Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel

by Brenda Poppy

  “You have no clue what’s happening in this city. Cross is planning a massacre. Tomorrow, in fact. It’s part of his plan to ‘clean up the city,’ getting rid of trash like me. In fact, he already tried to get rid of me by handing me over to a ManniK dealer to use as twisted test subject. You’re not the only one who’s suffered here. If I hadn’t escaped, I’d already be dead.”

  She shuddered again at the memory of Cross’ hands on her, of being collared and chained like an animal, and of barely escaping with her life. As if responding to her thoughts, her bruises began to throb, keeping time with the pounding of her heart.

  “If we do nothing, Cross will lead his men down to the lowest tiers, guns in hand. They’ll dose entire zones with ManniK and watch as the people they’re supposed to be protecting succumb to chaos and death at each other’s hands. And if anyone tries to fight back, tries to defend themselves and their families, they’ll be gunned down in the streets. Population control at its finest. If that’s not betraying Kasis, I don’t know what is.”

  They were both silent for a minute as Kaz processed what she had said and Burn tried to rein in her mounting frustration. She was suddenly aware that Hale was outside the door and had almost certainly overheard their conversation. He was probably taking pleasure in it, she thought acidly. He had warned her not to get involved with the Peace Force, and now here she was, dealing with the fallout.

  Kaz was the first one to break the silence. “Trash like you? What do you mean by that?”

  Burn sighed. Time to come clean. Really clean. “I’m gifted. And so is Scar. And we can’t stand by and watch as people like us are rounded up and punished just for being born. Or cursed in the streets – called monsters and freaks and shunned because people buy into the Peace Force’s lies. My dad used his position on the force to help people like us, and he was killed because of it. So now I’m doing what I can to fight back, to show the world this isn’t how it has to be.”

  Burn took a deep breath and looked Kaz in the eye. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I truly am. But I’m not sorry for what I’ve done or what I’m going to do next. Maybe one day you’ll understand and forgive me, but I can’t wait around for that.”

  She took a step toward the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. Without turning to face him, she said, “After this is over, I’ll make sure you’re released, and you can return to whatever is left of your life. And if you ever want to talk…well, you know where I live.” With that, she walked out of the room.

  Hale was indeed in the hall, listening at the door just as she had expected. Except the look on his face wasn’t one of superiority, but one of concentration. Burn made a move to pass him, no longer in the mood to talk, but he stopped her with a light touch of his hand on her arm.

  “You told him we would let him go?”

  Burn sighed, rubbing her head. She suddenly felt exhausted and wanted to find somewhere quiet to think. But she stayed, answering calmly, “He’s burned his bridges with the force. If we win, he won’t pose much of a risk to us. If we lose…” she trailed off and gave a shrug. “Well, if we lose, then it won’t matter either way.”

  Hale nodded and released her arm, but Burn stayed where she was. “Hale?” she asked, looking up into his dark eyes. He gave a grunt of acknowledgment, which Burn took as her cue to continue. “Please don’t hurt him.” With that, she started back the way she had come.

  Her brain was full and her head was pounding as she made her way through the halls, but she could have sworn she heard a murmured voice behind her. “I won’t,” it said, low and somber. Burn kept going, leaving the voice and the man who possessed it behind in the darkness.

  She didn’t have much time to dwell on the situation, however, since the instant she reached the top of the stairs, Scar pounced on her.

  “They have a healer!” she almost shouted into Burn’s ear. Burn was so surprised by her sister’s sudden presence that the words didn’t fully penetrate.

  “Who has a what?” she asked, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the previous conversation from her thoughts.

  “One of the prisoners they rescued can heal people,” Scar said, slowing her words to a more normal pace. “And he says he’ll take a look at you. Come on.” She grabbed Burn’s hand and dragged her into yet another part of the maze-like house.

  “Scar, wait,” Burn tried to say, but her sister was on a mission. “I’m sure there are people far more injured than I am. He should see them first.”

  Like others with such extraordinary gifts, it was likely that this healer had a limited charge and could only help so many people before his abilities were drained. Glancing around at the people they passed, Burn couldn’t help but think that they deserved his attention far more than she did. In fact, she didn’t feel like she deserved much at all at that moment.

  “Nonsense,” Scar responded, continuing her efforts to pull Burn along. “We need you in fighting form if you’re going to lead an army into battle tomorrow. Besides, you look like death.” Scar’s bluntness was abrasive, yet somehow reassuring. Then her words sank in.

  “Wait, what? I’m leading an army?”

  Scar looked back at her sister with a look of utter bewilderment, as if she had asked what year it was or some other equally absurd question. “Of course you are. This is your plan. You discovered what Cross was up to. You thought to free the prisoners. Everyone kind of assumes you’ll know what to do next.”

  Until that moment, Burn hadn’t given any thought to what her role in the battle would be. She assumed, if anything, she would be just another soldier sent into the fray, taking orders from Hale or someone else with more experience in combat. She had never dreamed that she would be the one giving those orders.

  Suddenly, Burn felt a huge weight descend onto her shoulders – the weight of others’ expectations and of countless human lives – and the pressure built until she could barely breathe. She didn’t know the first thing about war – about troops and battle plans and formations. What if she failed? What if their entire cause went up in flames because she made the wrong decision?

  As the panic mounted, Scar continued leading her sister through the house. Almost without her notice, she set Burn down in a chair and went off to find the healer. She returned a minute later flanked by a painfully skinny man with a smooth bald head and a round pair of glasses that magnified his eyes. The effect was like looking at a bug. As Burn considered him, his head moved back and forth in sharp movements as if to reinforce the resemblance.

  “This is Crete,” Scar said by way of an introduction. “He’s already taken care of the seriously injured and says he has just enough energy left for you.” She gave a nod to the pair as if to say “my work here is done,” then walked back the way she had come.

  Left alone with the strange man, Burn tried to protest, saying that others in the house needed his help more than she did, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he gently took her hands in his and knelt down in front of her, closing his eyes.

  A warm tingling sensation appeared in her hands, then worked its way up her arms and into her chest. The energy seemed to poke and prod at the sore spots along her body, kneading them softly until they relaxed and the pain began to dissipate. Crete worked methodically, as if combing her for injuries with his mind. The feeling was so soothing that Burn found her eyelids fluttering shut.

  Sometime later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, the tingling faded, pulled back from her body and out through her hands. She opened her eyes, expecting to see Crete suffused with some kind of ethereal light, the source of the tingling sensation. Instead, she was horrified to see that he was even more emaciated than when he had knelt down. It was as if by helping her, he had drained all of his own energy and was now left with only the shell of a body.

  He got up slowly, and Burn was afraid that his now-feeble legs might collapse under him. She started to get up, started to offer her strength in place of his, but he stopped her. Putting a surprisingly firm hand on her shoulde
r, he pushed her back into the chair.

  “Rest now,” he said in a melodic voice. “We both need rest.” With that, he left her.

  She wanted to get up and go after him, to make sure he found somewhere safe to lay his head, but a sudden drowsiness came over her. It wasn’t the same as when her sister had spiked her tea. This was more of a pleasant fuzziness that gradually dulled her thoughts and numbed her worries, like a salve for her mind.

  One minute the world was there, painful and complicated in ways she couldn’t untangle, and the next it was gone, replaced by a world of dreams.

  ✽✽✽

  Burn awoke feeling content, as if her dreams had contained the answers she’d been trying so hard to seek. She tried to hold on to them – and to the feeling they gave her – but the harder she tried the faster they slipped away.

  Finally reaching full consciousness, Burn looked down at herself, cautiously flexing her limbs and testing her injuries. She wasn’t completely healed, but she was far better than she had been before, as if weeks of healing had taken place in mere hours. Her bruises had lost their deep purple and brown hues, mellowing to golden yellow in some places and disappearing completely in others.

  She found with surprise that her ribs no longer protested when she moved, and her legs felt strong and sturdy. She pulled up her pant leg and unrolled her bandages to discover that even the gash there had faded, now resembling an old scar from a long-ago injury. Even her mind felt calmer, less tumultuous than it had when she’d drifted off.

  Burn felt a small pang of jealousy for Crete’s amazing gift, but then the image of him pale and weak came to her. She made a mental note to thank him for his sacrifice in whatever way she could. But how could you repay someone for such a selfless act?

  As she stood, Burn realized that the house had grown quiet. She glanced around to find people asleep on chairs and couches, sprawled out on the floor and propped against each other for comfort. She tiptoed over bodies, careful not to wake them. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare, she thought sadly. At least let them have their dreams tonight.

  Her sensitive ears picked up a whispered conversation from the front of the house, and she made her way toward it. Nestled in the front room, a small gathering of people were crowded in a circle with their heads together in fervent discussion. Burn drew up an empty chair and placed herself on the circle’s edge. The group parted, a silent invitation to enter the ongoing deliberations.

  “So what can all these newbies do?” asked Ansel in a whisper.

  Hale, who was situated across from Burn, started ticking them off on his hands. “Well, there’s Crete, the healer. He does good work but has limited power. Has to recharge after a couple of sessions. He might help us save a few people, although he should probably focus his efforts on the most powerful among us.”

  Burn was struck by the callous remark, the nonchalant way he talked about human life and whose lives to prioritize. But she kept her mouth shut, reminding herself that a war room was no place to discuss ethics and a battlefield cared nothing for your moral code. It was power and cleverness that would ultimately matter.

  “Then there’s Innoxia, who can manipulate the dead,” Hale continued. “Could use her once we kill a few officers to turn them on their own teams. She reckons she can manage 15 to 20 at one time. Lore can control rodents, which could make a good distraction. Pierce has a poisonous touch, but he has to be able to make contact with his victims to use it. And Coal can impersonate anyone. It’s like he becomes them, or at least fools you into thinking he has.”

  “Don’t forget Dormaline and Shaw,” added a familiar voice to Burn’s right. She looked over to find Meera, whose friendly face was a comforting sight. As the rest of the circle turned to look at her, she explained, “Dormaline can walk through walls. She basically dematerializes, or at least that’s how she describes it. And Shaw has this really hard skin. He’s basically impervious to bullets.”

  “Hmm, that could be useful,” Hale considered, trying to fit these new individuals into his evolving battle plans.

  Something was nagging at Burn and she spoke up, drawing all eyes to her. “Are all these people OK with being used as weapons in our war? They’ve already been through so much. Is it fair to throw them out there, especially against such uneven odds? We don’t even know what we’re up against.”

  “They know the stakes,” Hale said, his face betraying no emotions. “They’ve had their chance to leave, and they’ve chosen to stay, to fight. They’ve suffered more than most at the hands of the Peace Force. Most of them see it as their duty. Besides, they’re fugitives. There’s no place out there for them. Not yet, at least. That’s what we’re fighting for.” Burn nodded in understanding, as did the others around the circle.

  They continued talking strategy late into the night, plotting movements and stations and scenarios, debating ways to stop the Peace Force before they released the ManniK on the bottom tiers. Burn was relieved that the weight of leadership hadn’t fallen entirely on her shoulders, that these people would bear the win or loss together, sharing in the thrill of victory or the pangs of defeat. It was a strange kind of comfort, this fellowship of war, but for the moment it united them, bringing them together across tiers and backgrounds and beliefs to fight under a single cause.

  Eventually, the circle dispersed, having established a tentative plan and contingencies to accompany it, and only Burn and Hale were left. They looked at each other, neither knowing what to say or how to start. Finally, Hale broke the silence.

  “Are you ready?” It was a simple question. But the answer was far more complicated than a mere yes or no.

  “How can you ever be ready for something like this?” Burn asked honestly, with no hint of sarcasm or malice in her voice. “We could die tomorrow. All of us. We could so easily lose the battle – and lose everything we’ve been fighting for along with it.”

  She looked up at Hale, hoping he’d have the answer. As a man accustomed to fighting and violence, to facing his own mortality along with that of those around him, maybe he had a way to look at it that didn’t seem so terrifying.

  He sighed and looked down at her, giving her a long, lingering look. “You can’t. Be ready, that is. But you can have faith – in yourself and those around you. Sometimes that’s enough.” With a nod, he bid her goodnight and disappeared into the back of the house.

  Chapter 23

  The Lunaria and their new recruits rose before dawn to prepare. It was a quiet affair, everyone lost in their own thoughts and worries, but the rooms still buzzed with anticipation. People ate slowly, forcing themselves to choke down pieces of toast or bits of egg despite their roiling nerves. Others changed into dark clothes or light armor, depending on the part they had to play.

  Burn found the lack of conversation disconcerting. As someone used to the ever-present hum, its absence seemed like an omen. She wished someone would burst into song or embark on an impassioned speech, just to break the tension that had settled like a blanket over the house.

  Finding herself in need of company, she meandered through the halls until she found Scar, who was hard at work on a pile of electronics. It was another comforting sight, a bit of the familiar to fight off the unease. She settled herself down next to her sister, who noticed Burn but didn’t pause to greet her.

  “What are you doing?” Burn asked, despite the fact that she knew full well what her sister was up to. She just wanted a bit of time to feel normal before the world tilted on its axis.

  “Upgrading comms units,” Scar replied instinctively. “Everyone out there today will have one. So we’ll all be connected. We’ll all know what’s happening throughout the city.”

  We. Burn flinched at that. She had begged her sister to stay behind, to stay where it was safe. Her gift wasn’t one that was well-suited to the battlefield. But Scar wouldn’t hear of it. She needed to be part of the fight, she’d said, needed to stand alongside her brethren. It didn’t help that Symphandra had signed up to
fight, even though she had no gift to speak of. Both women were crazy as far as Burn was concerned, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing everything in her power to protect them.

  She sat with her sister for a while, chatting about nothing and everything. For a few minutes, at least, their lives were normal and comfortable, just two sisters facing the world together like it had always been. Burn got them both a plate of food and made Scar eat bites in between soldering wires and fixing microchips. And Burn forced herself to eat, as well, pretending that her stomach wasn’t doing flips and threatening to send every bite back up.

  Physically, she felt better than she had in weeks. She was well-rested and awake, and her injuries had healed even more overnight, leaving her with barely a scratch. But underneath her skin, an electric current buzzed, and she wondered if this was how Scar felt all the time – like a live wire was threaded through her muscles.

  Then, far too soon, it was time to go. Deeming that it would be suspicious if a large group of armored citizens flooded the streets at once, they instead left in small groups, finding their way down to the lower sectors in twos and threes, draped in cloaks to conceal their weapons and gear.

  Coal was the first to slide out into the darkness. But he wasn’t really Coal, not anymore. Instead, he had slipped on another face and another body. The effect was eerie. Now, instead of the squat, balding man that he had once been, he stood tall and lean, his dark hair slicked back in a harsh mockery of someone Burn knew so well: Cross.

  Wearing the gear of one of the officers whom they’d dispatched during the prisoner release, he looked almost exactly like the dreaded general. With dark eyes and an arrogant sneer, the disguise would fool anyone outside of Cross’ closest confidants.

  Burn had learned of the plan the night before, even helping shape the details of the plot, but it couldn’t prepare her for walking into the front room and seeing Cross standing there. She had frozen, her mind clicking into panic mode before the rational part of her brain could catch up.