Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020complete | Page 381

“Oh, it is to upkeep the supplies and weapons of the evergreens.”
“The protestors.”
“The EVERGREENS,” Jason emphasized. I don’t think he would want a negative reputation with Leng right
from the get-go.
Soon enough, it was sunset and we had to go to sleep. The light were out at 8, which was quite early even for
my age. I watched the moon. It was a half crescent, its bright light illuminating on the walls of our sleeping
quarter.
The wood looked somewhat new, probably indicating that it was built during the protests. The revolution was
broken apart by the army, but remnants of it are still rising. There were about 1000 people in the base so far, not
a lot but certainly not a little. I brushed my hands against the mattress, reaching down on the floor. There was a
burnt mark on the floor tile, a black mark imprinted on the otherwise perfect tile.
I heard Falkland sleeping right across me; he didn’t snore but he made a weird noise once every few minutes.
The bed was making him uncomfortable, so he tossed and turned, rustling his pillow like it was made of sand.
As I drifted into sleep, I thought about the things that lead up to this event. From reading the poster on the
streets, to watching the news with only positive content, to my mum coming home late every night after dad
died, all the way until the time where Falkland and I discussed the plan. It was a hefty toll on my energy but it
was worth it and the weight on me had been lifted.
I went to sleep that night, having a happy dream about my father and me…
“Wake up!” Falkland shouted. A siren was blasting in the main hall and the canteen. Falkland was at the door
calling me to come out.
“Run!” someone shouted. I sat right up and went right out of the door. I was still groggy, half-awake as I
moved my limbs up and down. Falkland was right in front of me, dashing across to the main hall.
After a while, we saw Leng locked up in a prison cell. He was sobbing and wailing, screaming, “I didn’t do it, I
was forced.”
Jason stood outside the cell. He faced towards him, and then left, locking the door behind him.
“What is going on?”
“Well, your friend, ‘Jason’, had a tracking device on him and led the police right to our base.”
“What?”
“Just run!”
We sprinted to the emergency area and I hid in a wardrobe. There was a small window gap when it was closed
so I could see what was happening.
I heard gunshots, real-life gunshots. The sound of their bullets ricochets through the wall, making my ears hurt.
People were groaning in pain, while others were just dead.
I decided that hiding in the closet was not a wise decision, so I kicked it open and Falkland and I ran. We ran
through the long corridor and reached the main hall. We ducked behind a big crate and when the time was