Free The Uprising (The Julianna Rae Chronicles) by Aral Bereux

along now. Nothing to see.
    The crowds heard his whisper, some left, and some chose to stay. The Senate had held their promise, and the new strength running through his body surged like electricity. He felt young again, like he felt after his initiation.
    What a stunning day to behold .
    He raised his face to the sun and closed his eyes. The smell of Sector Four curled around him and he grimaced. Maybe not so beautiful. He ambled across the road with his hands swinging casually next to the weapons strapped against his sides. He made his way down the stairs, moving his shoulders to keep his own space from the soldiers, and casually turned the handle of the glass door in front. He usually left the outer Sectors to their own demise, coming here was a risk worth taking.
    It was locked. He smiled, and gave his command with a quiet nod.
    The door splintered on the first kick, and the second crashed it open, giving the swarm of Militia a wide hole to run through. They filed in, organized and with intent, circling the bar. Their rifles clicked simultaneously as they aimed them toward the man behind it.
    Hal looked up in his shock. ‘Darn look what you done to my door. Get out I say.’ He raised the hand that grasped a cleaning cloth, to steal the weapons from their possession.
    ‘Uh ah, old man. Lower that hand,’ Taris ordered. ‘Right now, or I get nasty.’
    Taris sauntered into the center of the room, dressed in full uniform, his gold chain hung around his neck, his boots polished to a high sheen. He held a rifle with one hand, using his shoulder to support its aim at Hal’s chest. His other hand raised, and with a smile, he commanded the old man’s hands down to his sides with a quiet chant. The cloth dropped to the floor.
    ‘Now there’s a sight,’ Hal said.
    ‘It has been a long time, agreed.’ Taris lowered the rifle ‘Be a good man, and get us a drink.’
    ‘It’s against the Articles to sell hard liquor,’ Hal bent over for his cloth.
    Taris raised his rifle. ‘Hands where I can see them.’
    Hal straightened and rested his hands on the counter between them. His fingers splayed. ‘Me thinks you be searching for somebod.’
    ‘Any idea where they are?’ Taris looked back at his officers forcing Hal’s company into chairs, lining them along the far wall beneath the peeling paint. Their guns were cocked, ready for the command to fire at a point blank range.
    Hal shook his head. ‘Nope.’
    ‘Wanting trouble, Hal?’ Taris ran his hand over the polished wood, stopping at the only chip in the counter. He admired it.
    ‘Nope, Commander.’              
    ‘Commander now?’ Taris looked at his surrounding men. ‘He called me Commander,’ Taris returned his cold glare to Hal. ‘I remember the day you gave me a flogging for back answering you.’ Taris walked along the side of the counter, running his hand along it as he went. ‘You remember that, when I was a slip of a kid? You told me to toughen the-fuck-up.’ He leaned over, peering at the line of alcohol on the back shelf.
    ‘I remember,’ Hal said. His curtness was noted, watching Taris with his black eyes.
    Taris sauntered back, retracing his steps, with his fingers still sliding along the soft wood, and stopped at the notch in the counter, again. ‘I’d like to now thank you for that day.’ He raised his hands, the rifle pointed to the ceiling. ‘What do you think – am I tough enough now?’
    Hal thinned his lips. The troops behind the commander waited with their rifles poking int o the Rebels, who had worked closely with Daniel. He knew what was coming and it was no surprise. The sudden rise of power, the abilities gifted upon the young showing promise to the cause. He lowered his gaze to the hand resting before him, toying with the hole in the wood and sighed. This visit was anticipated.
    ‘She’s been here,’ Taris said. ‘When?’
    ‘Three days past, left with Daniel for the country looking for yer