Now the sun had set again. The clouds overhead had turned pink and red. Even that was fading. The blue of the sky was growing deeper and darker by the minute. The first stars had appeared. Night was coming. The tear gas would come soon.

Zhi Li hadn’t slept. The world felt grainy, unreal. She was exhausted.

She was exhilarated.

“We need a specific list of demands,” she said to Yuguo. They were sitting on the ground, on the hard dirt that had been grass just days ago, their backs to a heavy metal table turned onto its side as piece of cover.

Yuguo’s friend, Jian, next to him, nodded at her words, and Zhi Li turned to include him as well.

“We need to prioritize what we want,” she said. “Communicate it consistently from all the protests, so our voices add to each other’s…”

“What’s that noise?” Qi said next to her, suddenly turning, standing to look over the table.

Zhi Li stopped speaking. Then she could hear it too. She could feel the sudden alertness of the thousands of minds around her. She could hear it through their ears. It sounded like…

“Engines,” Lu Song said. He was up too. Dai was up. Yuguo was up. His friend Jian was up. Other people all around them were up, and looking.

The sound was growing louder. Zhi Li came to her feet, turned.

The tanks. In the twilight, lit by the fires and the spotlights, she could see the tanks moving forward, driving straight towards the still-burning barricades and the protest behind them.

She saw movement, closer. Her eye tracked it unconsciously. A boy, a student, his arm cocked back, a lit Molotov in his hand – and then he was hurling it forward.

She turned to look where it would go. Her eyes found the tanks again.

Their turrets were turning, aiming towards the boy, aiming roughly this way.

“DOWN!” Qi shouted.

Hands grabbed her, yanked her painfully to the hard ground.

The world exploded. The sound was deafening. Dirt and debris flew everywhere. There were screams. There was pain and fear shouting out from the minds all around there. Confusion.

New sounds arrived. Harsh metallic repetition. Badadadadadadada. Machine guns.

Screams.

“Lu Song!” she cried. She couldn’t see. There was someone in her arms. Someone she was holding. They were screaming. They were screaming! There was pain shooting from their mind! Horror!

“Lu Song!” She wiped the clods of dirt away from her face, opened her eyes.

“Lu Song!” Why was he screaming!

It was the boy she was holding. Yuguo’s friend. Jian.

He screamed again, in horror, in pain. It struck her full force from his mind.

His left arm was gone. It ended in a red trail of shirtsleeve, blood gushing out from it.

Zhi Li gasped. She put her hands on what was left of his arm, pressed hard, tried to stop the blood.