Rebel Nation

by Shaunta Grimes

  “Books and seeds aren’t going to help us if Bennett comes for us,” Clover said.

  “If Bennett comes for you, there isn’t anything we can do to help you, either. You’re too close to him. You should leave.”

  Clover snorted. Leave and go where, exactly? “Should we come here?”

  Maggie opened her mouth, but Alex spoke first. “We can’t take on that many more. Even if we could, we can’t risk bringing Bennett here.”

  “Great.”

  A boy, maybe twelve years old, came close to them, pulling a large wagon. He stopped three or four feet behind Alex, who turned to look at him and let go of Maggie.

  “Lucas. Come on.” The boy brought the wagon closer. “Enough seed to get you started. And those books. There isn’t anything else we can do for you. I’m sorry.”

  He closed off. Even Clover saw it. She turned away, but Jude caught her hand and kept her with him. “Thank you,” he said.

  Alex nodded, once.

  Maggie took an envelope out of a pocket in her dress and pressed it into Jude’s hand. “This is for Leanne. If you see her, please give it to her. Tell her I love her. We love her.”

  “If you love her,” Clover said, to Alex more than Maggie, “you wouldn’t send us back alone.”

  She knew immediately that she’d gone too far, but she couldn’t pull the words back. They were like individual objects floating away from her mouth. Alex’s face went hard and angry and Jude pulled her back, not quite behind him, but enough that he was between the two of them.

  “Leanne could have been here with us,” Alex said. “She made her choices and there is nothing we can do about that now. Nothing.”

  “Alex,” Maggie said, again, softly, under her breath.

  Alex turned and left. He didn’t bother trying to take Maggie with him, but his wife went anyway, shooting an apologetic look back at Clover and Jude. Frank would be there in the morning. Clover still wasn’t sure that going back without Waverly’s book was the right thing to do. It felt right and wrong in equal parts.

  “I can’t stop thinking that if we don’t get back, it might be too late,” Jude said.

  “Too late for what?” But Clover knew. They might get back to find that everyone in Virginia City had been taken back to the city. The kids might end up back in Foster City, but West would be dead. A low moan escaped her. “This is why West let us go so easy, isn’t it? He thinks Bennett is going to show up.”

  “I think so,” Jude said. He looked so tired. How had she not noticed before how exhausted he was? She reached a hand up, wanting to smooth away the tension in his jaw, but he caught it and pulled her to him.

  They needed that book, but it could wait. “Let’s go home.”

  The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.

  —RONALD REAGAN,

  ADDRESS TO THE NATION, JANUARY 28, 1986

  West was three blocks from the schoolhouse, helping to load boxes of Mormon rations into the back of the van. His brain was busy thinking about how they’d sort through it, wondering whether any of the food would be fresh enough to eat, when the school bell rang out.

  “West?” Phire came running back into the room at the back of the house where the boxes were stored. “We have to go.”

  West drove back to the schoolhouse, Phire in the shotgun seat and a boy named Randy in the back. If Bennett was here already, it was too soon. Much too soon. They weren’t prepared. And it probably meant that Leanne was dead.

  He slammed on the brakes and Phire had to put a hand on the dashboard to keep from slamming into it. A horde of kids stood in the school building’s parking lot. They’d really have to work on teaching them what to do when the bell rang.

  West cut the van’s engine and got out. He didn’t see any guard or other sign of an invasion by Bennett. And then a man’s head came into view, head and shoulders over the top of the children surrounding him. West put a hand to his chest where it felt like his heart had stopped. His father looked around, lifting higher as if he were on his toes.

  “Jesus,” Phire said. He threw the van door open and came around to West. Emmy was among the children surrounding James Donovan. West reached a hand out and clamped it around the boy’s arm to keep him from running to his sister.

  “It’s okay. That’s my dad,” West said. “My dad came.”

  And then he saw Leanne. Even from this distance, she looked like she’d been through hell. But she was here. His dad had come through.

  West pushed his way through the crush of kids. There hadn’t been a chance, yet, to drill into them the need for hiding when the warning bell rang. If the newcomer had been Bennett or someone Bennett had sent, instead of James, picking up these Foster City kids would have been like fishing in a barrel. They didn’t even seem to have basic survival instincts.

  “West,” James said when he was close enough. His face seemed to collapse on itself in relief.

  Leanne came around the car and threw herself into his arms. He wasn’t expecting that, so wrapping them around her was instinctive.

  “You saved my life,” she said against his chest, and then she pulled herself together and away from him. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. All of the kids and his father had turned their attention to him. “Is this everyone?”

  Christopher looked around, counting heads. “I don’t see Tim or Wally, but for the most part, yes.”

  West pulled himself up onto the hood of the Company car his father and Leanne had arrived in. “The next time you hear that bell,” he said, “you hide. We’ll talk about it more later, but I better not see everyone swarming a stranger like this again, you hear me?”

  There was some grumbling. West picked up one kid saying, a little more loudly than the rest, that he didn’t have to do what some hoodie told him to. That reminded West of the Dinosaur, when he and Clover ran into Jude and his friends.

  “We’re going to figure this out,” he said. “This is our home now, and we’re going to figure out a way to keep it safe.”

  “How?” one of the older new boys asked. West racked his brain and thought he was called either Brian or Ryan.

  He didn’t have an answer for Brian/Ryan’s question, and he suddenly felt every one of the fifty or so eyes that were glued to him. “By working together,” he finally said. “By making a plan and sticking with it.”

  Thankfully the inspirational-speech moment passed quickly after that. He had nothing. He was having a hard time just keeping himself moving forward, much less trying to lead this group of kids who didn’t know or trust him. Christopher and Phire started to send them back to doing whatever they’d been doing before the school bell rang.

  —

  Getting back on the train heading west wasn’t as easy. Clover couldn’t deny the relief she felt when she thought about seeing her brother and the others in two days instead of three weeks. She also couldn’t shake the idea that her fear—of diving and of traveling farther east—was going to have terrible consequences.

  “We’re going to need that book eventually,” she said. “We don’t stand a chance without it. You know that, right?”

  Jude didn’t take his eyes off the desert that flew past their window. “We don’t even know if it’s real.”

  “It’s real.” Clover felt that in her bones. Waverly had written down everything that they needed to know to fight Bennett and Stead. Where Stead was hiding, where the suppressant was being made, everything. They were a bunch of kids up against the most powerful corporation in the world. Clover couldn’t even let herself think about that, but she knew that they needed every possible advantage.

  “We could do what they’ve done in New Boulder,” Jude said, finally turning to her. “If we moved farther away from Reno, eventually Bennett would give up looking for us.”

  A group of kids
holed up in Virginia City didn’t have even a whisper of a chance against the Company. But maybe they could find a place, like New Boulder, where they could be safe and build some kind of community.

  But every time she started getting comfortable with the idea, a thousand other things stirred up in her head. “What about the other kids in Foster City? What if there are other places like Foster City in the other cities?”

  Jude’s face hardened and he turned back to the window.

  “What about kids like Oscar?” she asked. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be the one to bring up Jude’s long-missing brother and cause him more pain. But Clover knew she wasn’t that unique. Bennett was experimenting on kids like her, like Oscar. If she disappeared, she might be safe, but could she live knowing that she could have done something to help other kids and didn’t?

  Clover moved into the seat next to Jude. Mango was sleeping across two seats on the other side of the aisle and didn’t budge. Jude didn’t move either. Clover lifted the armrest between their seats and pressed her forehead against his arm.

  As much as she hated that he was upset, she loved his stillness. She never had to worry about him making sudden moves that would throw her off balance.

  Even though she knew that his stillness now was not out of affection—he was upset—she couldn’t stop her hand from sliding up his arm and over his shoulder, then up until her fingers touched the scar his house father had left from his ear to his jaw. Jude tensed, but then relaxed. Exactly the way she did when he touched her.

  The scar came when Jude tried to stop his house father from hurting Phire and Jude had wound up being thrown through a sliding glass door. When Clover thought of the damage that could have been done, it took her breath away. Jude finally looked down and lifted his arm around her, pulling her firmly against him.

  “We could make a place like New Boulder,” Clover said. “We could—”

  Jude bent his head and kissed her with an even, steady pressure that gave her a moment to get used to the sensation of his breath on her face, his hand tightening around her waist, his heart beating against her arm. He gave her time to register that what she felt was good—her own heart rate accelerating, her stomach muscles tightening—before his mouth opened and the tip of his tongue darted against her lips.

  She’d read about countless kisses and seen them on the televisions at the library, but nothing prepared her for how good this first real kiss would feel. Her body responded as if it had come prewired for it. Jude’s arm tightened around her even more, his hand sliding down to her hip when she wrapped hers around his neck and slipped from her seat up into his lap.

  Kissing involved tongues, and when Clover had found herself thinking about kissing Jude, that was what caught her up. But his tongue moved in her mouth and it wasn’t upsetting at all. It was a little awkward, like neither of them really knew what they were doing. And it was exciting. Jude’s hand moved up to her face and she closed her eyes until he finally pulled away.

  She slipped back into her own seat, Jude’s hand taking hers as she moved. She covered her mouth with her other hand. Her lips tingled and her cheeks burned.

  They were both silent for several minutes.

  “I love you, Clover,” Jude finally said.

  “I know.” That was the wrong thing to say. But she did know. It occurred to her, as usual a few beats too late, that maybe Jude didn’t already know how she felt. “I love you, too.”

  “We’re in this together,” he said. “We’ll figure out what to do. Together.”

  She thought maybe he meant more than just him and her. And he was right. Regardless of how badly she felt they needed that book, they needed to be with West and the others. The Freaks were like a machine that didn’t work as well with missing parts.

  “Alex was West’s age when he helped build New Boulder,” Jude said. “Maggie was just a little girl, barely older than Emmy.”

  Clover understood Jude’s desire for stability. She felt it herself, maybe even more strongly than he did since she didn’t manage being unstable very well. Her stability came from a different place than his did, though. He gave her balance. So did West. And Mango. It didn’t matter as much where she was as who was with her. She could think about the things that the Freaks needed to do and examine them rationally, because she wouldn’t be doing them alone.

  It was different for Jude. He’d been taken to Foster City when he was young; his brother was taken from him, too. He longed for a physical home in a way that Clover had never felt. She’d always been able to take hers for granted.

  “Virginia City can be our New Boulder.” She’d been thinking about it since they decided to go back west. “We need to be near Reno for—whatever we’re going to do about Bennett. And Virginia City was a thriving place long before things like electricity and cars. We can make it work.”

  “And if Bennett shows up? We’ll just be sitting ducks.”

  She shook her head. “We can protect ourselves.”

  “We can’t arm a bunch of kids, even if we had the guns.” Jude thread his fingers through hers. “No, we can’t do that.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Clover untangled her hand and pulled her pack from the seat across from her. She found the notebook she’d been taking random notes in. They were forming into a plan.

  —

  “Someone needs to meet the train,” West said. “Can you go, Christopher?”

  Christopher looked hassled, but West didn’t take offense. He was hassled. Every minute that passed could have been filled half a dozen ways. Christopher was busy setting up a group of the smaller kids to wrap apples and pears in paper. They’d found several trees bursting with ripe fruit—something West was incredibly thankful for. They couldn’t risk losing any to rot.

  “I can do it.”

  West turned back to the door and saw his father standing there.

  “It’s okay,” Christopher said. “I’ll go. I’ll take Marta with me. I haven’t had two minutes with her in days.”

  West had been eager to push the job of meeting Frank off on Christopher. They weren’t expecting anything from him, but until Clover and Jude came home, they’d meet every train. But now that James was volunteering, West thought about the possibility of Clover getting off the train and seeing their father. “No. I’ll go.”

  “West,” James said. There was something in his voice that made West bristle. A parental tone that the man had lost the right to use years ago. “I’ll meet the train.”

  “I said I’ll go.” West started to push past James, but Marta stood in the doorway behind him, blocking his way. She shook her head.

  She’d changed so much over the last several weeks. She and Geena had gone to such great lengths to keep away anything that might make them feminine or pretty. After Geena died, Marta stopped wearing heavy black makeup around her eyes. She’d let her light brown hair grow out. She’d even taken the gold ring out of her lip, identical to the one her sister had worn. It was as if she couldn’t bear to look in the mirror and see her twin.

  “You should both go,” Marta said.

  Before West could argue, James agreed and left the room.

  “Thanks a lot,” West said.

  Marta gave him a stern look. “He’s here, West. That means something. It means a lot.”

  With Geena gone, Marta didn’t have any other family. She and Christopher had formed a little unit that was so tight, it sometimes hurt to see it, but West thought she’d probably give a lot for one more day with her sister.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He went out to look for his father.

  James was sitting in the Company car’s driver’s seat. West was sorely tempted to get into the van and leave him behind. Instead he got into it and waited.

  “This car has most of a tank,” James said through his window. “Gets better gas mileage,
too.”

  Goddamn it. West opened the van door and got into the passenger seat of the car. He wasn’t going to waste fuel for pride.

  James started the engine. “Which way?”

  West told his father where they met Frank. It would be at least a fifteen-mile drive and he was anticipating a good hour in the car, but his father drove so fast. Far faster than West had ever dared. He gripped the edge of his seat and tried not to let his face show his fear as the mountain flew by outside his window.

  “I know you’re angry with me,” James said. He drove with one hand on the wheel, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His ease threw West off balance. “And I know I probably deserve it.”

  “How often did you see Clover after she came back?”

  James had the decency to flush. He put his other hand on the steering wheel, which gave West an unreasonable surge of satisfaction. “Work keeps me—”

  “No. Jesus, just don’t.” Work kept him busy? There was a time when all West wanted was to follow in his father’s footsteps. His own erroneous brush with the justice system turned that on its head. How many innocent people had his father killed?

  All of them were innocent. None of them had committed any crime before their execution. How did James sleep at night, knowing? Unless his father still believed that it was some fluke that West hadn’t killed Bridget.

  “I’m here now,” James said, quietly. “And I can help. We need to organize. Those kids running at my car was a disaster. That can’t happen again.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m serious, West. A training session about what to do when that bell rings is absolutely necessary. And we need to secure the—”

  “Stop.”

  “I’m trying to help,” James said.

  “We’re already aware of what needs to be done. And we’re getting it done. We don’t need you to come in here and take over.”

  James stopped the car. He didn’t bother to pull over, although he was driving in one lane instead of straddling the narrow road like West usually did. “I have experience. And I’ve worked for the Company for more than fifteen years. Goddamn it, I feel like I’m interviewing for a job here. You need me, West. Don’t get stubborn.”