The Focus

What if there was a world with no choices? If you were born with a certain gift, you were scarred and scolded. Your two choices were to live a poverty and pain, or survive and rebel. One choice can change it all. Break a rule and it's death, unless you get away. Learn to focus, survive, and keep the flaw in the system

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2. Chapter 2

The wheezy and shaky breaths that escaped my throat were quiet and I hefted myself over the white fence as soon as the curfew went off, signalling all the families of the SYSTEM went into their windowless homes.

It's been three months since I have left my home for a series of supply runs. My black boots were covered in mud and I dropped the old grizzly skateboard onto the black pavement with white dotted lines going down the middle.

Curfew requires every family to be in their houses before it was dark. The government used curfew to keep the families safe from the glitches when they roamed the streets at night years ago, until most were slaughtered on the streets and their corpses hung in front of officials houses as a humiliation on their once gorgeous lives of rebellion. Now there's only me and hopefully a few more fighting. A few years back there would be calls of glitches everywhere; now the world is silent of us. It's like part of the world wants to be ruled and told what to do, while others wish for the authority to rid itself so we can be the smoking gun each time. I passed a few houses before stopping dead in my tracks to catch up with my senses. Someone is watching and near. I pick up the skateboard and run to the alleyway that was plastered with old WANTED signs with X's on the glitches that were dead. My name and face has never been up there; I've always been the quiet one unlike my brothers and my parents were. I guess that's what I get for being the runt of the litter.

I shoved myself in between two old garbage cans, hefting my large crossbow in between my scrunched up legs. I must be a sight to see with my leather jacket with its fur collar tucked up over my ears and blades of three different knives tucked in my belt and holsters on my legs. A Colt M1911 caliber .45 hung holstered high on my thigh and an AK .47 was slung over my shoulder. Though both were handy in a fight, my favorite was my crossbow. An American Flag handkerchief, ratty and old, was tied to a loop in the handle of the weapon. Carrying an American flag helped me keep a grip on what I was fighting for. Freedom. Now in a new country under a new government, The Land Of The Free seemed like a myth to most of us. Nothing would be the same.

 

Footsteps.

I hold my breath, bringing the bow up to aiming position and wait for someone to pass by. No one does. The footsteps had stopped not in front of my but above me. I look up at the grey metal roof that hunger over the side. Rain just began to struggle from the sky as I did, and I just stared. For it wasn't an officer staring down at me but just an old German Shepard. I felt a little relieved except I still felt a person spying on me. I decided to play it safe; I dashed to the white concrete wall and hefted myself back into the safety of the forgotten. I hid my board in a pile of leaves and followed the series of cuts in trees to my next spot behind a pharmacy. Once again pulling my pain-filled body over the wall, I quickly reached for the wall. Using my leg strength combined with the small amount of weight of my body, I slung myself into a climb up the wall just enough to grab the metal railing of the fire escape. On top of the roof was a panel cut out of the ceiling and led straight to an air vent that I could easily slide myself through into the pills. I grunted when my boots hit the tile causing a jolt of pain sizzle into the bullet wound. I left my crossbow on the roof for an escape weapon, so to substitute, I carried a gun, checking every corner before pulling my backpack off my shoulder and filling it with morphine and other painkillers then different types of sickness medication. I then grabbed bandages and protein bars. I paused over the the roof where my rope once hung to climb back up and stared into the empty hole. I sighed and found my way out the back door where I found the fire escape to climb back up causing a few frustrated groans to leave my throat. I looked on the roof; nothing sat there but a pile of pecans neatly placed on a rag.

They're near.

I didn't look around for someone just in case it was a guard, I wanted to get out as soon as I could. Instead of climbing down, I lunged myself off the roof and reached for the large stakes that I used to pull myself up the 20 foot tall wall. I finally made my way to the other side of the wall.

I pulled out my handgun again with it's silencer. Looking through the pile of leaves,there was no longboard waiting for me. I sighed, someone was definitely watching and were trying to make it noticeable because once again, a pile of nuts sat on a rag in the middle of the leaves. I decided to investigate, but I was going to pull a different trick on them. This person clearly new how to leave no evidence due to the way I couldn't track them. But they weren't too much for me not to handle; they were setting a trap up for me. I picked up the nuts and followed my senses.

The leaves are rustled, someone was in a hurry to get out.

The next thing was smashed berries on the ground.

Then there was a few pecans strewn out showing someone spilled.

I followed the clues more and more until I saw a boy. He was standing with his back up against a tree like he was waiting for something, or someone, to attack. I was light on my feet to get behind the boy. I cocked the gun and held it to his temple.

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