The wars started out as just harmless gatherings of people who wanted to change the world. However, as time went by they grew less harmless and more reckless. It didn't take long for the whole city to get involved with the movement in one way or another. It wasn't long after that the government came in. They took people by the hundreds, soon what was left was the people set by doing nothing, they watched as people fought and killed each other. But the rebels didn't go quietly. They started the Great War. Rebel nests started to pop up around the world. Soon every country was in its own war. In hope of ending the war, all the most powerful nations at the time came together and formed one government to fight off the rebels.
Walls were built around cities to keep out the rebels and it seemed to work. No one questioned it. Soon the wars became history, the walls became a part of life, a sign of safety. As far as everyone inside the wall concerned the war was over, the rebels were gone. As far as we knew the land outside the walls was a barren wasteland covered with dead, rotting bodies and bones. Nothing is to be believed to grow there, not even a weed. Now only the military is allowed outside the walls.
"The bomb fell in the middle of what is now the wastelands, it made the ground unable to grow any kind of life. Making the rebels starve, without food and the drying up water the rebels slowly died out. They are ones who still had a fight in them." My thin, middle age, history teacher says in her wheezy voice as I look out the window at the gray wall that could be seen from anywhere in the city. "They were taken in." She finishes seconds before the bell goes off. With a sigh, I gather my things from my desk and hurry to the next class of hell. Biology. I hate it. I could think of hundreds of things better to do then go to that class.
Walking into the white wall classroom with posters of body parts of humans and animals, I sigh and take my seat close to the window. Taking out my book and notes, I glance up at the blank wall in front of the class. The small rod-like thing for the hologram projector was feet from it, the small green light blinked saying it was on and ready for use. It didn't take long for other students to come in and take their seats. No one sits next to me.
The other students talk to each other until our teacher comes in to start class. "Okay, class, time to quiet down." She says as she waves her arm with a silver bracelet, the hologram flashes colors onto the wall before the bell-work appears. Just more notes we did not get to yesterday. The students start to write them down. With Q-pen in hand, I start to write the notes onto my note-pod. I hit save before turning my attention to the wall once again.
I have always wanted to see for myself what was over that wall. I have only heard of secret exits that not even the government knows about. It's been nearly two hundred years since the Great War, you would think with the technology we have now we would have found a way to make the land bearable to live on again.
Class began and ended like it did every day, and once it was over I am off to my next class. My last class of the day is combat. It was put in all the school when the wars were going on, they had no reason to take them out. It was an easy A for most.
I go to the locker room and dress into my uniform for combat. As I pull my black muscle shirt over my head, a group of boys walks in, laughing about some stupid joke one of them probably told, or how they got into some girl's pants. As I close my locker, Joe, the leader of the meatheads, lean against the locker next to mine, while his followers stand as far as they could from me.
I look over at Joe as I fix my bag over my shoulder. Joe is okay to look at. He stood an inch taller than me, with dark hair that was closely shaved to his scalp and brown eyes. He loosens up his tie to his uniform as he spoke to me."So, Kyle, ready to get your ass beat?" He flashes a smile at me.
I roll my eyes. "You and I both know I can kick you flat on your ass before you get one hit, Meathead."
Joe looks at me like he is about to lose it. "Oh, really, Kyle."
"Yes, really. Did I hit the side of your head too hard yesterday?" I ask. Mr.Holland paired us after Joe got too cocky about beating me. If anything Joe proved how much of an idiot he and his group is.
A blue vine pops out of Joe's forehead as he glances at his follower and back at me. "I was off my game. Now, I'm back." Joe says.
I can't help but roll my eyes. "Listen, Meathead. I will put this in a way you and your followers can understand." I make eye contact with each of the meatheads. "You are not worth my time." With that, I leave the locker room before anything else could be said.
The combat room is a gym with blue mats on the floor, the walls have a patting on them in case we decide to throw someone at them, so we don't do some real damage to the wall or the person-mostly the wall. There are windows high up to let sunlight in.
Putting my bag in the corner of the gym, I walk over the blue mats to stretch while waiting for the others. Altogether the group of meathead idiots from the locker room came in and started to stretch at the other end of the gym.
Mr. Holland is the one who teaches combat. He is a very muscular man, his arms are like tree trunks, thick with muscles and covered in different, colorful tattoos. His red hair came to his ears, his eyes are like everyone else, a dark brown. On the first day of school, he told us he was in the military, and got bored, so he got out.
Mr.Holland walks out of his office and watches us for a minute before speaking "Okay, today we are going to practice a new move. The army teaches this to the newbies. And I'm going to teach you." He looks around for someone to demonstrate the move with. He glances at a boy with dark brown hair with blonde tips, whose name I don't remember. The boy started to sweat. "Kyle," Mr.Holland says, looking over at me.
I shrug as I step forward. The kid let out a sigh of relief that Mr.Holland changed his mind. The teacher tells me how to stand and step by step he goes through the movements. He explains as he does it. "Not that you would ever have to use this move but your opponent wouldn't just stand, would they? And let you beat the crap out of them. So Kyle, come at me." He says.
I take a few steps back." Ha. He's scared." one of the meatheads says under his breath which causes the others to laugh. I roll my eyes. I want to run at them and beat the crap out of them. But Mr.Holland just looks at me.
"Mr.Kyle." He says in a warning tone as if he can tell what I am thinking. I am more than capable of beating the crap out of all of them. However, they outnumber me from eighth to one. I take a deep breath before I start running at him. He moves to punch me in the face. I move to the side before his fist can make any kind of contact with my face.
It takes what feels like minutes of us trying to land a hit on each other. Mr.Holland grabs my right arm as I swing to hit his face, he moves to the side. He yanks my arm to him and knees me in the chest, before wrapping my arm against the back of my neck and presses his forearm against my throat. With my free hand, I tap his arm and he releases me.
"That's how it could be done. Just remember don't keep them like that for too long. Wait if you must, until they are unconscious, then slowly lay them down. You don't want to kill them." Mr. Holland explains as I lean over to catch my breath. "Okay, now pair up and practice." They all pair up with their normal partners.
Being done for the day and having no one to pair up with, I grab my bag and a towel that hangs on a hook by Mr.Holland's office. I push the door open before I hear my name being called "Kyle." Mr.Holland makes a come here motion with his hand then walks into his office. I sigh as I follow him in.
"Yes, Mr.Holland?" I drop my bag down by the couch and fall back onto it as he leans on his desk.
"Kyle, I know you might not like the others. Hell. I don't like them. But I think it will be best if you make at least one friend this year." Mr.Holland looks at me with a smile, kinda. It was a poor excuse for a smile. The smile is him trying to reason with me. "Plus then you wouldn't have to practice with me all the time." He makes a good point. I am the teacher's pet.
I just nod to let him know I am listening to him. "Yeah. Okay." I don't see why I need one of those idiots as a friend. I think I know I'm fine without them.
As I look at Mr.Holland, I remember he was in the military. "Mr.Holland?"
He raises an eyebrow at me waiting to see what else I have to say.
"Have you seen what's over the wall?"I ask. He blinks, looking at me.
"You want to know what's over the wall?" I nod, he smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Let's just say not much is there. Maybe one day you will see for yourself." He looks at me as if he knew more than I did.
As I leave this office I see a photo on his desk of a male dressed a lot like a rebel in the textbooks.