The Seven

TW: Firearm violence

I sit at the edge of the building. I am towering above the ground. So high up that the scurrying humans blur together like a swarm of ants. My feet sway back and forth, the worn shoelaces of my crusting leather boots slowly tugging themselves out of the knot I tied. Beside me is a boy, he stares down too.

"Do you remember?" The boy asks. "Before? Before the fires? Before the government lost control of the environment?"

My eyes move lazily to the people below. They are victims of the environment's downfall. The government's failure. We both will be soon, me and the boy.

"Yes," I say, quietly. "It was almost stopped, you know."

This piques the boy's interest. His head tilts as he looks at me. "Really?" He asks.

I smile, dragging my fingers along a raised scar on my thumb. "Truly." I promise. "You have heard stories about the group of resistance leaders, have you not?"

Everyone had heard that story. The seven resistance leaders. Heroes - failed heroes. They knew how it would end, the digging, the smog, the pollution - badly. It would end in such a weak ozone layer that fire would become Earth's new rain.

"Of course." The boy says. "Fifteen summers ago, just before the flares started." The boy begins, parroting the words he must have heard countless times before. "My ma says I wasn't alive then, but she told me of them. The seven, that was their title." He chirps the words with a strange emptiness in his voice. Like an echo of his childishness still lingered. "They wanted to save the world."

A soft smile dawns on my lips, and I make no effort to stop it. Closing my eyes, I slip into the past. Letting time engulf me and drag me back to a different time.

"This cannot go on." Richard snaps, speaking the word 'cannot' with an emphasis that must leave his throat raw.

"I know," Em says, wrapping her fingers in Amy's. Amy leans onto Em, closing her eyes.

Her accent is thick, distinctly Russian. I have known Em for ages, her legal name is Amanda. She was adopted by an American family who insisted she change her Russian name. Instead, she refused to be called by anything except the shortened version of her original name, one she refused to tell me. She also clung to her accent, strengthening it after she went back to Russia in search of a college. That's where she met Amy. The two have been dating for nearly three years.

Richard smashes his fist against the table. "We are all going to die if we don't do something." He spits.

Trent frowns at the outburst. "Richard." He says, a quiet warning in his voice.

"This won't help," John says, raising an eyebrow at Richard as the man seethes in his chair.

"It won't." I agree, pitching into the conversation. Richard is not helping. Anxiously, I stroke a single finger over the small notebook clutched in my hand. In it are stories. My creativity bled onto pages that I would sooner burn than share with another soul.

Richard glares at us in turn. "Then what do you suggest we do?" He asks.

I have been part of the resistance for seven months. Richard longer. Everyone else is about the same as me. This is my 'group'. Our job is to come up with some plan. Something. The government is tearing the world apart. Genocide was slowly integrated into the government until people grew numb to the horrors. Shortly after that, the ozone layer began to crumble. Before long, there will be nothing of this world to save. It is our job to take the shit that not only hit the fan - but knocked the whole thing off the ceiling - and somehow tidy up the room.

Ironically, the term to describe what we've come up with is 'jackshit'. It's turned into some kind of inside joke for us. A depressing one, but one nonetheless.

"We could do something bad."

The suggestion comes in a whispered word, a breath, a single idea falling from the lips of someone who realizes the exact danger they are offering. The final member in our seven is a nineteen-year-old girl. Her name is Nora. She is three years your senior and the youngest in your group. Beyond that, she is a living breathing genius. She speaks in numbers and her comprehension is far beyond all of yours combined.

Richard raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" He asks.

Nora does not look up. She never does. There are scars on her face. From what happened to her. What they did to her. They will always claim innocence, but a government that locks a girl up with monsters for being different-

I force my breathing to slow and my heart to steady. I am not objective. My family has suffered this fate, and not made it out. The very idea of it angers me. I ground myself, tapping against the cover of my notebook and returning to the conversation.

"We could do something bad," Nora says again. "Something against the rules." Her hair falls in long curtains of black.

Em's head tilts ever so slightly as she takes in Nora. "What would we do?" She asks. Then clarifying, "That's bad?"

There are a few rules in the resistance, do not initiate conflict. That would give reason to attack. Do not directly attack the government using the Resistance's name. We do not have the power to stop them from destroying us.

Do not speak of the resistance. Nobody can know, not yet.

If you are captured because of the Resistance. If you are one of us and they capture you...

Let's just say I have a fun little pill in my pocket at all times.

"What rules would we break?" Amy asks, her voice cautious.

Nora lets the silence stretch for a long moment before three whispered words fall from her lips, released in a single damning breath.

"All of them."

--------------------------

When Nora has finished telling the plan, we are in shock. None of us speak for a long moment.

"It's..." I shake my head. "How did you come up with it?" I ask.

Nora does not look at me, she never does. "I don't know." She says. "I just thought about it."

Nora's mind truly does work differently.

"It's basically a suicide mission." I point out, unable to say anything else. I tap anxiously on my notebook. "It's not safe."

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" There's a sharpness in her tone, an anger that I've never heard before.

"I don't know," Em says, hesitating. "It would all have to work, perfectly."

Amy is considering the plan. "It would work," Amy says, voice quiet. "I could break us out. Break us in. Trent could disguise us."

Trent, the member of our team responsible for disguises is deep in thought, mouth moving silently as he thinks. "I could." He finally amends.

"I..." Richard is staring into space. He is our 'hacker.' He's the very definition of tech-savvy. His job would be the hardest. Hack the computers. Hack the broadcast. "I can." He finally says. "I'll need time." He warns, glancing at Nora. "Can you give it to me?"

Nora does not answer at first, she is running numbers through her head. "I can give you two hours." She finally amends. "But take into consideration that error may take twenty minutes off or add it on if we're lucky."

Richard clenches his jaw, but he nods. "I can do it." He repeats.

Em shakes her head. "I can too." She says, looking a little surprised. She squeezes Amy's hand and gives her a comforting smile. Amy drinks it in like water.

John is thinking, his eyes are closed. His job revolves around lies. He would have to sell our identity as government officials. He will have to get us past the Resistance. "Yes." He says. "I'll do it."

Everyone turns to me.

This is my call. I was elected the manager. I am in charge of passing missions, allowing them to take place. I make sure everyone is safe. In missions, I do not have a skill like everyone else. I only linger where I am needed.

I shake my head again, looking at Nora I bite my lip. "If we screw this up-"

"It will be the end of the world," Nora says, her voice more intense than normal. She is full of intensity today. Emotion. She's thought about this for a long time.

I look at her, surprised to see her head up. She is meeting my eyes. Letting the full damage of her face stare me down. It still makes me sick to see what they did to her.

"What's your verdict?" She asks, a tinge of resentment in her tone. It startles me. She has never been angry like this. Not passionate.

"How?" I ask. "How can I say yes?"

Nora raises her head a little higher. "Trust me." She says. "You trust me, don't you? You know I don't make mistakes. Not anymore. Not since the prison."

The breath leaves my throat. She never talks about it. She never says the word prison around any of us. And for me, it's the final nail in the coffin.

Closing my eyes again, I let a single word slip. A single, desperate word. "Yes."

The boy tugging on my sleeve brings me back to the present, I look at him. "Sir?" He asks.

His head is tilted in just the way Em's was when Nora proposed that plan. That. Plan. Melancholy fills me as I look at the boy.

"Yes?" I ask, looking back down. I've long since lost the queasiness that used to be brought on by height.

"Why did you ask me about the story?" The boy asks a glint of hope in his eyes. "Can they help? Is it not too late."

A pang of guilt goes through my heart, and I give him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry," I say softly. "But they're long gone."

The boy deflates a little, looking down. "Oh." He says.

I look back down. "Would you mind telling me the story?" I ask. "Of The Seven, I enjoy hearing it."

The boy obliges, a small smile on his face. He's happy to be telling the story. It distracts him from what is below him. What will become of both of us?

"They broke into one of the prisons." He says. "One with access to the files. To what they did to everyone."

I slip back to the moment. With our handcuffs picked up and smuggled uniforms slipped on, we escaped the van they brought us in, wielding firearms. The memory swallows me whole.

"Run." Em snaps, motioning towards the prison. Officials in the same uniforms as us rush by, unaware we're part of the Resistance.

Nobody stops to ask questions, and Amy helps Nora stay steady. She is horrified at the prospect of being back in one of these prisons - but she will not cry. She refuses to.

We stumble into the compound, blinded by the intensity of the lights. I cling to the wall for support, desperately missing my notebook. We are behind. The van stalled. This is taking too long. My heart is going to fast. Em leads us down the halls, turning and turning as she hunts for the computer room.

When she finally finds it, the little clocks on our wrists tell us we are running out of time. Em moves over, letting Amy at the lock. She runs her fingers reassuringly up Amy's spine, muttering words of encouragement as Amy works.

When the door swings open, Amy is slick with sweat and trembling with relief. A gasp escapes her lips and she grabs Em's hand tightly as Richard darts for a computer.

"We need more time," I mutter to Nora.

Nora's face is plastered with cosmetics. Hiding the scars that would betray her identity. She is staring into the hallway, eyes haunted. Her frame looks much smaller here, shrunk into itself. I realize she didn't hear me. When I tap her gently, she jumps.

"I-" Her words falter. "I- we-" She blinks, her mouth hanging open. "I don't understand." She says, her voice cracking. "Why don't we have more time? Why wasn't I right?"

"Don't panic," I say softly. "Just tell me, is there a way to get more time?"

"No." Nora says, her voice squeaky. "No. There isn't."

Richard has been working for forty-five minutes. He has fifteen before we have to leave. Before we have to abort. With a sudden slam of his hands, he pulls back from the computer. Hands in the air and eyes wide he speaks.

"I got it." He says, scanning lines of code on the computer. "I've never done anything this fast, but it should work."

"Do it." I snap, moving closer to the computer.

Richard pushes me away. "I am." He says. Then, he types something in on the computer. The screen flickers and the camera comes on.

A slow smile spreads Em's face, and as she steps into the view of the camera she speaks.

"Hello, world. Can you hear us?"

I pull yourself out of the memory, closing my eyes you suck in a breath. I don't want to see what happens next.

The boy is still speaking. "They broadcasted something." The boy says. "Dirty secrets. Things nobody was supposed to know." There's a thrill in his eyes. "They hacked the computer. One of The Seven told the world what happened. They showed documents. Proof. They told all the secrets. Every last one."

My heart twists. "Yes, they did," I say.

Then the boy gets a little sad. "They did the mission right." He says. "But the people failed."

I swallow hard, finally letting myself see the end. The last part of the memory.

"Go check outside." Trent breathes in my ear. "Look at the screens outside. Make sure it's broadcasting."

I oblige. Turning out I squeeze Nora's arm. "It's okay," I tell her. "It worked. You did it." I smile at her. "They're not going to hurt you anymore. Not you. Not anyone."

Nora nods, eyes wide with joy as she watches Em speak. Watches Richard pull up document after document to broadcast.

I run. Through the halls. Into the lobby, everyone is frozen. Staring at the screens on the walls.

It. Worked.

My heart stutters, exploding with excitement as Nora steps into the frame. Em looks at her questioningly but does not stop her as Nora smears the makeup off her face. Shows her scars to the camera. To the world. To. Everyone.

Her voice is strong and steady. "This is what they did to me." She says. "Because I was different. Because I am different. I did not fit their label, what I was supposed to sound and look like." Her eyes are sharp. "But you ignored the genocide. All of you. Now is your chance. Your chance to make it right." She tilts her chin up, making direct eye contact with the camera. With me. "Now is your chance to stop this. Join the Resistance. Stop the end of the world, because it's already started."

Then, slowly. Everybody steps into the frame. I am frozen, watching my six friends stand in front of the world. We did it. We saved the world.

And then, Nora's skull explodes.

"They died." The boy says, soft. "Six of them died on camera. In front of the world. But nobody did anything. The Resistance was destroyed." He looks down. "The environment. All of it."

I look down at the ground. People are being burned by the flames on the ground. By the strength of the sun. The boy and I are hidden from the direct rays, but I know it is killing me too. It will reach us.

"Would you like to hear a secret?" I ask the boy.

He nods.

"I was one of The Seven," I say quietly. "I was their leader. The one that brought them on that mission. I left the room to check the screens, and when they died..." Guilt twists my stomach. "I ran."

The boy's eyes widen. "Really?" He asks.

I pull up my sleeve and show him a tattoo. Each of their names was inked in my flesh.

The boy gathers his words. "Why did you do it?"

I look away from him, a sad smile on my lips. "We thought we could save the world."

And around us, the world burned.