieutenant, dryly.
“Oh you take that back!” snarled Jonathan, spitting at the man’s boots.
107 shifted his hold and pain exploded through Jonathan’s shoulder blade and neck. “Off me you beast!” yelled Jonathan. “You witless tool! You creature! Let me go! Wait until I get my hands on you! Get off me!” he began spitting insults left and right as he tried to pull free.
The lieutenant smiled. “This is quiet fun,” he remarked, leaning against his car. “Please, 107, continue.”
“I don’t have a name!” yelled Jonathan. “The only names I have I gave you!”
The lieutenant seemed to think this over for a few moments Then he shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter what you’re called as much as who you are. So tell me, where are the rest of the rebels?”
“You’re crazy!” Jonathan panted. “I known nothing about a rebellion of any sort.”
“It seems we’ll have to do this the hard way,” smiled the Lieutenant.
107 struck Jonathan a blow to the face.
“I don’t know anything about the blasted rebels!” Jonathan yelled furiously.
107 struck him several more times, and Jonathan gasped for breath. He could smell and taste blood, and the scar along the side of his head was starting to tare open again. “You stupid Agents!” he choked. “You don’t know anything!”
He received another blow to the mouth.
“Stop it! I’m not a rebel!” yelled Jonathan for what seemed like the hundredth time. The pain was horrible, but what was worse for Jonathan was the fact that these Agents were thrashing him because they thought he was something he wasn’t. He was absolutely enraged that they wouldn’t believe him.
107 shoved him down so that he was lying on the cement. “Come on you guys! I’ve never seen a bigger bunch of blockheads in my life!” Jonathan shouted at them. He was so angry he had forgotten to be frightened.
The lieutenant’s boot slammed into his side, forcing the breath from his lungs. Jonathan’s head spun but he made himself drag in air with painful gasps.
“Tell us where the rest of your kind are,” said the Lieutenant.
“I d-don’t know about any r-rebels!” Jonathan shot back between breaths. “If I did, I would have joined them long ago! I wish there were rebels! I hope there are! I hope they kill you!” He lay panting and glaring, at his tormentors.
Finally, the Lieutenant motioned them back. Jonathan was hauled up to his knees and he glared at the Agents, blood dripping from his nose and mouth and bruising spreading along his left cheekbone.
“You’re only just beginning to understand what we can do,” warned the Lieutenant. “Any more of this nonsense and we’ll start doing things that don’t heal so easily.”
Jonathan spat blood onto the road. “I know nothing,” he panted. “But, if there ever were rebels––” he broke off coughing. “I’d join them if it meant sticking a knife into your back.”
The lieutenant smiled coldly. “I won’t be forgetting that flattering remark in a hurry. However, your skill in insulting people does not transfer into lying. You are terrible at it. Do you think I’ve never seen a rebel in my life?”
“Apparently not,” retorted Jonathan.
The Lieutenant struck Jonathan so hard his ears rang. The world spun and Jonathan thought he was going to throw up. He hung his head, closing his eyes tightly against tears of pain.
“Oh come now, are you ready to give up so quickly?” taunted the Lieutenant.
Jonathan grit his teeth and raised his head. “I wish I was a rebel, because then I could keep back the information just to spite you! As it is, I haven’t got anything to hide!”
The Lieutenant stood considering him for a moment. He checked his watch at look toward the east. Already the sky was beginning to grow lighter. Whatever he did, he would have to move the whole scene off the street before he got an audience. Looking back at Jonathan, he made a decision. “I haven’t got time to deal with you. I’m not entirely sure if you are a rebel or not, but you don’t seem very smart, whatever you may be.”
Jonathan glared at him.
The Lieutenant turned and the two soldiers who had been standing silently behind him snapped to attention. The Lieutenant singled out the one on the right. “472, take the prisoner beyond the wall.”
“Sir?” asked the young man, confusion written on his face.
“Outside the gate and over the wall,” repeated the Lieutenant.
“Yes sir,” replied the young man, saluting. “What would you have me do with him, sir?”
The Lieutenant turned and smiled coldly down at Jonathan. “Shoot him.”
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
@highscribeofaetherium @rae @jonas @loopylin @thearcaneaxiom @savannah_grace2009 @linus-smallprint @theshadow @princesachronicle22 @whalekeeper @stephie @grcr @esther-c @theloonyone @ava-blue @hybridlore @keilah-h @koshka @livingwoodchronicles @freed_and_redeemed
Ok, I’ve been playing around with the front cover to The Space Between Us. What do y’all think?
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
option 2
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
3rd option
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
4th option
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
5th
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
6th
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
and last one.
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
Thanks! The feedback is super helpful!
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
I think 7 looks the best.
A donation has been made in your name to the Human Fund: Money for People.
Nice, that’s two votes for 7.
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
7 looks so nice with the boxed section on top. You could even try something similar on the bottom with your name, but this still looks good.
#ProtectAdolinKholin
Looks like it might be seven!
Anyone else?
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
6 or 7!
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
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