Alice: The Leader Read online

  Alice:

  The Leader

  GABRIELLA DENNANY

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.

  Futrella is an imprint of The Polyethnic Publishing, LLC.

  Alice: The Leader

  Text Copyright © 2017 by Alice: The Leader

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  The Polyethnic Publishing, LLC

  e-mail: [email protected]

  www.thepolyethnic.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Paperback Edition, July 2017

  Cover Design © 2017 by Allison Li

  Cover Photograph © Pixabay

  Formatted by Melissa M. Futrell

  ISBN -13: 978-1-946105-19-6

  ISBN-10: 1-946105-19-8

  The Change

  2020

  Wishes, hopes and dreams. While no one is forbidden from longing, some wishes are being mocked for being too small or too ambitious. But in this story, no wish is too big or too ambitious. Once there was a girl. She dreamed to gift a better future for the human race and led a furious rebellion against the government. Do you think she was normal or special? Was she brave or plain stupid? Well, the only way for you to know is for me to tell you her story. More like my story. I am the girl, and I led the rebellion. I regret some things and once you learn my story, I bet you’ll call me stupid or even a wimp. But what’s done is done. All I care about is the future. By showing you the past I can help you understand the future.

  My story begins about more than a decade ago when the whole world changed. The government began to clench an iron fist over the United States. New laws were being made, for an instance every person who hits the age of 21 had to serve as a soldier for four years. If you recall, this was a law in the 1940s, but stopped in 1973. It was for boys at the age of 18. It was known as The Draft. Decades later, the President brings it back, but with some drastic changes.

  The people of the United States didn’t know about any crises going on outside of America but not because there was none, more because the government did not tell anyone. Everyone thought that the new Draft was useless. But if it was useless, then why was The Draft there? The most horrifying thing was that only a few people returned after four years of military service. The ones who didn’t return couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air.

  As if the new Draft was not enough, our minds grew foggy with The Mist made by the government and a handful of scientists which mysteriously disappeared straight after their project was complete. The aforementioned scientists went with the President to a secret warehouse and together they made The Mist. It’s really a lot what it sounds like – a fog that slips in one ear and obliterates recent memory and interrupts the train of thought. This was the first step towards a new world. An abomination, a place where nobody would want to be in if they could think.

  But the thing that changed everything happened in Dallas, Texas. There was some sort of a secret lab, with things no human being has ever seen except for the special scientists chosen to work in the lab. Everyone who tried to sneak in are still either missing or have been found dead somewhere near the territory of the lab.

  Inside of the lab were chemicals that could change the human genes and this way alter the cells. These changes are called Mutations. It sounds like nothing special, right? A lot of people have mutations, like a brown-haired mother and father give birth to a ginger-haired boy or girl and it is quite normal o happen. But these Mutations that are caused by the chemicals were very dangerous. In your brain lies a spot that is empty, not used by anything. Well, these chemicals go straight to the brain and fill that space with many things. Sometimes it’s harmless. You might gain intelligence or a growth spurt. Other times, in our case, the reaction is very dangerous. Not only for your body, also for the sake of the people surrounding you. In shorter and quicker terms, the world would see you as a monster.

  On one normal day, there happened an explosion at the secret lab. No one knows how it happened, but the rumors are that the people, who were in control of keeping the chemicals locked up, destroyed the barrier, which kept the chemicals at bay, on purpose. The chemicals got everywhere. No one was safe. About a half of the people there inhaled, or was exposed to these chemicals. The government couldn’t have any person know about the lab so they closed it down and marked as a condemned area. It is still being protected by military, making sure nobody is able to go in and see everything for themselves.

  All the people were evacuated before they closed the lab down. Doctors looked at all the scientists and made sure they weren’t harmed. The doctors reportedly detected nothing different about their bodies. Maybe they did, but they were frightened that if they tell the superiors, they all would be executed.

  Couple of months later, the patient zero was discovered. The very first member of what is now known as the Chemi-Terrorists.

  It was a woman and the same day she came out to the world, and following that, a nuclear threat rose from the east at the Pentagon. She was a scientist. She told the world about what happened to her and the lab so the eastern countries just couldn’t refrain from an opportunity to attack the United States with the serious reason of “protecting Europe from the threat of Chemi-Terrorists”. Everyone were told that the Chemi-Terrorists’ Mutations were contagious, but in fact, that was a lie to keep all the people from working with the Chemi-Terrorists. The government knew that the Chemi-Terrorist posed a threat to their authority.

  No one knew if they should be terrified or astonished of all the mess. Not to my surprise, some people left the United States to get away from the Chemi-Terrorists and the nuclear threat. The government naturally was against this, but at first the government did nothing, but then more and more Chemi-Terrorists came out telling the world what they had become. People became scared that they would destroy the ‘normal human species’ that made up the world, but the President evidently insisted on being on the highest throne. Now with people telling the world they are inhuman, the government felt even more threatened with their position.

  Soon enough, people and reporters did what they did and made up a name for these people. So since chemicals affected them: Chemi. And because everyone became afraid and uncertain with them: Terrorists. Put it together:

  ChemiTerrorists. The name just reminds everyone of sunshine and lollipops, doesn’t it?

  Some people just went on with their normal lives not causing any problems and turning out to be completely human, just like everyone else.

  Then, some people robbed stores and banks. Murder came next along with serial killers. They realized the power they held in them is much stronger than bullets fired from officers. They thought that this was their advantage to live a higher life. When all they were doing was making people afraid. They made people run away in horror. They made the government do things that destroyed humanity, the people’s natural rights.

  Soon after the series of problems, the President assigned a national curfew. On the news he seemed to be frightened for his life, anxious and restless. He did this for everyone’s good. But most importantly, h
e did this for his own good. At first, the citizens argued that he couldn’t assign any curfews. But Congress told the angry people that with their consent, the President could do that. The curfew is at midnight. You can leave your house after 6:30, but if you’re found out on the streets between midnight and early morning, you get taken in. But you wouldn’t get taken in by the police; the government held an oneyear school that year to find people who are better than police officers and even better than soldiers.

  These people ended up forming what the government calls Counter-Chemi-Terrorist Order. For short: C.T.O. This order is overseen by the main Captain. She is also the Vice President, too. This woman chooses the Captains for each state. There is one C.T.O. base in each state. If some ChemiTerrorists are more unique than the others than the Captain of the state assigns an assassin to take them down. Oddly enough, the assassins are also ChemiTerrorists. To hunt a monster, you have to be a monster.

  The C.T.O. mainly consisted of people who went to the government being frightened of who they are. The government accepted them and gave them hospitality and in return the Chemi-Terrorists had to service the government.

  Most of the Chemi-Terrorists don’t want all the normal people to suffer because of them. They won’t sit still while the government takes over everyone’s lives. This is my story. But most of all, this is the story of how the ChemiTerrorists saved the world.

  2015

  Now that you know the background story, it’s high time I told my story. Let’s skip a little less than a decade forward. My parents died in a bad car crash when I was five and my brother Eric was seven. My parents were young, and strange. My mother was known for being secretive and my father was always out in the open. Opposites, some people would say. The most imperfect yet most likely the best couple that ever lived. My parents were great at what they did. Raising us might be the best thing they had ever done. They used to tell us stories of their ‘adventures’. Whenever I heard that, I would think of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. My mother said that she used to “help the world become a better place”. When my father would hear this, he would laugh and say, “Your mother used to be a shy girl. Amazing how we got this far in a relationship.”

  Oh how I miss them.

  Eric is the only family I have got now. He is all I need too. He is always there, and always will be. So will I be for him. We lived in a foster home in the Bronx ever since our parent’s death. The foster home was nice but wasn’t what we hoped our life would be. You see, we had high expectations of life. After our parents died though, the dreams we had dwindled down to a tiny spark in the back of our minds.

  Anyway, most of the kids at the foster house were bullies, and the grownups were always at work. I think that it was the exact opposite of a home. When someone would be mean to me or Eric, he would push the bully down.

  Even when I got older and told him I could take care of myself, he would get very overprotective of me. As if he was my father. I kind of like it, with no father to rub your back or mother to yell at the others, Eric ended up replacing that with himself. I love my brother more than anything. Without him, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

  Sadly, because of him protecting me, he would get in trouble a lot. They would beat him. I would be in bed and during the night I would hear his muffled screams from across the hall. I tried telling the police, but because of my age they thought I didn’t like the foster home or I was just homesick. Those were some of the worst days of my life.

  When Eric turned 15, they kicked us out to the streets. I thought we would be taken to another foster home but without any supervisors or documents, we couldn’t even go to a foster house ourselves because we were too old for a foster home. And this was yet another rotten law of the government.

  Eric took action and did whatever he could to get back into school. Eric could get into The Bronx High school of Science. Before his freshman year started, we went out searching for a place to stay. Soon, Eric got a job at a cafe called The Poem Shack.

  I wished that I could work there too, but Eric always said no. He would tell me stories like our parents would. He would explain “back then women would stay at home, take care of the children, clean, and all of that. The men are to work for the family. Not you, so stay home.” I found it funny at first, but then agreed. The café is cute, and they gave us free food for a while till we found a place to stay. Since it is called The Poem Shack, people would come and share them. I didn’t realize how many talented people there are until then. During our free time, Eric and I would listen. Some of it was dark and even cynical but most of the time it was inspiring.

  Right across from the cafe, we could get an apartment. The owner of the building said that we didn’t have to pay till after Eric’s first two paychecks. Eric eagerly agreed, and so our apartment came into play. The apartment is shabby, but at least we got a place, two bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen. Not too bad. Actually even great compared to braving the streets.

  When Eric’s freshman year started, I was alone for half of the day. I went exploring and asked our neighbors if I could do things for them for money, they all said yes.

  All of our neighbors are elderly and very pleasant. So all I did was clean their apartments. Even though Eric and I agreed that I would stay home, I knew that just his paycheck wouldn’t cover everything we need. Besides, he said that the woman would clean and, that’s what I was doing. Except that there was no children to take care of.

  When Eric came home, he would give me lessons on the normal core school subjects. He would teach me the things that he learned all that day. For two years, it was as if I really was in high school, but homeschooled. When I grew fifteen years old, I began attending the school he went to. I was the best of all of my classmates all because Eric taught me everything for two years.

  We didn’t have many other friends because all the time we went there. People made fun of me when I was a freshman since I was better than them all. I don’t mean to sound arrogant but it was true. Since Eric was a senior at the moment, we didn’t see each other much. That left me to stand up for myself. At first, I was scared.Then I grew a pair. Soon enough the stares, the ugly names, and the laughs meant nothing to me anymore. I knew that when the last bell rang, Eric would be waiting for me at the front of the school. When I thought of Eric, I was happy. He means and will always mean hope to me. Not only to me, but also to anyone who is lucky enough to meet someone liked my brother in times like these.

  Finally, a little after graduation, I am 18 and Eric is 20. At the moment, Eric is across the street working. I am in our small kitchen searching through the refrigerator. Sighing, I realize that we are out of a lot of things. I shut the door and smile at a picture on the right side. Eric has his right hand on my shoulder and his left making a peace sign above my other shoulder. My hair is tied in a messy ponytail and huge smile is on my face. The picture was taken the last year, I think. Yes, indeed it was, I remember from the background, in which the central park is. That was a fun day.

  In our apartment, I take a quick look in the mirror. I have slick jet black hair, along with blue eyes. Eric has dirty blonde hair and green eyes. It seems weird, I can remember looking like my mother, but I don’t remember my father looking anything like Eric. I had on a red beanie, with a black tee, under a denim jacket, with black skinny jeans. On my feet I wear black combat boots. They are nice and new, also worth a fortune. Eric got them for my birthday in August. After unwrapping the gift, I had screamed in joy but then I scolded him for spending eighty dollars on a pair of shoes. He laughed and said that it was worth seeing me happy. That is why I love my brother.

  …

  It is now September 7th, exactly 1:00 in the afternoon. I quickly grab my bag and scurry out the door, locking it on my way out. I jog downstairs and look around. Idon’t think anyone was around. Shrugging, I walk out, and get hit with a nice chilly breeze. I go down one step and look around. People are running around everywhere. They are texting, talking, running, jogging, bi
king, skating, hailing taxis’, yelling at others, shoving, laughing, and so much more. The streets are so alive. I chuckle to myself while watching them buzz around like bees trying to get back to the hive and feed their queen. I walk down the rest of the steps and walk straight on into the crowd.

  The people these days look tired. Emotionally and physically.The Mist affects everyone and anyone, it turns people into waterheads. The government frightens the people, and I don’t see why not? I am too terrified of what lies behind the walls of the Pentagon in Washington D.C. But I am even more terrified of what lies beyond the gates of the city. I wonder what the other states are like. I wonder what the other countries are like. But I cannot ask anyone who came from somewhere else, they would look at me like I am crazy, tell me that there is no reason to wonder, and shun me for the rest of their days. That’s what the world has become.

  While walking, I hear sirens blare from around the corner. Every person doing whatever on the sidewalk jumps back towards the buildings behind him or her. They press their backs to the wall and wait in a fearful silence for the C.T.O. truck to drive by. I jump back to the wall and watch, with fear blazing in my eyes, as the cars pull over and park on the sidewalk. A man emerges from around the corner running in a very high speed as a huge black truck comes speeding in behind him. The man is smiling disdainfully as he runs. He wears an orange suit and is shining-bald. His face is very rough and has strong masculine features. I gasp when I see black and red tattoos covering his head. He also has a bar code tattooed above his left elbow. That must have been very painful!

  The truck has ‘C.T.O.’ on the right side of it in huge yellow letters. Men in puffy yellow and black suits stand on top of the vehicle pointing machine guns at the running man ahead. The man suddenly stops and turns to the truck. Thetruck pauses from its maximum speed and waits for the man’s next move. The man holds out his arms, revealing to the people his tattoos. Gasps and murmurs fill the empty space around me as I stare in shock at the inhuman ahead. A ChemiTerrorist stands before me. This is the first time I really see one so up close. He gives us a hearty laugh at our response and grins at the C.T.O.