We didn’t have any time to waste. Julie and Michalea Findle, the outlier we’d picked up from Las Cruces, designed some posters and flyers, then Andy went undercover to a print shop he’d made contact with to get copies. The amount of people that had suddenly become sympathetic to our revolution was still surprising to me. I’d been imagining having to make all the copies ourselves.
Decklan and Andy, the most unknown of our group, were in charge of spreading the propaganda. As we’d anticipated, the signs were taken down as immediately as they could be found, but word started getting out.
My parents rented out the stadium space for a “medical conference†on the date we’d settled on, and Bluff didn’t even question it. Turns out, “kidnapping†Emma was the best move I could have made. Not only had it reunited me with my family and convinced them that I was not an abomination to society, but it was also the perfect cover story. My parents were so relieved to have Emma back from their mad elder daughter, so why would they conspire with her?
Although I’d come to terms with the idea that I was a very visible figurehead, I didn’t like the idea of being in charge. I left major decisions to Decklan and the little group of people that liked to hear themselves talk. If I was present at their meetings at all, I only spoke up if asked a question. This was no longer my revolution, my lone attempt at reuniting with the society that had shunned and tried to murder me. This was something much bigger.
I spent a lot of my time with Emma and Julie, basking in the familiarity. Even with Decklan holding me as I slept, there were times I woke up screaming, remembering the children in the medical prison and Laurie’s defenseless body. Being around the younger girls calmed me, reminded me that life was not all death and sadness. That there was always hope.
Julie had visibly grown up in the past few months. She took her job as poster designer very seriously, conceptualizing a new one every few hours. And incredibly, she still had time to make up other original creations to sell and decorate at our rally. Her productivity was astounding, and guilted me into penning a few poems. But I didn’t have the brain capacity to be creative. I was too busy being stressed and anxious. Planning a revolution was exhausting business.
Emma had aged as well, but in a more literal sense. Her fifth birthday occurred two weeks before our rally, and everyone took that opportunity to take a much needed break. We pulled out all the stops, preparing food that could have lasted the entire city for months. No one worked that day, not even the compulsively productive Julie. That day was a day of rest and celebration. But we weren’t just celebrating my sister’s birth, as beloved as she was among the “rebelsâ€. We were also celebrating our own progress, and for those who had only recently been enlightened by our cause, their rebirth.
In the meantime, Jon was as busy as ever. The producers of Outties were right to hire him; he was an immediate hit. Even though he’d been off air for months, he had built up quite a following, and most of them were anxious for him to begin broadcasting again. After the massive response from the audience one week into Jon’s new slot, Outties stopped being a rebel channel bouncing back and forth on the airwaves. They picked one station, and they didn’t care who knew.
Naturally, Senator Bluff was none too happy that a rebel radio station was broadcasting support for Outliers and their sympathizers, and arranged a team to hunt down their location to put an end to the “traitorous talkâ€. Outties was one step ahead of him. They hit the road, never staying in one place for more than a day, taking their broadcasting equipment and their secret weapon, Jon, with them. The revolution I’d unwittingly started the day I approached Decklan after class was going public. Very public.
If I was being honest, I would have admitted that I didn’t know what to think. It was all too overwhelming for me. The past year had been the most bizarre of my life, even more bizarre than the year Gruber rescued me from my execution. And that was saying a lot. Life on the run takes a lot to get used to. But then again, so does heading up a revolution.
Luke graciously accepted that whatever relationship we’d had after my fight with Decklan was basically disintegrated. Instead of brooding, he threw himself into defensive preparation for our rally. Although I was unhappy about it, he’d been building up a stockpile of weapons.
“To keep us safe.†He explained to me in a reasonable voice. “It’s not going to take long for Bluff to figure out where we are. And if you think he’ll ask you to step off the stage with a please and thank you, then you’ve got another thing coming.â€
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Having a defense against Bluff’s inevitable rage was a good idea. I just didn’t like the precipitation of violence. The whole point of this series of country wide rallies was to end the senseless torture and murder that had been going on under society’s nose for generations.
The night before the rally, I didn’t even try to rest. At first I had resolved myself to pacing the night away, but Decklan complained I was making him even more anxious, which was really saying something. So instead, the two of us sat up against the backboard of the bed, holding each other. I kept my face pressed into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. It was as if I had to remind myself what I was fighting for.
I was fighting for my right to love Decklan as a full member of society, but it was more than that. I was fighting for my right, and the rights of those in my situation, to live. And even if the next day’s rally didn’t amount to anything, I would keep fighting until Bluff figured out a way to kill me.
(ONLY TWO SEGMENTS LEFT! WE’RE SO CLOSE!)
(Also, fyi, I’m not completely sold on the way I ended it yet, so bear in mind that this IS a first draft)
