by Mya Robarts
Sparks of electricity shoot down to my core when he places his hands on my legs. He moves them upward, caressing my thighs, and finally revealing my underwear. As though I’m a breakable porcelain doll, he places me on the mattresses and covers me with his body. His hand trails my side from my waist to my thighs, sending pangs of pleasure deep through me.
Beads of sweat cover Rey’s beautiful face. His trembling hand caresses my hair and from there slides slowly from my shoulder to my chest before resting between my breasts. He slides down my shirt, exposing my left breast. His lips leave my mouth, trailing kisses along my collarbone, and travel to my neck, sucking gently. My entire body becomes a live wire when he kisses a path down my neck to the point where my heart is beating at full speed.
I’ve always tried to imagine how male lips would feel on my skin, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this wave of overwhelming sensations. It feels better than I thought it would. My back arches and I find myself asking for more. More of his hands, more of his eager mouth.
His strong hands find their way up my skirt and confidently untie my underwear. My heart is beating so fast that it hurts. This is a side of Rey I didn’t know. Primal, sexual Rey. Rey the man. Rey the lover.
I’m going to have sex, I think, feeling a mix of anxiety and triumph.
I pant when I take a look at our reflections in the mirror. We’re half naked; my legs are around his waist. His mouth hovers above my breast, and I’m writhing in anticipation.
Rey’s lips are about to cover my hardened nipple when a crashing sound startles us. Nothing to worry about. The ceiling of the next room crumbles to the ground all the time. I don’t know how long we stare into each other’s eyes, saying nothing.
Then it happens. Something I thought I was prepared to experience, but apparently, I’ve overestimated my strength of will: his rejection.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
He doesn’t push me away, but it hurts the same when he, still erect, takes his shirt from the floor and leaves the gym in a hurry.
Fighting the overwhelming feeling of humiliation and hurt, I button up my shirt. He doesn’t want what I have to offer. I’ve only made saying no very hard on him.
I was sure he’d say yes. There’s a general belief around: men can’t think about anything else, men need it all the time, men will jump at any opportunity. Why does Rey have to be the exception to the rule? This was supposed to be a blissful experience for both of us. His rebuff makes me feel so … cheap. So unworthy.
I try to conserve at least a little dignity while I leave the gym, fearing that I’ve lost my only friend.
Once outside, I whistle for Poncho. It’s not curfew yet but the dusty, steep streets are almost deserted, and there’s barely any visibility. My dog’s modified genes allow him to see through the darkness, so I rely on him to guide me. I can’t shake off the feeling that somebody’s watching me, but maybe I’m getting paranoid. But I prefer paranoia over the feeling of failure gnawing at me.
How am I going to face the troops now? I don’t even have enough time to meet someone else before the troops arrive. I work long shifts at a clothing factory. Later, I go to TCR training sessions in which, incidentally, Rey is an instructor. Would it be possible to develop a crush on someone and have this person return my interest in five weeks? At this moment, I wish that I was the kind of girl who can sleep with anybody, anytime, like Elena Rivers.
Well, it is what is. No use dwelling on this experience. I’ll find a different route to have a consensual first time. If Rey won’t cooperate, Fine! That’s his loss. I arrive home and prepare to live through the loneliest night of my short life.
My loneliest night doesn’t last long.
Chapter 5
Poncho howls way before the sirens start blaring. I shoot up off my pallet on the floor, instantly alert.
The building apartment rumbles and I get up in a flash. Azalea is already on her feet.
I’m hurrying into my usual pants and boots when another rumble startles us. An air raid? Starville capitulated long ago. Why would Patriots do this?
An explosion follows, and the force is enough to almost throw me to the floor. We have to go. I take my emergency backpack and desperately reach out for mom’s memories box.
“You don’t have time to that, idiot! Help Olmo!” shouts Azalea. She reaches for my cloak and throws it at me.
Azalea and Dad are soon at the door, prodding Olmo, whose face is a mask of terror. I make him climb on my back and in a breeze we are outside our apartment. My dad takes a moment to knock on the other first floor doors.
“Air raid! Go to the bunkers!”
A bomb hits the southern part of the town, one mile from where we are. Pieces of rubble fall from some of the buildings.
There’s an eerie light illuminating the horizon, as though lightning is striking the neighboring towns. Only we know it’s not lightning, but destruction. When the local churches ring their bells, more Starvillers empty their buildings into the streets, running past us.
The bunker isn’t far. Soon, we can see the air shelter entrance that once was an underground parking lot built in a natural cavern. The Starville commissioner, one of the few locals who works for the Patriot government, is at the bunker entrance leading people inside. But not us. He lets me, Azalea, and even Poncho in, but then he stops my dad and Olmo.
“There’s not enough space. Wait to see if there’s still room once everyone is inside. If this gets too crowded, you’ll have to seek refuge at the museum ruins.”
“I won’t go in there without them!” I shout.
“Me neither and I’m a minor; you’re breaking the law!” shouts Azalea, pushing against the entering crowd to exit the bunker.
“As you wish,” says the commissioner before acting as though we’re not there. I’m about to force our way in. But local guards and soldiers are near. It’ll be better not to risk a confrontation with them.
We head for the museum ruins, trying to fight our way against the incoming crowds.
I hear the rumbling, whooshing sounds of missiles passing. It is chaos—crying kids, terrified faces, screams, shouting— the anti-air raid sirens finally go off.
Then I realize he’s here. The man I fought this afternoon. He wears the typical Accord red cape and black armor. His long platinum hair covers half his face. Towering over everyone, he looks imposing as he barks orders with an accented voice to help the growing crowd get into the bunker.
None of the other Accord unit cops help Sasquatch to organize the mess as far as I can see. Instead, they’re trying to enter the building but he doesn’t let them.
“Prince Aleksey, please!” the smaller Accord cops beg, loudly enough for me to hear them. Panic contorts their faces. The Sasquatch cop, Aleksey, ignores them, focusing on helping get in as many Starvillers as he can.
My family and I struggle to advance. Some people step on my dad’s cart and Olmo’s out of breath. We won’t make it to the museum. We should search protection near here.
I turn my eyes to Aleksey just when his eyes find me. He seems to recognize me. Given the situation, I shouldn’t care that the last time I saw him, he was aroused.
“Hey, you! You’re going the wrong direction!” he yells at us.
“They won’t let us in. They told us to wait!” I yell back over the chaotic noise.
Aleksey strides toward us at the same time a bomb explodes far from here. He’s so intimidating that I instinctively cover Olmo with my body. Azalea seems to be ready to flee, but Dad is stupefied, frozen to the spot.
The cop eases Dad in one of his arms, as though he was nothing but a weightless doll, and carries his cart in the other. We gasp.
“No! Leave him alone!” Olmo shouts. Ignoring him, Aleksey starts toward the bunker entrance and pushes a number of Starvillers out of his way, clearing a path for us.
“That man isn’t allowed …” Kit Lee Rivers says, but he doesn’t continue when he notices Aleksey’s deadly glare.
The commissioner nods him forward and without a word, Aleksey enters the barely lit bunker and we follow him inside.
Aleksey climbs down the bunker’s stairs to the secure area, and gently—too gently for such a brutish looking man—lowers my father and his cart to the floor.
I look up to thank him, but my eyes meet his glare. The most hateful glare I’ve ever received. It doesn’t last more than a second, but it chills me as much as the sound of sirens and the chaos surrounding us.
Another blasting sound startles us; something’s exploded and it sounds much closer.
Aleksey turns away. Before exiting the bunker, he instructs the crowd to give preference to kids, women, and elderly men.
Olmos’s face looks terrified, and Poncho tries to calm him to no avail. I give Olmo his inhaler and hold him tightly. I’m about to tell him everything will be fine when he puts his arms around my neck and whispers in my ear.
“Don’t be afraid, Lily. I’ll be your protector.”
I kiss his hair and thank him. The bunker doors close, and we are left in the dark.
Kaboom! The biggest explosion yet. It’s so forceful that the whole building shakes.
People begin panicking, and you can feel, even smell, the fear inside the bunker. In the dark, I can feel Olmo’s body trembling. Dad protectively embraces Azzy and murmurs a prayer that is echoed by Olmo. At moments like this, I wish I believed a superior entity protects us. I envy them for their ability to pray. To hope.
Three hours pass before the air raid stops. It’s so crowded inside the bunker that the air is thick and hot, and most people haven’t found a spot to sit. We hear the bunker’s doors open, and a blaring voice announces we are free of danger.
“Wait for another hour before you exit the bunker,” commands Kit Lee Rivers.
My protector sleeps in my lap while Azzy’s fighting to keep her eyes open. My dad has his eyes closed, but I know he’s awake.
Something compels me to look up. Ten feet away, Rey’s carrying Reyna in his arms, and staring at me. He’s surrounded by at least a dozen Diaz relatives who I barely notice. I’m distracted by Rey’s amber eyes. I almost close the distance between us to hug him when his rebuff replays vividly in my mind. He flushes as much as I do before breaking eye contact.
My godfather, Baron, struggles against the crowd to approach my dad, followed by his sons Rey and Duque. “Dr. Velez! Compadre—” Baron’s roaring voice matches his stoutness. “Thanks to God we all made it! A good reason to celebrate the Assumption feast, isn’t it?”
While Baron talks to Dad, Rey’s discomfort becomes evident to Azzy. She shoots me a questioning look while I try not to look at him, which is hard. I crave him, and this time, it isn’t a sexual thing. I could use a hug at this moment.
Duque Diaz is oblivious to our awkwardness. At eighteen, he looks like a slimmer, shorter version of Rey. He searches the crowd for his fiancée, Veronica, who is also a TCR member.
“As soon as you two get married, leave Starville,” I joke.
Even his grin is the same as Rey’s. “Yeah, if we had the tattoos and a j-device.”
It’s easy to get out, but we wouldn’t survive outside. Not without a j-device, a traceable gadget shaped as a jewel that gives you access to money and works as ID. No Patriot or Nat city would admit us without one. The tattoos that brand you as a citizen are even more difficult to get. Only authorized Patriot artists can tattoo you. Besides, Olmo wouldn’t last one day of the merciless weather changes. We’d need an all-terrain vehicle that resists rotating weather, plus the attacks of genetically-modified beasts and bandits. Unfortunately, technology is forbidden for us.
Through Dad’s illegal books, I’ve learned how different life is outside this stinky town. I’d love to leave Starville, but the Diazes insist it’s the Patriots who should leave. Starvillers fought to keep their right to own this land, and the Diaz family is still fighting for the Nationalist cause.
Duque whispers some words that chill my bones. “I heard the raid’s target was Midian.”
I freeze. Our gang exchanges information with Midian resistance through messenger doves.
Duque flicks his head toward our gang’s leader. Then he goes to the other side of the bunker followed by the rest of his family. I understand his message. Patriots discovered the rebellion and acted accordingly. If the Comanches aren’t careful, Starville can face the same destiny.
I hug Olmo tightly, hoping that our involvement with TCR doesn’t hurt him. I’m only part of TCR because I fear recruitment. I don’t give a damn about politics. I don’t care about Nats, and if they weren’t raping and massacring us, I wouldn’t care about Patriots either. They can kill each other if they want, as long as they leave bystanders alone.
I was a scrawny thirteen-year-old when I joined TCR because Starville kids constantly bullied me. Rey would get furious seeing the purple marks on my face and always asked who my attackers were. It was usually Warren Rivers and his cousins, but I couldn’t tell Rey. I knew he’d pick up a fight with the Major’s son. Rey couldn’t be my bodyguard all the time, so I asked him to join his gymnastic club to become strong and fight back. I didn’t suspect that his gym club was in reality a resistance gang. TCR members learn combat skills that keep us strong and fast enough to commit sabotage attacks.
The museum is my second home. With a little luck, the bombs haven’t reached the museum area.
And with even more luck the resistance hasn’t been discovered yet.
* * *
In the early morning, the occupation soldiers make us leave the bunker. Rocco, the massive grey-skinned leader of the occupation soldiers, asks the families of the East side to gather at the town’s plaza in two hours.
We lag so Dad and Olmo can take their time climbing the stairs up.
A slightly accented voice startles us. “Carry you outside?” A scowling Aleksey is staring at my father. His offer would be kind if his voice weren't so rough.
My father hesitates, before nodding. “Thank you … um … General …”
Aleksey mumbles something almost unintelligible. It sounds like Fee-oh-st. I eye him suspiciously. General Feeurst is terrifying in his lethal, rugged beauty. He looks more like a lion about to attack than a guy coordinating evacuation efforts.
Aleksey carries my dad to a deserted street and we run to tag along with his unnatural stride. I scan my surroundings and don’t notice at first where the worst of destruction is. Most of the multifamily apartment complexes are visible in the distance, apparently still in place. But there’s smoke spreading all over the town that stems from the East and North side.
Carefully, Aleksey puts my dad on his cart and disappears among the crowd without acknowledging my father’s thanks. If it hadn’t been for Aleksey, the commissioner wouldn’t have let us in. Most Starvillers loathe us. Partly because Dad treated plenty of Patriot soldiers. Partly because he has performed abortions on rape victims. But, mostly because of the mixed Hispanic heritage that shows in Olmo’s and Dad’s skin. Starvillers value purity of race. Any race, as long as they can assume its purity. They don’t tolerate half-bloods and we’re evidently mixed.
Dad catches some rumors. “They say Patriots destroyed Midian. The bombs here were a mistake,” he whispers worriedly, looking at the horizon. “What we received is only an echo of what could have been our end. Perhaps a warning.”
My eyes turn to the Midian hills, several miles away of Starville. Two giant smoke columns swell up in dark billows. Ignoring my father’s protests, I climb one of the highest hills in town to get a better view of the damage. Some people stand at the crest of the hill surveying the scene. The dark smoke takes ghostly forms. The Starvillers around me say they can see the wicked smiles of demons in the smoke clouds.
When I finally reach the top and scan the town, my heart clenches painfully.
The apartment building where I slept in anguish only some hours ago isn’t there anymore. In its place, there’s an enormous crater.
I race down the hill toward the crater. The street is full of rubble. I stumble over some scattered objects and fall, landing on lifeless bodies. Or more exactly … on dead limbs. Horrified, I look at a child’s arm.
Fighting down the carrots and bread from last night’s meal, I welcome the numbness that suddenly overcomes my mind.
“The false accusations of mass rape, in territories occupied by Patriot troops, have hurt the feelings of an entire nation. A nation that has done nothing but support international causes since the twentieth century.”
“There’s no mass rape in my country, but there’s an honorable institution in which we Patriots take pride: Recruitment.”
Extract of Maximillian Kei’s speech for the United Neutral Nations Organization Spring Conference
Chapter 6
I stand with my dad and siblings near the crater we used to call home. It smells of burnt flesh. I’d mourn the casualties, but at this moment, desperation and worry haunt my thoughts. Other than the clothes we wear and our emergency backpacks, we have nothing. Where will we live? What will we eat?
I look at my dad. He tries to cheer us up, but I know he’s grieving his losses: Mom’s clothes and pictures, his scientific records, his illegal solar e-reader, and everything that made his life better. My father’s books were his source of hope. He always says that knowledge can bring about a difference in the world. Dad breathes three times and blinks repeatedly. His eyes turn red, but he keeps smiling. It breaks my heart to see him trying so hard to stay strong for us by hiding his emotions.
Olmo, on the other hand, is bawling. His most valued possessions—notepads full of his tales, broken toys, some candies—the little things that made him happy disappeared. I hold him close, but I can’t allow myself to grieve. I have pressing deflowering problems. Now more than ever I need to lose my V. No home means we can’t fabricate the anti-rape pills.
As we walk toward the plaza meeting, I hear Dad thanking his God that we didn’t lose our lives. I shiver when I see the path we almost took last night. We wouldn’t have made it to the museum.