GIRL MEETS 'DISSIDENT'

CHAPTER 6

GIRL MEETS 'DISSIDENT'

I

Ray placed the guns on the nightstand, pulled the blanket over his
chest, and put headphones on his ears.  He closed his eyes, Mozart’s Piano
Concerto No. 24 in C minor washing over the thoughts of the day, images of Ryan’s
gaunt face playing in his mind.  His felt a deep throb of pain behind his
eyes and rubbed his temples as he tried to relax his muscles.  He kept
hearing the echoes of Ryan’s words, repeating over the music.  

“The revolution will happen with or without you.”

“Indeed it will.”  Ray said to himself as he settled into a
fitful sleep.

II

The waiter polished the silver at a table near the kitchen, the
jacket of his tuxedo thrown over the back of the chair with his bow tie.
 His eyes were focused on an e-book reader on the table and he rubbed the
silver clean of water spots with a cloth without seeming to pay the least bit
of attention to what he was doing, so often he had performed the task.  

            He heard a knock at the front door
and looked up from the book he was reading with visible irritation.  He bookmarked the page, rose and grabbed his
jacket off the chair. He put it on and buttoned while he walked towards the
door, his feet echoing on the cherry floor.

            "We are not open." He
said, hoping to avoid opening the door and letting in the afternoon heat.

            "It's Ella." He heard the
girl say.  He sighed and opened the door,
almost gasping at what he saw.

            Indeed, her appearance shocked him
to the core.   He saw her hair first,
ironed straight, an auburn color with a hint of ginger.  She wore a simple cloth gray dress, which set
off the flush in her cheeks.  He stared
at her, unable to speak.

            "We had a press photo shoot,
don't look at me like I'm crazy." She said, pushing by him into the
restaurant. 

            He closed the door, leaving them in
near darkness.

            "What can I do for you?"
He asked.  She looked about the room as
if searching for something or someone.

            "I'm here to see Ray." She
said. 

            "Ray is sleeping." He said
to her.  She grunted in frustration.

            "I'll wait." She
said.  She stared at him, her pretty blue
eyes boring into his.

            He laughed and motioned with a flick
of his hand for her to follow as he made for the back of the restaurant.  He inserted a key in the black door and let
her into Ray's private quarters. 

            "You look pretty." He
managed to say.

            "Thank you, kind sir." She
replied with a curtsy and a wide smile that warmed his old heart.  He smiled in return, closed the door and
locked it.

III

            Her eyes locked on the bookshelf and
she walked as fast as the high heeled pumps allowed.  She smiled and ran her fingers over the
books.  She stopped when her hand came to
rest upon DISSIDENT, her gaze taking in the many copies of the book.  She grabbed the one her hand touched and
carried it to the couch.  She ran her
palm over the simple cover and opened the book as she sat.

This book is dedicated to

MICHAEL

May he rest in peace

            She
leaned against the arm of the couch, kicked off her shoes and turned the page.

PREFACE

            I do not wish to waste the readers’
time so I will make clear the things I will not write in this book.

            I do not write about Vampires

            I do not write about Zombies,

            Or Goblins, Dragons,

            Or werewolves.

            This is not a romance.

            This isn't a mystery.

            I write of the need to overthrow the
oppressive, criminal government of _____

            Enter at your own risk.

            Ella let out a low whistle and closed the
book, once again staring at the cover, touching the letters with her fingers.

            "Dissident."
She said to herself before opening the book once more.

           

CHAPTER 1

"The needs of the many outweigh

The needs of the few."

-Spock

           

            One percent control half of the wealth, the
media, own government officials small and in high office.  This country is a parody of its founding premise:  Freedom from tyranny, control and religious
persecution. 

            You will drink what you are told, smoke where you are
told, vote for one of two prepackaged political parties, and attend the state
religion dumb show once a week.

            Marriage is the ultimate ideal unless you are of the same
sex.

            Have kids, drown in debt, keep your mouth shut and nobody
point out the fact that the king, yes KING on his throne is wearing no clothes.

            I will not bend my knee.      

            I am an individual; my number card identification handed
to me at birth is not sewn on my forehead.

            The rich take what is not theirs. 

            We shall take it back.

            "Oh, seven hells." She
said. 

IV

            Ray woke with a start and looked
about him with wild eyes before he remembered the room, Mozart still playing on
his phone.  He ripped the headphones from
his ears and checked his phone for messages. 
He had a dozen messages and two voicemails.  He cursed, jumped from bed and walked to the
far wall.  He ran his hand over the panel
and pushed, hard. The wall fell away to a reveal an interior room with no
windows, filled with computers and security monitors.

            He placed his palm on a black square
next to the largest screen and a green light scanned his hand print.  A bell sounded and the screens came to life.

            One the first monitor he saw George
polishing silverware and reading something on his tablet computer.  He saw a flash of red to his right and faced
the second monitor, his face dropping with shock.   

V

            Ella was
resting her eyes when she heard the key turning the lock.  She opened her eyes to see Ray standing
before her, looking her over from red hair to her feet, which were propped up
on the table.

            “Did you color
your hair to spite me?”  Ray asked
her. 

            She sat
straight and crossed her legs, sticking her tongue out at him. 

            “You could say
something nice, for example ‘I like your hair’. 
It won’t kill you to be nice to a girl you know.”

            Ray sat on the opposite
end of the couch and grabbed the book off the table.  He thumbed through the book quickly before
turning to look at her. 

            “How much of
the book did you read?”  He asked her,
ignoring her statement.

            “I read all of
it.”  She said in a whisper, her eyes
locked with his. 

            Silence descended
at they stared, Ray leaning back against the couch cushion, stretching his
limbs from his afternoon nap.  He placed
the book on the table and began stroking his beard. 

            “Who is
Michael?”  She asked after what seemed
like minutes.  He took an equal amount of
time to answer her, rising to his feet and pacing in slow circles. 

            “He died many
years ago.”  Ray finally responded, still
pacing.

            “That doesn’t
answer the question.”  She interrupted. 

            “He was my
friend.”  Ray said with soft sadness,
stopping and sitting once again on the couch. 

            She turned
towards him, tucking her legs underneath her body, her arms crossed over her
knees. 

            “How did he
die?” She asked. 

            “He was
murdered.”  Ray answered. 

            Ray leaned his
chin against his chest and with eyes closed, seemed to rest for a few
moments.  Ella touched his hand with her
fingertips and moved a few inches towards him. 

            “What happened?” 

            “He was shot in
an abandoned warehouse in Providence.  His
body was found at the bottom of a flooded stairwell, rotting.  He had been missing for almost two weeks.”

            “Why was he so
important to you?”  She asked, squeezing
his hand.

            “He wrote
DISSIDENT.”