Strike by Delilah S. Dawson Read Free Book Online Page A

The crowd stills. Leon’s eyebrows draw down, and he looks like he wishes he could call down lightning into the bleachers. His dark eyes go darker.
    â€œIf you’re an unpatriotic coward who’s too scared to fight Valor or support those who do, you’re free to walk right out that door.” He points to the open double doors where we entered. “And try not to slip on that traitor’s blood on your way out.” Because they took country-club kid’s body away like Leon asked, but they left a big puddle of blood, which trails away into the darkness. The lantern light is gone. It’s a yawning mouth into hell.
    In this moment, there is no amount of money you could pay me to walk out that door, and I’m pretty sure Leon knows it.
    â€œBut I will tell you this.” He’s in front of the lectern now, his arms crossed and his smile wide and welcoming. “We have land. We have money. We have medicine. We have food. We have fellowship. We have weapons. And, most important, we have the fair rules and order that a free country requires to flourish. No one deserves to be murdered because they took out a loan. We hold these truths to beself-evident: that all men are created equal. And a bank, ladies and gentlemen, is not a man.”
    The gym erupts in applause and whistles as everyone stands. I feel it, too—a swell of pride, of fellow feeling, of belonging. Of fighting for what’s right. But I’m smart enough and hardened enough to know that Leon Crane is an actor. This speech was planned. Hell, maybe that kid who died with a Valor recorder in his pocket was a plant. But everything that’s happened since we walked into the school was staged to serve Leon’s purpose. Whether he’s good or bad or right or wrong, we have only one choice: to join him.

4.
    When Leon heads for the door, the crowd follows. It’s not a rush—they clearly feel anxious and are whispering excitedly in clots. No one wants to go first. Our little group sits back down and hunkers together, heads almost touching.
    â€œWe’re in, right?” Wyatt says.
    â€œNot much choice there.” Chance scratches the dark stubble on his chin. “What do you figure is on the other side of the Unpatriotic Coward doors? Execution?”
    We all nod.
    â€œHe said they had medicine,” Kevin says.
    â€œWhat, my meds aren’t good enough for you?”
    Kevin takes a deep breath, as if emboldened by Leon’s speech.“No, actually. I got shot, and I’d prefer a real doctor to your stupid Vicodin before I die of gangrene.” It’s the most I’ve heard him speak yet, and he has more confidence than I would have expected. I notice for the first time that Chance didn’t bring his bag of drugs, and now I’m curious about where he hid his contraband. Because he must’ve known they would confiscate it for the CFF if they found it on him. He’s smarter than I had first assumed.
    Gabriela laughs. “You get ’em, tiger,” she says to Kevin.
    Across the gym, they have three folding tables set up, with two people in chairs at each one and several clipboards and pens lying around. The people in the chairs look nice and friendly—they must’ve been chosen for their charisma. The scarier people are ranged around the room with AR-15s slung over their shoulders, fading back into the shadows against the walls so we can all pretend they aren’t there. Funny how five days ago that would’ve completely unhinged me, and now it’s the new normal.
    I haven’t seen anyone go through the double doors back out to the hallway yet, but as I watch, a figure detaches from the crowd and scurries that way. It’s a heavy lady in her fifties, maybe, with a big bag clutched to her side. She glances around the gym before disappearing into the hall. I hold my breath as I wait to hear the pop of a gun, but there’s no sound. Did they really