ENC 1101-B3 & B4: Writing for Discovery

The sound of fast paced foot steps tear through the silence
as it battles the clamor of the sequenced march of the
armed guard. Tears of rain pour out of a red sky as a
shadowy figure comes to an abrupt halt at the end of a
narrowed alley.

It's clear, but the stillness isn't reassuring, she thinks to herself as she waits for some sign of assurance.

The water beads on her tattered parka as she presses her
back deeply against the cold damp structure of the building
behind her. A slow, lingering spotlight pierces into the
darkness, in search of any who are violating curfew.
Luckily for her she remains unseen and is casually
overlooked by the armed tower men. Millions of thoughts
ricochet off one another as to what her next move should
be.

Maybe I should go back. If the others didn't escape I
would never forgive myself. I have to keeping moving, I
have other people depending on me.

The shrill of army rifles and broken glass violently interrupt her contemplation and then suddenly a search light blacks out.

This is my chance. I have three blocks to go, Move, Portia.
Move!

She is then off and moves like lightning from shadow to
shadow. Her chest heaves rapidly with every pumping
stride of her legs. She chokes on every breath from the
remnants of the substance once called air, but now just a
concoction of oxygen, hydrocarbons and smoke emissions
from the exhaust pipes of military hum-Vs. Sweat and rain
pour into her eyes as she sees her final destination and
notices the small pair of beacon lamps on the windowsill. A
determined air washes over her face. She waits patiently
for her moment and watches carefully as a hand removes
one lamp. The city bell begins to peal the hour and with
that signal explodes with speed, increasing the pace of her
stride with every ring. Pumping harder and faster, she
storms through the abandoned street to finally burst through
the entrance of her Central Park town house.

Mommy! a child's voice cries out as two tiny arms reach
out for their mother.

"Dillon, give mommy a moment to catch her breath, okay."

She slowly removes the hood of her cloak; exposing the
drained look on her youthful face and the dripping water
from her wet hair.

"That's quite a look for you Ms. Demarco. Wet, tired and
holding a baby is always attractive." remarked Sidney.
"You weren't seen were you? What took you so long
anyways, curfew began almost an hour ago, and you know
what happens if they find you out after curfew."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I'm late. The flock was
discovered. I tried to draw the S.A.'s fire, but…. I'm just
really not in the mood to argue with my little sister, okay.
And no Sidney, I wasn't seen, and if I was, I would not be
here arguing with you."

"Fine, fine, whatever just say thanks for watching Dillon
and I'll be out of your way."

"Ok, Ok! Thanks now go."

With the end of that sentence her heart began to sink,
seeing the wounded look on her sister's face, she began to
apologize.

"Sidney, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up at you like that,
it's just that I'm really, really worried about the
congregation. Those people are like us and have sacrificed
just as much as we have to worship their God in secret. I
just couldn't let the government suppress them also."

"It's alright; I know things have been extremely tough on
you since…you know."

"Since Max was taken, I know. It's been tough on all of us,
but you don't worry about that, I'll deal with it on my own
time, but if you would like to help, you could get Dillon
ready for bed."

"No problem."

The hours and anxiety finally pass and give away to the
silence of night. The house is calm, and sleep creeps in
unnoticed.

Though the night is peaceful, Portia's dreams are restless.
Her nights are miserable, spent tossing and turning as lurid
images of the past and present haunt her dreams.


"My country tis of thee…The lord will rescue me from
every evil attack…Sweet land of liberty…It is not what
your country can do for you, but what you can do for your
country…of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died!
...and he will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom…
Land of the pilgrim's pride! ...We will not give in to the
threats of terrorist…From every mountain side…To him be
the glory forever and ever. Amen… let freedom ring!"

Startled by fear and sadness, she jumps up out of her sleep
gasping for air. Looking around the spinning room she
searches for any sign of familiarity and after brief second
of hysteria finally realizes where she is.

Her slow foot steps creek against the hard wood floor as
she makes her way to third story bedroom window. She
opens it and is greeted by the cold night's air. Sitting at the
edge of insanity, she contemplates throwing herself down
as she looks over the side. Drops of hopelessness begin to
tear from her eyes and in a moment of desperation, she
whispers a silent prayer to memory of her lost husband.

Why? Why did they take you from me? We just wanted
things be how they used to. You were always there for me,
always there to hold me down when I felt everything was
out of control. Now I have nothing.
It's all their fault! After the attacks on New York, they
thought they could do anything in the name of safety. I
remember it too well. It made me sick watching the lines of
people being demeaned and harrassed at the airport, given
strip searches by the oh so noble guards with their assault
rifles. That's exactly what it was, an assault on liberty with
their frightening the already terrified people with
propoganda like their code orange, scarring everyone into
sacrificing their freedoms for the safety of our country;then
disbanding all institutions that don't comply with
government doctrine.
The day I died was watching them taking you from me, as
they justified the invasions of innocent people's homes in
search of insubordinants. All it did was turn into a modern
day witch hunt, with neighbor accussing neighbor of
terrorist connection.

Quietly the door slides open, letting the faint hall light into
her room.

"You don't know how close I was to jumping, Sid. I could
almost feel the embrace of the wind as if I were falling."

"I know you miss him, but ending your life wouldn't solve
anything"

"It's not even about Max anymore. I just can't do it."

"Do what?"

"I can't find any reason to continue fighting. It's like we are fighting against ourselves. This was our country, at one
time this was my life. Like everything else it too was also
sold for the value of our saftey. I just felt like if I let go I would finally be free of their grip, free to be at peace."

"Think of what your saying. Remember when they first
took Max how you said that it was all over, how you
described him as the only true part of you,you actually had,
and how when they took him it wasn't about you anymore.
This is the same thing. You don't fight for yourself, you
fight for all of those who can't. People like me, and Dillon. You were never part of them and you never will be,
because they fight for the benenfit of themselves and you
fight for the benefit of everyone."

"I'm sorry Sid, but our illusion of freedom is over and I
can't bear to live in a world like that. A world completely
controlled by the thoughts and ambitions of some one else.
Please, take care of Dillon for me."

Those being her final words she fell into the cold night.
Though she chose to reject her own life, for a few
moments in time she was completely free. Her body
plunged deep into the depts of the abyss where she finally
found peac