Chapter 2: Exile from Home

After Professor Livingston left, I handed the family’s affairs over to my younger brother, Derek, and secretly set out with my wife, Tanya.

We packed what we could fit in the back of the Chevy Suburban before dawn, Tanya clutching her mother’s cross and Derek giving me a hug that lingered a second too long. The porch light flickered as we left, and for a moment, I wondered if we’d ever see home again.

First, because assisting the Professor in the Northern Campaign is an obsession for all those who came after. Second, because the words he left behind utterly confounded me.

A few days later, I arrived in Maple Heights with the army and immediately heard a deafening bell ringing.

Maple Heights was the kind of small town you’d find in the Midwest, all red-brick courthouse and white picket fences, but that day the streets were crowded with soldiers and refugees. The courthouse’s American flag hung limp in the muggy air, cicadas buzzing even over the distant sirens. There was no church or bell nearby, yet the sound echoed clearly in my ears.

It wasn’t just me—everyone around heard it too. They all clutched their heads in pain, as if the bell’s sound did not come from this world.

The crowd writhed in agony, men cursing under their breath, women shrieking, kids dropping their lunchboxes and covering their ears. It was as if the air itself vibrated with dread.

When the bell finally stopped, Lucas Chan walked out of the statehouse and stood before everyone. Behind him was an expressionless aide, while Lucas himself was in tears. He took a deep breath and shouted:

"Professor Grant Livingston, County Commissioner, has colluded with the enemy and intends to rebel. The evidence is conclusive. He shall—"

Before Lucas could finish, Professor Livingston was dragged up onto the city hall roof by officers and pushed off. A thin rope snapped tight around his neck, halting his fall—and ending his life.

At that moment, Lucas uttered the final two words:

"Death penalty."

A chill swept through the square. The silence after those words felt deeper than the bell’s noise, like the hush after a tornado’s passed and you’re left picking up the pieces, not sure what’s still standing.