Chapter 20: Rallying the Resistance

The sun had just begun to rise, casting muted light over the cracked streets of District 14. Henry stood at the edge of a rooftop, looking down at the city below. From this height, he could see the checkpoints the upper city had established, the patrol drones hovering like silent sentinels, and the faint glow of surveillance grids that monitored every movement.

Behind him, Leona stepped forward, her arms crossed as she joined him. “They’re tightening their grip,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Every move we make from here on out will be harder.”

Henry nodded, his hands resting on the edge of the crumbling parapet. “That’s why we need help.”

Leona handed him a small device, its screen glowing faintly. “These are the locations of the resistance cells I know of. Some are better organized than others. Some… don’t even call themselves resistance.”

Henry looked at the screen, the blinking points scattered across the map of District 14. Each one represented a chance—or a risk. “What are the odds they’ll listen to us?”

Leona smirked. “Depends on how convincing you can be.”

Their first stop was in the heart of the district, a hidden workshop buried beneath the remnants of an old marketplace. Leona led the way, her movements confident and deliberate, while Henry and Mia followed close behind. The workshop was dimly lit, its walls lined with tools, wires, and half-assembled machines. A group of people stood around a central table, their faces wary as the newcomers entered.

At the head of the group was a man in his forties, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was weathered, his eyes sharp. “Leona,” he said, his tone cautious. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“Good to see you too, Marcus,” Leona replied, her smirk unwavering. “We need to talk.”

Marcus’s gaze shifted to Henry, narrowing. “And who’s this? Another one of your recruits?”

“This is Henry,” Leona said, her tone serious now. “He’s the reason the relay went down last week.”

The room went silent, the weight of her words settling over the group. Marcus studied Henry, his expression unreadable. “You’re the one who’s got them so riled up.”

Henry stepped forward, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach. “We’re trying to do more than that. We want to hit the energy grid.”

The room erupted into murmurs, a mix of disbelief and anxiety. Marcus raised a hand, silencing them. “That’s suicide,” he said bluntly. “You think a few lucky strikes will make a difference? They’ll crush us.”

“They’re already trying to crush us,” Henry said, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “The difference is, this time we hit back hard enough to make them feel it. But we can’t do it alone.”

Marcus shook his head. “You don’t get it, kid. People here don’t want a war. They want to survive.”

“And how long do you think they’ll survive if we don’t fight?” Leona countered, her voice sharp. “You’ve seen what they’re doing—rounding people up, choking the life out of this district. You think that’s going to stop if you keep your head down?”

The argument stretched on, tensions rising with every exchange. Henry felt the weight of their resistance—not just the upper city’s oppression, but the fear and doubt of the very people he needed to convince. For a moment, he wondered if they were right. Maybe this was too much to ask. Maybe they were doomed to fail.

But then Mia spoke up.

“We’re not asking you to do this for us,” she said, her voice steady. “We’re asking you to do it for yourselves. For your families. For everyone who can’t fight back.”

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the noise. Marcus looked at her, his expression softening. Finally, he sighed. “I’ll bring it to the group,” he said. “But I’m not making any promises.”

As they left the workshop, the tension between the trio was palpable. Leona walked ahead, her frustration evident in her sharp movements. Mia stayed close to Henry, her hand brushing his arm as they walked.

“You did good in there,” Mia said softly.

Henry shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re scared, and I don’t blame them.”

“Scared doesn’t mean they won’t fight,” Mia said. “Sometimes, it’s the only thing that makes people act.”

Their next stop was a smaller cell, hidden in an old factory on the edge of the district. The group was younger, more eager, but also more reckless. Their leader, a wiry woman named Kira, listened to Henry’s pitch with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “But guts don’t win wars.”

“No,” Henry agreed. “But they’re a start.”

Kira smirked, nodding slowly. “Alright, we’ll back you. But don’t expect us to play nice if this goes south.”

Leona raised an eyebrow. “We’ll take what we can get.”

By the end of the day, the trio had visited three cells. Each interaction was a balancing act, every conversation a test of trust and resolve. Some were eager to join, others hesitant, but the seeds had been planted. As they returned to their safe house, exhaustion weighed heavily on them.

Henry collapsed onto the cot, his body aching from the day’s efforts. Mia sat beside him, her expression a mix of worry and pride. “You’re doing it,” she said softly. “You’re bringing them together.”

Henry managed a weak smile. “I just hope it’s enough.”

That night, as Henry drifted into a restless sleep, the presence stirred again. Its voice echoed in his mind, cold and mechanical. “You cannot escape,” it whispered. “The system is eternal. You are its creation.”

Henry clenched his fists, his breath quickening. “I’m not part of you,” he muttered, his voice trembling.

The presence’s shadow loomed larger, its pressure suffocating. “You will understand. In time.”