“We must learn to trust again,” I explained. The counsel stared back at me with blank expressions. 

“John, we don’t even know if what you say is true,” replied President Goulding. I searched the room in hope that someone, anyone, would help me. I saw looks of sympathy, disgust, and even people shaking their heads. My eyes finally landed on my father who hadn’t spoken to me since our disagreement the day before. It had been one week since I had returned home from my journey North. My father had warned me about telling the community my discoveries. We had gotten into an argument about whether or not our people could handle the truth. Now, standing in front of the leaders of the Reestablishment, I remembered my father’s words.

“If you eat too much truth at once you may choke.” I looked at my father desperately. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to be any help now. 

“John,” said President Goulding, pulling me out of my thoughts. “If you wish so badly to befriend the Rebellion then go, leave this community. The Rebellion’s mission is to change our ways and steal the home our leaders have worked so hard to build. Making peace with them won’t change anything. You know as well as anyone how ignorant they are.”

“You don’t understand, if we don’t make a change The Reestablishment will perish the same way the humans before us did,” I pleaded. I had already attempted to explain to the counsel the things I saw while on my journey but they had just looked at me like I was a foolish child. 

“We don’t have time for your silly theories, we have real matters to attend to. Now see yourself out.” I opened my mouth to resist, but when I saw the look of disappointment on my father’s face something told me it was pointless to keep trying. I sighed and walked outside, squinting as the sun surrounded me. Earth had never been the same after the first great war, at least that’s what they told us. I had been fascinated with our past my entire childhood and found myself consumed in the study. My father told me I needed to move on

“Focus on our future, not our past,” he had pleaded. 

“Our past will become our future if we repeat the same mistakes our ancestors did,” I had replied. My father tries to understand and part of me thinks he does, but although he is commander he has little control over President Goulding. She was a natural-born leader and controlled nearly everything in the Reestablishment. He could never challenge her authority and win. 

I thought about the few photographs I had seen of the old world as I made my way to the library that contained the old readings. It was unimaginable to think that there was ever something more than this world devoid of color and beauty. The old wooden door creaked as I pulled it open. I spent nearly every day in the small library that contained the old literature. President Goulding had tried to have it destroyed and claimed that the readings were Rebellion propaganda. Thankfully my father was able to convince her that the library kept me occupied and did no harm to the Restablishment’s cause. Eager to take my mind off of the earlier events of the day I opened a book and lost myself in the pages. 

What must have been hours later, I heard someone rush through the door. It was a woman about my age with bright blonde hair. I was certain I had seen her working at the school before. She glanced at the clutter of books and maps surrounding me and let out a small snort. 

“You must be Commander Bishop’s son,” she said with a smirk that John couldn’t quite decepheir.

“People are talking about me?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not every day someone travels North and survives to tell the story.”

I sat there for a moment debating if I should tell her the truth or not before she said, “Hey shouldn’t you be with the troops?”

“What?” 

“Well, I just assumed you would be helping with the raid on the rebels considering you're the Commander’s son .”

“Wait...what are you talking about? There is a raid tonight? Why are we attacking again? We lost seven men last time we tried something like this,” I asked her, panicked.

“You didn’t hear the announcement? The rebels murdered two of our scouts yesterday evening. President Goulding announced earlier today that all of our troops will be storming their base tonight,” she explained sounding a little bit confused. “Myself, and a few other women, stayed back to watch the children, but everyone else has left.” My head was spinning and I felt like I might faint. I did not know whether to feel betrayed or worried but I knew I had to try to stop them.

“I-I've got to go,” I mumbled getting up from my chair nearly tripping over my own feet. Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind as I sprinted for the door.

“Are you ok?” she called after me. I ignored her and kept running. If I did not hurry I would be too late.

It felt like I had been running for ages when I finally reached the stables. I was grateful my father had forced me to ride bareback as a child because I did not have the time to saddle my horse. I immediately mounted Nightlock and took off. What felt like hours later the troops finally came into sight. About 400 yards ahead of me I saw them approaching rebel territory. As I got closer to the troops I could see that far beyond, past our army, The Rebellion had gathered and was ready to fight. Nightlock was moving as fast as I had ever seen her run, and yet it felt like I we were moving in slow motion. The sound of my own heart beating in my chest and the steady gallop of Nightlock’s hooves flooded my ears and drowned out all the noise ahead of me. Light flashed for a split second, and then darkness swallowed me whole. 

 I'm not sure how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been terribly long. I woke up with a ringing in my ear. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t hear the sound of my own voice. My whole body ached in pain. That's when I realized, the rebels had set off a bomb. I opened my eyes and tried to see if anyone had survived. As my vision came back to me I saw more and more dead bodies. I stumbled backward over something and fell on my hands and knees. When I glanced behind me I saw Nightlock covered in blood and heaving. I tried to get up, but my body refused. At that moment I knew I was dying. I knew I was dying and all I could think about were the men before us. Did they die in the same tragic way? Will there be any survivors after this violent day? And if there are, will they learn from the past or continue to repeat history?