A Girl Called Fearless

by Catherine Linka

  Cameras captured every thrust as a dozen men stabbed the solarskin and jerked their weapons back. The sparkling black fabric tore into ragged pieces that fluttered onto the brilliant white snow.

  “They’re trying to cut off our electricity,” I said.

  Barnabas nodded. “They’re sending us a message, letting us know that they’re going to eliminate our energy sources. First, the solarskin, then the windmills. They’ll force us to use our generator, and burn up our fuel. They know we’re not going anywhere and no one’s going to show up to save us.”

  “But we’ve got computers, a cell tower. We could call for help,” I said.

  “The minute we turn on that tower, they’ll jam the signal.”

  “So we don’t even try!”

  “No, we wait until they’re not paying attention.”

  A bullhorn bored through the church’s thick walls and bulletproof glass as if they didn’t exist. “Margaret Stanton and Aveline Reveare.”

  My stomach plunged, hearing the distorted voice utter my name. Maggie and I crept toward the southern wall, keeping out of sight of the windows and the faceless, nameless agent demanding our presence.

  “You are wanted on charges of sedition against the United States Government for violating the Patriot Act. We ask that you surrender into our custody.”

  Oh, my God. I crossed my arms and pressed them to my chest as my body started to shake.

  Barnabas appeared over Maggie’s shoulder. “Hard to resist a polite request like that.”

  “What’s sedition?” I said.

  Yates came up beside me. “It’s treason.”

  “Not exactly,” Barnabas said. “It’s attempting to overthrow the government by force. It’s one way they prosecute terrorists.”

  My heart pounded in my ears so hard I almost missed what Maggie said next. “Yeah. After they torture them.”

  Images flashed in my brain like shuffled cards. Agents holding me underwater. Electrodes ripping my body. A needle plunging into my arm.

  I started to laugh. This was unreal. I was pinned down by a federal death squad, and suddenly, my best option was to die in a hurricane of bullets.

  I could feel myself losing control and the laughter running away with me, and I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t, even as I heard my laughs turn jerky and hysterical like the barks of an injured dog. Yates tried to put his arms around me, but I slapped them away.

  Then my breath was gone like someone had shoved a wad of cotton down my throat. “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” I gasped.

  Yates grabbed my arms and held on. “Stop! Look at me!”

  My lungs screamed for air, and I tried to pull away.

  Yates swept my feet out from under me. I fell to the floor and he pinned me with his knees, and clamped a hand over my mouth. I twisted under him, but he pressed down harder.

  Get off me! Get off me!

  “Avie. Avie! You’re hyperventilating. You need to quiet down—breathe through your nose.”

  I strained to push him off. Yates’ blue eyes were dark as deep water. “You have to trust me,” he said, and pressed his thumb over my nostril.

  Trust you? Get off!

  “Stop fighting me and breathe!” he ordered.

  I hate you, I thought, pulling in hard through my one open nostril. It wasn’t enough. It was like trying to breathe through a straw.

  “Long, slow, deep breaths,” Yates whispered, looking me in the eyes as he held me down.

  My lungs began to fill and my breathing steadied. Yates took his hand away from my face and fell off me, his expression tender and scared. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  I lay there for a moment, grateful Yates would never know what went through my mind when he was on top of me. I reached for his hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine now.”

  Slowly, I sat up and let my head fall back against the wall. I was sure everyone would be staring at me after my breakdown, but they weren’t. They were too busy watching the movements out in the snow.

  85

  For the next three hours, we watched the agents hitch a windmill to their vehicle and either pull it down or mow it down. After each one crashed, the bullhorn demanded that Maggie and I come out. After the fifth or sixth windmill went down, I heard a door slam and people yelling in the control room. Later, Mrs. Gomez came out, her face crimson as she glared up at me on the balcony.

  But at the same time, I thought I was seeing a miracle as Luke wandered over to Maggie. They stood together, talking in a way that shut out the rest of the room, and their faces were thoughtful and a little pained. Luke was asking her questions, and Maggie was steeling herself to answer. A part of me was glad they were taking down the walls, even if they were doing it because they realized time had run out.

  The Council kept telling us to sit tight and wait to see what happened next, but by midafternoon, everything changed.

  “Y’all are going to want to see this,” a man called from his post.

  Beattie took one look out the window and bolted for the Bunker. “We can’t let Jemima witness this,” I heard her say as she flew past.

  Yates and I pressed into a window niche. Two agents had dragged a nanny goat from the barn. People whispered all around us, speculating on what the feds were up to. The nanny was fighting hard. The men probably outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, but she bucked and reared and threw them down the whole distance from the barn to right outside the church.

  I recognized her. It was Emmeline.

  The two men positioned her as if they wanted us to have a clear view. Emmeline struggled and stomped as a third man walked up. The two held her tight, and the third pulled a knife from a belt at his waist.

  A gasp swept through the church like a gust of wind. The man thrust the knife under Emmeline’s jaw and drew the blade down her neck. She bucked and fell, forcing the men to their knees.

  “He cut her jugular,” someone said.

  Blood spurted from her neck, brilliant red on the blue-white snow. Emmeline jerked and the men let go. Her legs churned and then she collapsed.

  I gagged and had to turn away.

  Behind me, I heard footsteps, and Jemima threw herself against a window. She screamed, and pounded the thick acrylic with her fist until Caleb pulled her away. Her family surrounded her as she sobbed.

  “It’s over,” Yates said.

  Outside, Emmeline lay, a dark heap in the blood-splattered snow.

  “Sadists.” I turned my back on the scene, and my eyes swept over Jesus up on the cross. I felt a rush of anger at how pointless he looked, hanging there.

  The bullhorn squealed and we all looked toward the sound.

  “Come out if you care about your children.”

  My body went cold. For a moment, the church was chillingly silent.

  “Screw you!” a man yelled back.

  “You can burn in hell,” yelled another.

  Ramos marched over to the American flag and tore it from the wall. Furious Spanish spewed from his mouth as he strode to the center of the room and climbed on one of the long tables. His wife grabbed for his hand. “Get down, Ramos. You want to be a target?”

  He shook her off. “This is our country! Ours! We fought for it!” He waved the flag in the air defiantly and began to sing. “‘My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty—’”

  My heartbeat quickened as a dozen voices joined his. “‘Of thee I sing.’”

  The flag whipped over our heads, and for the first time I got that this song was about people like us here tonight who’d been pushed down and attacked by the government that was supposed to keep them safe. My voice rose up with Yates’ and merged with the others.

  “‘Land where my fathers died! Land of the pilgrim’s pride!’”

  One by one people joined in until we all sang as one, “‘From every mountainside, let freedom ring!’”

  The room resonated with righteous anger as people sang six more verses I didn’t know. Their anger was
a presence I could almost touch, and when Ramos climbed down from the table and hung the flag back in its place, I told Yates, “I’m not scared anymore. Is that insane?”

  “No, it’s not,” he said, as we saw Ramos embrace Maggie. “Everyone is united now.”

  Behind us, I overheard Barnabas tell Beattie, “It’s time to change plans.”

  86

  “Council meeting,” Beattie called out. A dozen men and women left their posts and disappeared into the back. Yates and I watched for movement outside until they reappeared a few minutes later.

  Barnabas took the stage. “I’ve got an announcement.” The whole room hushed and every eye was on him.

  “The situation isn’t playing out the way we thought. This is a clandestine operation, and to get these agents to stand down, we need to bring it out in the open. Maggie and I and the Council have come up with a plan we think makes sense.”

  I could feel the whole room go still.

  “We have access to a piece of software that can broadcast a distress call to a large population that we believe will be sympathetic to our situation.”

  I wrapped my hand around the phone in my pocket. Barnabas was talking about the software Sparrow put on it, the software I used to send out her video. Maybe by using this phone I could finally help save Salvation.

  “But to be most effective, the device needs to be carried out of the valley to a higher elevation, the top of Phelan’s Ridge.”

  People gasped, some muttered under their breath. “Go for help?” I whispered to Yates. “How the hell is anyone supposed to do that? We’re surrounded.”

  “Maybe there’s a way out of the church we don’t know about,” Yates said.

  “We’re asking for volunteers,” Barnabas continued. “A two-man team. It can be men or women, who will exit the church under cover of darkness, then climb to the top of the ridge and broadcast the distress call.”

  Around the room, families gathered and huddled together. Jemima and Caleb wrapped their arms across each other and linked hands.

  I searched the room, wondering who would have the guts to try.

  “We think it best that expert marksmen remain here to defend the church.”

  Ramos’ wife grabbed his shirtfront and shook her head. Luke and Rogan pressed their lips together, and I saw how they would have been the first to volunteer if they weren’t such good shots.

  Barnabas set his hands on his hips. “The volunteers need to be in good physical shape. They’re going to have to climb that ridge before the moon rises, and reach the top by a designated time. Then we’ll turn on the cell tower. We’ll only have a few minutes before the agents realize what we’re doing and block the signal.”

  “No!”

  I saw a woman force down Jemima’s raised hand.

  “Stop, Mama, I want to do this,” Jemima said.

  “No!” Her mom grabbed her and pulled her close. “We have to stay together,” she cried. “If we die, we die together!”

  Jemima struggled in her grasp for a moment, and then gave in and embraced her mother back.

  I gazed over this room of families and I realized what I had to do. I laid my hand on Yates’ chest. “I want to volunteer.”

  He wrapped his hand over mine. “I’m glad you said that, because I was about to tell you the same thing.”

  I smiled up at him.

  “You’re not scared?” he said.

  “Scared to death, but I did this. I brought these men here.”

  “It wasn’t just you. We both did.” He leaned down and placed his lips on mine. We gave each other a sad, slow kiss, then turned to face the rest of the church. “We’ll do it,” I called out.

  The room went silent for a second, then an older man snorted out a laugh. “Ha! You! We should put our faith in you! A girl who fell to pieces just hearing those men out there say her name!”

  I stared at the floorboards. It wasn’t enough to want to help them, I had to be strong and focused enough to do what needed to be done.

  “Yeah? Well, I’ll tell you,” Yates answered back. “You don’t know what Avie can do when she puts her mind to it.”

  “Yates—” I warned.

  The whole room was waiting, and the man who’d called me out waved his hand like he was writing me off. “Little rich girl from L.A. She can’t even speak up for herself!”

  “He’s wrong,” Yates said. “Tell them about Roik—about how you got away from him.”

  And I realized I wasn’t a poor little rich girl anymore, afraid to try or waiting for people to save me. I held my head up and told them about Father G’s arrest and Aamir bailing, about coming up with a new plan, me giving Roik the drug that made him sick and making him take me back to the cemetery where I’d been attacked days before. I told them about Tasing Roik, then running through the dark, sketchy neighborhood, dodging the guys chasing me, before Yates picked me up.

  “Well, that’s good enough for me,” Nellie said, turning to her neighbors. “Is that good enough for you, Mr. Oakley?”

  The man who’d written me off cocked his head and nodded. “Yep, I think so.”

  “All in favor of these two volunteers,” Barnabas said. Hands went up all over the room. “All opposed.” I wasn’t surprised to see some doubters.

  “Okay,” Yates said. “Tell us what you want us to do.”

  Barnabas and Maggie took Yates and me into the control room. Luke came in after us. A map was spread out on the table, and one of the silk wall hangings was folded up beside it. “There’s an escape tunnel,” Maggie said. “It goes from the Bunker to a hatch under Beattie’s back porch.”

  “So where do you want us to go?” Yates said.

  Maggie pointed to a pencil-thin valley on the map. “We’re here. There’s a trail to the ridge.”

  Luke frowned and almost elbowed her aside. “The trail’s hidden under three feet of snow. You need to follow the stream that runs behind Beattie’s and the houses to the east. The land will start to rise, and you’ll follow the stream another quarter mile before you start climbing.”

  “We can’t use skis,” I said, “not to get up the ridge.”

  I remembered how hard it was just to ski up the valley and that was flat. Now I’d volunteered to hike in the snow.

  “You’ll start out on skis and then switch to snowshoes farther on,” Barnabas said. “You’ll have to travel without a headlamp to keep from being spotted.” His voice was matter-of-fact, barely disguising that he knew our attempt to get to the ridge was a long shot.

  Luke. Keisha. Jonas. Sarah. Jemima and Caleb. Nellie, Rogan, that tiny, tiny baby down in the Bunker. They were depending on us to be brave and strong enough to go for help.

  Yates was strong and brave. Can I really do this?

  Luke glanced from me to Yates. “You’ll have to cut your own trail, but the woods aren’t thick and if you keep Salvation behind you and keep climbing you should be okay.”

  “Yeah,” Barnabas added. “While Phelan’s Ridge would be the best, any ridge should work.”

  “What time do we need to get to the top?” Yates said.

  “Eight o’clock. We’ll launch our diversion, then we’ll turn on the cell tower.”

  “What kind of diversion?” Yates said.

  Maggie stood up straight, and Barnabas slipped his arm around her waist. They gazed so deeply into each other’s eyes that I sensed before Maggie opened her mouth what she was about to say.

  She turned to us. “I’m going to surrender.”

  My heart stopped. “No! You can’t!”

  “I have to, Avie. I owe it to my family to protect them.”

  “But those men, they’ll—”

  Maggie held up her hand to stop me. “I need you to take the evidence—this wall hanging and the rest of it—and get it to a friend of mine in Washington, D.C. Will you please do that for me?”

  I paled, knowing what I’d be carrying. My throat tightened, and I had to force out my promise. “Yes, I’ll do it.”


  Yates rested his arm on my shoulders and I wove my hand into his. “What do we do once we make the call?” Yates said.

  “Once they cut off the signal, you’d better get going.”

  Maggie tapped the map and ran her finger over the mountains and then west through a jagged valley. A two-lane highway north cut across it. “If you can get here, the ranchers in this valley should help you.”

  “Folks who live up here don’t countenance the government interfering in people’s lives,” Barnabas added.

  Yates measured the distance with his fingers. “It’s about six miles. We can do that.”

  I swallowed. What if I’m not strong enough to do this? The responsibility for all those lives was on my shoulders.

  “Avie, we can do this, right?” Yates said.

  I caught movement on the monitor to my right as a man in snow camo darted from one tree to another. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t answer.

  “Can you guys give us a minute alone?” Yates said. The others cleared the room. “Avie, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I—I—”

  He turned around until he faced me, then he set his hands on my waist and leaned in until his head rested on mine. “Tell me,” he whispered.

  “If I fail, everyone here dies.”

  “Listen,” he said. “We’re in this together, and if I didn’t believe we could do this, I’d have fought you going.”

  When I looked up, Yates was waiting.

  I wanted to be Fearless, the girl he thought I was. The girl that Mom and Ms. A believed in. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  87

  Barnabas and Luke sat us down and went through all the details. The timing. The terrain. All the things that could trip us up or get us killed. Like the creek we needed to follow, but didn’t run straight and was disguised in places under the snow. Or the agents who might be out on patrol. Chances are, Barnabas said, they’d stay close to the church, but he couldn’t guarantee it.

  Or the goats who’d spent the whole day without food or water, suffering with big, swollen udders that needed to be milked. They’d pitch a fit when we entered the barn. “Don’t even think about feeding them. Just get the packs and get the hell out of there,” Barnabas told us.