Rebel - Chapter 3

It was only a few nights later, and Armin and I were conversating over small bowls of chili. Armin had gone to the store, small knife blades in his boots. He had picked out yarn that was on sale, and bought a medium-sized ham. He had come back with a big smiling grin on his face.

On the first night we had ham and potatoes, and it took us over two hours to finish. The small portions of ham we cut for ourselves sat on our tongues. We had to make it last as long as possible.

The next night, Armin put canned red beans, canned corn and the leftover cooked ham in a pot to make us chili. It's what we are eating tonight, and we have just enough for tommorow as well.

Armin's blonde hair is getting too long now, and he borrows rubber bands and other hair ties to pull his hair back into a ponytail, though his bangs and some of his hair is too short to be pulled back. I always cut mine with my dagger, it's uneven, and I'm well known for my dangerously-tussled hair that "can never be styled". It's not like it matters, anyway. I will never be on the screens like the actors and actresses. I'll never be any high rank for the Democracy. The United Forces of Sina.

During this particular night, we listen to the radio. Armin is sitting on the floor of the bedroom, his back leaning against the wall, his pillow going from the back of his head to his shoulder bones as he tried to get comfortable. I hear the quiet clicking of the metal needles. My green eyes follow towards the source, which is just Armin's nimble fingers moving between the crocheting needles. The yarn is a brown that reminds me of my past, of the jacket I used to wear so proudly. However, the yarn changes to a darker brown, like my old hair color and I just smile.

"That will look awesome," I complimented, Armin's startled eyes looking at me.

"Thanks!" He exclaimed in appreciation, and I just beam in response.

He has hardly grown up. His chin is more defined now, and his cheekbones are more visible, but despite that and his hair being longer, there's not much of a difference. He has the same small frame, still shorter than me. His eyes, that have always wanted to see the outside world, are the same. He has the same ambitions, but he adapted to this new society well. Without the titans as a threat, society has crumbled. Poverty, confusion, over-population. Our leader, King Mr. Reiss, carries the leadership "as well as he can".

I focus into the radio, who is speaking on the crackly quality. "I am going to make the passing grade for trials from 800 to 900. Students that finish with middle school are to take the test before high school. This is to promote more successful generations and to protect Sina!" The audience bursts into cheers. A small scowl crosses my face. The audience is probably filled with Elites, who live within the gem sectors. Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, Topaz. They can afford their education, they have the better schools. They don't have people on the streets, or foreclosing homes, or people robbing banks and each other just to get a few Notes for food or blankets.

I feel a gaze, and I look up slowly. He's worried, I think. He seems confused, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose for just a few seconds lets me see his concern. I've known Armin too long to not realize this.

"It's just a sensitive topic," I murmur, and realization dawns on him as he flushes and nods his head.

"Sorry, I forgot!" He apologized in a rush, but I just shake my head.

"We have hardly talked about it," I said, my right hand moving, palm up in a "it-doesn't-matter-Armin-I'm-certain-about-it-being-okay" action. The blonde just rolls his eyes before continuing. I notice that it's hardly a quarter done, but it has only been a short while. With nothing to do, I lay on the bed and close my eyes.

I don't fall asleep, though. I listen to the radio. I wince as an obnoxious, monotonous beep comes from the radio. "Military Police will be searching through homes in the-." There's a break here, there always is. The next part used to make me laugh, at how choppy the sentences were, but now it makes me worried. I know where this is going.

"-Obsidian," There's a brief pause between the names of the sectors, and I don't have to listen to know. I whisper the words along with the radio broadcast. "Quartz," My somewhat raspy voice overlaps with the radio, as I tried to imitate the static. "Stone, and Talc sectors for plague control. Please remember that if you are in these sectors, that you open your door when the police come, or else they will kick your door down. Thank you for your cooperation and never ending loyalty to the United Forces of Sina." The broadcast is then over, returning to its gentle music.

However, despite how unsurprised I am, Armin is freaking out. "Shit!" He said, rushing the word. I look over at him in interest, and he shakes his head. "This beanie, it will never be done by then."

I chuckle and look over at him as I speak: "That's the worst of your problems? We can just say my employees threw me into a bucket of bleach as punishment for not reaching my quota. That's a temporary fix, right?" I say, closing my right eye and using my left to look over at him.

He lowers his needles and gives me a deadpan look, but eventually sighs. "It's a better plan then trying to get this done." He admits slowly.

"Plus, they have to go through the entire Stone sector. That will take at least an hour. You've got this. Stone is one of the biggest sectors in this area!" I say this almost in a giddy tone, and I'm please by the smile that is now worn on Armin's face.

"Alright!" He said, getting back to work. Often he calls me over, making sure the hat fits, and making adjustments if he had to, which were generally minor. He was good at this by now.

It was about one and a half hours later- which I had counted in my head to keep me awake- when I heard the distant marching. I hear loud metallic clicking over it, and I'm disappointed to see Armin rushing.

"Take your time," I warn, and he slows down. He's nervous, and his hands are shaking slightly. I move over to him, hugging and leaning my chin on his right shoulder, watching his small movements to make the hat.

After a few more minutes, he finishes it, reaching over to scissors and cutting off the hat from the yarn. Armin places it on my head, making sure it fit, he leaned over towards the bed, pushing me off and nearly making himself fall onto his side as he reached for a hair tie. He pulls all my hair back, and I grumble. The ponytail is not long at all, but it keeps some hair out of my face. He then puts the small knitted hat on my head, and I grin at.

"Beanie~" I cooed to my hat happily, chuckling at the odd look I received from my friend.

But every ghost of a smile is gone as we hear the door knock. The hat has enough holes to see through to my blonde hair, but it just seems like my hair is supplied with lots of colors. I praise Armin for picking yarn with two different colors. I snap out of it as I hear Armin unlocking the door, and quickly following after him. The soldiers burst in, two with guns and the others investigating. They have gloves on, but I just let out a low chuckle.  They don't even need them. These stupid Gem sector police get yearly vaccinations.

But I feel, rather than hear what happens next. I heard a crack, and then a boom. I look around, but Armin's still there. I walk over to him, who is by the window, letting the police look through our food and other things. They take a few cups of chili, but looking over, we still probably have enough for a small meal for tommorow.

That's the least of my thoughts, looking at the dead bodies outside. Some of them are still twitching, and I feel my gaze drifting up the street as I see a limping person. Distantly, I can hear that it's a young boy, maybe even my age. "Oh my God." I whisper, looking at the boy coming closer.

Armin slowly reaches for my hand, and I look over to see him shaking. "It's Connie," he says quietly, but I already knew. How he did was a mystery to me, with his nearsightedness.

I'm about to go outside and help Connie, but the officials are barricading my house. One with a gun goes outside, and holds it up, aiming at my comrade.

I hear the soldier yell, "Do you have the plague?"

The small reply as the man walks closer, "....vaccine, ...please... money."

I'm trying to decipher it, as I didn't catch all of it. I expect the soldier to lower his gun. He didn't have the plague. He was just asking for a vaccine so he didn't get it. I look over at Armin, but he is tense. Maybe I was wrong. The soldier looks through the gun.

Another crack, and a body moves to the ground. I feel a jolt next to me. I watch Connie fall, his mouth moving.

I hardly realize that I'm crying, until I become aware of the liquid that dripped to my hands. My eyes are burning, the memory forever etched in my brain. Armin is trying not to cry. He's trying to be strong for me. Through my shaking breaths I hear him murmur.

"He's with Sasha now," he says weakly. "Eating everything they want to. Slacking off like they did in training."

I smile weakly, wiping away the few tears running down my cheeks. They're in a better place. And they're together. I nod, showing Armin that I understand.

The Military Police take a quick saliva sample, sticking it in a test tube. They swish the liquid, which slowly turns a shade of emerald green. I watch to make sure Armin has a green result as well. He does, to my relief. We both offer a small, weak smile to each other. We are okay. We are safe.

But looking outside, at all the things happening. They step over and on the dead, not even noticing; or if they did, not caring. The bodies of plague victims are being thrown onto a truck by people in protective suits and gloves. The bodies of those who tried to escape, or for people like Connie, ones who died begging for mercy. I'm happy that he's now with Sasha, as the two got closer after we gained back our land. As the need for expeditions outside of our development decreased, many people started trying to get on with life, get over the scars of the past.

People like Levi, Erwin and Hanji were able to do that, I guess. I will never forget the people who died. I refused to let them die and be forgotten. I was told that we carried their cause, but humanity wasn't victorious. We just took back what was ours. We won back our land, but the titans are still ruling the rest of the world. They are the true victors.

They told me that I would have gone into the Platinum sector, even with my bad test results. All I had to do was pledge my allegiance. But I couldn't do it. And when I came back with not even a 700 on my trial test, I knew I would be forced into the slums. But, nothing really happens as it's supposed to. It doesn't matter, though. I'm here now, and I have my best friend.

I look over at him, and his hand curls gently over mine, his fingers slowly moving to fit in the cracks of my hand. I squeeze his hand as we look outside the window, watching the soldiers. They mark the doors of people who have the plague with a red x, two diagonal lines intersecting each other. People are locked in there and the soldiers continue on, a covered disinfectant truck coming by and busting down the door and taking everyone. They usually have a few of the Garrison, to do some of the heavy work, like shooting the plague victims in the head. Armin buries his head into my left shoulder, and I gently rest the side of my head against him.

They move house to house, and soon they will be at my family's. I see more soldiers marking x's, the red paint like the blood of the victims that will soon be spilled. I hold my breath as I see them knock, my mother going out to greet them. Five minutes pass slowly, but soon it's ten. Then fifteen. Thirty. I look over at Armin with wide eyes, but he shakes his head.

"It's okay." He said, his voice strong but his blue gaze doubting.

"No, it can't be. It's taking too long. Something is wrong." My cautious voice says, green eyes never leaving the house of my family.

An hour is soon to passed, and we haven't moved. The soldiers finally move out of the house, and I'm relieved to see them walking out without marking the door. But as if they forgot something, they turn around. A new order? I wonder if they had a new command. They return to my family's door, pulling out the red spray paint and shaking the bottle. One line, diagonal. Left to right. Another, intersecting the other with practiced precision. Right to left. My hands drop from Armin's back to my side.

The soldier pauses, looking over to the larger group. He receives a nod.

A third line, horizontal, crossing in the intersection.

What does it mean, I've never seen a marking like that. I look at my friend, but he's just as confused as I am. Armin, who knows everything. Everything about the streets, the government. Everything.

We dwell in silence as the soldiers back in their trucks and move on, the containment truck following a few yards after.

I don't sleep well that night, and neither does Armin. I wake him up with my tossing and turning, and he tries to make me relax.

It's difficult, though. How can I possibly relax when my brothers and mom are at risk.

I think sometime in the night, I fall asleep. I think that maybe Armin put some sleeping medicine in my food, as it seems that on every 'plague search' I sleep just a little better than normal.

But I'm grateful. I'm lucky to have Armin by my side, I'm lucky that he cares for me. I'm lucky I'm not walking alone in the streets.

Armin is the true reason behind my success.