It came together with speed that only unsatisfied youth can create.
Hundreds of young men and women, across all fifty states and beyond, responded to Justin’s call.
He hadn’t told the whole truth; just what would be useful to tell. His capture and discovery of his true enemies—but kept the reason to why they wanted to kill to a simple case of ‘knowing too much’.
And then there were things that were obviously suspect: the subway fight; the deaths and injuries of SWAT members on unsanctioned movements; the covered up deaths of two foreign nationals; the fact that Connor Halling, though officially not yet again a politician, had the mayor of New York City in his pocket.
He had struck chords. Now it was a thrilling song. Justin knew how Connor felt—a spider in his web.
His mother didn’t know he was alive. He hadn’t called her. Connor, with his resources, would be watching her. If she were to know anything she would be in danger. Better to let the late-night news stories run their course—a teenage fugitive who helped to blow up a subway station in New York, they said.
It couldn’t be helped. Not yet. But the time was coming.