NORMIE [Chapter 8]

The eighth chapter of NORMIE, a novel by C.S.M.

C.S.M.

Aug 28, 2024

Welcome back to NORMIE, a dystopian novel by C.S.M.

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Here is Chapter 8:

Everything happened in slow motion.

The unmarked van was parked alongside the line of protestors on their way to the People’s House, it’s engine still running. A stranger, dressed in the blood-stained outfit of the White Rabbit first encountered by Jack that morning, approached the front of the group. Based on the short but wide build, Jack assumed it was a man. Whoever was truly under the mask removed a handgun from the front pocket of his hoodie and aimed it at Gideon’s chest.

The shot rang through the air as Gideon’s body collapsed onto the grass.

Chaos ensued. The surrounding crowd of protestors turned into a stampede back across the People's Lawn. Only the White Rabbits remained, pouncing at the stranger, whose response was to fire indiscriminately at them. In front of Jack, a White Rabbit in a fur-hooded parka crumbled to the ground beside Gideon, blood flowing from under their mask. The stranger in the hoodie was stepping back from the crowd now, still shooting at the White Rabbits brandishing silver capsules.

Jack stood paralyzed. Everything had seemed to be going according to plan only moments ago. He scanned around him and saw only White Rabbits; the rest of the gathered protestors were barreling back across the People’s Lawn. Amy was crouched on the ground beside Gideon, pulling off his mask. Jack kneeled beside them and watched as Gideon’s face was revealed. Blood bubbled up from his mouth and ran down his scarred cheeks.

“Go…,” he moaned. “Light… show…”

Amy pressed two hands against the wound in his chest. “No, no, I can’t leave you.” She wore the backpack that contained whatever was required for this “light show,” the last phase of the day’s plan.

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In the distance, the stranger was reloading his handgun. Three White Rabbits lunged at him with their silver capsules, but they were too late. He fired three shots and neutralized all of them.

“You… Have to…” Gideon’s gaze lingered on Amy and then turned to Jack. “No time… Go…”

The stranger was standing by the van now, the dead bodies of fallen White Rabbits trailing back to him. The dozen or so still alive were surrounding him, but silver capsules were no match for bullets. Finger on the trigger, he continued to fire until a clicking sound registered from the handgun. He patted his pockets and then let the gun fall to his side. Out of ammo? The stranger pounded a fist against the parked van. The trunk doors kicked open. A group of tactically-dressed police officers stepped out carrying assault rifles.

Gideon’s eyes swam in his skull. He mustered a deep breath and roared, “Go!"

The police officers began firing their guns at the last of the White Rabbits. Jack grabbed Amy by the arm and yanked her in the opposite direction across the People’s Lawn. Gunfire sprayed behind them as they sprinted. The shadow of the lawn gave them some cover, the nearest lights being at the street far in the distance.

Amy was choked with tears. “That wasn’t Brennan!” she wailed. “That was one of them wearing his clothes! Oh, Gideon. No, no, no.”

“The clothes were the same as this morning,” Jack wheezed. “They must have gotten him and forced the plan out of him somehow.”

Amy was in hysterics, murmuring low words that Jack couldn’t understand through the mask. He looked over his shoulder as they continued running, clutching the fabric of her thick flannel and pulling her forward. Everything was drawn in a faint outline. There were only a few White Rabbits left standing, the others sprawled lifelessly across the grass. The police officers continued firing at the survivors.

Then patches of grass began to explode by their feet.

Amy screamed, and they both stumbled onto the ground, dirt kicking up at their heels.

“I’m hit,” she muttered. Her voice wasn’t full of pain, but anger.

Lying prone on the ground beside her, Jack could see a pool of blood forming through the fabric of her jeans on the side of her leg.

There was another burst of gunfire and the grass around them popped and wrenched as it was hit.

“Let’s go,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m okay. We have to keep going.” She started to sit up, but Jack pushed her back down.

“Wait,” he said. “Don’t move.”

More shots landed around them, then there was silence. Jack shifted his head so he could see what was going on back near the van. The police officers were the only ones left standing, in addition to the stranger under the white rabbit mask. They were surveying the bodies and firing final shots into anyone who might still be alive.

“They think we’re dead,” Jack said. “Give it a second.”

Officers began carrying bodies into the van without care, tossing them into a bloodied pile.

“Can you walk?” Jack whispered, noticing the blood stain on her pants growing.

“Of course I can walk,” she muttered.

“Okay, okay. We’ll give it a second and then keep going. They’re starting to get rid of the bodies; maybe we can get away while they’re distracted.”

“We have to. We can’t let them die for nothing. We have to finish this.” She winced and clamped a palm down on her wound.

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The police officers were all busy carrying bodies now. They had to move or risk becoming an addition to the pile inside the van.

“Now, now, now,” Jack whispered, getting to his feet. He helped Amy stand, and she groaned fiercely as she stepped with her wounded leg. “How bad is it?”

“Oh please, shut up,” she said.

Jack had only known her for a few hours, but somehow knew that such a response meant the wound was bad. He draped her arm around his shoulder and helped her forward.

They moved slower than before but still managed a run. Amy didn’t want to show her pain, but couldn’t help the grunts and shrieks that accompanied every step. Her jeans were now stained thickly with blood. The police officers far in the distance didn’t seem to notice their escape. No more shots rang out behind them, and the cover of darkness allowed them some refuge.

Nearing the edge of the People’s Lawn, the sounds of the District began to grow louder. The sidewalk of the bordering street was now visible. Life continued as if a mass murder hadn’t just taken place. The information the regime got out of Brennan was invaluable, and they must have planned their actions carefully using it. The ambush had been carried out at one of the most secluded places in the city.

Amy’s shrieks were becoming more uncontrolled as they continued. Jack wanted to ask how she was doing but knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer. The sidewalk of the bordering street was clearly visible now. They both took off their masks, hoping to blend in. Jack spotted an open bench at the edge of the lawn.

“Let’s stop here for a minute,” he said.

Amy collapsed onto the bench and struggled to sit up. The blood stain had moved down to the bottom of her jeans. She put pressure on the wound. Tears were streaming down her maskless face, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just give me a minute.” She swayed back and forth on the bench.

Jack wasn’t so sure about her condition. Her skin had become pale white and her lips had a blueish tint. “Amy, you need to get help.”

She shook her head slowly, her eyes shut tight.

Jack delicately lifted her hand from the side of her leg. Blood dripped from the fingers onto the grass below. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” she roared, her eyelids flicking open.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You have to keep going,” she said. With one hand clutched to her wound, she used the other to take off her backpack. “The job’s not done yet.” She struggled to keep her head up.

Jack helped her remove the backpack and set the one he’d been wearing onto the ground. “The light show?” He could feel the metal frame of some kind of device inside the backpack.

“It’s easy,” she said, struggling to get the words out. “Just hit the button on the side. Push to the front of the crowd and hit the button.” She groaned in pain. “But you have to go now. I’ll be okay.” Her hand dropped to her side and her eyes closed.

“Amy?” He shook her shoulders. “Amy, wake up!”

She wouldn’t wake up. He brought two fingers to her neck and felt a dull pulse.

She’s still alive. But she needs help right now.

He scanned his surroundings. Behind them, the People’s Lawn was a shadow with no visible figures in the distance. Ahead, people passed back and forth on the sidewalk. Jack stood up and put on the new backpack with the device inside. He grabbed her mask, his own inside his coat pocket, and buried it in his old backpack. Taking one last look at her, he hurried toward the sidewalk and stopped the first person he came across.

“A girl back there,” he said hurriedly, “she’s been shot! You need to call the police.”

The middle-aged woman standing opposite clutched at her silver necklace. “What?” She followed Jack’s pointed finger and saw Amy folded over on the bench.

“Call the police! She needs help.”

“Oh my!” she said shakily. “Yes, yes, I will.” She fumbled with her purse and pulled out her phone.

Jack waited for her to begin talking with the police operator before he backed away.

“I don’t know!” she said through the phone. “But she’s just there now on a bench!”

He took one last look at Amy before shifting away. He wanted to stay and wait for an ambulance to arrive but knew he had to go. He broke into a sprint down the sidewalk.

She’ll be okay. She has to be.

She has to be.

Listen to this chapter's song

The District streets were relatively empty, but he could hear the roar of a crowd from beyond. Music was playing in the distance, some kind of piano ballad. Tonight's memorial was well under way. Realizing he was still carrying his old backpack with Amy’s mask inside, he threw it away in the nearest garbage can. He turned a corner and was cruelly met by a Never Forget 11/7 branded crosswalk. But from there, he could see the People’s House in the distance.

An enormous crowd was gathered in front of the cylindrical building of steel and glass. It was backlit in a deep blue and a United America flag waved from the top. There was a stage in front of the building with a reinforced glass box in the center. Rebecca Stone was performing from inside, her long blonde hair and candy-red lips broadcast on a massive screen above. She sat at a piano and performed what appeared to be her new song.

“So we rise, rise, rise. Rise from the ashes.”

Jack watched from the back of the sprawling crowd. The instructions from Amy replayed in his mind.

Push to the front of the crowd and hit the button.

And then what? Neither Gideon nor Amy had really explained what the light show was. What was supposed to happen when he hit the button?

There’s no time to think. You have to go.

Jack started toward the crowd. He pushed through as quickly as he could, ignoring the rabid comments from eager Rebecca Stone fans. The ballad continued as he moved further. He stumbled into a lone man wearing a baseball cap and caught a glimpse of a wire hanging from his ear and funneling into his high-collared jacket.

Plainclothes police. Great.

Continuing on, Rebecca Stone ended her song to a storm of applause. After taking multiple bows, she removed the microphone from its stand and addressed the crowd.

“Thank you so much. Thank you. It’s an honor to finally perform Phoenix and get such an incredible reaction. I couldn’t think of a better place or more meaningful time to finally share the song.

“We’re all gathered here tonight because of those terrible events five years ago. Nathan Howard and his supporters sought to destroy our democracy. They wanted to burn down one of our nation’s institutions and take power for themselves. We didn’t let them win in the end. Due to the wise leadership of President Ramsey, we were able to rebuild from the ashes of that tragedy. I’d like to introduce the woman who has led us forward toward a brighter future. Please give a big round of applause for President Ramsey.”

The crowd burst into applause and cheers. Orchestral music played through the surrounding speakers as Rebecca Stone stepped off the stage and a presidential podium rose from the ground, a United America seal branded on the front.

Jack was nearing the front of the crowd now, pushing past a particularly vitriolic woman who shouted cruelties as he momentarily blocked her view of Rebecca Stone. He glanced back and immediately covered his face with his coat. Her curled brown hair and candy-red lips were unmistakable — it was the waitress from that afternoon. Luckily, she was distracted from him and clapped like a seal as Rebecca Stone gave a final wave to the crowd.

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From inside the glass box on the stage, President Ramsey rose up from the floor behind the podium. She was waving and smile, her image broadcast on the massive screen overhead for all the crowd to see. She wore a crisp suit and pearl necklace, a wide smile beaming as she rose. The applause wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as it had been for Rebecca Stone. As it waned, the President stepped up to the podium and began speaking.

“Thank you so much. It is great to be with you. I want to thank Rebecca Stone for performing such a beautiful new song tonight. She’s a true United American talent. We are here tonight to speak about our democracy. About moving past our troubled history.”

Jack was now in the first few rows of the overwhelming crowd. He made eye contact with what appeared to be another plainclothes policeman and quickly turned back to President Ramsey. He feigned interest in her speech, really wishing he was deaf. She droned on with the normal platitudes about their “democracy.” In other words, she spewed her typical lies.

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The plainclothes officer still seemed to be looking in his direction. How many were in the crowd? The stage itself was guarded by the reinforced glass box, but there were probably hundreds of officers secretly mixed in with the attendees.

Jack would have to work quickly.

Push to the front of the crowd and hit the button.

He’d already pushed to the front of the crowd. That only left one more thing to do.

Face trained toward the stage, he began to remove his backpack.

“We reject the culprits of this heinous attack on our democracy,” President Ramsey went on. “We have rebuilt and renamed it properly: the People’s House.”

Jack clutched the backpack in front of him now. The metal frame of the device inside poked against the edges of the polyester exterior. He began unzipping it.

“Our nation should not serve the few, but the many. United America stands for its people in a way the previous system never did.”

The device took up most of the backpack’s interior. The red button on the side was unmistakable.

So I just press it? And then what?

“The light show,” Gideon had said confidently. But what did that mean?

He felt the stare of the plainclothes officer burn into him.

Now or never.

Jack reached into the backpack and removed the rectangular metal device. Wires poked out of the grooves along the sides and there was a circular ridge etched into the bottom. The front was taken up by some kind of lens.

Letting the backpack fall to his feet, he held the device far out in front of him.

He pressed the red button.

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