The Only Thing to Fear

by Caroline Tung Richmond

“Good. How many soldiers do you have now?”

  “Fifteen. Another Anomaly arrived last night from the Hudson Valley.”

  “Prepare them well, St. James. We’re going to need every last one if we want to take out Heidelberg.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The meeting soon moved onto the Reds and how they had recently crossed into Ukraine, heading closer and closer to Berlin, but Zara’s thoughts had drifted to her recruits. Her very own troop of Anomalies. After Bastian left, she had been itching to get back out on the front, but Murdock thought it was too risky with the hefty reward on her head, not to mention the posters of her face plastered throughout the Territories. Murdock then laid out his plan for her: to train and lead their new Anomaly recruits. After the revolution had broken out, they had come out of hiding and sought out the Alliance, oftentimes getting transported from chapter to chapter until they reached this bunker. Murdock had gone to great lengths to bring them here, and now he expected Zara to make soldiers out of them.

  It wasn’t easy work — she knew that now. Zara had been training them for over a month, but the Anomalies were just getting a handle on their abilities. Most of them had spent their lives fighting their power, too afraid of catching the Nazis’ attention; but here at the bunker Zara commanded them to practice their skills for hours each day. And she was starting to see results. Marcus Reilly could teleport between rooms now without getting stuck in a wall. Jess Toscano, a tiny girl of only fourteen, could heal broken bones, which was a big leap from when she first arrived and could barely touch a paper cut. So far, the troops’ roster of powers was impressive: super-strength, chameleon skin, weather manipulation, and the most prized of all, earthquake summoning. There were only fifteen of them compared to the hundreds of Nazi sentinels, but Zara had faith in her little troop.

  Half an hour later, the meeting concluded. Murdock left the room to speak with more advisers while Alene hurried to radio her chapters. She nodded at Zara as she passed, but she left it at that. She hadn’t said much since Garrison’s passing, and Zara hadn’t pressed it. She figured Alene needed time to heal, as they all did.

  With the room nearly empty, Uncle Red gathered his paperwork, and Zara followed him out of the door. Due to their new positions, she only caught snatches of her uncle here and there, but she was happy to see him thriving at his work. Every day, she noticed him standing a little taller, his back a little straighter. This was the Redmond St. James that her mother would have recognized.

  Uncle Red tapped his pen against his notepad. “Are you busy?” he asked. “I could use a hand in the weapons bay.”

  “I was going to grab a shower before the Anomalies finished training, but maybe after that?”

  “No, no, I’ll manage. I’ll see you at dinner, then?”

  “You know I don’t skip meals.”

  That made him smile, and Zara smiled back. She could never erase Mission Metzger or her mother’s passing, but Uncle Red was finally showing glimpses of his old self: the smiles, the jokes, the fire that burned inside him to fight the Empire. She liked this side of him.

  “I’ll meet you at eight-thirty. Don’t be late,” he said.

  Of course, Uncle Red would always be Uncle Red.

  Parting ways, Zara headed to her room to find her towel. Two of her soldiers, the two youngest, darted past her. “Hey, no running in the halls!” she called out.

  The two girls, one fourteen and one fifteen, halted and mumbled quick apologies. “Sorry, Ms. St. James.”

  Zara sighed. She wished they would call her Zara like her uncle did, but nearly everyone at the bunker addressed her this formally. Uncle Red told her that she better get used to it. Now that every man, woman, and child in the Territories could recognize her, she would never be just Zara again. She was the face of the Alliance, the Anomaly who had killed the Führer himself. Although thinking about all of that made Zara uneasy. She was just a cleaning girl turned rebel who had to eat and sleep like everyone else.

  “Where were you running off to anyway?” Zara asked.

  “Alene told us we could go upstairs for a few minutes if we were really quiet,” said Jess, the healer. She glanced up at Zara and nibbled her lip. “You want to come with us?”

  Zara bit her own lip. She really did need to shower, and she had a hundred more tasks on her plate, but heading up to the hotel was a treat in the dingy bunker. Only a few soldiers were allowed up there at a time, in case the Nazis were scouting out the area.

  Her shower could wait.

  With the girls running ahead, Zara followed them up the bunker ladder and into the hotel foyer, which had long collected a thick layer of dust over its damask furniture and uneven floors. Jess sneezed while they padded toward the window. Outside, the sun had already set, which allowed a dusting of stars to shine across the moonless sky.

  “Never thought I’d be so happy to look out a window,” Jess said with a sigh. Sometimes she reminded Zara of Bastian, with her gentle hands and her soft heart. She couldn’t help but think that, maybe in another world, Jess and Bastian could have been friends.

  Zara’s fingers drifted into her left pocket, where she kept the first telegram that Bastian had sent her after he left. It was a brief message, but he told her that he and his mother had arrived in Iceland safely and that he would soon depart for Brussels. The Widerstand had already asked him to pen an essay for their underground paper and had set up a radio interview upon his arrival. He was doing well, he said, excited yet nervous. At the end of the message, he had written simply: Remember that night by the stream? That little sentence still made Zara flush, even weeks later. Their night by the stream had been the night of their kiss.

  She had written him back, of course, but hadn’t yet received a reply. She kept badgering the comms team if they had heard anything from the Widerstand, but the answer was always the same: Not yet. It’s going to be hard to get in touch with them.

  Patience. She needed patience.

  Zara hated being patient.

  A loud pop-pop-pop burst beyond the window, and Zara froze. She was about to yank the girls into the bunker and alert everyone that the Nazis had discovered their hiding spot, but then she saw the radiant colors spreading above the tree line, the little bursts of silver and red and ribbons of green.

  “Fireworks!” the girls said. “Somebody in town must’ve found some!”

  Zara relaxed as more lights sprouted above them. Maybe the citizens of Wardensville were in a festive mood. Zara herself hadn’t seen fireworks in years, not since she was little and her mother had lit a few for them. It had been on an evening much like this one, with a clear sky and a quiet night and their eyes so bright.

  July 4. Suddenly, Zara remembered the current date. The old Independence Day.

  A smile spread over her lips.

  Huddled against the window, she watched the fireworks pop and wane, filling her eyes with their exploding color. She wished her mom and Mrs. Talley were here, watching alongside her. Then her mind drifted to Bastian, who was so far away but who could be staring up at the very same stars, half a world apart.

  Finally, Zara thought about this new world springing up around her feet, a world without Führers or Heil Hitlers, a world where fireworks would reign in the skies instead of sentinels and gunfire. Where a German boy and a half-Japanese Kleinbauer could stand next to each other, hand in hand, without their pasts splitting them to pieces.

  Zara yearned for such a world.

  And she would keep fighting until she found it.

  My first thank-you goes to the readers of The Only Thing to Fear. I’ve wanted to become an author since I was seven years old, so it has been a dream come true to have this book published and to have found readers like you.

  A million thanks must go to Jim McCarthy, my doggedly persistent and incredibly hilarious agent. He was determined to sell this book — and sell it he did! I thank my lucky stars every day that he pulled me out of the slush pile and never gave up on me. Every writer needs a
Jim by her side.

  Next up, I never could have gotten here without the brilliance of Jody Corbett, my editor at Scholastic. The Only Thing to Fear was merely a shell of a novel when it first reached Jody’s desk, but she read it, saw potential in it, and helped me mold it into something I’m proud of. Jody, I owe you an entire orchard of honeycrisp apples.

  I’d also like to thank the entire team at Scholastic for their hard work and support. This is a publishing house that I’ve admired since elementary school, and I’m still a little speechless to be a part of the amazing Scholastic family.

  To Andrea Coulter, my earthquake buddy and Olive Garden aficionado, thank you for being such a wonderful friend and sharp-eyed critique partner. To Ellen Oh, I thank the Writing Gods every day for putting you in my life. You’re the big sister I never had.

  A big group hug to Jessica Spotswood and Robin Talley, my friends and fellow Jim McCarthy acolytes. I wouldn’t have survived the last four years without you cheering me on every step of the way. And another hug to Miranda Kenneally, who is all-around awesome and one of the most generous people I have ever met.

  To the Sisukas — Debra Rook, Kathleen Fox, Rebecca Petruck, and Cindy Cipriano — I’m so glad that we met at the SCBWI Carolinas retreat back in 2009. You guys are the best. To Dr. Paul Kerry, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to help me with my German vocabulary. Any mistakes are mine.

  And now for the mushy stuff …

  Thank you, Mom and Dad, for taking me to the library when I was little and buying me a ridiculous amount of books. To my brother, Ryan, I hope you enjoy your big sister’s novel. It’s not Redwall or A Song of Ice and Fire, but I think it’ll be up your alley. To my sister, Kristy, thank you for reading all of my novels and for always asking me questions about them. You don’t know how much your enthusiasm has meant to me.

  Much thanks to my mother-in-law, Donna Richmond, for her support and for always asking, “When can I read that book of yours?” And thank you to my sister-in-law, Aimee Richmond Rhoads. Like Zara said, the ache of missing you never goes away.

  To my little daughter, Aimee Rose, you’re a bit too young to read Mommy’s first novel, but I can’t wait to share it with you one day. Until then, I hope you don’t mind our weekly trips to the library.

  Lastly, to my husband, Justin, how can I put into words the depths of my heart? Thank you for loving me, for supporting me in this crazy dream of mine. When we first got married, you turned to me and said, “Hey, why don’t you try writing full time for a while?” I’m still not sure what I’ve done to deserve you, but I’m thankful for you every day, for every minute — even when you eat my leftovers and refuse to use your blinkers. But you know that I love you anyway.

  CAROLINE TUNG RICHMOND is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in the Baltimore Sun, Highlights for Children, and USAToday.com, among other publications. The Only Thing to Fear is her debut novel.

  A self-proclaimed history nerd and cookie connoisseur, Caroline lives in the Washington, DC, area with her husband; their daughter; and the family dog, Otto von Bismarck, named for the German chancellor (naturally).

  Copyright © 2014 by Caroline Tung Richmond

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Richmond, Caroline Tung, author.

  The only thing to fear / Caroline Tung Richmond. — First edition.

  pages cm

  Summary: It has been nearly eighty years since Hitler’s armies won the war, and sixteen-year-old Zara St. James lives in the Shenandoah hills, part of the Eastern American Territories, under the rule of the Nazis — but a resistance movement is growing, and Zara, who dreams of freedom, may be the key to its success.

  ISBN 978-0-545-62988-1 — ISBN 978-0-545-62989-8 1. Nazis — Juvenile fiction. 2. Revolutionaries — Juvenile fiction. 3. Political persecution — Juvenile fiction. 4. Eugenics — Juvenile fiction. 5. Shenandoah (Va.) — Juvenile fiction. [1. Nazis — Fiction. 2. Revolutionaries — Fiction. 3. Eugenics — Fiction. 4. Shenandoah (Va.) — Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.R39867On 2014

  813.6 — dc23

  2014005035

  First edition, October 2014

  Cover art & design © 2014 by Phil Falco

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-62989-8

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.