text: John sat in his booth, as he had done for the past year, watching the time creep by. He wasn’t happy in his job, but someone had to do it. Since the fall of the government the border had become a main priority for the rebels. They had tried multiple times to breach the divide, but to no avail. John sipped his coffee and played solitaire on the decrepit computer he had been given. A cool chill ran down his spine. There was something amiss. He was alone tonight. He didn’t like that. His partner Rosaline had asked for the night off, and John didn’t have the heart to say no. He reached for the cup of coffee again, and took another sip. He noticed a set of headlights approached from the northern side. He tensed up slightly but took some deep breaths and tried to relax himself. He heard the low beating of the engine as the car came into earshot. He couldn’t make out the model from where he was sitting. The black car rolled slowly towards the crossing. The brakes squeaked as the car came to a smooth stop. John peered into the black tinted windows but was met only by his own gaze. He signalled to the driver to lower the window. They obliged. The dimly lit interior made it difficult to distinguish the passengers of the car. He could only make out the silhouette of the drivers face under the bright halogen lamps overhead. But he didn’t see the handgun that the driver pulled from beneath his jacket. John’s head snapped back and his legs crumbled under his limp body’s weight. The driver placed the gun in the glove box of the car, and grabbed his radio. He grunted a command down to his accomplices. Suddenly from the hill that the gunman travelled from, a row of lights began to turn on. The rebels stormed towards the crossing. They had done it. They were in control now. The news reached the makeshift capital within hours. The rebels made sure that their presence was known, launching flares and firing bullets into the air. They could afford to do that. They had a plentiful supply of resources. William Cardinal, former Taoiseach, now leader of the resistance, had worked tirelessly for the past few months, but now his hard work had been undone in a matter of minutes. He had been asleep before the sound of gunshots had awoken him. A common sound in modern Ireland. It didn’t worry him anymore. It was the new recruits being trained. Even the youngest and weakest of soldiers were being readied for deployment only a few miles from where they had once lived, ate and played. In matter of months the whole democracy had been overturned. Although not complete anarchy, the only guidelines that the people followed now were determined by their own moral compass. Ireland had never been more dangerous. The country was in the midst of a civil war. William felt the warm tears flood his eyes and run down his face. He had laboured all his life to be in this position, now he would give anything to be out of it. He was interrupted by a knock to his office door. The door burst open before he had dried his face of the salty tears. He turned to face the window before he saw who had joined him. The familiar voice of Devin McKeown, his right hand man, greeted his ears. “It’s not good Bill, the rebel hordes are advancing quickly towards the capital.” William knew this would happen eventually. But he was prepared. He quickly cleared his face of tears and turned to face Devin. “Please sit.” He gestured towards the luxurious leather armchair that resided in his office. He reached for the file on his desk and threw it towards Devin. The file was mark classified and was virtually untouched. When Devin opened the file he was greeted by the title “The Exodus”. “The Exodus? What’s that supposed to mean?” “We’re getting out of here, I’ve got a man who can take us out under the cover of night. He’s got a boat and we can be in Liverpool by tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Devin asked. “I’m leaving tonight with or without you. I need to know where your loyalty lies.” “You’re asking me to abandon my country. What about the resistance. What about all of the soldiers that we’re training to die. Have you no morals? Have you no conscience? You honestly think I will commit treason for you, a snivelling, overwhelmed excuse for a leader.” “Watch your tongue. Just because you have served me well thus far, doesn’t mean that I can’t have you taken care of.” “So it has come to this. Threats. Abuse. You don’t understand what it’s like to serve for your country. You don’t know what it’s like to be thrown into battles you have no chance of winning. You don’t understand. You never will. I’m not like you. I’m not comfortable abandoning my country when it needs me most just to fade into obscurity. I don’t want to be remembered as the man that helped the cowering Taoiseach to his escape. I want to stand and fight. And if I die, so be it. I will leave behind a legacy. Years from now when our children’s children are learning about the Rebellion, I will be remembered, I will not be erased by death. My legacy shall be everlasting.” William regretted it immediately when his fist struck Devin’s chin. He collapsed. He was out. William grabbed his bag and fled the office. He took into a light jog through the damp and murky hallways trying to get to the nearest exit. One of the fire exits was left ajar, so William darted out the opening. He decided against taking the former government car as it would attract too much attention. He climbed inside Devin’s blue hatchback. Devin always left his keys on the back driver side wheel. William was in the clear for now. He reflected on what Devin had to say while he drove to the docks. His years in politics had made him tough-skinned to criticism. But this time it was personal. Someone that William had trusted so dearly had turned on him. It hurt. It was approaching four in the morning, dimly light and punctuated by the revolving yellow light of the nearby lighthouse when William had reached the docks. He left a small rucksack with a sum of money inside at the designated drop point. William approached a boat that resembled that of the one that had been described to him. He approached one of the men that stood at the stern of the boat. He shouted up to him, “I’m looking for Morpheus.” Morpheus was the codename that his assistant had given themselves. William boarded the boat and went down to the lower decks. He was instructed to stay in the engine room. He entered the room and closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. He had done it. He was free.