by Mya Robarts
We start with a warm up and simple combat exercises. Very easy.
When we pair up for more complicated exercises, the ditched sessions take a toll on me. I’m usually part of the top four fighters, but today I have problems defeating Veronica, the most recent addition to TCR. When I finally manage to beat her, I’m sweaty and bruised. Even with our rudimentary protection gear, I get hit twice. While fighting Cara, I get my lip cut. It’s humiliating. Ignoring the pain, I swear I’ll wake up at four a.m. every morning to practice.
Veronica notices my struggles and taunts me. “So, V-girl, will you ever take charge?”
I frown. I haven’t been the greatest contribution to the resistance lately, but Veronica isn’t the most significant contributor either. Rey usually keeps the youngest of us out of the most dangerous missions: Holly, Duque, Veronica, and me.
Rey scowls. “Leave her alone.”
But I’m already sliding mattresses to the middle of the room. “I’ll take charge!”
“Not another first aid lesson, V-girl?” asks Joey.
I shake my head. “Freestyle wrestling. Grab a mattress.”
“Yes!” Luke says enthusiastically.
“Work in pairs,” I command. Cara and Holly, Divine and Joey, Veronica and Duque, Luke and Rey.
Everyone’s eyes are on me. I have to demonstrate first.
I walk straight toward Mathew, who is in a defensive stance over the mattress. Inside I’m feeling less secure than I’m trying to appear. He’s strong, but I’m fast.
Aware of Rey’s proximity, I show off a little. In a sweeping move, I’m behind Mathew pushing his knees with mine, balancing him off. Using my hips to gain strength, I punch his side. He lands with a thud.
Mathew smiles. “Nice! Way to go V-girl!”
From the corner of my eye I see Rey smiling appreciatively, and I have to fight the impulse to grin at him. “Take turns to try to make your opponent fall to the ground. Then switch partners.”
In no time, everyone is wrestling as I monitor the pairs, giving feedback here and there. I command them to switch partners. I almost snort when I correct Veronica’s technique as she struggles to keep her balance against Divine.
I’m giving some feedback to Holly and Duque when someone grabs me by behind. In a fraction of a second, my back lands on the mattress and Rey’s hard rock body is above me, his face only an inch from mine. His hands grab my wrists above my head. I forget how to breathe.
He grins playfully. “Don’t ever leave your defenses open.”
I struggle to recover my composure. There’s nothing but friendship between us, but my body doesn’t know the difference. A hot, electrical sensation spreads all over my body. Rey’s eyes have mischievous glint. His body lingers over mine more than it should before he stands up.
I’m left feeling dizzy. My accelerated breathing embarrasses me. At this moment, I realize how wrong I am in regarding him as a saint. He’s a man. A hot-blooded man who sets my body on fire.
The rest of the afternoon is spent scheming and plotting. With our rudimentary weaponry and the ban on gunpowder, the most we can do for now is to mess with Patriot roads and railroads. We’re extremely cautious and start sabotage missions only when storms and tornados erase our tracks. If Patriots discover us, Starville will suffer the same destiny as Midian.
Rey asks for volunteers for the next mission: An excursion to the electric wires that run north sixty miles from the lake. He’ll create an untraceable server with a wireless connection there to give us access to sites free of government censorship. Bandits, weather, beasts, and soldiers are risks we have to consider. We don’t have vehicles, so the five volunteers will have to hike for days. Some of us will have to stay. If the mission goes wrong and nobody survives, there’ll be Comanches left to continue the resistance. My dad, Mathew’s wife, and Baron Diaz don’t train with us, but they’re members, too.
Everyone volunteers and now it’s supposed to be Rey’s call. He’s not a tyrant, but the kind of leader who values his people’s opinions. The first opinion he asks for is mine. I hate being on the spot, so my tone is nervous. “You and I, Rey. Cara because she’s great with weapons, and Mathew because he’s our best hacker. Perhaps Luke wants to stay this time because he was part of the last two missions, but I’d take Luke’s sister, instead.”
“What? Elena doesn’t even know about us,” says Luke.
“As bait,” I explain. I was expecting Luke to get angry, but he laughs along with everyone else. He knows his sister has been a bitch with everyone here.
Others suggest a similar line up. Rey will go, along with Cara, Mathew, and Luke. There’s only one spot left. I fight for it with all I have. But at the end Rey chooses Duque. Of course, Rey always overprotects me. Hell, it makes sense for him to do so.
The meeting ends and I hurry to gather my backpack.
I find Poncho, and we dart through the streets. While running, I feel my bruises aching and a stubborn determination to achieve my goals. I have two objectives in mind: One is to become TCR’s top fighter. The other is trying to find a partner to lose my V.
I pass Olga Buzko’s house. It used to be Angie’s home. She was nineteen, a spinster’s age and afraid of being recruited, but Rey put off marriage to raise Reyna. She married Buck Weaver to get a marriage tattoo. Azzy gave her the cold shoulder after that, but I would’ve done the same. You don’t belong in society without a tattoo, and you can’t get other tattoos without the marital one. I’d do anything to avoid recruitment, including marrying a man I don’t love.
I hear loud footfalls behind me; I turn to find Rey catching up with me. Did he hurry through whatever he had to do at the museum to find me?
He doesn’t look comfortable around me, and I’m at a loss for words that’ll make us both feel better. If I were a person who knew how to apologize, I’d say: I’m sorry. I tried to force him to do something he didn’t want, and now he acts awkwardly around me. But what’s the point in apologizing? Words can’t change the past.
“Lily, can’t we at least be friends?”
Friends. The word stings for a reason. “Not yet. Give me some time.”
His eyes look pained in a way that has nothing to do with sudden physical exertion. “I wish we could go back to what we were before.”
“Me, too. I just feel … embarrassed at the moment. And before I ... I have to take care of some things.”
He understands what I mean. “Some things? You mean you’re still trying to … you know—”
This whole conversation feels wrong and I can’t stand it. “I don’t want to talk about this, and especially not with you.”
His face is a mask of frustration. Rey grabs my hand before I can dart away. “Wait, Lily. Please … don’t do anything. You shouldn’t do something you’ll regret after recruitment. You don’t have to.”
Well, it’s easy for Rey to say that. I might be accompanying the troops toward a life of sexual slavery soon.
“Yes, I have to.”
Chapter 9
The Comanches could have taken care of my bruises and cuts, but I was too proud to tell them that I didn’t protect myself during training. When I open the door of an empty examination room, I expect to find Dad, but I find Aleksey instead. He’s leaning against a medicine cabinet, scribbling in his journal.
Ugh! This idiot made fun of my V problems. “Oh … er … I was looking for my dad.”
Aleksey has barely given me a glance. He’s still engrossed in his notes. I won’t ask him if he’s seen Dad. He’s always taciturn and most likely won’t answer my question.
I hesitate at the threshold for a moment biting my lip, completely forgetting about the cut. “Ow!”
I’m about to close the door when his deep voice stops me. “Wait.”
I turn and look at him warily. He frowns and doesn’t say a word, but his index finger points to my now bleeding lip.
I nervously answer his unspoken question with a lie. “I ... I … fell.”
> His blue eyes show a hint of concern. After all, he’s a doctor. I look down when I remember this isn’t the first time we’ve been alone after one of my falls. Although this time we aren’t naked, my cheeks feel suddenly warm.
“Come here,” he orders.
I don’t even hesitate. Something in his voice compels me to obey. He must have achieved his General rank by his ability to make people obey him.
I stand near him, looking down. From the corner of my eyes, I see him examining me carefully.
“Sit,” he commands.
As much as Patriots try to deny it, this clinic was built for taller patients. Drug-filled patients. My feet dangle from the examination table.
My breathing stops when he gets closer. He expertly cleans my bruises and cuts with gauze. I gasp when I feel his enormous hand grabbing my arm. The Accord cop applies an ointment on the bruises that makes the pain disappear. I’m not used to this kind of soft touch, and the sensation is nerve-racking and pleasant at the same time.
He hands me an ice bag. “Put this on your knee and keep it there.”
When he becomes interested in my swollen lip, his face gets hazardously close. My heart beats painfully in an erratic rhythm. I venture a glance at his blue eyes and regret it immediately. I close my eyes to avoid his piercing blue stare, but I can’t avoid his smell. Or the sound of his breathing.
He must have put his face extremely close because I can feel his warmth radiating near my face. An intoxicating smell emanates from his muscular body: a mix of clean clothes, wood, and a masculine scent.
I’m shutting my eyes with more force than necessary. His mint-scented breath tickles my eyelids, then my cheeks and finally my lips.
A soft humming sound escapes my lips now that I’m extremely aware of the heat emanating from Aleksey’s mouth. It feels as though he’s about to brush my lips with his. My stomach contracts nervously and every nerve becomes alert, but I don’t pull back.
Before our lips touch the warmth of his, the closeness is gone.
I refuse to open my eyes. My heart is pounding frenetically, and I’m breathing at an abnormal speed. What the hell was that? Is that how he treats all of his patients?
I hear him searching through the cabinets and putting something on the examination table. I open my eyes and see him scribbling on a piece of paper. He hands me the folded paper without meeting my eyes and silently leaves the room.
My trembling hands open the paper. It’s a prescription.
I take the medicines from the table and head to my room. Heat still burns my face, but I feel as though a heavy oppression has lifted from my chest, and now I can breathe normally.
That night I toss and turn several times in my bed before my eyes feel heavy. My mind still revolves around what happened. The kissing attempt was all in my head; he’s a professional. Perhaps he’s more decent than what I gave him credit for. This is the second time that he could have overpowered me, and didn’t.
The imaginary kiss attempt left me yearning, but I’m glad it was all in my imagination, and he didn’t cross the line. Because, for some reason, Rey is the last person I think about before sleep finds me. As attractive as Aleksey is, Rey will always attract me more.
No girl can jump from thinking a man can rape her to falling head over heels for him.
* * *
The sound of shots and screams filters through the walls, waking me up. Terror runs through my body paralyzing me. Somehow I end up under the wooden floorboards. From my hidden place, I can see everything.
My father injects Olmo and Azzy with a tranquilizer, and they stop crying. “As soon as the soldiers are gone, take your siblings to Baron’s.” There’s desperation under his calm voice.
Loud banging noises startle me. The door is about to fall off from its hinges.
No!
The four colossal soldiers break through our apartment seconds after dad shoves Olmo and Azzy into a hidden closet.
Somebody! Help!
I can’t scream. I can’t close my eyes. Not even when they viciously beat my mother’s swelling belly. Not even when they crush my dad’s legs with their massive clubs.
Stop! She’s pregnant!
His acne-filled face, framed by a long mane of white hair, reveals that he might not be fifteen yet. He’s slightly less built than the other soldiers, but he beats them all in cruelty and sadism when he cuts my mother’s clothes with his knife, cutting her skin along with her dress.
They take turns abusing her.
The teenage soldier isn’t satisfied. He uses the handle of his knife to attack her.
Again and again. Her blood filters through the floorboard reaching my place.
Kill her! I’d rather you killed her… just … stop!
But she’s still alive and partially conscious when they drag her out of the apartment.
It’s my scream, and not the tears wetting my pillow, that wakes me up. Breathing so heavily that my chest hurts, I look at my surroundings. It’s hard to convince myself that I’m back in reality. It’s been five years, but the wet sensation of my mom’s blood on my hands makes me shiver.
The gloomy, barely audible music that comes from Aleksey’s room is what finally convinces me that I’m awake. My dreams are always so vivid that this soothing, celestial music could be another one of them. Unfortunately what I dreamt is an exact recreation of the events of that day.
To this day, I feel guilty. What kind of daughter doesn’t close her eyes through her mother’s most horrifying experience? I don’t know what time it is, but I can’t go back to sleep. I work out instead, trying to wash away my guilt in sweat.
* * *
My nightmare brings me back to the glade next the river. Watching the lovers may be a perverted act, but I need a reminder that sex is a natural act and an expression of love. I may never have that kind of love for myself, but at least I can fantasize about it.
They’re mutually inverted, Joey at the bottom. I try to imagine how warm and moist his mouth feels in her most sensitive parts but today I can’t.
I hear a sound to my right. Three feet from me, Aleksey sits down on the grass.
My first impulse is to flee; his appearance is so similar to the soldiers of my nightmares that I shiver. But I stay rooted to the spot, keeping my eyes on Joey, pretending I don’t see Aleksey. The rational part of me says I shouldn’t feel afraid. If he were anything like a soldier, he would’ve attacked me by now.
Joey, as usual, isn’t aware of anything that isn’t Divine. She warily watches Aleksey without releasing Joey from her mouth. Something tells me they have reached an unspoken agreement. Aleksey agrees to not disturb them. She agrees to let him watch.
I see him from the corner of my eyes. He sits utterly still, just the slightest breeze ruffling his platinum hair. Why is he here? Should I leave? Should I say something? I don’t move, waiting for his reaction.
And yet, I feel as though a silent communication passes between Aleksey and me. We’re strangers with an inclination to watch when we shouldn’t. For a while, it has been the lovers and me. Now it’s the lovers and us. He’ll leave and most likely never come back after recruitment, so what does it matter?
He stays, watching the show for a while. Our eyes meet an instant before he looks away. Unlike most soldiers, he hasn’t tattooed the contour of his eyes. Even so, his eyes look beautifully piercing.
“An expanse, as green and deep as the sea ...” he says as though talking to himself.
I can’t make sense of this words “I ...what?” He shakes his head and walks away, his cape billowing majestically.
From that moment on, Aleksey becomes my voyeurmate.
Chapter 10
“He’s hot, isn’t he?” Azzy whispers.
We’ve spent five hours in line at the ration center, and finally received our coupons. Poncho follows us closely along the dirty sidewalks, while a dozen of Accord cops patrol the pothole-filled streets, flaunting their red capes. They ensure no one tries t
o disrupt the rationing process.
“Well, he’s monstrously built.” It’s better to not reveal much around Azzy. Otherwise, I’d admit Aleksey is so ruggedly handsome he doesn’t even look human. “He’s like Sasquatch, but he has an okay face.”
“I meant Tristan. He’s staring at you.”
Oops. She caught me thinking about Aleksey. My cheeks feel suddenly warm.
Tristan is lanky, so—thanks, God!—he doesn’t resemble a soldier. I’ve caught him staring before. I blush, but he gives me a reassuring smile. I’ve been toying with the idea of getting to know him better for emergency deflowering purposes. If he rejected me, it’d sting a little, but it wouldn’t hurt me.
The soft drizzle forces Azzy to pull on her hood. “To lose your V card, you should find a boyfriend.”
Azzy’s more delusional than I thought. Boys court girls and then get engaged. How am I supposed to find a boyfriend in a town where young people don’t hang around members of the opposite sex unless there’s a chaperone around? No. Tristan is the best option.
I try to change the topic. “We’ll be late for physical education.” I train the twins as much as Olmo’s health and Azzy’s stubbornness lets me.
“Lila. You don’t ever flirt because you don’t like Starville dudes. You’re kind of judgmental.”
I snort. They’re misogynistic bullies. By Starville standards, if a woman takes initiative, she’s a slut. Starvillers are even less sympathetic to rape victims than usual if they are known to be flirters.
“You’re always so paranoid when it comes to men.”
I hold my tongue to not tell her she’d be paranoid too if she’d witnessed our mother’s attack.
She answers my thoughts. “I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I just don’t see a reason to assume all men are rapists.” We pass a group of street musicians, and she moves rhythmically to their music. “Think about it like this: We’re at war. Flirting could be another weapon, and you’ll need all the weapons you can get. Try it, and I’ll give you my portion of bread today.”