Rebellion

I am Joana, leader of one of few remaining resistant parties and I am only eighteen. My father is our engineer and one of our best fighters. His name is David. He’s also a bit of a mad man. Currently he is working on a new timing devise for our mustard gas bombs. My sister Staci does her best to watch over the children who have lost their family in this tragedy, and few of my cousins are stationed around the camp. Constantly I find myself mentally keeping track of their positions and I believe them to be doing the same. In a way we are like a hive we all subconsciously know where the others are.

I believe this ability, if that is what you would call it, to be a benefit for more than one reason. In a crisis not only would we know what and where the others are doing but act accordingly to support them, allowing us to gather and strengthen ourselves. Also it gives us the ability to carry out tasks without having to travel from one place to another to assess the altogether situation. However it tugs on our consciousness making us see the world in a slight fog unless under stress and dire situations, in which case our scenes become as sharp as a blades edge. Another downfall, my sister cannot feel our locations and activates. It is limited to the blood line of my father’s side of the family, and my sister and I have different fathers. Odd how such a small thing is supposed to divide sisters like us, and yet it does not.

Our camp is located in one of the remains of a military base, nearly destroyed by world war three. In the end of the war America gained a lot of new lands in Germany, Poland, Afghanistan and Iraq. Though this is an accomplishment it gains very little in a world of dead and chaos. My quarters are located between the hanger, which my father has taken for his work, and the entrance of our camp. Adjoined to the hanger are individual quarters where my family has taken up residents, when they can catch the time to rest that is. Farther in our camp is a bunk house for the “civilians” of our troop stationed, along with my sister Staci and our orphans. Near it is our mess hall, which my grandmother Betty and my Aunts Angie and Melisa have taken up. At the farthest edge of our camp is our hospital, which Betty, two of our civilians Trisha (a vet) and Scot (a medical student), and I myself maintain. Thankfully our facility is halfway underground staring at the mess hall, it is my soul belief this is why we have not yet been discovered.

Amy, “Joana, we need you at the gate Kayla and Jason are about to go on a raid and they want to go over it with you again.” I look up at my cousin, my predecessor if I should ever die. So young to be dragged into this war, beautiful girl with long blond hair and blue eyes, like most of my family her skin is fair and pale. I look from my maps and journals, to my broken mirror dirt has covered my face and my long brown hair has gone from waves to knots. I stare at my blue gray eyes, for a moment almost wondering who I am anymore. Joana, “okay I’ll be right there, but I want you to go on ahead I need to talk to dad.” Amy, “good luck with that he has been working on that old tank we found in the hanger and refuses to let anyone in.” Standing I say, “Thanks for the heads up. I thought he felt a little off today, but who doesn’t these days. Now go on down to the main gates and get Fred to check the trucks, I want this raid to go down as smoothly as possible.” Amy, “Alrighty.” As she turns and leaves I can’t help but to think she will need to mature before she can take my place. Hopefully there will be enough time for her to grow up before this burden is placed upon her shoulders.