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Arthur

Before I could even go into my deep sleep, my mom woke me up shaking me like I was the milk she was trying to make into butter.

Being half asleep, half of her words sounded distant and clouded while my vision was foggy and completely unreliable. She sounded frantic, yet I had no clue why. Once my ears began to adjust, her words became clearer and more distinct, yet her shaking me made it harder for me to understand what she was trying to get out. It was still way too early for me to be up, though I do get up at sunrise unlike some others my age.

Once my ears adjusted and my sight returned to me, I looked at her and rubbed my eyes. "Mom, what's going on?" I asked puzzlingly.

The look in her eyes told me everything, yet she replied. "There's no time to talk!" She exclaimed in a whisper, tugging on my wrist. "Come on! Hurry!" She continued to whisper, pulling me onto the edge of the bed before I stood on my feet.

Though I was still in a daze, I tried my best to keep up with her even though I was still half asleep. We both seemed to stumble through the darkness of our home, unable to tell what was in front of us and where the stairs were. Luckily, we made it to the bottom floor without stumbling down, yet it was still dark with only the starlit sky to light our way to the front door.

Where was dad? Did something happen to him? Was that the reason mom needed me up so badly? Maybe he was hurt and mom couldn't get him home on her own. Then again, what reason did he have for being hurt and why were we going to the front door when it was night outside? What reason did dad have to leave the house and go outside?

The reason was the bright lights shining through the front door.

Mom open the door to reveal half a dozen vehicles parked right in front of our home. The lights illuminated everything around the property and also blinding me for a split second in the process. Even though I was using my arm to cover much of my sight while my mother pulled me closer to the lights, dark figures that looked like people huddled around the vehicles and they seemed to be pointing something at someone in the center of their arc.

Dad.

He was standing there in front of all the trucks with his arms raised. My jaw dropped once I saw him. This was probably the reason why mom wanted me up so bad. Wait, this wasn't probably the reason, it was the reason. God, for such a new teen I'm such an idiot.

One thing I noticed about the men surrounding us was the fact that they were holding automatic rifles, and they were aimed right at, not just my father, but at us too. My gut clenched once I realized. Literally, we were one pull of the trigger away from being gunned down where we stood, and I bet that they weren't afraid to do it as well just from their blank expressions and cold means of showing emotion. There had to have been easily over a dozen of them, way too many for us to take on, especially since I was still a kid and I would probably just get myself in more trouble.

We stopped right where my dad was. He immediately dropped his arms then placed each one around our bodies, keeping us as close as possible. He gripped my clothes tightly, showing me that even he was trembling. I couldn't help but wrap both arms around him, fearful that they might take him or my mom away from me. Knowing that even my father was scared of them made me feel...uneasy in a sense.

Just then, one of the men stepped forward. He wore a navy blue uniform that showed off his leanly muscular build and his menacing face. It was a wolf who had a scar over his left eye, along with a bandaged up right arm that looked like something out of Street Fighter.

Yes, I knew about Street Fighter. I wasn't fully deprived of technology. Didn't like technology but it gave me some knowledge at least.

On his thigh was a pistol, most likely fully loaded and primed to shot at anything, or anyone. The look in his eyes was absolutely terrible. He showed no emotion other than anger and distaste towards us, telling all three of us that he didn't like being here or seeing us as well. We must've been an eye sore or something, else maybe he wouldn't give us looks like that.

He folded his arms behind his back. "Ahem, I take it that you are the Wing family, correct?" The canine asked in a very deep, raspy voice that nearly sounded like a growl to me.

My father stepped forward. "What's it to you?" He retorted, huffing the wolf's way before throwing his own harsh glare the lupine's way.

"'What's it to me'?" He chuckled, confusing me. "I swear, all you slaves-to-be are all the same. You think I actually care about you people? As if."

"Then why are you here?" my mother asked, taking her own step forward towards the wolf.

He grunted. "My boss wants you, that's why."

The wolf was blunt, I'll say. What was it that he called us? Slaves-to-be? We weren't even slaves in the first place, just three regular farmers trying to make a living off of the land. We weren't slaves to anyone, but he was making it sound like we were about to be, and I bet it was going to be with force.

"Who's your boss then, whatever your name is," my father asked, softly growling the wolf's way as a form of intimidation. The growling didn't seem to work and the strong wolf man definitely didn't look scared at all.

"I'm not telling, and the names Sckar--General Sckar," he stated, pointed right at the scar over his eye.

'As if' we really needed to know how you got your name. I didn't say it but I thought it. Calling him scar face would be a more appropriate name for him. General Sckar...okay, I didn't know much about army ranking or about the military to begin with, but I assumed a general was a person with tons of power and authority, that or he was lower than the rest of these guys. I assumed that he was the one in charge around here since the rest of the men behind him said no words or moved a single muscle.

Scar Face, which was what I was going to call him, looked at the three of us. He seemed to be looking us over for some reason, sizing us up like a weird inspection that only he did. What for though? My dad was muscular yet lean, my mother was fit and slim with just a perfect hourglass body shape, and I was just young with small muscles but by no means was I fat.

I swear, some people were just generally weird.

Once he was finished with the inspection, he huffed. Scar Face pulled out one of those heart-killing cigarettes, lit one end, and began to smoke. Blegh. My respect for this guy was already at an all-time low, but now that I knew he was a smoker, all my respect for him was gone. He sucked in the smoke then blew it out into the once clean, farm air, tainting it with its awful smell.

"Alright, so here are your two options," he stated, tapping on the cigarette, letting the burning ashes fall onto the fertile ground. "You can get on the truck on what free will you have left and this doesn't have to end badly, leaving all three of you without any cuts or bruises. Simple, easy. One, two, three."

"And what's the other option?" My father asked, gritting his teeth while clutching onto my shoulder tightly, as if someone was going to take me away. He was still trembling and something told me that he knew what the other option was.

The wolf chuckled, pulling the gun from its holster before pointing it right at my head. "If you don't comply then I'm gonna shoot your kid, then your wife, then you." He had a smug look on his face, telling my father that he wasn't bluffing. "I was never given an order to take you dead or alive."

My breathing hastened. All the blood inside my body turned into a bitterly cold ice that sent goose bumps throughout my body. Even with all the strength that I had, my legs couldn't stop shaking, and I fought so hard to not cry in front of them. Here I was, on my birthday, with a gun already pointed at my forehead, and it only took a pull of a finger to end my life. Stay strong, I told myself, you need to stay strong.

Stay strong...stay strong...stay strong...

My father looked at me, completely at war with himself. He wanted to do anything that meant saving us from death, or even from slavery. There was no way he was going to risk me or mom from dying, and all three of us knew that there was only one way to get out of this alive. He knew what that answer was and looked away from me, unable to bring himself to say the words. Tension grew within his body which only got worse once the wolf stepped forward, turning the safety off his gun.

"You've got five seconds to give me an answer before--," Scar Face said before he was cut off.

"Stop," my father stated, sighing grievingly making his answer. "Just...don't shoot him, I beg you." He turned to the wolf man, clenching his teeth once more, summoning the last of his courage. "If you're going to take us, at least let us pack the things that we hold most dear. Have at least a sense of honor."

They stared each other down for a few minutes. Scar Face wasn't deterring from my father's stone-cold, determined glare. It was almost like they were having a mental war, but no one could see it but only they could. It actually felt like the most intense staring contest that I had ever seen, and the problem was that I couldn't tell who was winning.

After two minutes passed, Scar Face lowered his gun. "You have ten minutes. If I see a gun in either one of your hands then I will kill all of you, and that's a promise. Understood?" He growled, his smile quickly turning into a frown of pure disgust.

Henry, my father, nodded. "Understood."

We wasted no time getting back to the house to pack our things. He thought we had guns? We had one, and it was my dad's hunting rifle. It could kill, but it was a one shot thing and there were over a dozen soldiers out there with automatic rifles that could kill us all with just a few bullets. Even my father wasn't that kind of a risk taker, and he wouldn't risk our lives like that.

My mom helped me pack my things and hers. It was better to carry light than to carry to heavily. Three shirts, three pants, and extra boxers. Once I was finished, she went on to pack her own things, leaving me in my room alone. I sat on the edge of my bed to wait for the both of them, wondering what was going to happen to us, to the house, to the property once we were taken.

Everything around here was tended by us. The crops were grown by us, the animals were fed by us, and the house was tended by us. Everything just felt like it was going to all fall apart. I didn't want to go. Things were just so good here, and this was the home where I was born and raised. I had slept on this bed for years and saying goodbye to it and my room was difficult, but my parents knew it was best to not try and fight with those guys outside. They had strength, numbers, and probably more friends on the way in case we tried anything.

Putting it bluntly, we had no choice.

Just before we left, my father came into my room. He looked distressed and exhausted, and I couldn't blame him. Staring down a man with tons of power while trying to save us from slavery and death probably took a lot of energy out of him. He had to be tired after all of it. Adding to the strain wasn't a good idea.

He took my hand and opened it. "Don't worry, son. We're going to be okay, understand? We're going to be just fine." He said, placing something in my hands. "I want you to have this. It was a sort of...gift from a friend back when I was younger. It may not look like much right now but it might help you in the future, do you understand?"

It was a necklace, or an amulet or something. The chain was silver in color and metal while the object that fell on the chest was in the shape of a plus, yet the plus was created with a horizontal oval and a vertical oval. The oval-shaped plus was gold with the letter 'R' in the center. The silver and gold looked slightly dull but I bet that that could be fixed with just a little polishing.

All that aside, it was beautiful. The metal may have looked a little dull but it was still magnificent. Intricate and swirly lines were carved into the pendant to form angel wings of some sort with a four point star set right in the middle. Only a woman could have this craftsmanship, but that was just my opinion. The locket, I guessed it was a locket of some sort, must've been old due to the dulling metal or maybe that was how it was made.

My father took it then placed it around my neck, clasping it on in just a jiffy. "Promise me that you'll never take it off, okay? Make sure that no one else sees it, understood?" he asked, worry easily found within his eyes.

I nodded, placing my hand on the pendant. "Yes, sir. I promise."

Once I had promised, he sighed and patted me on my shoulder. It was time to go, which instantly bummed the both of us out. We grabbed out suitcases then walked out the front door with my mom, who kissed her hand, placing it on the doorframe as if to say goodbye to our home for forever. She probably had the right idea though. Seeing as though they were taking us from our home, we weren't coming back for a very long time it looked like.

Or ever.

Scar Face was still in the same place when we left. His arms were folded across his chest but at least his gun was back in its holster. Sadly, I couldn't say the same for the other soldiers who still had their guns primed and aimed right at us. The wolf still had that smug look on his face, as if telling us that we weren't ever coming back while he had his eyes on us. That look of his was actually starting to get on my nerves but there wasn't anything I could do about it though. I had to take it like a man and live with it, yet he was making it harder each second not to kick him in the shin.

That smile of his returned. "Back already, with a minute to spare. You keep being on time and maybe my boss or I won't have to punish any of you."

My father continued to walk forward, his straw hat covered his eyes as he brushed the wolf's shoulder with his own. "Just get in the damn truck." I heard him deeply growl.

He just huffed. "Watch your mouth...slave."

Now look: a part of me wanted to see my father sock it in that guy's face, then continue to beat the crap out of him. But the other part of me didn't want to see my dad hurt, let alone dead. My father just sighed, clenching his fists while he hopped onto the truck. Hesitantly, I might add. He was swallowing his pride as best he could, and I forgot to mention that my father was a proud man. He had much pride within him, taking great pride from the lifestyle he chose all the way to the family that he started and raised. Leaving home wasn't going to be easy for him, or mom, or I but it was better than getting gunned down on the spot.

He helped my mother up, who also looked like she was having a hard time saying goodbye to our land. The way she kissed her hand then placed it on the doorframe and the way she looked at all of our land, shedding many tears in the process, with hurt eyes made me feel horrible. She had lived here as long as dad has and now she was saying goodbye to the only place where she felt at home entirely.

Both she and he helped me onto the back of the transport truck, being very careful with me and the plane I held within my hands. I didn't want to leave this behind. It had more value than what these soldiers were giving it. Once we were on board, the soldiers that were aiming at us walked back to their own vehicles, as did the wolf general, Scar Face. One by one the trucks started up with their horrible, old motors that made more noise than our cows when they didn't have enough feed. They took off away from our home, leaving their tracks everywhere. Soon our truck started up and we were driving away from our home, watching as the worst possible thing could happen on this day.

Two trucks that had parked at both sides of our home released a large burst of fire right at our home. Immediately our eyes widened. My mom cupper her mouth and began to cry, tears formed in my eyes before I started to sob and sniffle, and my father was shedding his own tears, holding the three of us close as the fire engulfed our home in just a matter of seconds. The large blaze stretched upwards towards the sky, illuminating everything close by clearly, allowing us to see the full extent of the damage. Our cattle and livestock were freed but gunned down shortly after, leaving long trails of blood everywhere, scarring my mind forever.

All the while, I could hear laughing. It was brutal, menacing, cruel, horrendous, terrible, just gut wrenching laughing that made me angry. I followed the sound all the way to a truck that was right next to us.

Scar Face.

He was laughing at us. He was laughing that our home was gone. He was just acting ecstatic about the whole thing. His laugh sent chills up and down my spine but at the same time made me angry. I balled my fists until I could feel blood start coating my palms. The tears ran down my face and the first drops of blood fell on the metal floor where we were.

I wanted to scream. My mother wanted to scream. My father wanted to scream. Our anger just boiled, fueled with the rage we had built for each and every one of them. Those soldiers felt no remorse for us, and we were going to feel none when they died, hopefully, with a bullet in between their eyes.

But we watched, on my birthday, as our home fell and our entire world went upside down in only seconds. Fire and light filled the night sky with their beautiful yet destructive embrace, showing us that we were losing everything that we every cared about and there was nothing we could do about it.

Not long after, I fell asleep.

Henry

Once Clara and Arthur were asleep, I could finally think.

How could this have happened? We were just three peaceful farmers working on our ranch, ready to celebrate our son's thirteenth birthday, and then we're forced out of our home by Task Master soldiers for no reason. To think, I thought we were far enough away from towns or cities that they couldn't track us down. We had been hidden so well for the past thirteen years, making an honest life with good work that was much better than work in the cities.

My friends back in the day thought that I was insane for doing this. Well, it kept us out of sight and out of mind for years and would've lasted longer had I taken extra careful steps. Maybe I should've covered our tracks better. Perhaps I should've made fewer visits to the closest town, yet we did need the supplies. Possibly I could've just cut all ties I had with my friends, leaving us completely in the dark so no one could find us. I sighed, there could've been a hundred different things I could've done to prevent this, but I didn't and I was probably delaying the inevitable.

This was all for my family's safety though. My wife and my son, especially my son. God, I didn't want to get him involved with what was going on right now, on this planet right now. At this moment, people were being whipped or beaten or being killed for whatever reason. Keeping this secret from my son was the hardest thing I could possibly do, but I tried my hardest even when he was being just as persistent as my father was when he hit his forties.

I chuckled. If I lived long enough to see him grow up to his forties, I'll bet anything that he'll be very stubborn and persistent, still wanting to be adventurous and brave. Well, when I was his age I did the exact same things he did. I was adventurous, I liked exploring new places, and I wasn't scared of many things.

Until a gun was pointed right at my head.

Watching Arthur's face drain of all emotion except fear once he saw that gun made my stomach drop. The blood within my body went cold and I could feel my heart beating as quick as a race horse running away from a gunshot. Though I looked calm and collected, in my mind I was still hoping to God that Sckar wasn't going to pull that trigger. I was forced to make a quick decision on whether or not to give up our freedoms or go down as a family, but I was not going to let things end just like that. Not for me, not for my wife, and definitely not my son.

I sighed, rubbing both of my eyes. The morning went by and we were driving through the night. Arthur slept through the entire trip oddly. I couldn't blame him though. His birthday had been entirely ruined and now we were being taken somewhere else to be made into hardworking slaves to some sort of Task Master. He sat in-between Clara and I, shifting himself from shoulder to shoulder while still remaining in a deep sleep. My wife was out as well, keeping one arm draped around our boy while I stayed awake.

Since they were both out, I decided to pass the time for a little bit. Quietly, I opened my suitcase and rummaged through my things, searching for something I knew that I placed. Hmm...where did I--oh, there it is. My journal. I pulled it out and flipped to the nearest blank page. Some would say keeping a journal was stupid or just a waste of time, but I was a man who wanted to make an entry now and then about the things going on, even if they weren't important.

This definitely qualified as an important topic.

September 22nd, 2048

Dear journal, things could not get worse for us right now. Just yesterday we were working in the field picking up the ripe food out of the ground, and now we in the back of a Task Master truck taking us to God knows where. Oh dear, I don't even want to think what they're going to do to us. The things that I've heard from my contacts are brutal, and I wish that it doesn't happen to Clara or to Arthur. I'd rather be the one taking the whip or the beating rather than them, anything but them...please.

_ All I can do right now is hope for the best. Maybe I can contact one of my closest friends before they strip us of every freedom we have and make us work day and night. God, this was the exact reason why I decided to get away from things. This blasted war has torn the world apart, and now people who don't want to be involved are getting their hands dirty with the blood of someone else they don't know. Women...children...everyone is getting involved, and now my family will soon join them as well, or get killed before it even happens._

_ I sigh. Even as I write this, I cannot help but think of what might happen if Arthur gets hurt. Or Clara, please not even her. We wanted no part in this. Actually, I don't think anyone who's not with the Revolution wants a part in this; well unless you're a soldier for the Task Masters. Even then, it's not like they have a choice._

_ Hmm...maybe I should try to contact Carlos. He's one of the last contacts that I've kept and still a great friend to me. Man, I miss that guy, but I hope he's moved on from his lame jokes... He still owes me a favor, but to be honest, I don't even care about the favor. I only hope that he cares more about our friendship than a stupid favor he owes me._

That's what I'm going to do. It's the last option that I have to get my family out of this problem without any cuts or bruises. Henry out.

Rubbing my eyes, I closed the book.

There was no guarantee that Carlos could get all three of us out of this. If he brought some friends then possibly, but I'm still not sure though. There was no telling where these soldiers were taking us. Frankly, I had a feeling that it was going to be far from a city where the free people had no clue about what was going on. That was what I heard from Carlos months ago, and it was something I had witnessed when I was younger.

I looked at Arthur. Should I have given him that necklace? He had no idea what it was, but I did and I wasn't sure about whether or not to give it to him at such a young age. Would they recognize it? Hopefully he would listen to my words and keep it safely hidden while keeping it on. It was better on him than on me anyway, and I meant what I said when I said that it could help him in the future. If the right people found that necklace around his neck then it could possibly help him stay with the right group of people and help him find the truth.

What was my greatest burden? Keeping secrets from him. Clara knew what my past was and accepted it, moving on to work on a farm just to keep our son out of harm's way for as long as possible. She understood the risks, took the chances, and still followed me no matter what the outcome was. It was the reason we wanted to have a son in the first place, to protect, care, nurture, and love for the rest of our lives. He was the symbol of peace and love this planet needed.

Nothing was going to stand in my way of letting them take him from us. They would have to go through my dead body before I would let that happen. That went the same for my wife as well, and if they laid a finger on her I swear I will tear them into pieces. This is my family, and I'll be damned if I let them take them from me.

The truck hit a bump then tracked on a dirt road. It had been a while since we had reached a pathway of sorts, telling me that we were nearing our destination--I'm sorry, I mean prison. My stomach clenched with each passing minute, my nerves unsettling while not making this any better. Seems I would be the first one out of the three of us to see what our new life would be like. Just fantastic.

Wherever they were taking us, I knew it was going to be a living hell. Not just for us, but for the other slaves that had to be captured as well. We weren't going to be the only ones; there was no doubt about that. Seeing the others taken captive along with us was only going to make things even more of a living hell, just seeing their blank expressions and emotionless presence was only going to make this feel even more like the prison it was.

Who knew how many people were. There could easily be over a hundred of them, easily. But no one knew. That was the thing with the Task Masters. They kept these properties and estates completely secret towards the public, taking people from their homes and calling it as a sort of "camp" that they were chosen for.

I call BS on both accounts. I had seen enough of these "camps" to last me a lifetime, and now I was going to be living in one. Fantastic. You can probably tell I'm excited through my sarcasm, right?

Four hours seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye before I finally saw our prison. It was half a mile off the road along a concrete path. The feeling of smooth concrete was probably the last feeling of relief we were going to have for a very long time I guessed.

The road itself led to a large mansion on top of a hill. We passed through a set of metal, barbed wire gates with two soldiers patrolling the entrance. Once they let us through, we continued up the hill towards the mansion, which seemed to brighten up the entire hilltop. It had to have been easily two stories high, completely white aside from the black rooftops, and was divided into three sections. The lights around the home were on and bright, illuminating everything around it.

Guards patrolled even around the house, holding semi-automatic rifles just primed and ready to shoot at anyone who tried to escape. My guess was that they had put down dozens of people in the past. The guards wore matching navy colored clothes with bulletproof vests and black helmets that covered their faces. They looked uptight, strong, and quick. Escaping them seemed like an impossible task.

The sound of chuckling hit my ears, making me look for whoever it was. My eyes fell on the sound of the general chuckling with the window down. I swear, if I didn't have dozens of guards surrounding me I would seriously beat the living crap out of him, and I bet all of what I had left that I could take him down. He may have had military experience, but I had thirteen years of hard, long farm work that was much tougher than the military training.

His truck stopped ahead of us, making ours stop as well. Arthur and Clara woke up, taking note of their surroundings. Good news was that we still seemed to be living on a farm-like environment, giving us an edge over a few newcomers here possibly. Bad news was...well, do I even need to explain that?

The soldiers ordered us out of the truck, the three of us more than willing to comply with them on that. Immediately, they slapped a metal wrist band on Clara's wrist and then on Arthur's. I was next, already knowing what it was. There was a collective hiss from the three of us as the band shot a needle into us, taking a sample of our blood as a DNA scan. The scan went to a control room that keeps an alphabetized list of any and all slaves on a Task Master or Keeper estate. The wrist band also doubled as a tracker and, if we ever decided to make a run for the exit then an invisible field around us would trigger and electrocute us to either death or until a soldier found us.

I had seen enough of these to know what they were all about. Though I detested them with the fiery passion that burned inside of me, I was impressed that they went to great lengths to keep us under their watchful eye. That was probably the only thing I respected them for, if there was even respect to be earned.

The bracelet flashed my name, age, species, and gender on a 3-D holographic rendering of me. It was completely accurate as well. I looked like a full-grown adult with a slightly growing goatee right near my chin and upper lip. The hologram on Clara was very accurate as well, even figuring out that she had the black white lines on the sides of her muzzle. Arthur seemed amazed by his, which seemed to be another gift for him on his birthday.

If it was anything, it wasn't a gift.

The rendering disappeared but my name stayed on the black screen of the bracelet, along with the head Task Master's name: Jupiter Thaulm. His name made me tilt my head. It was a name that I had heard about some time ago, but last I checked he was just a newcomer Task Master. He wasn't exactly a threat, but then again, that was five years ago. Even a new Task Master can gain a great deal of power and authority in just a matter of years, especially in the years that he had.

Damn. I should've kept better contact with Carlos. Thinking about it, I don't think that I packed my communicator either. Double damn. That was my only link to Carlos, and now it was probably nothing but a pile of ashes, along with the rest of our home as well.

The general stood behind me, chuckling while smoking his blasted cigarette. He laughed at us. His laugh was a mixture of those evil laughs you hear in the movies, disgust, and humor, almost taunting us to do something about it, which he knew we wouldn't.

While the soldiers jabbed us with their guns down the hill, towards some sort of area filled with brown horse houses, Sckar continued to mock us with his laughter. It was everything that I had to not take this soldiers' gun and shoot that man in the face. But I didn't. Risking Arthur or Clara's safety wasn't worth shooting a man with no honor left inside his heart. So, I let him laugh.

"Welcome to your new home, slaves!" he shouted, smoking his cigarette while laughing at us.

One year later...