Havoc: Prologue, Chapters 1 & 2

Prologue
Explanations

So, there was this war.

It created havoc that wreaked the entire world at once; every time a new wound opened in the ground and bled, one opened somewhere else on the planet, infusing many countries with their green lights. It was like the fissures had synchronized watches that beeped just before they opened up. Monsters streaked around, killing those unfortunates who dared walk out at night after curfew, or those who bore the signs of belonging to the resistance. And it was said that at the head of it all was a giant, green Serpent with red eyes that used a destroyed school—whose name was unknown to most—as its lair.

It started in the year 2025, when three herpetologists considered creating a reptile that could talk and think intelligently—the first of its kind. Their subject was a snake, green, about the length of a piece of paper and the width of an index finger. The scientists together made an elixir that changed the instincts and knowledge of the snake forever, and changing the world with it.

Thus, the snake, now in gargantuan proportions and with the abilities to talk, think intelligently, and command monsters—called “cronies” later on—that were born from the earth. The sun faded away under thick clouds, the plants died, and soon many of the world’s leaders mysteriously disappeared: the only evidence found was smooth markings in the ground. Soon, every country was at the mercy of the Serpent, for it was the Serpent itself that controlled the Earth’s fate.

But some people wouldn’t stand it. They banded together into a secret organization, later naming themselves the resistance. Mainly, the resistance was composed of high-tempered teenagers with only a handful of adults to keep them in order. Although having teenagers meant having quite a bit of strength, having adults meant having brains. This made the resistance strong in every aspect.

But the Serpent had a few tricks up its skin. It had the scientists that originally mutated it give birth to new cronies. They were named Controllers, and possessed the forms of black cloaks that floated on the ground with clawed hands with blank, red eyes and a sliver of a mouth. Controllers soon did all the nasty work for the Serpent, who then had more time to plan disaster for the resistance.

But the resistance wouldn’t take it easily. They attacked ever harder. As the organization grew to massive numbers, factions were arranged. Each faction had one leader posted to it, and every country had one, or more, factions, if they were lucky. Soon enough the world was more or less protected from the Serpent’s cronies’ damages.

The Serpent now had a considerable foe. Us.


Chapter 1
Start

One of these days I’m going to figure out why I EVER started going to that school.

The name was “Dared”—as in “Why did anyone choose to go? Were they dared?” Half of the main building was torn to pieces; the lights were all broken (so we had to open up all the blinds a let in the gray light of the everyday overcastiness); pieces of ceiling had fallen to the ground and littered the floor; tiles were chipped; lockers were dented and painted upon with graffiti; and every single teacher had at least one mental problem. Right here, in this cursed school, is where our story begins.

“REBECCA!” Jordan yelled as she slid gracefully through the crowds of people mingling throughout the tarnished hallways. It was surprising: she never tripped on one of the broken floor tiles and pieces of the ceiling that littered the floor. I turned around, blinking blankly. Yolanda caught up, shoulder-length dark brown hair bouncing as she ran. She came up panting. “Have you seen Bree? I lost her after second period.”

“No, I haven’t…besides at lunch, of course,” I replied dully. Jordan blinked three times, catching her breath. Her next question was, “Where are you going so early?” In a lower voice, “We have a meeting today—Eli organized it.”

“Oh…right,” I murmured, blinking again. “I’m sorry—I have been thinking a lot about what I saw last night.”

“You’re dreaming again?” Jordan sounded worried. “I was wondering when you would. And here is my answer.” She shook her head. “Rebecca, you KNOW how much your dreams worry me! And yet you never come to anybody else or me when they happen! Do they scare you that much?”

I have dreams nightly—dreams that so uncannily happen in reality. More properly put, I have visions. I don’t know why, but whenever I dream I happen to be a little… disconcerted with myself about what took place inside my head. Unfortunately, I feel disconcerted every day because of my nightly visions. I admit, they scare the crap out of me.

But our leader, Eli, keeps having strange thoughts: What if the unfortunates I watched being tortured by various cronies and the Serpent itself were actually people I knew or was related to? He often asked me that. To speak the truth, I often slapped him whenever he did. But Eli is a persistent and determined person. The exact reason why we voted him as leader of our section of the resistance.

“Yeah, they do.” I cocked my head a little. One strand of red hair slipped from my headband to rest over my nose. I stared past Jordan, daydreaming (which isn’t as worse as night dreaming).

Jackson was talking to Eli over by the lockers. Each was tall, about five foot nine to eleven—both had their hair cut to a reasonable length, although for Eli “reasonable length” would mean buzz cut. Jackson used to have shaggy hair that reached down to the nape of his neck, and when the war started he cut it off, saying it was a “nuisance”—nobody really believed him. Now the brown fuzz was only messed up in the front, giving him a relaxed look. Jackson wore jeans ripped on one knee and a black t-shirt tight around his muscles. Eli wore pants of the baggier sort, and a shirt that said, “I don’t care what you’re saying.” He was reaching into his locker to put away his books and Jackson leaned against another locker. Jackson’s face looked serious as his lips moved.

“Rebecca, enough of this,” Jordan finally said, snapping her fingers in my face. “Just go ask him what’s up, he doesn’t care what you’re saying, after all.”

“No, no, it’s best we leave him to his troubles. It gives him character.” With that, I turned and stalked away.

Jordan followed, greeting other people as she walked by. The over-loud voices flowed from every direction, until I could no longer distinguish one voice from another. My brown eyes were focused on the door ahead of me—freedom waited beyond the gray light that came from it.

Or rather, what freedom I had left in the world.

“Rebecca! Hey, Rebecca, Jordan, wait up!” a husky voice shouted from behind. I turned my head halfway. A guy no taller than six feet waved his arm, holding his books and binders in the other. He caught up to us, the charms on his black pants jangling. He grinned at us. “So, what up with you?”

“Nothing,” I replied in a soft voice. “Just walking. You?”

“Can’t wait for tonight,” Amrin grinned. “It’s gonna be a blast!”

“You bet!” Jordan answered him, and they high-fived. I rolled my eyes. Everyone in our nicely sized group was considered hyper—they could have fun every minute if they wanted to. Some of us couldn’t handle being hyper all the time, though, so most of us could compose ourselves and focus on work.

Amrin cleared the black bangs from his face by giving his head a little shake to the right. He remained the only guy in the entire group that refused to cut his hair—it remained on the nape of his neck, and growing longer. I pushed the strand of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Yeah, well, I CAN wait. For one reason.”

“Rebecca…” Jordan tried, instantly losing her hyperness. It was what she called “major attitude adjustments”, when she could be hyper one moment and worried or angry the next. It was just stress from the war working its magic on her—and everyone else. “You don’t have to, you know. The choice is yours, not Eli’s—even though he IS the leader.”

“Whatever,” Amrin frowned, his voice frowning too. “All this serious talk is ruining the mood. I’ll see you tonight.” He walked off, his free hand in one pocket.

Jordan looked to me. “Rebecca, don’t go tonight. Grace will see right through you and make you talk. I’ll cover for you; I’ll tell them that you got sick or something.”
“Don’t—”

“Jordan, you will NEVER believe what happened!” Riley rushed up, nearly dropping her books in the process. “I was walking down the hall after fifth period and—” Riley glanced at me, cutting herself off. She blinked a few times, trying to change rails in her train of thought. She smiled, waving. “Hi, Rebecca! Good to see you! I have the greatest news!”

“Hey, Ri—” Suddenly I had a massive headache. “I-I’ll see you guys later,” I muttered, walking down the last few feet into the shard of freedom that I knew awaited me.

The grayness of the day upset me—it always did. Every single day since the war started, the sun never reared its bright head anywhere, except in space. The clouds, gray and dominating, had gathered so thickly over the earth that not a single drop of sunlight passed through. Goodbye to tans, but also to plants: trees lay splintered along roads, and flowers remained dried up and shriveled into little corkscrews of brown and death. The grass was brown as well, some of it merely dirt and dust, though amazingly some patches didn’t need sun and stayed a light shade of green. The blades of grass were the only green in the world besides artificial coloring.

I trotted down the cracked sidewalk, and faded the sounds of school and talking. I was now listening to the silence around me. A bird tweeted somewhere off to my left, followed by two more chirps and then silence. My shoes thudded against the pavement. My charms bounced on my blue backpack, making jangling noises.

“Rebecca!” a voice said behind me. I stopped, knowing who it was. My headache instantly vanished, leaving my head a fully functioning, hollow cell.

“I thought you were talking to Jackson,” I replied, turning around and smiling. “Guess it was only an illusion.”

“Yeah, well, I needed to talk to you, and Jordan and Riley said you headed off home, so I thought…” Eli shrugged. “Thought I could catch up to you, and here you are.”

“Here I am.” I smiled gently, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. Eli followed, his books banging against his thigh with gentle thuds. I looked up at him, eyes suspicious. His blue irises stared blankly past us, obviously thinking of how to word his request. My mouth opened. “So what do you need?”

“What I need is information.”

Every time he asked this, my spine straightened—it happened this time as well. I jerked in mid-step and tripped on one of the uneven pieces of sidewalk in the process. Eli caught me, his hand gripping mine as my face dangled three inches from the ground. He pulled me up, but he kept his hand on mine. He squeezed it. “Jordan told me.”

“Aw, God,” I murmured, sliding my hand out of his. I walked past him slowly, taking each step as a death sentence. I rounded the corner, my head popping out from behind the wall and asking, “You want me to tell you what I saw?”

“No,” Eli replied, surprising me. “I need you to show me.”

For the second time in forty-three seconds my spine straightened painfully. I jerked again, although luckily both feet were on the ground. I stayed where I was, rooted to the spot. I heard Eli’s books shifting places, thudding against his thigh again. Glancing back, he’d turned to face the street, splintered and car-less though it was, and his weight was shifted onto his right foot. His left hand fiddled with his non-existent hair anxiously. Next, he shifted weight again. I watched this with a befuddled expression.

“I cannot show you, Eli. It is not possible.” I shook my head. “It never was, never has, and never will be possible. Even my mom said so…” I paused. “Before she—well, you know that story.”

Eli looked down, his head dropping. He shifted weight again, blinking. He pursed his lips. “It’s been said that Visionists have certain powers—that they can manipulate minds just with the touch of one finger. You could show me what you dreamed through that.”

“I put that legend into disregard, it’s just a bunch of crap, anyway,” I answered him. “It has been said by old cooks who enjoy scaring others, is all. Nothing more.”
Eli paused before his next sentence. “I have been thinking lately. Have you ever heard of people who can see visions of all this…crap happening”—here he made eye contact with me—“and then they believe that all there is to it is to dream? That they’ve never seen it before?”

Here we go again. My hand twitched. “Eli…”

“What you’re dreaming is actually memory! Think of the possibilities, Rebecca! This could be the start of the end of the war! When you saw a man being sucked into a fissure—that could have very well been your dad! And the woman you dreamed who was being interrogated by the Serpent…”

“Let me guess. Mom?” I said this with no emotion whatsoever. “Eli, you can’t be serious. If I am some sort of—“Memory Recoverist” or something like that—then I must be the key to this entire war, according to the Serpent.” I spread my hands about five inches apart. “I have this much chance of surviving as it is. I can barely make ends meet. What I see are events taking place in some other part of this sorrowful world in which we live in. They have nothing to do with me, or you, or anybody else. Furthermore, I definitely know that my memories are perfectly intact, even those from the way past!” I was yelling at him now, throwing my hands to make emphasis. “What in the world gave you these ideas, Eli? They’re tearing your common sense apart! If you think even for one second that I will go along with your hiatus plans, then you have another thing coming!”

I breathed hard for a few moments, rage overpowering me. Eli merely stared at me silently, his blue eyes shocked. His body was rigid. Unconsciously, his hand slid to his face, even though I hadn’t slapped him yet but very much wanted to. Soon, he slouched over a little, hand in his pocket, and muttered, “See you tonight.” He turned and loped away, long legs striding fast and hard. He turned the corner and disappeared.

It took me a few moments to realize what had just happened. Eli and I never usually had any fights—normally, whenever he started about the vision stuff, it ended with a hand mark on his face. Of course, we’d had our usual skirmishes over useless stuff, such as when homework was due and what time our meetings should be, but things like this only occurred on weekends.

I blinked, then pivoted on the spot and pumped my legs. I pursed my lips as I walked, my headache abruptly returning. It was amazing that I didn’t cringe from the too-bright cracks of lightning that hurt my eyes, or hold my head from the skull-shattering pain, or stop walking right then and there and take a break; but those ideas just were not me. I was a little independent, different, you might say, but mainly because I had a rough life. Both my parents were dead because of the war, and I had to work at three places in order to make ends meet and keep the small, one-room apartment that I owned, not to mention food and clothing. I also had to keep up with my massive amounts of homework and the meetings at a nearby, one-room, prepaid home that Jackson had managed to get a hold of, and once you entered, there was no turning back. Unless, of course, emergency called. But that was not often.

At seventeen, working three jobs, homework, and resistance plans would be suicidal—I could act suicidal if I could just stay alive and undetected by cronies.

I looked up. The clouds had begun to thicken, and lightning struck other clouds above me. Thunder crackled with banging cracks, and rain sprinkled upon my heated cheeks, feeling cool and watery on my skin. The bitter, thick smell of wet, dead grass and tar came to my nose; I ignored it, instead pulling my hood over my head and continuing to walk down the uncomfortably empty sidewalk.


Chapter 2
Meeting

Grace’s steely eyes bore into mine unblinkingly as she crossed her legs. Her wooden chair creaked slightly as her weight shifted, and a book with extremely small print lay open in her lap. With that hard gaze, there was no doubt in the world that she couldn’t be our section’s star interrogator. Stephanie and Maria, our section’s info gatherers, stood above her, leaning against the wall and talking quietly. I glanced past them to see Jordan, Riley, and Aimee, all lieutenants (meaning that they were still deciding between combat and magic), chatting animatedly with Gabbie, one of our best hand-to-hand combaters, at the far corner of the small, single-room house. Amrin, Katie, Lyndi and Hunter, all dabblers in magic and still practicing their defensive spells, argued about something useless in the far right corner. Meanwhile Jackson—the guy who managed to get us this house—Zach—our map-maker and plan-namer—Eli—our leader—Madi—excellent with guns and all types of machinery—and Elizabeth—our star magic dabbler—studied a large poster on the table in the very center of the room. Grayson tapped his shoe in a steady rhythm as he eyed Brendan, Ryan, Tyler and Alex hack at each other. Brendan worked in the blacksmithing department and custom-made all of the hand-to-hand combaters’ weapons, and he wasn’t too bad at combat himself. Alex was another info gatherer, and Tyler and Ryan made up the guns-and-only-guns faction of our section. Grayson was a genius at picking locks, breaking down gates, doors, and pretty much everything else that stood in our way. Their words overlapped as every one tried to get a word in.

Shaking my head, I stepped up to the table, staring down at what lay before me.

Working with the resistance was probably the best thing that ever happened; right now I felt like I had power of some sort, not just the creepy, random visions that played in my head when I slept. Then again, I was still a freak, no matter what I thought. But at any rate, here was I comfortable with freakiness. It was what everyone else was experiencing anyway, not just me. The war had definitely changed every soul within the room—guys had toned up, ready for any challenge, as had the girls. Some of us had practiced magic, others with hand-to-hand combat. (I was with the hand-to-hand combat group. Magic was too focused for me, and with my scatterbrain, I had no shot.) Our section of the resistance had every trustworthy person from our school that it could afford to have, including a few people who could go at any moment. We’d all voted for our leader, Eli, and that signaled us as a “loose cannon” section, although the Resistance General, Kim, and her Assistant General, Jessie, had commented that ours was the most organized out of the entire rebellion. It gave our section pride and hope, hope that one day we would come out on top.

The diagram ahead of me consisted of a bunch of scribbled words, lines that were supposed to be streets, a medium-sized square at the top right corner meant to be a key, arrows that pointed in random directions, three bright red X’s, and, of course, the plan name. This one was called “Operation: Extort Information.” Zach had an imagination and a taste for rhyming, I could tell.

“‘Operation: Extort Information’ is for when, exactly?” I asked, butting into Eli’s and Jackson’s muttered words. Eli glared at me. But it was Jackson who answered.

“If you wanna know all that badly, it’s for tomorrow night, Rebecca. At exactly six-thirty, we’ll all meet here again to execute it.” He pointed to a square labeled “Le Pizzeria.” “You work here, right, Rebecca?”

“Yeah,” I replied uncomfortably.

“Ask for a later shift at about…ah, I’d say seven o’clock? Say you’ll work for two bucks less than your normal salary, and I’m sure your boss will comply to your request. When he does, put on your apron and pretend you’re working there for nothing else to do, but make sure to have your weapons at the ready.”

“Why?”

“It is rumored that three members of our section are their next targets,” Madi said softly. “They know where Maria, Jackson, and you work, so it’s natural that they’ll go after you once you are in the open, seemingly unprotected. For your situation, Elizabeth, Grace, Lyndi, Tyler, Ryan and I will come in at about seven-fifteen and order a pizza. But when we do, you’ll sneak another apron in the box. I’ll put it and a wig on and take your place at the counter. You will take cover somewhere and bring your weapon out. When you hear Elizabeth yell the word ‘blast’ you will know when to attack.”

Abruptly the other conversations in the room stopped. I blinked, confused. “What’s the extort information part for?”

“That is when Grace comes in,” Eli told me. “With her hard eyes, she’s an excellent interrogator. Can get every single smidgen of information with anybody she’s interrogated. The Serpent’s cronies that will attack tomorrow night don’t stand a chance once we have them under Grace’s gaze.”

“I already agreed to it,” Grace’s soft voice echoed. “I’m not afraid of stupid monsters that come from bright green openings in the ground. Besides, if they are monster enough to handle steel gray, I always have a thick, hardcover book on me.” She held up the thick, hardcover book in the air, waving it at me. “These things hurt awfully. You should know,” she added with a giggle.

I cringed in response, remembering when she’d been having a bad day and decided to land a whack on my back during school. It had knocked the breath out of me, not to mention enough pain to send me to the nurse’s office and Grace to the principal’s.

I pointed at the second red X, the one hovering over Borders, where Maria worked. “And in Maria’s situation…?”

“Brendan, Grayson, Hunter, Katie, and me will meet Maria there and go straight to the café,” Zach answered, smiling. “Should be interesting to see me looking through a book and pretending to read.” I smirked at him, and Zach merely grinned wider. “Anyway, the cronies should come in sometime around eight, eight-thirty. Grayson, Brendan and I can take care of them while Hunter and Katie go to Maria and take care of her. She’s what the cronies want, and if they have to, they’ll take all three girls if they have to.” Zach’s grin widened to its full extent. “Lucky for them, the cronies will have the guys to deal with. And do not worry, it’ll be over soon.”

“And what’ll be the signal for them?”

“Borders is really quiet, so we can hear them easily,” Maria said. “Easier than a loud pizza place, tell you what.” Maria glanced at Hunter, who knowingly snickered behind one hand. She wiggled her eyebrows at Mia, and the pair giggled. But my eyes were then on Eli. I was wondering partially about the fight before and whether or not he had forgiven me, but my mind turned to the current situation. “So how will they get info from the cronies there?”

“I have the pleasure,” Jordan raised her hand. She put it down and admired her purple nails. “I don’t know if you believe this, but I scare a lot of people. And cats. I scare cats too. And dogs, and goats, and even the teachers…” Jordan flicked something from under her nail to the floor. “I’m sure cronies are scared of me too.”

“So what’s with Jackson then?” Jordan broke in. “You never went through with it with Riley, Amrin, Gabbie, Alex, Aimee and me.”

“When you arrive at Scheels, Jackson will be working. He won’t know when you arrive, so just set off a fire alarm or cause a big distraction when the cronies appear so he will know when to take cover,” Eli replied. “One of you should have your cell phone ready in case he calls you. A neon-orange vest is not enough to protect him from slimy goop and a few deep cuts.”

Jordan shifted weight on her feet. “And the interrogator?” she asked, shifting weight again. Finally, she leaned against the wall, flipping her shoulder-length hair from her left shoulder. Eli looked to Gabbie pointedly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gabbie muttered, cracking her knuckles. “Should be easy enough.” She grinned good-naturedly, her white teeth flashing in the light given off by the light bulb above us and from the lamps Grace had so generously donated. Eli smiled at her, premonition under his gaze.

I pursed my lips, directing my last question at him. “And you? What is your whole part in this plan?”

“Me?” Eli’s finger jabbed his chest. “I will be here, taking success and panic calls from any one of you. I’m the one and only backup man. Call me bored.” He leaned against the table, scowling. “On the up chance that I receive a call, I’ll be leaving a few guards to attend to the house.”

“And what if two of us have panic calls?” Amrin questioned. “Does that mean one of us fails while two of our groups succeed or what? I’m not going to be happy if we’re dead.” He flipped his bangs away with another shake of his head. “Fighting off cronies is easier said than done, considering the size and amount. And if the Serpent itself shows up…” He shook his head in pity. “We’re dead, man. Dead.”

Eli rolled up the map, placing it in a blue tube and placing the strap connected to the tube over his shoulder. His icy blue eyes found Amrin’s warm brown, now flecked with worry. Eli pursed his lips, popping them. “If the Serpent shows up and I’m not around to help…” He shrugged, turning around. “Take care of it.”

With that, he strolled to the door and opened it up. He paused in the doorway, turning his head. “And when I say take care of it, I mean kill it any way you can. Meeting dismissed.”

The door closed with a snap