Rebel

  For years the building seemed to call to me. It was nothing but an old, run down, yellow-bricked building. It had been abandoned for almost a century, ever since the third world war. It was a run-down building sitting in a run-down town. The color on the bricks had almost been worn away and the roof had crumbled in a long time ago. It was nothing extraordinary. It looked…well, it was deserted. But there was something so strange about this building. As if it were a magnet and I was a piece of metal. I was inexplicably drawn to it. The shadow loomed over me as I stood before this building I had longed to enter. I knew myself all too well. If I waited another moment I would chicken out. Without another thought I pushed against the wooden doors.

 For a moment all I could see was darkness. No natural light penetrated the abandoned halls of this building. Slowly shapes began to emerge in my view. There was no dust on the floor. Actually there was no dust anywhere. The inside of the building was in perfect condition. Long metal tables were neatly placed throughout the room, papers were left scattered across the tops. It looked as if the workers were only on a lunch break and would be back any moment. My eyes drifted to the stairs that led to the second floor, they were in perfect condition, but the material they were made from didn't match the rest of the building. The steps were made of crude wood while the rest was a slick metal. The stairs had been replaced. Mindlessly I made my way from room to room, searching for any sign that would tell me why I had been drawn here.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" A deep voice shouted. Panic gripped my heart like a vice and instincts took over like autopilot. I began to run. I didn't know where I was running to, or who I was running from. All I knew was that I was running. I could hear footsteps pounding on the floor behind me. I was being chased, and from the sound of the steps, they were gaining on me. But I couldn't stop running; if I stopped it meant I didn't have a chance. If I kept going, I at least had a shot. A slim shot, but a slim shot was better than no shot.

 Arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground. A scream bubbled up inside me but was cut off by a hand clamped over my mouth. "I don't want to hurt you," the deep voice whispered. "I just need to know how you found me. I'm going to let you go now, okay? Are you going to scream or try to run again?" I shook my head, moving his hand with me.

  "Good," he mumbled as he released me. I stumbled forward, putting as much distance between me and this stranger as I dared. Turning towards him the first thing I noticed were the markings. Both of his arms were crisscrossed with dark brown markings. They seemed to be in some kind of pattern, but I couldn't tell what. My eyes flickered up to his face. He was young, maybe eighteen. Blond hair fell onto his forehead, nearly covering his electric blue eyes. A thin, pale scar on his cheek stood out against his otherwise tan skin.
"Who are you?"
 "Jarin." I said, resenting the fear that caused my voice to quiver.
"What's your full name?"
"Jarin Believe Jones."
 His brown eyebrows arched up, "Believe? Are you serious?"
  I put a thin hand on my hip, "Yeah I'm serious. Is there something wrong with my name?"
A slight grin graced his face, "Not at all. I actually like it."
 "And what's your name?"
A full grin overcame his face, "Rebel."
 "Your name's Rebel and you had the nerve to laugh at my name?"
"You'll learn that my name happens to fit me very well, thank you very much." 

 My breath caught in my throat. Rebels. There were whispers of rebels in the outer cities, in the abandoned cities. But that couldn't be true....could it?

  "Are you....Are you one of the rebels?" My fists clutched the fabric of my pants, trying to hide their shaking.

 He cocked one eyebrow and grinned, "Follow me and find out." He brushed past me, walking down the hall. I stared at Rebel's back for one second before running after him. I had to know.