Peter spent the morning in his cell counting the tiles on the ceiling several times. There was only one. His room was seven by eight feet with a metal bed frame and one foam mattress. There was metal toilet and one roll of toilet paper. The sink on the wall had a stack of five paper cups on it as if he knew how to use a metal cup to kill himself with.

He was stretched out on the bed dressed in grey coveralls that were too small, strategically tight in places to keep him from running or moving his arms too much. He moved his hands around slowly in front of him, looking at how his fingers were individually wrapped in gauze while his feet were wrapped so it looked like he was wearing large socks. He had more gauze inside his mouth where three of his molars were removed. Every once in awhile he would test talking. He thought he sounded drunk.

"You come to me, on this day of my daughter’s wedding..." He smirked, an old movie he watched when his parents snuck him and his sisters into town for a medical check up. There was a nice doctor who knew what would happen to him if he were found to be helping Indians, but still took the risk. Peter wondered where he was now. The last time he saw him Peter was twelve.

Maybe he ended up in a room like this?

He wondered if that's why he was more optimistic than Karen. He grew up in the forest like her but he grew up smuggled into civilization where he met good people, people that were still willing to fight the system. She did have fifteen years on him. She was old enough to know what was happening during the major uprisings. At forty-one she would've been twenty when the shit hit the fan. She would've seen first hand the horrible things people were capable of.

He was seeing that now, but unlike her, Peter had hope. Maybe because he was looking for it, or maybe it was the fact he had hope he could see it for what it was.

The pharmacist popped into Peter's head. The elder man in a white lab coat, Peter struggled to remember his name and came up with Steve. Then there was Bob the border guard. He gave Peter a pack of gum when he crossed back into Canada. But it was Bill that really sold him on the idea this world could be saved.

The day they came back to Canada, Peter was in the living room of Bill’s house when the elder man approached him. Peter had taken an interest in the family portraits on the wall, simple pictures of kids and happy times.

"Heather phoned. She should be here soon." Bill had told him. Peter nodded and Bill saw where he was looking. "That's my family. Five kids, eleven grand kids."

"They look happy."

"Yup, doing well. I talk to most of them on the skype. You ever get six or seven people talking on that thing at once?" Bill watched Peter shake his head. "No sorry. Hell, I can't keep up. I just sit there and listen."

"That's nice."

Bill nodded. He took a breath. "You know I'm going to tell you something. Goes back a few years. I was a young man, nineteen. Just joined the Marine Corp." Bill showed him a picture on the wall of a kid in uniform. "There was a war going on back east, out in the desert. My brothers and I got shipped to the front. One of us was this little guy, five foot six, maybe five foot seven, Indian. Dark as you and told us he was Navajo. He name was Travis. Quiet guy, never really said anything but would laugh at the right times, always went along with what the rest of us where doing. So, one day our orders where to patrol a hot zone. Nothing's happened there for months, so we're all feeling secure until the first Humvee hit an I.E.D, right? Tore it to shreds. Put some pieces into me, all up and down my side. My blood was everywhere."

Bill lifted his shirt to show the scars along his side.

"So, I'm screaming and people start shooting at us, and my buddy Nick is trying to stop the bleeding on me but he's also hurt, part of his face is torn up. I thought we were fucking toast. But then this Indian shows up at our door, pulls what's left of it off and hands me a rifle. He says 'keep shooting I'll be right back.' So he grabs Nick, drags him off. I didn't know it then but Travis took a round to his back. Somebody actually shot him, but that didn't stop him. He took another one coming back for me, carried me back to his Humvee while the whole place was on fire. Two bullets, he took two bullets for me. Afterwards he said to me, 'you just tell people I'm the little Injun that could.'"

Peter and Bill chuckled.

"So this war breaks out in Canada, and Travis comes by ten years after saving my life and he says he needs help getting across the border. So me and my wife, we pack the car up to go camping. Travis hops in the trunk. I took him to some park where his friends were waiting. We said our goodbyes...that's the last time I ever saw or heard from the man I called my brother." Bill motioned to the wall. "Look at this family. All those smiling faces. None of this would've happened if he didn't put me first. None of it. I was good as dead. That's who I'm fighting for. And when it gets dark up there, and you feel alone, you remember that. We are out here. We will do what we can."

Peter felt good on the trip home.

The door to the cell opened as two Indian Agents descended on Peter. They grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. "Hi guys. I'm not really up for anything today, but if you come back tomorrow..."

They took Peter down the hall to a civilized interrogation room, where Richard was waiting for him. He wore a tan suit, and sat properly with one leg over the other while holding a notebook. Peter was brought around the table and he noticed there was a thick black laptop with wires coming out of it. To the right of the chair Peter was placed in, he observed the three IV bags.

"Good morning. I understand you're healing well." Richard was always polite.

"I'm loving the pain killers." Peter states.

"Excellent." Richard waited as the Agents strapped Peter’s wrists to the chair and cuffed his legs to the floor. "And you've slept well?"

"No. It was cold."

"I'll ask them to turn up the heat for you."

"That could be interpreted in so many ways by them. Could you be specific when you ask."

Richard laughed and nodded that he would, "So, what we have here are two devices of my own making. I am a doctor. I have a PhD in medical sciences but also studied extensively is neural biology, so these are physically safe for you. They shouldn't, when applied properly, harm you in any way."

Peter took no comfort from this. Richard stood up so Peter tried to back up but couldn't get any further due to his restraints.

"This machine here..." Richard said as he turned the laptop on and picked up the wires. Peter could see the electrodes at the end. "It's going to read the different types of electrical surges that your brain gives off. It's also going to monitor your perspiration and breathing rate."

Richard started attaching the seven wire ends to Peter, who moved his head but one of the Agent moved forward and held him still.

"It's basically a lie detector, and from what we've seen it's 100 percent infallible. You might believe that you can beat it, and the only sure way to convince you that you can't is to see it work. You know when you're lying. You can make that judgment when it occurs." Richard moved to the other side of the chair. "Just be aware that I know it works, and trying to prove to me it doesn't is a waste of both our times."

Richard stuck the needle into Peters arm, and then hit the 'on' button and the IV started to drip. Peter narrowed his eyes as he felt a burning flow into the vein. Richard taped the needle into place.

"For a lack of a better name, truth serum. My own formula. Once it takes hold it does more than make you be honest, you'll want to share information." Richard took his seat again. "On their own, both devices are extremely effective. Together, completely full proof. Shall we begin?"

"I'd rather not." Peter closed his eyes for a few seconds, the burning moved up his arm to his neck and when it reached his head it began to feel like an adrenaline rush. His vision became fuzzy and his head turned light as if he stood up from the floor too fast. This wasn't going to be good.

"Now, what is your name?" Richard asked.

"Steven..." Peter stated.

"Nope, that would be a lie. I can wait a few more seconds."

Peter didn't feel right at all. The room felt lopsided and he had to squeeze the armrests or he'd fall over. He could feel his muscles begin to vibrate but when he looked at them they remained immobile.

"What is your name?" Richard asked.

"Peter." Peter screamed at himself in his head, 'Shut-up!'

"True." Richard said as he looked at his computer, he wrote it down on his notepad. "And how old are you, Peter?"

"Twenty-two."

Richard nodded. "And Peter, how come your prints don't show up in our system?"

"I was never put in the system." Peter bit his lip, he didn't want to answer but he couldn't stop himself. "We moved off grid when I was one."

"And that's where you live now, off the grid in the bush?"

"Yes."

"Are you a member of the rebellion?"

"Yes."

"And what rank are you?"

"We don't have ranks, but I'm second only to Karen." Stop!

"Karen is your leader." Richard wrote this down. "Do you know where she is now?"

"In camp."

"We've raided the camp, Peter. Where would she have gone after that?" Richard watched as Peter fought it. He just had to be patient, as he had never seen anybody win.

"North East, fifteen kilometers toward Mount Rain." Peter hit the arm rest the best he could, hoping pain would let him focus.

"Excellent, Peter. Now this camera. Where did you get it from?"

"Michael, from the United Nations human rights envoy. He wants proof of what's happening up here." Peter knew what question was coming next.

"How did this Michael get it to you?"

"We went to him."

"How did you get across the border?"

"A Pharmacist’s." You don't remember his name, you can't remember it. "Steven. He has a shop at the border with a tunnel under the street that crosses into the US. We were picked up there and taken to Bill and Diane's house. Michael met us there."

"What's Steven’s last name?"

"I don't know." Peter breathed out a sigh of relief. At least he didn't know that.

"Well, how many pharmacies along the border could there be? With a pharmacist named Steve?" Richard said causing the Agents to chuckle. "Ok Peter, as the second in command, I'm assuming you're privy to secrets?"

"Yes..." Peter tried to lock eyes with him but became dizzy.

"Secrets as to who's in our office that's been feeding information to your side."

"Yes." Peter said; the names raced through his brain against his will. Elizabeth, Olson, Jeffery, Wolfgang...no, don't tell him. They'll kill them, they'll kill them and it will all be your fault.

"We are aware that we have some leaks. Tell me who they are." Richard put his pen to the paper and waited.

People are going to die Peter, and every death will belong to you unless you fight this! Fight it! Peter couldn't though, he was exhausted and it only got worse every time the IV dripped into his blood system.

"Damien." Peter said after a moment.

The Agents reacted with puzzlement. Richard raised an eyebrow. "Damien? The man that tortured you two nights ago. He's your source?"

"Yes." Peter said.

"How is he your source?"

"Sex." Peter smiled. "He likes to force our women to have sex with him and he likes to brag. So we let him. He tells them everything. Names, numbers, what you're doing."

Richard motioned to one of the Agents who quickly left the room. Richard sighed and looked back at Peter. "Is there anybody else?"

"Yes."

"Who?"