Her Rebel

by Alexa Riley

  “Wait a minute. Why would someone on the other side take instructions from you?” I ask, dread building in my stomach.

  He studies my face for a moment, his grip on me becoming tighter, like he thinks I’m going to slip away from him. “Because I’m the leader of the Insurgence.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say, laughing and leaning back in his arms.

  His face doesn’t change and there’s no evidence of a joke pulling at his lips.

  “Come with me,” he says, putting me down and taking my hand.

  I throw on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I want to be dressed in case it’s somewhere cold. Owen, however, just walks around his place totally naked like it’s no big deal.

  With our fingers locked together he leads me to the back of the room, behind the row of the brewery’s mammoth, empty, cone-shaped fermenters. He moves aside a stack of boxes and then pulls back the edge of the rug revealing an old wooden slab on the floor.

  “See that door? It goes down to the old storage room. Open it.” He steps back a little, giving me room.

  I look at the door in the floor and look back at Owen. Is this really happening?

  Putting my hand on the brass handle, I pull on it and the door opens easily. I look down and see a narrow staircase leading down into the darkness.

  “Go on.” He nods to the stairs.

  “What? No way am I going down there.”

  He smiles at me again, then pulls me into his arms and takes my mouth in a deep kiss. I melt into him, forgetting about the door and everything else. He does that to me. When he pulls back I’m breathing heavily.

  “I’ll lead the way,” he says.

  I tug on his hand and then look down. “You’ll lead the way with pants.”

  His hard cock is pressing against me and though this doesn’t feel like the moment, I could really go for another round with him right now.

  “Pants. But then I want more naked time,” he says, giving me a wink.

  He walks back to our room and a second later appears with sweats hanging low on his hips. I’m tempted to tell him to get a shirt, too, but I like the view myself.

  He descends the stairs into the darkness, and then I see a light come on. Looking down I see him holding a flashlight in one hand and holding out his other hand to me. Without hesitation I take his hand and go down the stairs. I trust him with my life, so even though it may seem crazy, I follow him into the creepy basement.

  Looking around, it doesn’t appear to be any different than a normal storage area. Lots of metal equipment lines the walls, along with a few old kegs and tubes that are left behind from the brewery.

  Then Owen walks over to one corner, where a pallet holds up a stack of empty kegs. He crouches down to the floor and reaches under the pallet, pulling out a rope. He moves an industrial black mat to reveal a small set of tracks indented in the floor. He pulls at the rope and I brace myself for the inevitable avalanche of kegs, causing certain head injuries to the both of us. Instead, the pallet moves smoothly, with everything piled on top of it intact.

  The whole thing comes about two feet forward and nothing falls. I’m amazed, and after taking a closer look, it looks like all of the kegs have been welded together, forming one huge wall. He, or somebody, has gone to an enormous amount of trouble to hide the door to the tunnels.

  “Are you going to come look at this or what?”

  He winks at me standing behind the wall of kegs he just moved, waiting for me. In the cinderblock basement wall next to him is another door. It isn’t very visible and there aren’t handles to give it away, but when Owen leans against the blocks, the hidden door swings inward, revealing the secret tunnel.

  I walk over and stand next to him, staring off into the darkness.

  “So this is how it’s done? This is how you carry out attacks against the Regime?” I glance at him, feeling unsure about all this now. I don’t like the idea of anyone getting hurt on either side.

  “And get much-needed supplies that we don’t have access to. We also use it to communicate with allies on the inside and help people on both sides disappear if the Regime is looking for them.”

  My uncertainty starts to slip away at his words. “Where does it come out on the other side?”

  “The library basement. Our ally on the other side, The Librarian, helps us. We don’t know her real name and she doesn’t know any of ours. It’s safer that way.”

  “You mean in case this tunnel is discovered and she’s brought in for questioning? She can’t rat you out?”

  “It means that the less information she has, the less likely she is of being executed for treasonous acts against The Regime.”

  “I don’t like being affiliated with the Insurgence,” I admit.

  I like some of what the group does. Getting goods needed on this side is one thing I agree with. I just don’t care for some of the violence that I know can go along with it. It’s hard for me to swallow. I’ve spent my life either healing people or learning how to heal them. Violence isn’t a part of who I am.

  Owen stares at me as if thinking his words over. “Do you still want to provide a black-market service to the elites? Because if you do, you’re part of the Insurgence whether you like it or not.” He pulls me into him and bends closer. One of his hands goes between my legs and strokes me possessively. “And you are more than affiliated with the Insurgence.”

  I gasp at the sensation and try to pull away, but he holds me tighter and tugs at the neckline of my shirt. His mouth goes to my bare shoulder and he sucks hard, marking me as his hand dips down inside my shorts. He strokes me while he sucks on me and I’m lost in his control. My body is wound tight and within seconds, I’m coming apart in his hand and crying out his name.

  He places a soft kiss on my shoulder before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean.

  “You’re not affiliated with the Insurgence. I am the Insurgence, and you belong to me. You’re entangled in all of this, and you can’t go back now.”

  I know he’s right. A part of me will always belong to him and I can never deny that. He’s been a part of who I am since I was a young girl. And now he’s a part of it until my last breath. I need to come to terms with how far I’m willing to go for the cause. For him. I have a feeling I will do anything. I may not call myself an Insurgent, but I still do things that break the rules, like providing medical help on my side of the wall, using the skills they taught me to help non-elites.

  “Your class isn’t the first of its kind being taught on the other side of the wall. Anything the Regime has made illegal has been going on for decades underground, with a vengeance. They pop up here and there, then we shut them down when we’re close to getting caught. People on the other side desire these things. In return for these classes, they need to give us much-needed supplies that only they can obtain. It’s an easy trade, and a way to get goods without stealing them. Or fighting for them.”

  “A peaceful way,” I say, and he nods.

  When we go back upstairs Owen says to prepare for twelve people in my yoga class tomorrow.

  “Go to go the abandoned wing of the hospital, past the old morgue, and set up your class in that room. The supplies will be waiting there for you.”

  “How do I explain what’s happening if I get asked? What do I say about why I arrived at work early and I’m wandering around the abandoned area of the hospital?”

  “That part is up to you. I supply you with materials, the Librarian puts the word out about class, and you come up with a reason. If anyone could come up with one, it’s you. You know the hospital,” he says. I can tell from his eyes he trusts that I can do this.

  He pulls me into his arms and takes me straight to bed, where he keeps me until the last possible second. I can’t complain, though, because my mouth is busy.

  Chapter Ten

  Minnie

  Six weeks later…

  Every Friday morning, I wake up a few hour
s earlier than normal, making love with Owen until it’s time for me to head to the checkpoint alone. I told the other workers I was meeting with a wedding planner before work. Everyone knows that I’m being forced to marry soon and they have never questioned the lie.

  At the hospital, I change into exercise clothes, put in my earphones and pretend I’m going on a brisk walk through the hospital halls. It’s an enormous and busy place. In the early morning hours, it’s not unusual for people to walk the halls for exercise.

  I move out of range of the security cameras and make my way to the abandoned area of the hospital, past the old empty morgue, and into the small dark room where all the material is kept. Mats, blocks, bolsters, straps, icons, and even an essential oil diffuser to set the mood are waiting for me. There’s no music, but I prefer it that way. Instead I talk and educate the elites who come down to take the forbidden class. I tell them about the other side of the wall and what’s really happening. What life is like on the other side.

  Within a month, my class grows from a dozen to nearly two dozen. It’s a bigger crowd than I’m comfortable teaching, but I enjoy the interaction with others.

  On Friday and Saturday evenings following my shifts, I go to my dorm room and look out the window. I can always spot Owen’s lamp, which continues to signal me in the dark. I flicker the light in my room off and on, one time, to signal to him that all is well.

  But it isn’t all well. Although I enjoy leading the group of curious elites through meditative poses and planting the seeds of compassion and rebellion, I hate being away from Owen. I know what I’m doing is needed, but I’m being selfish.

  Knowing how hard it is for Owen doesn’t help either.

  Every Friday I have to peel his arms from around me. Every time it breaks my heart. He hates when he can't have eyes on me. I know he has friends on the other side that keep watch on me so it can give him some sort of peace. But the distance we keep between us is tearing us both apart.

  On Sunday night following my last shift, I rush back to Owen. We fuck like animals out of sheer relief that we’re both okay and alive. When we eventually make our way back to his bedroom, we collapse on the bed and don’t leave for hours, just so we can stay naked and close as long as possible.

  This is our schedule and we do the best we can, but on Friday morning, everything changes.

  As always I set the stage for my class on Friday morning. I turn the lights to low and about twenty people trickle into the room. One by one they open their expensive handbags, as always, to let me inspect the contents. I have to make sure no one brought in their phones or any sort of apparatus to record this.

  I take my seat at the front of the class and begin. “Close your eyes and take a breath. Feel your abdomen filling up, then slowly receding and pushing out the air. Good things in, bad things out.”

  I listen and watch, making sure everyone is in sync. It’s a lovely thing to see people doing something in unity like this, slowing down and just being together and not competing. I wonder if my mother ever had this feeling. I watch carefully, looking around the room at all my students as we switch positions. All the usuals are here today, in their tight yoga leggings and fitted tops, exposing their collarbones and the shapes of their lifted asses and perky breasts. Most of them are various shades of blonde, with light brown hair, grown long, past their shoulders.

  They all have strong bodies and good builds. It’s a shame that they had to come here covered in bulky, Regime-approved clothing for women. They’re forbidden to choose what they want. We might not have a lot on our side of the wall, but we have more freedoms, that’s for sure.

  The elites know how to access sexier, more form-fitting clothes, but they wear them at home, the only place the Regime lets it slide.

  I call for the next position, and all of my students move, except one. The new student in the back, in the expensive pale pink outfit. Instead of doing the move like someone who needs to come to a yoga class, she sweeps her leg and balances perfectly like she could be the one instructing. Either this woman has beginner’s luck, or she’s here for something else.

  I stand up and excuse myself so I can go to the restroom. I head out of the room and through the small anteroom where everyone keeps their coats and shoes. I scan the space for a moment and count to twenty, then flush the toilet. Turning on the water in the sink, I try to muffle my snooping sounds. I feel a slight pang of guilt over wasting perfectly good water, but it’s necessary.

  Bingo. I find the new chick’s bag because I remember she wore an expensive-looking camel hair coat and carried a large bag. It’s also a dead giveaway of a government worker. Rifling through the bag, I find a handgun, which is no shock, and in the wallet is a government ID. Department of Non-Loyal Activities. Undersecretary.

  Shit. This is a big-wig, or someone very close to the big-wigs.

  This is trouble.

  Taking a deep breath, I get myself under control. This is not going to bring me down. No basic blonde bitch of a temporary Regime is going to sabotage what I’ve done. Digging through her bag, I see there’s no phone, but I checked everyone for phones and cameras as they entered the studio. What I do find in the blonde bitch’s bag is a spy camera. It’s disguised as a metal stud in the bag’s trim, but there it is.

  She’d no doubt taken footage of everyone in the class while they were checking in. Anger flashes through me and I grab hold of the camera’s tiny lens and destroy the camera. Then I grab a magnet closure from a nearby bag to erase the digital storage that might be left on it. The basic hardware of the bag is left intact, but the tape will contain nothing.

  Once I’m finished, I put everything back exactly the way it was before. Then I turn off the water and return to class.

  I go about the class like everything is normal. The new girl follows along with the flow at a decent enough pace. She’s fit and lean with very little fat on her for an elite. But this is not the average, soft member of elite society. This is an agent.

  I place my hand at the small of the suspected informant’s back, then put my other hand on her shoulder. Without words, I adjust the woman’s position so the twist goes a little deeper. Then millimeter by millimeter, I adjust her neck, then shoulders, then hips. The adjustments are barely noticeable, but they’re enough to do the job.

  After class, everyone leaves without incident. I pack up the supplies and cover them with the shabby painter’s tarp in the corner before heading to the locker room. I change into my scrubs as if nothing is out of the ordinary and clock into work right on time. But in the back of my mind, I know I need to hit the supply room as soon as possible.

  Chapter Eleven

  Minnie

  The pregnancy stick shows a plus sign. There’s no doubt about it, I’m pregnant.

  “Oh shit,” I whisper, and toss the stick into the trash of the employee bathroom. I bury it with paper towels so no one can see it. You can’t get a condom these days, but damn, if you want a pregnancy test, the Regime is giving them away at every turn. Literally, there’s a free dispenser of test sticks in just about every women’s public restroom.

  My emotions are all over the place. I’m excited and scared all at once. I have a piece of the man I love inside of me, something made by the two of us that’s a piece of our forever.

  I know after this morning’s events with the spy, I have to close up shop. I can only hope that the physical adjustments I made to her during class will be enough to cause her a lot of fatigue and maybe even aches in places that won’t allow her to run to the Regime right away. She should be in a good amount of pain since her muscles have had time to rest. It was an asshole thing to do, but I have to give myself as much time as possible. I can’t have her running off to her superiors even if I’ve damaged her evidence.

  Worst-case scenario, there are no photos and no way to follow the money. I only took cold hard cash and goods as payment for the classes. It’s a good thing this secret occupation has been bringing in a little extra cash. I’
m going to need it now that I’m having a baby. My hand goes to my stomach in a protective hold. I’d do anything and everything for this little one inside me. And I know Owen will feel exactly the same.

  It’s a slow Friday morning in the emergency room, so I park myself in front of the television in the hall by the nurses’ station. My mind wanders elsewhere though. While the people on television prattle on about some official business, my thoughts drift to the woman I discovered in my class.

  The informant wouldn’t die, but what I did was enough to give her an explosive migraine from hell and knock her out of commission for a day. Hopefully that and lack of evidence will give me enough time to alert Owen so he can get things moved. Or I might have to shut down completely, at least for a while. I know I can’t go running to him right now or it puts us all in jeopardy. All I can do is hope that what I did was enough to buy the precious time we need.

  Even though I know I did the right thing, I think I kind of surprised myself. I never believed I could purposely hurt someone. When I knew why that woman was there today I knew I had to protect not just everyone in the class, but also Owen. Not to mention I’ve seen all that is being done with the supplies I’ve been getting from my students. Each week they’re giving more and more on top of the money they pay for the class. I know the words of peace I speak in class are reaching them, and I couldn’t allow this spy to come in and destroy all of that. I would do anything to keep that from happening, and I did.

  A tap on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts and I turn around to see another nurse, Lisa, smiling at me. She slides up next to me in front of the television.

  “Happy Friday,” she chirps.

  I reach for the volume, turning it up as the morning news begins. Really, it’s the only channel anyone with a TV ever gets these days.

  “Back at you,” I say, trying to be polite and act like everything is normal.