Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel

by Brenda Poppy

  It must be nice to be able to add beauty where there was none, Burn pondered. She felt a stab of jealousy, but it promptly passed. She might not be adding beauty to the city, but she was fighting for justice. There was beauty of a sort in that, she reminded herself.

  Within no time, Symphandra was done hemming the dress and held it up to Burn for inspection. The length was now perfect, and Burn felt a hum of excitement when she thought about putting the garment back on for the ball. With her costume now secured, Burn’s spy mission felt simultaneously more real and more feasible than it had before.

  As Symphandra put the dress in a garment bag for transport, Burn’s mind returned to the list Scarlett had given her. She pulled it out of her pocket and examined the items again. Fabric, thread, needles, a pair of stockings, a plain silver chain.

  She handed the list to Symphandra, asking if she might know where to get such things. Symphandra considered the list for a moment before ducking back into her room. She returned with her hands full of items, placing them delicately on the table in front of Burn.

  “I don’t have a silver chain, but I know a local merchant who can help with that. He always gives me a good price,” Symphandra said.

  Burn glanced down at the items in front of her. There was a piece of dark blue fabric with shimmering swirls, the exact same material that had been used to construct her dress. Next to it was a little pocket sewing kit, containing a needle, thread, a thimble, and a few other small instruments Burn couldn’t place. There was also a nearly sheer pair of stockings that looked almost as silky as her gown. She automatically reached out to caress them, feeling the soft fabric slip through her fingers.

  “Thank you,” said Burn sincerely. She was struck by Symphandra’s generosity and her eagerness to help. She hadn’t known a lot of that in her life, so it always caught her by surprise.

  Symphandra just nodded and helped Burn pack the things carefully into the garment bag with her dress. Then she wrote down the name and location of the jewelry vendor who sold the silver chains and handed it to Burn.

  As Burn turned to go, Symphandra spoke, stopping her. “Be careful tomorrow,” she said, nervous for the first time. “If they even suspect that you’re up to something, they’ll make sure you never get out of there.”

  Burn’s nerves fizzled as if waking up. Symphandra’s tension was contagious, and she felt her own heartbeat quicken. Still facing the door, her body turned away from Symphandra, Burn replied, “If something happens…if I don’t make it back, tell them what happened. Tell them I tried.”

  “Of course,” Symphandra stated like a general, her voice no longer betraying any emotion.

  Collecting herself, Burn continued, “I’ll send word back as soon as I learn anything. With luck, I could know their whole plan by midnight tomorrow.”

  “Good luck,” she heard as she opened the door. She didn’t look back.

  Chapter 11

  Burn lay in bed that night, going over her plan and mentally listing all of the ways it could go wrong. There were a lot of them.

  They could scan her and refuse her entrance to the party. They could discover one of Scar’s gadgets while searching for weapons and arrest her. Or she could gain access to the ball only to find herself trapped inside, caught red-handed in her espionage and surrounded by teams upon teams of enemy soldiers.

  Somehow, analyzing all of these dire possibilities made Burn feel better, as if she were preparing herself for the worst-case scenario – and coming to terms with her own fate.

  As Burn contemplated the myriad ways she could be discovered and punished, Scar toiled away in the living room, creating Burn’s secret arsenal of accessories. Burn could hear the intermittent sounds of a welding gun, a small saw biting its way through metal, and a hammer crashing down on whatever was in its path. She found the familiar sounds of her sister’s tools comforting, and the hum and whine and banging eased some of her tension.

  Her thoughts drifted to Scar, and Burn wondered what would happen to her sister if she never returned home. Scar was amazing in so many ways, but she wasn’t built for a solitary life. No, Burn thought, she had to get through this. She had to come home for Scar. And for the Lunaria. They were counting on her.

  ✽✽✽

  The next day dawned bright and warm – or at least as bright and warm as it could get on Kasis. As Burn woke, the sound of her sister’s tools once again greeted her ears. Scar had worked through the night getting everything ready for her. Burn smiled sleepily at the gesture as her brain steadily came back to life.

  She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the city filter through her, listening for anything out of place. For some reason, it felt like the world should be different today, but the sounds that met her ears were normal and mundane, the sounds of everyday life going on just as it had before. Maybe it was Burn that was different.

  She felt different. No, that wasn’t it. She felt…nervous. Or excited. Or scared. Or some other mess of emotions that marked the day as significant. Her body seemed to tingle in anticipation, its nerve endings alight and her muscles prepared for action.

  Burn had to remind herself that she still had half a day to go before the ball. She felt both annoyed and relieved, two more warring emotions to add to the confusing jumble in her brain.

  That also meant she had 12 hours to kill. She immediately regretted her brain’s choice of words. No killing. Killing bad. Twelve hours to mildly assault? Or 12 hours to inflict minor wounds that would heal with little to no surgical intervention? Maybe she hadn’t gotten enough sleep after all.

  Burn shook the last of the fog from her brain and decided some sort of caffeinated beverage was in order. She dragged herself up from the bed, her body painfully reminding her that it had only been a few days since she had been chased through the streets by officers and accosted by a sharp metal gutter. The wound on her leg was still far from healed, but the pain had gone from insistent to mildly annoying.

  She plodded to the bathroom, taking a few extra minutes to unwrap her leg and inspect the injury. It wasn’t infected, which was a relief. It still looked angry and red, though, and would definitely leave a jagged scar along her shin. Burn carefully dabbed ointment on it before wrapping it back up in a protective bandage.

  She hoped that the evening’s festivities wouldn’t involve dancing, as she didn’t know how well her leg would hold up to such an assault. Plus, she didn’t know how to dance. It wasn’t precisely part of the standard curriculum on Kasis, and her father had never considered it an important skill to teach his daughters. No, evading police tails and eavesdropping on unsuspecting targets had been much more important lessons.

  Her wound properly tended to and her morning routine complete, Burn changed into a loose-fitting gray tunic and black pants, throwing on a light black cloak for good measure. She passed Scar on her way out, yelling “I’m getting breakfast” over the clanging. Scar didn’t respond, meaning she either hadn’t heard or she didn’t consider a response to be socially necessary.

  Donning her mask and goggles, Burn merged with the clusters of people making their way through the city streets. She listened as she walked amongst them, absorbing their murmured pleasantries and heated conversations.

  “Can’t talk. I’m late.” “I saw you flirting with her! You bastard.” “But mom! I want it!”

  So many lives, so many stories. Their words mingled with the sounds of the city – engines purring and metal grinding and thousands upon thousands of footsteps climbing and descending the city’s many levels.

  Burn was so wrapped up in the sounds of the city that she didn’t notice the large man in the alley until he grabbed her arm and dragged her off the street. She gave a shout of surprise, but a beefy hand abruptly clapped over her mouth. Then a familiar voice whispered from behind her.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Hale said, his mouth to her ear. “You’ve been a hard person to track down.” He let his hand drop from her mouth and loosened his grip on her
arm, allowing her to turn and face him in the narrow lane.

  “What do you want, H? I still have two more days to figure out what’s going on, in case you’ve forgotten.” Her quick burst of fear had mellowed into simmering anger.

  “I know,” said Hale coolly. “I wanted to check in, see what progress you’ve made.”

  “If I’d learned anything you would know.” Burn’s voice was clipped.

  “Would we? Sometimes I’m not sure whose side you’re on.” He was bating her, Burn thought, hoping to get a rise out of her. It wouldn’t work.

  “I’ve never done anything to make you or anyone else question my allegiance,” she responded evenly.

  “Except hang around with Peace Officers,” he said accusingly. Her mind flashed to Kaz. How did Hale know about him? Had he been following her? Or had Symphandra betrayed her?

  “You’re too close with your father’s associates,” Hale continued, unconcerned by Burn’s sudden silence. She felt her body relax in response. He didn’t know about Kaz after all.

  He kept talking, glaring at her through his goggles. “The Peace Force has been one step ahead of us this entire time. How do we know you’re not playing us, stalling so they can get their plan in motion? It would be so easy for you to take us down.”

  So Hale thought she was a spy for the other side. She knew that he had never trusted her, but this was something else entirely. The accusation felt like fire in her blood.

  “I’ve never done anything to endanger our cause,” she spat out, careful not to mention the Lunaria. You never knew who was listening. “I have a plan. I’m going to get the information tonight. And as soon as I have it, I’ll let you know.”

  Hale was still glaring at her, his mouth set in a hard line. She continued, “And if you ever question my loyalty again, you will come to regret it.” With that, she tore herself out of his grasp and stepped back onto the crowded street, weaving between people and carts in an attempt to lose herself in the maze of bodies.

  How dare he question her allegiance, Burn thought, fuming. She had been instrumental in countless Lunaria operations. She had gathered scores of new information, recruited operatives, and discovered fresh avenues through which to target the Peace Force. The idea of her being some sort of double agent was, frankly, absurd.

  Hale was probably just jealous, she reasoned, trying to find a motive for his outburst. Her plan had been chosen while his sat on the back burner. Still, she didn’t need an enemy on her own team, working against her from the inside. She silently prayed that he wasn’t already sewing doubt among the other members.

  She needed that night’s mission to be a success. If she returned to the Lunaria with a full account of the Peace Force’s plans, no one would be able to question her fealty, not even Hale. She imagined the look on his face if she were to succeed, and it calmed her. She stopped weaving in and out of the crowd and slowed to a more moderate walk.

  Burn had been so focused on getting away from Hale that she hadn’t even been paying attention to where she was going. She looked around, trying to regain her bearings.

  Carts and stalls lined the road, just like in every other part of the city. But instead of selling electronics or supplies, the vendors here were holding out flowers and sweet treats and books. She had apparently wandered into the Collina Quarter, an area of Kasis known for its “luxury” goods. It was typically frequented by those of a higher status level than Burn, and her family had never spent much time in the area.

  Instead of backtracking, Burn slowed, enjoying the colorful products and sweet smells wafting from the various carts. She stopped beside one selling flowers and bent her head to sniff at the intoxicating scent.

  The harsh atmosphere and high levels of pollution made it hard to grow flowers on Kasis, so they weren’t a common sight. Once in a while, a house with a window box or a planter pot might manage to make a flower or two sprout from their secondhand soil, but the blooms were often small and delicate. These, on the other hand, were strong and vibrant, with colors and shapes Burn had never seen.

  She wandered around the cart, her attention caught by a brilliant red flower. The sight brought back a half-forgotten memory of her mother pinning a similar flower to her father’s suit. It must have been right before the Peace Force ball. She smiled and fingered the silky petals.

  The vendor noticed her attention and asked if she was interested in purchasing a bouquet. Burn started to protest but changed her mind mid-sentence and ended up ordering a single stem of the bright red flower. She imagined pinning it to Kaz’s suit, just like her mother had. It somehow made her feel more connected to the mother she had hardly known and the father she missed so dearly.

  She spent a while longer browsing the wares of the Collina Quarter. Most of the products and goods were out of her price range, but she did splurge on a coffee and a buttery pastry that melted in her mouth. She imagined what it would be like to have such luxury at her fingertips every day. Would she get used to it? Would she take it for granted?

  She watched the people around her, the people who could afford to have such things delivered to them on a daily basis, and frowned. They lived in a world of their own, barely aware of the grit and poverty that existed only a few zones away. Here they were, reveling in their good fortune, while the rest of Kasis struggled to survive.

  The sweet scent of the quarter suddenly soured and Burn turned, now eager to leave. She did, however, pick up another coffee and pastry for Scar on her way out. Luxury was nothing if you couldn’t share it with someone, she decided.

  ✽✽✽

  Scar was sewing when Burn arrived home. It was a strange sight: Scar, a girl made of metal, with her legs crossed and her head bent low over a needle and thread. Burn hadn’t even known she could sew. She wondered briefly what other skills her sister was hiding.

  “I brought you something,” Burn said, holding up the pastry and coffee. Scar looked up, but instead of answering just cocked her head in question before returning to her work.

  “Long story,” Burn continued. “Just enjoy it.” She placed the items next to Scar before taking a seat on the small armchair opposite her. She let out a long sigh as she sunk into the sagging cushions and put her head back.

  With her eyes closed, she relayed a general overview of the morning’s events as Scar continued her sewing, pausing every so often to sip the coffee or nibble the pastry. “Hale still doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to double cross him the first chance I get. You’d think that years of loyalty would count for something.” Another sigh.

  “Well, there might be a reason for that,” Scar said cryptically.

  “What – something other than his desire to control everything and everyone?” Burn asked tartly. Scar just looked at her with a knowing smile.

  “What have you done?” Burn queried, suddenly suspicious. “Scar?”

  “I needed to find out if Hale was a threat. So I took certain steps to ensure that I could keep tabs on him.”

  An uneasy feeling began churning in the pit of Burn’s stomach. “What did you do?” she repeated, emphasizing each word in an attempt to draw out the truth.

  Scar’s smile grew. “I hacked his tab,” she said simply, like it was something people did every day. Although, to be fair, it was something she did every day.

  “Scar!” Burn declared. “You can’t go around invading people’s privacy like that.”

  “Why not?” she countered. “We do it all the time to the people you’re blackmailing.”

  Scar had a point. Although this felt different somehow, underhanded in a way that put Burn on edge.

  “If Hale ever found out, there’s no telling what he would do. He’d certainly have us kicked out of the Lunaria – if not worse.”

  “Good thing my hacks are untraceable, then,” Scar said proudly.

  Burn sighed, rubbing her eyes. Sometimes there was no use reasoning with her sister. She just had to go with it.

  “So, what did you learn?” Bu
rn asked, giving in. “Why is he so dead set against me?”

  “Well, I’ve only managed to gather snippets so far, but it’s enough to piece together a picture. Apparently, he lost someone to the Peace Force, a woman. I don’t know the particulars, only that he’s never forgiven them – or himself.”

  “He’s never mentioned anything like that,” Burn mused, processing this new information. “But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Ever since then, he’s dedicated himself to bringing them down, whatever the cost,” Scar continued. “I think in his mind, you’re either completely against them or you’re not worth his time.”

  “So that’s why he doesn’t tolerate anything – or anyone – associated with the Peace Force? That’s ludicrous.”

  Scar shrugged. “When dad went missing, you wanted the Peace Force to pay. You saw them as the enemy – and still do. How is that any different?”

  “Because I know that there are exceptions to the rule, good people who are trying to make a difference. Like dad. Like Grayland. Why can’t he see that?”

  “I think some people are just scared to trust those with different ideas,” Scar said quietly. Burn lifted her head to look at her sister. “Hate is what he knows. It makes sense to him. It’s comfortable,” Scar continued. “Then you come along and disrupt his status quo. You shoot down his ideas, bring your own way of doing things, and involve people he’s always considered to be enemies. Of course he’s going to lash out.”

  “When did you become such an expert on people?” For someone who didn’t get out much, Burn thought, she sure did notice a lot.

  Scar ignored her sister’s question and continued. “Don’t be so quick to judge him. You’re on the same side, remember that. Someday you’re going to need him.”

  Burn groaned. She hated the thought of needing Hale – or needing anyone, for that matter. She would rather go it alone. Other people just tended to complicate matters.