PROLOGUE PART 2

Tuddle England, 2152…

Dimitri ran through the village that had been harbouring them right behind his father. The Shadow Army had found out the villagers of this small town were hiding the Red Hand Militia. The Army had attacked the village, gunning down the residence in the streets and setting their homes on fire.

Dimitri and Christov ducked down behind a stone wall as bullets were fired above their heads. Christov shot up over the half wall and fired back only to get shot in the belly. He dropped down to cover his hand over his wound, which was bleeding profusely. Dimitri looked at his father. He pulled off his shirt and held it over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He had to get his father a medic, or he would die. For the last ten years, Christov had been the head of the rebellion. If he died, the Red Hand would have lost their leader. He could not let that happen.

Suddenly a woman screaming drew both men’s attention to the house nearby. The whole house was engulfed in flames, and she was outside huddled up with her two children screaming about how her daughter was still inside. Dimitri looked up and saw a toddler in the upstairs window. She would die if she did not get out of the building.

Dimitri was conflicted. He knew he should go in for the child, but if he did not get his father to a medic, he would die. Dimitri looked at the house, and then his father conflicted. “Go, Dimitri,” Christov ordered his son. “Save the child.”

Dimitri shot to his feet, and keeping low, he left his father and ran to the house. Ignoring the flames, Dimitri ran into the house. All the furniture and walls were on fire. The heat was scorching, and the thick black smoke was suffocating. Coughing and choking on the smoke, Dimitri navigated his way through the house and up the stairs. He checked the rooms and found the one door still shut. He reached for the metal handle and quickly retracted his hand. The handle was scalding hot. He could hear the child crying on the other side of the door. He tried kicking the door in, but something on the other side was blocking the door. Knowing he had no choice, he placed both hands on the handle as he slammed his shoulder against the door burning the palms of his hands and forcing the door open inch by inch. He could tell that a beam from the ceiling had fallen and blocked the door trapping the child inside.

With the door open just enough, he squeezed his way in and grabbed the burning beam to move it. The pain in his hands was excruciating, but it did not stop him. He ran over to the small toddler and scooped her up in his arms, then ran out of the room, shielding the child from the flames and smoke. He ran down the stairs, but the way he came in through the kitchen had been totally engulfed in flames. He decided to go through the living room and out through the front door. He was almost at the door when the ceiling collapsed, blocking the door.

Dimitri looked around and realized there was no way out. They were trapped in the house, surrounded by fire at all sides. Dimitri crouched down on the floor, trying to stay below the smoke. He wrapped his large body around the child, using his body to shield her from the fire.

He could feel the flames licking at his left side. He could feel his clothes catch fire and his skin blister, but he did not budge. He hugged the child, protecting her from the same fate for as long as he could. He could hear rescue efforts outside as villagers tried to put out the flames enough to get him and the child out. It felt like forever, but eventually, Dimitri looked up to see two of his comrades clear a path from the door to him. They helped put out the flames destroying his clothes and then grabbed Dimitri by both arms and helped him to his feet and out of the house.

Once out in the street, Dimitri collapsed to his knees and painfully opened his arms, giving the unharmed child to its grateful mother. He then doubled over wracked in pain as he finally allowed himself to succumb to his wounds. He lay on the ground staring up at the night sky. The voices of those rushing around him were distant, and then he blacked out.

***

Dimitri slowly opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed in a dark room with Masha seated next to him. He looked over at his sister and noticed he was hooked up to an IV of fluids hanging from a coat hanger hanging from a hook in the ceiling. He was in tremendous pain. He was topless, and his left arm, shoulder, back, and side were covered in bandages.

Dimitri tried to sit up. He cringed from the pain, but he managed to sit on the edge of the bed. “You should not get up. You are not well yet,” Masha complained but made no move to stop him. She knew her brother well, and he was not one for lying about even on death’s door. “You sustained third-degree burns to twenty-five percent of your body. What were you thinking about rushing into that house? You could have killed yourself.”

There was no mistaking Masha and Dimitri for anything but siblings. They both had the same blond hair and bright blue eyes. Dimitri was far larger than his sister, but Masha was in peak physical shape and, like him, had grown into a good fighter. She was also very intelligent. She had a mind for military strategy, which had made her invaluable to the council.

“I thought that if I did not go in, that child would die,” that reminded him, “How is the child? Was she hurt?” He did not remember anything after getting out of the building.

Masha smiled. “She is fine, a little smoke in her lungs but otherwise unharmed. Thanks to you. Her family is praising you as a hero.”

“I only did what anyone would have,” he said, pulling the IV from his right arm.

“You really should stay in bed,” Masha protested as Dimitri walked over to the mirror on the wall to see his side, arm, neck, shoulder, and back bandaged. He could only imagine the wounds they hid. He looked down, and both his hands were bandaged. He painfully unwrapped the bandage and looked down at his palms. They were both badly burnt. They would scar. It was likely the fire had left him hideously disfigured.

Suddenly a question came to mind. “How is Dad?” He asked, turning to look at his sister.

Her expression took on a sombre expression. “He died,” she confessed. “The medic did their best, but he bled out.”

Dimitri hung his head. Ten years ago, they had taken their mother from them, and now they took their father. He was slowly losing everyone he cared about. What was worse, the rebellion had lost its leader. The council would have to vote on a new leader. “When is the council voting?” He asked sadly.

“They already have,” she informed him.

“Who did they appoint?”

“You.”

Dimitri was shocked. “Me? Why me? I am not a leader.”

“Yes, you are. You have a good heart. You put others before yourself. You are smart. People trust you. They respect you. They would follow you into Hell without hesitation. You have so much of Dad in you… you will be a great leader.”

“I do not want to be a leader.”

“No one ever wants to be a leader, but that does not change the fact that the people are turning to you for guidance. They need someone compassionate, someone strong, someone willing to make the hard decisions, and should it come to it… the ultimate sacrifice. Like it or not, as far as the people are concerned, that is you. Embrace it, Dimitri. Lead us to victory. Make Mom and Dad proud,” she said, standing up. She walked over to some sliding shutter doors and slid them open to expose a balcony looking out over the square of an industrial village. He did not know where they were, but he was sure one of the rebellion-friendly villages nearby had taken in the survivors for the village that had been sacked the night before.

Masha stepped out on the balcony and stepped to the side as Dimitri followed her out. His hands painfully gripped the cool metal of the railing as he looked out over the wounded being treated in the square by those that called this place home and those who had survived the attack. The commotion below died down as people began to notice Dimitri above them. People stopped what they were doing, and before long, everyone was standing below, looking up at him.

Dimitri looked over at his sister. “Your people want to hear from their leader,” Masha said.

“What do I say?”

“Speak from the heart.”

Dimitri looked over all the faces. Men, women, and children of all ages. The old and young slaughtered side by side simply because they had been born poor. Children born into slavery because the new world government said they were not good enough to be anything but. So many of them had suffered. So many of them had lost loved ones.

“Last night, the Shadow Army laid waste to Tuddle in an attempt to destroy us. Killing women and children. Slaughtering infants in their cradles and why…? Because we are a threat. Because we dare to stand up and say, ‘this is not right.’ They treat us like we are vermin. They force us to cater to their whims while we starve. While we live in filth banished to wasteland while they sit up in their ivory towers getting fat off slave labour. And why? Because they outnumber us? They have more money? Better weapons? They hide behind the Shadow Army. They lie to their own people with government propaganda that demonizes the poor — telling the citizens of the new world that God had chosen them to survive the Red Death. That God chose them to inherit the earth. Lies!” A cheer rose up. “We know the truth! There was no plague; it was genocide. They tried to exterminate us!”

A murmur of anger flooded the crowd below.

“But they failed. We survived. We were immune. God chose us to right the wrong and punish the wicked. Those involved might sit in their fancy homes hidden behind their city walls. They may deny the truth… but we will not be denied our pain, we will not be denied our outrage, and we will not be denied our vengeance.”

The crowd cheered.

“For too long, we have scraped by in the wasteland a thorn in the government’s side. A pest they swat at. No more. We will no longer hide and scavenge to survive. We… are… at… war! I say it is time to show the New World Order that we are a force to be reckoned with. We take this war to their gates. We tear down those city walls. We did not start this war… but by god, we are going to finish it.”

Everyone started cheering, raising their weapons above their heads. Dimitri looked at Masha, and his sister smiled. “And you did not think you had it in you.”