The Defiant

by Lisa M. Stasse

  I turn and gaze at myself in a large, gilded mirror that hangs on the wall across from the window. It’s sandwiched between framed photographs of Minister Harka.

  From the front, I look totally normal. So I turn sideways to get a better view. From this angle I can actually see the tubes in my neck. They come out at the base of my skull and then reenter my body above my shoulders. The tubes are made of yellow plastic. They look a lot smaller than they feel.

  “Alenna Shawcross?” a voice suddenly asks.

  I spin around to the doorway, feeling vulnerable and groggy.

  A middle-aged woman in a simple gray frock stands there watching me. Her freckled face is creased with lines, from too many years of sun exposure. Her skin looks like a crumpled sheet of paper. She’s tall and thin, and wears metal-frame glasses that are slightly too large for her face. Her brown hair, just beginning to turn gray, is held back in a tight bun.

  “That’s your name, isn’t it?” she asks. “Alenna.”

  “Yeah,” I tell her.

  “You may call me Miss Caroldean.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  She stares at me for a long time. Her black eyes are as hard and cold as glass. “You’re quite pretty for an agitator. I’ll give you that,” she finally says.

  An agitator. It’s a strange choice of words. I expected to be called a rebel. I don’t say anything in response. I just nod. I can feel the tubes in my neck tugging at my flesh, so I stop nodding.

  “Do you know how many agitators like you our family has hosted?”

  I shake my head. “No. How could I?”

  “Seventeen. All girls your age. All girls who slipped through the Government Personality Profile Test, but then turned out to be troublemakers.” She waits for me to be impressed. I try to fake it. “And each one of them went on to become productive citizens for the highest echelon of the UNA. They are the pride of my life.”

  “Really,” I say.

  “You probably have a lot of questions for me. And I’m sure you’ve noticed those vessels in your neck. Do you know why they’ve been placed there?”

  My hand goes up to them again. “No clue.”

  “The tubes are there in case you get it into your head to run away,” Miss Caroldean replies. I don’t like the sound of this, and she can see it in my eyes. “That’s right. Agitators often try to run. Surgeons implanted those tubes before you were delivered to me.”

  She slips her hand into her pocket, and extracts a metal UNA emblem painted black. Again, it’s different from the one I’m familiar with. Five eyes hover around a globe. In the center of it is a blinking red switch.

  “This switch is wired to those tubes in your neck,” she continues. “If you try to run, I will throw the switch, and the electrical signals that power your body will instantly bypass your spinal cord. You will be paralyzed, and lose your senses. Not for good, but until I decide to throw the switch again and open up your electrical pathways. Understand? Then you will recover. Of course, sometimes there are lingering complications. Nerve injuries and such.” She pauses. “You are under my command from now on. Do you understand?”

  I swallow my feeling of dismay. Could she be telling the truth, or is it a bluff? I feel too shaky and new here to test her yet.

  “This switch stays with me at all times,” she continues. “I am never to be challenged. You must obey my every command. Or I will not hesitate to punish you—and I have the full authority of the UNA in such matters.”

  I nod again. Her bony hand slips the metal device back into her pocket.

  “Now, I was told that you are an exceptional girl. Of high intelligence, who can learn easily, and has proven herself to be very brave. Is that true?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s no need to be humble. You wouldn’t have been sent here unless the UNA saw great potential in you. And I know that you made it off Island Alpha, and survived when others would not have. That means you’re made of strong stuff, and you’re not afraid of hard work. And there’s lots of hard work to be done on a farm.”

  I look down at the floor, feigning sheepishness because I don’t want her to see the look of sudden rage in my own eyes. I’m reminded that every second I’m imprisoned here, terrible things could be happening to Liam.

  But somehow I don’t fool her.

  “You’re worried about your boyfriend,” she says. “You know that he’s out here somewhere too, don’t you?”

  I can’t disguise my surprise at her words. She smiles when she sees the look on my face.

  “I know everything, Alenna. You cannot hide a grain of rice from me. Not in this house. Not on my own farm. So you best behave, and learn what you can from my example. That is why you were sent here—to stay with me and my children, and learn how moral citizens of the UNA behave. And to learn how to overcome your own hasty emotions. To learn the value of sacrifice.” She stares past me, out the window and across the fields baking under the sun. “Do you know what happened to my husband?”

  I shake my head.

  “Three years ago, an agitator ran away from a city. A girl, not much older than you are now. Soldiers were sent in search of her, of course. Foolish rebels gave her help along the way, and she made it all the way here. My husband volunteered to help guide the soldiers through this region when they were looking for her.” She brushes back a strand of her graying hair. “He led them up to the edge of the forest. There, they were ambushed and attacked by rebels. My husband disappeared. They never found his body. He was presumed dead.”

  Her eyes turn back to me. She clears her throat and continues speaking, “But the soldiers managed to defeat the rebels. Their leader was hung in public, and the others were sent to work camps in New Alaska, where they eventually died of exposure. I continue to run the farm in memory of my husband. I raise our children in his name. And now I take in agitators so that I can train them to be good leaders for the UNA. I can take an unanchored soul and turn her into the most effective citizen.”

  She’s staring at me hard. Unblinking. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry about your husband,” I finally offer, even though it’s a lie.

  She blinks. “What happened to your own parents no doubt taught you about suffering. Which is why you must learn to cease agitating, and begin to serve your country.” She pauses. “Do you love Liam Bernal?”

  I don’t reply. There’s no way I’m going to talk about my feelings for Liam with someone like her.

  “Answer me.”

  I stare back at her defiantly. My lips remain sealed.

  She sighs. “If you do love him, then you must put him out of your head forever. It will only cause you heartache to pine for someone whom you can never have. Romantic love has no place in the UNA. The only love I wish to see from you is love of your nation and love of Minister Harka.” She pauses. “I know what you agitators call our community.”

  I stare back at her. “The Hellgrounds,” I say.

  She nods. “Exactly. But if you open yourself up to Minister Harka and submit to the will of the UNA, it can become heaven on earth.” She turns away from me. “Now come this way. I will show you around the house where you’ll be living for the next three months, while I train you.”

  Three months. I don’t plan on being here for more than three days. David said I would have a tight deadline. I need to figure out what my next step is as soon as possible.

  Miss Caroldean leads me out into the hallway. The walls are painted light yellow, with lime-green trim, and the floor is made of creaky wood planks. Photos and drawings of Minister Harka line the walls. Everything looks old, like it comes from the previous century. Or maybe even the one before that. I wonder how long this massive farmhouse has been here.

  I follow Miss Caroldean down a wide flight of stairs, and into a huge, airy living room. It’s sparsely furnished, with handwoven white rugs strewn over the wood floor, and rough-hewn oak furniture.

  A large homemade portrait of Minister Harka don
e in oils hangs above a massive fireplace. To the left is an open kitchen and dining area. This house is by far the largest I’ve ever seen—perhaps its size is one of the few perks of living in the Hellgrounds. Miss Caroldean and I walk to the center of the room.

  We’re not alone in here. There’s an older boy sitting on a stool in an antechamber near the front door. Sharpening a knife on a piece of whetstone. A hand-rolled cigarette dangles unlit from one corner of his mouth.

  “This is Mikal. My youngest son,” Miss Caroldean says. “Nearly eighteen. My other sons are grown and have left the farm.”

  Mikal slowly turns toward me. His black hair is slicked back with grease, and he has a white scar running from his nose to his lip. His features are severe—a thin nose, thin lips, and sharp cheekbones. His blue eyes are narrow with hooded lids. He’s dressed all in black—jacket, shirt, jeans, and boots. He smiles warmly, but his eyes remain as cold as his mother’s. “Hey there,” he says to me.

  “Hey,” I say in response. I can already tell I’m going to have to watch my back around him. I feel his eyes roam over my body, checking me out. It gives me the shivers.

  “Mikal is going to enter the UNA Military Training Academy in two months,” Miss Caroldean says proudly. “You can learn a lot from him.”

  I nod. Mikal just keeps staring at me creepily, wearing that odd, thin smile, made slightly crooked by his scar.

  Then he takes out a cigarette lighter and flicks the flint. He brings the flame up to his cigarette and lights it.

  “Yes, you will learn a lot of things from Mikal,” his mother reiterates, her voice rising slightly in irritation. “But smoking is not one of them!”

  Mikal slides off the stool, unfazed. “Sorry,” he says insolently. He stands up, uncoiling his lithe body.

  “Take your cigarette outside,” she instructs, coughing. “You know I have asthma.”

  Mikal does as he’s told, stepping outside onto a large front porch. Through the window I see him settle down into a wooden porch swing, lounging back as he sucks on the cigarette.

  “He’s so eager to be a soldier,” Miss Caroldean says. “And of course a lot of them smoke. He’s following their example, I suppose.” She sighs. “Mikal is a tender soul. He takes after his father in that way.”

  I just stand there. He looks more like a delinquent than anything else, but obviously I’m not going to point that out.

  “Now come this way,” Miss Caroldean says. “There’s so much to see!”

  Miss Caroldean continues her tour of the farmhouse and its grounds. The house itself is huge, but it’s dwarfed by the massive barn and stables behind it, as well as a grain silo and a large dog kennel.

  Few people work this land other than her, Mikal, and six farmhands—mostly older men. They don’t look interested in me. Only in their work. There are also a number of mangy dogs roaming the property. I take everything in, studying my environment. Planning potential escape routes. I have no clue how David is going to give me instructions, but I hope that he somehow contacts me soon.

  Here, at the Hellgrounds, I have a much better chance of finding Liam and continuing on my mission than at any other point in my journey. And I don’t plan on wasting the opportunity. I must reconnect with David and learn what it is that I have to detonate.

  Once the tour is over, we return to the main house through the back door. Miss Caroldean has explained that she expects me to work—to help out the farmhands and Mikal. She’s also mentioned that she has two other children: twin eight-year-old girls, currently at a neighbor’s farm for a birthday party. I will be expected to help watch them when she needs me to, but only after I’ve proven myself to be reliable and honest, and not some dangerous crazy person.

  We stand in the kitchen. Miss Caroldean pours a glass of water and squeezes half a fresh lemon into it, followed by a dash of sugar. I’m so hot and thirsty, I assume it’s for me. But it’s not.

  “Take this to Mikal,” Miss Caroldean says. “He should be out front, chopping firewood. And remember, if you feel like running, think again.” She puts her hand in her pocket and brings up the black UNA emblem again, fingering the switch. “Some girls try running the very first chance they get, as soon as they arrive here and their strength comes back. They always regret it.”

  I pick up the glass of lemonade and stare at her. “I won’t run.”

  She nods. “Then you’re one of the smarter ones.”

  I feel her eyes heating my back as I walk through the house, and step outside onto the porch. I see Mikal standing at a tree stump in the grass, about a hundred yards away from me, his shirt off. He’s holding an ax, cursing. Around him are splintered chunks of firewood. He tosses the ax down and rummages for something else at his feet.

  I walk across the grass toward him. The sun is hot, and my skin still feels tender. I can feel the sun warming the tubes in the back of my neck. Around me I hear insects buzzing. I try not to think about Miss Caroldean and her awful device.

  Mikal doesn’t hear me coming. By the time I reach him, he has traded the ax for a large metal saw. He’s bent over an old window frame, sawing it into pieces of wood. He finally sees me and stops working, the saw still in his hand.

  “That for me?” he asks, eyeing the lemonade.

  I nod.

  He wipes sweat out of his eyes. “Hot enough for you today?”

  “I guess.”

  “How old are you, anyway?” He squints at me.

  “Sixteen.”

  “That’s young for an agitator. Usually they’re seventeen. Guess you started early?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So you really made it off that island. You and your boyfriend, and those other rebels.” He stares at me. “I’m betting the men did the work. Not a pretty girl like you.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say.

  “Oh yeah?” He takes a step closer. “Why don’t you tell me more?”

  I don’t want to explain anything to Mikal. I feel like the less I interact with him, the better. I hold out the glass filled with lemonade, expecting him to grab it. “Here, just take it, Mikal.”

  Suddenly he lashes out with the tip of the saw.

  He catches my wrist and hand, instantly shattering the glass and splattering me with lemonade. I’m left holding the jagged, broken bottom of the glass.

  On instinct, I lunge forward with a yell, using the broken glass bottom as a blade. Without thinking, I slice the air where his neck was a second earlier.

  He only barely manages to stumble out of the way. I see a flash of fear cross his eyes. I know that I could cut his throat. I grip the broken glass, desperate to leap forward and slash his neck.

  But if I attack Mikal now, Miss Caroldean will have her revenge on me. So I force myself to step back. I clutch my hand to my chest. It’s stinging as drops of blood bead on it. I pretend that it hurts more than it does.

  The look of fear is now gone from Mikal’s face. He advances on me, clutching the saw like a weapon.

  “Why the hell did you do that to me?” I yell at him, trying to sound hurt.

  “ ‘Sir!’ ” he barks. “That’s what you will call me—‘sir.’  You don’t get to say my name. You’re not my equal. It’s ‘sir’ when my mom’s not around. Got it?”

  I stare back at him. I want to fling myself at him and cram the saw right down his throat. It wouldn’t be hard. But I don’t do anything. I can’t risk it.

  Mikal senses my anger. He pokes my shoulder with the tip of the saw. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  “No.”

  He sighs. “You forgot to add ‘sir.’ ”

  “I didn’t forget.”

  His eyes narrow. “We’ll keep working on it. There’ll be plenty of time to practice. At the end of three months, you’ll be licking my feet.”

  He takes a step forward. I stand my ground.

  “You’re gonna have to go back inside now,” he says, “and explain to my mom how you broke that glass. Just sa
y you dropped it ’cause you’re clumsy. Don’t mention that we had an interaction, or things will just get worse for you. What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  He takes another step toward me. We’re just two paces away from each other now. I don’t back down.

  “I’ve seen a lot of girls like you, Alenna. You think you’re so smart. And so strong. But it’s luck and a smart boyfriend that’s kept you alive this long.”

  “Liam is smart, but I don’t feel lucky,” I murmur.

  “Well, you are. And luck has a nasty habit of running out at the worst possible moment.” Mikal turns away from me, getting back to work. “Go fetch me another lemonade, girl. Be quick about it.” He starts whistling jauntily as he returns to sawing at the window frame.

  Careful not to take my eyes away from him, I back up a few steps, and then walk back toward the house with the broken glass in my hand. When I glance behind me once, I see that he’s watching me. His eyes are fixed on my body. He grins. I get inside the house and shut the door.

  • • •

  Later that day, alone in my room upstairs, I sit down on the mattress for a moment. I’ve been granted a brief rest from the heat, and a chance to have some water and use the bathroom.

  Seventeen girls have been here before me. There is no trace of any of them. I wish they had left notes, scrawled or scribbled on the walls. But of course Miss Caroldean would have found them and erased any traces.

  I don’t want any more girls to get sent here after I have left this place. I plan on being the last in the line. I gaze out the window at the endless fields. From here, there is no sign of a city. No sign of Liam. It’s just me. I don’t even see Mikal or Miss Caroldean anywhere. Just a few laborers hauling bales of hay into the barn.

  I reach my hand up and feel the tubes in my neck again. I tug at them gently. Then harder. The more pressure I put on them, the more they hurt and make me feel nauseous. There’s no way for me to pull them out.

  I try to lie down on the bed, but the tubes push uncomfortably against the back of my skull. So I get up and walk over to the window. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m stuck here in the farmhouse with this family. And there’s no way to get to Liam.