Hive

“Don’t let them hear you!”

Clamping a hand over my mouth, I stared fearfully at Sydney while she glanced around frantically for any sign that someone picked up on what I had said. Sydney and I had ducked behind one of the school’s dumpsters to avoid the penetrating gaze of the security cameras – but that did not mean protection from the ears of the Watchers.

Thankfully the hall continued to bustle with the monotone murmur of students adorned with monochrome uniforms. Those beige drones didn’t even give us a passing glance; they were all deeply buried in their phones or too absorbed in petty gossip to hear anything beyond the buzzing sound of their own voices. It also helps that Sydney and I are invisible to anyone – most of anyone, at least.

As soon as she was certain there was no impending threat, Sydney glared back at me. Her golden-green eyes practically glowed with rage – and fear.

“I swear to God, Jen, it’s like you have a freaking death wish!” She hissed at me through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, so?” My shaky voice betrayed my attempt to sound indignant and nonchalant. “I have a right to express my opinion…”

“Not when it’s a direct criticism of the President.” Sydney cut me off sharply before I could finish,

“I, for one, would like to survive this hellscape in one piece, thank you very much.”

Before I could retort, Sydney snatched her ratty hand-me-down backpack off the ground and darted out from behind the dumpster. She slung a single strap of the navy bag over her shoulder while appearing to casually brush the dirt from her awkwardly fitting khaki skirt, but her sharp eyes scanned the quickly emptying hallway as if seeking a potential ambush. I sighed at the sound of the first warning bell and dragged myself out from the safety of our smelly alcove to stand next to Sydney, pushing my bandaged glasses forcefully back up the bridge of my nose.

“Well, excuse me for being sick of the same old song and dance.” I grumbled under my breath, being mindful of my voice volume this time. I wanted to act tough in front of her, but we both knew that it was futile. We were both terrified after witnessing what happened to Arielle. 

Sydney and I weren’t even friends before the Red Uprising occurred. Sydney was a bully and I her daily punching bag. She towered a foot and a half over me and easily had one hundred pounds on me. She was the only female wrestler on the school team and carried herself proudly as the smug lioness that ruled the high school kingdom. I was a classically scrawny chess nerd, keeping my nose stuck to books and getting my head smashed into the lockers during gym period by her massive meat-mitts every morning. We were the typical archetypes of side-characters in a high school drama, and we played our roles well – until the current president was elected.

Now we walked along the emptying hallway together, an odd couple consisting of an ogre and a stick bug with glasses. Despite the first warning bell ringing barely five minutes ago, students were eagerly flitting into classrooms to be on time for the President’s morning announcement, whether it be that they were genuinely excited or wise to not be caught lagging by the Watchers. I clenched my jaw as we rounded the corner and came upon the banner that held the President’s visage, with two Watchers flanking each side as they paraded the flag down the hall.

One of the new laws implemented by the President once they took office was mandating each household, professional and education institution, with these ridiculous flags. It was also required to salute the banner by crossing both fists over your chest, should you walk past the banner – which was even more ridiculous since some city streets had these dangling on every street corner, so you basically had to walk several blocks looking like something painted on the coffin of a dead pharaoh. Should you break the law and not salute the President, you would be considered a "Hater” – that’s when the Watchers would find you and take you away, never to be seen again. Just like Arielle…

I ground my teeth harder as the banner approached closer, trying to tame the snarl on my face as I was forced to look upon the face of the fascist that got rid of my friend. Golden embroidery illustrated their flowing locks and framed an angelic face, with crimson red lips boldly standing center like a bloodstain. It’s the face of classic beauty and tyrannical evil, worshiped by millions. I’m not sure what makes me angrier – the President, or the mindless cluster of brainwashed humans that gave her power along with a God complex.

A powerful jab to my side ripped me away from my thoughts, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

“Jen, you have to salute. Now.” Sydney whispered to me through clenched teeth. I could hear the desperation that laced her words, even though her face looked forward frozen in a stoic stare. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, fists clenched even harder to the point her knuckles were blanched white.

It reminded me that I may not be her favorite person, but I am the only one she has left right now.

I immediately brought my arms up into salute before the Watchers passed me with the banner. Perspiration began to tickle my brow as I felt the skeptical eyes of one of them bore into me as they passed. The stomps of their steel-toed boots faded down the hall behind us, and I released a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

“That was close…hey…” I turned to make a light-hearted joke to Sydney to break the tension but sought to comfort her instead when I saw her face. Her eyes were wide and bristling with tears threatening to spill over at any moment. She tried to clamp her lips between her teeth but her jaw quivered with greater intensity the more distance the Watchers put between us.

“Hey, Syd…don’t cry, it’s okay…” I reached out to pat her shoulder, which felt more like petting a giant rock, softening my voice. It did no good to help Sydney, as the levies of her eyes finally gave way to the weight of her grief.

“I just miss her so much, y’know?” she choked out a sob, wet tears streaming her ruddy cheeks. My throat caught at the sight of her, and I could only nod in response, blinking rapidly to hold back my own tears. I didn’t need to ask to know who she spoke of.

Losing Arielle hit Sydney the hardest; it was her first love, after all. I remembered when Sydney told me the story of when she first saw Arielle, sitting at a ceramics wheel with her wild, bushy hair barely restrained by a handkerchief and splattered head to toe in clay. Apparently, all it took was a flash of her smile and Sydney swore she fell in love right there. They even had a song – Love Story, by Taylor Swift. After the recent elections, the headstrong Arielle formed a resistance group against the President’s which I ended up joining, and unfortunately for them that song became a sour note as it was used to deter Watchers from becoming suspect to our anti-government activities. Soon after that, it became a torturous ballad of that fateful day where the Watchers decried Arielle for treason.

Sydney continued to sniffle piteously, wiping her face hurriedly, while I shook my head remembering the trauma of that day. Both of us were with Arielle at her apartment, it was a Saturday night and her mom was working the night shift again. We were staring blankly at the moving images of the movie Clueless, drained from what we thought was our covert operation of posting flyers decrying the tyranny of the R.P.P. Without warning, the door was kicked in violently, splintering into wood fragments as it caved under the boots of several Watcher’s storming the apartment with their riot gear on. The leader of the troop was distinguished by a single bright-red epaulet adorning their shoulder, which almost rivaled the redness of their uncovered face.

“Apprehend the Hater! There! Hater! HATER!” The commander of the squad pointed feverishly at the chair where Arielle and Sydney clutched at each other, his cries taking a frenzied edge as he practically foamed at the mouth. Suddenly, dozens of hands began to grab at them. I jumped up from my seat on the couch in shock, but was subdued with a forceful punch to the gut from a nearby Watcher. I collapsed to the floor clutching my stomach from the radiating pain and struggling to breathe, helplessly staring as two Watchers dragged Arielle kicking and screaming out the front door. Ten of them worked to restrain Sydney as she fought against them, also screaming and begging them to let her go. The Watchers didn’t listen and instead jabbed a cattle prod into Sydney’s side, causing her to pass out from the massive amount of voltage coursing through her body. They left as quickly as they came, our quivering bodies glued to the floor until only the sound of city traffic filled the dark, cold space.

To this very day, Sydney and I cannot fathom why it was just Arielle taken – we were just as guilty, how is it that we didn’t get taken with her? I shudder at the thought we were left alone to send a message; an omen of things to come should we continue what Arielle started.

***

Our first period class went by in a flash, and my rage began to swell again as the second period warning bell began to ring the chorus of an all-too familiar tune.

“We need to continue building the resistance.” I claimed out loud, jumping in front of Sydney’s path making her halt suddenly. She stared me down like I was some wild animal.

“You really do want to die, don’t you?” She muttered bewildered and moved to walk by me.

“What about the cause?!” I cried out, jumping in front of her again. “Arielle would not want us to give up! Did she really die for nothing?!”

I could tell I struck a nerve for Sydney this time; her face deepened to a scarlet shade and her nostrils flared with each laboring breath. She brought her nose within inches of my face and spoke in a low, threatening voice. “Don’t you dare say that about her – you didn’t even know her. Her dad became a brain-dead Watcher and she created the so-called resistance to get him back, you vapid moron.” My mouth dropped in shock, yet she continued.

“You were just some pathetic loner and Arielle felt bad for you, so she let you join our group. I stupidly kept this thing between us going because I didn’t realize you were this delusional. If Arielle had known – if any of us had known – the consequence of messing with the President’s special forces, we never would have done what we did. There is no cause, Jen – there never was. This is just our stupid, sad life now. Just get over it, before you kill us both!”

To prove her point, Sydney shoulder-checked me as she stomped off down the hallway, her imposing form parting the beige-colored sea of bodies, as I continued to stare stupidly at her retreating form slack-jawed. Tears began to sting my eyes as I realized she was not going to turn around or apologize, but I quickly lifted my glasses to rub the hurt from escaping my eyes. “Whatever” I grumbled to myself, stomping off in the opposite direction. I resolved then and there to create my own resistance group. There was no way I was totally surrounded by sheep. There were bound to be people out there going against the herd, and wherever they were hiding I was going to rally them to fight back against this monotonous and oppressive way of life.

***

I was in the middle of trigonometry class when the loudspeaker crackled to life, a high-pitched whine ringing out before it was followed by a voice.

Jennifer Stans, report to the main office immediately. Jennifer Stans, main office. Right now.

Nearly fifty pairs of eyes turned to look at me curiously, and my stomach dropped to my feet in dread. I had never once been called to the main office in my life; this couldn’t be good. My hands shook as I moved to collect my belongings into my bag, and the buzzing sound of voices rose as I walked hurriedly down the aisle of desks.

“Hater…” I heard it as I walked toward the door, freezing. I spun around to see several menacing faces staring back at me. These once docile, plain faces of my classmates began to sneer at me, their noses turned up in disgust and dismay. The cacophony of voices began to rise, becoming a fervent swarm.

“Haters don’t belong here…”

“You are not one of us…”

“Faker”

“Haters get what they deserve”

“Our President is our queen…”

“Hater!”

This can’t be real, I thought to myself as I backed up into the door, feeling the handle press into my spine. The impact was enough to knock me back to reality, reaching my hand behind me to twist and pull the doorknob. I whirled around to leave the classroom only to come face to face with two Watchers.

I didn’t even have time to scream before they grabbed either of my arms and escorted me down the hallway, practically dragging me to the main office. My stomach twisted into knots as I comprehended what was happening to me, and yet I still tried to plead with them.

“I…I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“Save your excused for the President!” The Watcher to my left barked at me, and my blood ran cold.

“The President? Here?” My voice came out a distant peep as I could barely hear myself over the roar of blood rushing to my head. They didn’t answer me; instead, they came upon a large set of red double doors that opened inward, revealing a pitch-black room, and threw me inside.The doors shut behind me and I was left alone in the dark, pain radiating my knees from the impact of the concrete floor. The pain was a mortifying reminder that this was not a dream.

As if the anxiety from the uncertainty of my fate and manhandling earlier wasn’t enough, the sheer horror of realization sunk in when out from the darkness a familiar voice called out to me.

“Why, who’s afraid of little old me?”

A blinding light had suddenly filled the room, causing me to momentarily shield my eyes. Once my vision adjusted, I could see I was in an empty room save for a few people at the end of the room. Two watchers with massive guns had flanked either side of a tall, blonde woman wearing a glittering pantsuit. I gulped loudly as I recognized the woman standing before me, wearing a cold smile that did not reach her empty eyes. My eyes drifted to a bloody heap in the corner of the room, meeting the glossy dead eyes of my friend Sydney.

A silent scream left me while the woman answered her own rhetorical question for me: “Well, you should be.”

Anyone would know who this woman was at first glance; even before she was elected president and overthrew the United States government, Taylor Swift was an icon whose face had been plastered across billboards, phone screens and televisions across the world. America’s sweetheart took to the political platform with the help of aggressive lobbying from her fan-base, promising an era of peace and change for the better, easily winning over the public in a historical landslide election. She immediately implemented her own secret service organization of the Watchers, and with countless executive orders dismantled the democratic government. Anyone who expressed discontent against her was silenced; at first, by hostile beratement from her horde of followers, forcing the person into a life of exile. It was then replaced by Watchers kidnapping and executing public dissenters without trial, thanks to a series of laws passed by the President. Both reigns of terror contained one consistency from them – dissent was considered treasonous, and those committing treason were labeled “political poet-haters”, or “Haters” for short.

My legs shook from fear so bad I could barely pull myself to stand, hunching like a nervous terrier dog as she approached me. I witnessed a brief glimmer in President Swift’s eye before she spoke again.

“We have proof that you’ve been spreading nasty little lies, Jennifer.” She drew out my full name in a way that made me wince. She smiled wider and continued.

“That I am fearsome, wretched…and wrong.” The smile dropped immediately at the last word, here eyes darkening to black, hateful pits.

“P-please…” I whimpered. “Don’t do this to me…I…”

“It must be exhausting rooting for the antihero, isn’t it?” She cut me off, turning her back on me and striding away while commanding, “Sound off, firing squad!”

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play!” The Watchers sang mockingly to the sobs that racked my body. I thought how I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my mom.

“And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate” I could hear the clacking of their loaded guns. I looked up, panicked to see them all pointed at me. President Taylor Swift smiled sweetly at me, the life dancing in her eyes at the thought of mine ending.

As if to remind me of my insignificance in my final moments, all she said was:

“I’m just gonna shake it off.”