Don't Look Back

The Rebels' Mistake

I am immersed in memories again, staring into the fire, its bright light reflecting into my irises.

I am back at the bookshop, now 15 years of age, waiting for Jonas to come back home. Waiting, wishing, hoping. I run my hands over the cover of The Greatest Struggle. Maybe it wasn't Jonas I was waiting for; maybe it was Will. Will Heather. His name felt velvety on my tongue. He was long gone, though. I hadn't seen either of them, or Perseus, for two years. Perhaps... perhaps they had moved on, forgotten me. 

Nobody remembers me. 

But it was possibly a time for change. I remember thinking this, lost in thought, as Mistress Ellen-- now plump and elderly, but still sweet-but-brisk-- bustles around the almost-deserted shop. Father had passed away a mere year after Jonas had left, and I was alone... I was self-sufficient, living in our old house, mulling over memories and wishes and dreams. 

"Tea, dear?" Mistress Ellen asks me kindly. Her bookstore extended to sell teas and cakes after time passed.

"Certainly, Miss Ellie." I smile up at her. "Thanks."

"It's on the house-- don't worry about it! You're one of my favorite patrons." Mistress Ellen-- whom I called Miss Ellie-- responded with a wink. "Now, I wonder where that handsome young man from years ago is now! I still remember him. Made the most commotion that this shop's ever known in it's lifetime!" 

I chuckle, remembering, as I watch the snow drift down. It's three days 'til Christmas Eve, I recall dimly... Christmas and Christmas Eve were old holidays mentioned in books-- and I gaze out of the shop window. I wish a miracle would happen. I wish that Jonas-- and, wait-- Will Heathers-- would come back and join me for the holidays. But it is impossible, I know. 

Rumors had reached my town of Laurel that the rebels had destroyed a government storehouse and now were armed with technologically advanced guns and other weapons. Chemical weapons.

Rumor also said that the rebels were in possesion of another form of both the Murder Virus contamination and the Fingers of Fire spores, all sealed up and contained, but not for long. I knew I should not believe these words, but-- but-- they gave me chills nevertheless. Jonas lived for these kinds of stunts, back when he was living at home with Father and me. It never landed him into any touble, but if the rumors were true, would he stay out of trouble, even then?

Whilst Mother was still alive, she had told me that I fell in love much too easily. One glimpse, and I was his. And that was bad... she said that I'd go for looks alone, and be happy with that, disregarding personality, bad habits, and personal judgment. She was right, though. I had just met Will Heather, talked to him for a mere ten minutes, and I was head-over-heels.

It was different for Will, though; he was different. I felt a different way around him, and I was free to be myself-- I had learned that in the ten minutes I'd talked to him. But it might have just been me, fooling myself. "Miss Ellie? I must leave." I called to her. She nodded in sympathetic understanding, and escorted me outside with a warm smile. 

"Happy holidays, Miss Ellie." I wave to her. She backs into the store, a confused expression on her face. She didn't know what Christmas, or Hannukah, or Kwanzaa, were, though she lived in a bookshop with tons of literary treasures, all nestled up in the shelves. Soon I was halfway down the street. 

The night was dark and snowy, but somehow also bright and festive, though people here did not know what Christmas was. I hear snatches of Hymn to Georgia, our anthem, coming from a ways to my left, and I drew closer, wanting to join the festive cheer. 

"And it shall last forever, and ever, and ever,

"And it shall be immortal, everlasting, always constant," I hummed along with the  singers. lost in the tune, and then--

"The Georgian States are no more!" An unfamiliar voice yelled hoarsely. Something sharp and metallic sliced through my skirts, deeply slicing my leg, also, and clattering to the ground.

I moaned, limping towards the shopfronts, so I could lean against them, trying to quell the searing pain coursing throughout me. The singers had scattered in fear and confusion. I bit my lip, tears springing to my eyes. The rebels. I thought, shivering. They must be close. They will unhesitatingly kill me. I began limping through the streets, using the walls as support, leaning heavily against them. 

But the fire, the fire. It immobilized me. My leg gave way, and I collaped into a dark alleyway, where nobody would find me. I was alone. "H--H--Help..." I mumbled, curling up into a ball and biting the inside of my cheek against the pain. "Someone... come..." My words faded away as I felt the fire take hold of me. 

Vaguely I felt soft hands carrying me towards my house, and vaguely did I feel gently probing hands bandage my leg. When I opened my eyes, I saw three faces, angelic and otherworldly.

One was... Perseus, his face unreadable.

The next was Jonas, Jonas, the one who was lost to me! His face reminded me of an old poem I'd heard. You call it hope, that fire of fire? It is but agony of desire. Edgar Allen Poe's Tamerland. 

And the last was Will. William Heathers. I saw the refined contours of his face, and those eyes... I touched him, my eyes fluttering. A dream, I told myself firmly, It's a dream.