The skies were bleak, as gray as everyone’s eyes, clothing, or their expressions. People were trudging along the dark gray stones, on their way to morning count. Daisy Golightly, one of the bright, beautiful faces in the crowd, drifts off to the side, emerging from the river of gray. Her blonde hair and bright green eyes have always made her stand out; along with her tall, slender frame. She was a little more built than the others, her posture was not as caved in. She watched the others as they made their way, her gorgeous features twisted into a scowl. She was thinking hard, she knew there must be someone, anyone else, that couldn’t take living this way anymore. Living like prisoners, animals. Their days were planned out; morning count before sunrise, breakfast directly after. 7:00, the work day began. 1:00, a 30 minute break for lunch. The work day ended at 6:00, dinner promptly at 6:30. After that, night assembly at 7:45, lights out at 9:00.

Someone prodded her back into the mass of gray, judging by the cold chill it sent down her spine, it was the barrel of a Gator’s gun. She continued to walk to her work station, in the fields. They provided the only color in the dreary town. The corn, the tomatoes, the flowers from the broccoli and cauliflower. Daisy had come to love the simple smell of the dirt, the sounds of birds chirping and the little animals scurrying along in the brush. But something was off today; she didn’t know what, but she could feel it. After gathering her tools from the shed, she turned and watched the sky, small patches of blue peeking out through the gray fluff. And that’s when it happened.

A guy with dark brown hair came running through the aisles of the crops, with Gators running behind him, shouting for him to stop. The dogs that were running ahead of the Gators were catching up to him as he was getting closer to Daisy. Once he passed her, she didn’t even think about what to do. The dogs were getting closer; when they got close enough, Daisy scooped up soil in her handheld shovel and flung it in the dogs’ faces. They whimpered and stopped in their tracks, some of them falling over themselves. At this point, Daisy had gotten up to hide in the stalks of corn. Before she slipped between the safety of the thick green, she caught the fugitive’s eye, and he shot her a grateful crooked smile which she returned with a half-hearted tilt of her mouth. He wasn’t the first runner she’d seen while working, she knew he wouldn’t be the last either. This knowledge gave her hope… Enough to do the craziest thing she’d ever do.

The footsteps of a couple straggling Gators were passing, and Daisy knew exactly what to do. She watched until the last one was passing by. She was one step behind him as he shuffled past her hiding spot, pulling his flare gun out of the holster without so much of a “rip” from the velcro. She tapped on his shoulder, making him turn abruptly. She raised the flare gun above her head and brought it down against his temple on one quick swipe, the Gator’s body falling against the soil. Daisy then turned and whistled out the end of the day tune, which is also used to tell the others to move out of the fields. She heard the tune carried down the rest of the fields until it stopped, and that’s when she knew it was time. Aiming the gun through the corn fields, she fired. The leaves instantly caught fire. She turned 45 degrees, fired again; she continued for another 90 degrees, which now left the entirety of the fields being engulfed in flames. Several of the Gators that were chasing the boy had come back, their arms over their faces to block the heat so they could better assess the situation.
Daisy ran. She let her legs propel her swiftly, the sounds of the Gators’ shouts getting quieter. She didn’t stop or feel winded, the grass felt good under her feet. Daisy remembered how much she loved running; when she was little, in her own Gator training, in her physical fitness class when she was in school. She had to be told to stop running, not to go too far so often. Listening to her feet on where to go, she veered right into the woods, running between the trees and brush.

She knew by now the others would see the smoke. This made her slow her speed slightly; her mind trailed off, thinking about her family. I just left them. I didn’t even think about them… or bringing them with me. Something sturdy stopped her completely in her tracks, making her lose her balance and fall to the ground. She looked up, and there was the fugitive boy. “Name’s Drake. That place was awful, I felt like I was in the jail.” He held his hand out, pulling her up like it was nothing.

“I’m Daisy… Daisy Golightly,” she replied. He looked her up and down, hands on his hips like he was a colonel inspecting a deputy.

“You’ll do, I suppose.” He turned and walked through the brush.

“For what?” she asked, following behind him.

He turned and looked at her with a smirk before answering “The revolution against the revolution.”