Rebel Heart

by Ford, Lizzy

  Lana crossed her arms, feeling very alone. The discovery of her true father did nothing to comfort her, not when she realized how much Mr. Tim had betrayed her. Brady motioned her towards the door and hung back, pressing his thumb to a keypad on the wall. She watched him enter a code and a countdown begin, and guessed he was destroying the comms center.

  Stepping onto the ledge outside, Lana heard the sounds of gun and laser fire too close for her comfort, along with the beat of helicopters in the dark skies. Brady joined her and pulled the door closed behind them. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the micro and Horsemen, holding them out to her. Lana hesitated and then took them.

  “You keep those safe, and I’ll keep you safe,” Brady said. “Deal?”

  She nodded, understanding it was his way of showing he trusted her, even if she was too furious to trust him. She hurt too much right now. Lana unlocked her micro and forwarded everything to Mr. Tim that he requested.

  Brady started down the trail towards the darkness of the forest. Instead of retreating into the forest—the way they’d come—he walked behind a boulder and started up a set of long, shallow steps leading up the mountain. Lana looked over her shoulder at an explosion that seemed far too close. Brady didn’t so much as flinch, and she hurried after him.

  The stairs ascended to a plateau, and Brady strode into the center. He lifted his micro, which pulsed red for a fraction of a moment. He stepped back beside her, and she soon heard one of the helicopters grow nearer.

  Lana hunkered against the mountain as the helicopter drew nearer. The plateau was too small for it to land, but it hovered near the edge. A set of stairs unfolded from the helicopter to the plateau, and Brady rushed her forward. Lana took one look at the thin metal stairs and looked away quickly. They looked barely able to hold her, let alone Brady! Hands over her ears, she took a deep breath and hurried up them, all but flinging herself into the arms of an awaiting rebel soldier.

  The helicopter lifted away before Brady had two feet in its belly, and the soldier holding her strapped her securely into a seat in the rear while the two of them stood with nonchalance in the center.

  The helicopter dropped suddenly, and she thought she’d vomit. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes as the pilot maneuvered the aircraft sideways, up and down. All the while, the two soldiers before her remained standing or leaning, accustomed to the rocky flight.

  She leaned into her harness, staring as the helicopter rolled. Lights from lasers and muzzle fire spotted the forest below them before they reached an urban area, mostly dark with several patches of electricity. The forest swallowed the city before she could orient herself.

  The flight steadied out, and they flew for an hour over the Appalachian landscape. They flew over the Peak, and she straightened to see the devastation in the moonlight.

  The Peak was flattened. Her breath caught. As sorry as she felt for all those who died, she felt relieved knowing she had the Horsemen and not Greenie or anyone who might inflict this level of damage to the country.

  They flew south, and she strained against the harness to see if her own condo was still standing. The urban areas were dark and the river nearby even darker. She saw smoke moving across the sky a moment before the helicopter rolled and began its sickening maneuvers again.

  Right, left, up, down … and then she heard the explosion. Heat ripped through the cabin of the helicopter, bringing with it the scent of scorched metal. Her stomach fell as they dropped.

  “Brady!” she shouted.

  Pitched to the other end of the cabin, the two soldiers had strapped themselves in. The helicopter rolled as it fell, like a carnival ride without the option to get off. Lana held her breath at the whirling world, certain their death would at least be fast. The rotators caught, pulling them out of the spin, slowed their ascent, then gave out once again. Something else caught, and their ascent stopped suddenly, slamming her against the harness and knocking the breath from her.

  The beating of the rotators died, replaced by creaking and scraping of metal. The cabin swayed, and Lana caught the image of wires and far below, water. Emergency lighting glowed red, turning the world inside the broken helo surreal.

  The bridge. They were close to her condo; she drove the massive Sky Bridge every day to get to work. They were stuck in its wires. She looked around for Brady, afraid he’d be hurt or dead.

  “Lana.” Brady’s voice was quiet and even. He was suspended in the air by the straps of his harness. “Under the seat is a box with vests and water-breathers. Reach under the bench and grab it.”

  His calm words terrified her. They were going into the black water, hundreds of feet beneath them.

  “Lana,” he said more gently, when she didn’t move. “Reach under the bench.”

  She forced herself out of her fear and leaned forward. The helicopter dropped and caught. The other soldier cursed.

  “Very slowly,” Brady hissed through clenched teeth.

  She obeyed, inching towards the bench until she lay on her side, suspended by the harness above the seat by a few inches. Her fingers worked across the hard metal seat and under. There was a box strapped to the floor beneath the bench. Her fingers grazed the cold metal, and she stretched towards it. The helo creaked but didn’t move.

  “I can’t reach it,” she said. “Wait, maybe I can.” She fumbled with the straps on her harness and pushed the releases.

  “No!” Brady snapped. “Stay strapped in.”

  “I can get it,” she said, ignoring him and adding silently, I won’t let you die. She rolled slowly until she was on the floor, wedged between the bench and the punctured floor of the helo.

  Lana eased the straps off the box and pulled. It didn’t give. She released a breath, closed her eyes and then yanked. The heavy metal box grated towards her. She stood carefully and tugged it out from under the seat. With trembling hands, she deactivated the latches with a touch, and the top of the box slid open.

  “Secure yours then toss us one of each,” Brady directed. She glanced at him. He looked as calm as he sounded, and she wondered how he could face his own possible death with such confidence and poise.

  She was ready to break down crying and throw herself out of the helo in the hopes she didn’t die when she hit the water. Brady’s tranquility steadied her, and she searched through the box. Instead of listening to him, she dug out the water-breathers and life vests, each packaged in small plastic containers the size of her hand. She straightened and tossed them down the cabin to the soldiers.

  “She makes a bad grunt,” the soldier beside Brady said. “Doesn’t follow orders.”

  “Civilian-types,” Brady grunted in agreement as he tore open the plastic containers.

  Lana opened a water-breather mask and perched it on her forehead like sunglasses before placing the inflatable vest beneath her arms. Once it hit water, it would inflate, and the water-breather would activate. She looked again at what awaited them and then up at Brady.

  “You don’t really think we’ll survive the fall, do you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “If we do, we’ll need the equipment,” he replied. “Harness up. I may jar us loose.”

  She lowered herself back to the seat and pulled on her harness, strapping it on. Brady unstrapped himself, and she watched uneasily as he inched closer to the center of the cabin, his hands—and concentration—on the ceiling.

  “Should be there,” the other soldier said.

  “Looks like the handle is damaged,” Brady replied.

  The helo creaked and slid again in the wiring. The unmistakable snap of wires reached them, and the helicopter tilted.

  Brady muttered a curse, reached for his laser weapon, and fired at an angle at the ceiling. Lana closed her eyes at the sudden light and heard him tearing something out of the ceiling. The helo teetered, throwing Brady off his feet. He held onto the railing lining the ceiling with one hand and beat at whatever was in the hole in the ceiling with his other hand.

  “B
rady, please sit down!” Lana said, alarmed. Warmth splattered her face as he continued to slam his fist into the hole. She touched it, surprised it was his blood. “Brady, we’re going to fall. Just sit down!”

  He said nothing. The helo lurched.

  “Brady!” she cried as he slammed into the wall of the cabin.

  They fell. This carnival ride was worse. Lana slapped at the water-breather until it covered her mouth and nose then squeezed her eyes closed. After a sharp drop, their tumble slowed suddenly. The helicopter righted itself fast, and she saw the parachute Brady had been trying to release by smashing his fist against the control box in the ceiling.

  Her heart leapt as Brady was flung out of the helicopter. She screamed.

  Chapter Eleven

  THEY SMASHED INTO THE water. Cold water poured into the cabin. Lana fumbled with her harness and yanked it free, slogging through the rising water. She struggled to pull herself out of the cabin, against the flow of cold river water. She gripped the doorway and pulled as hard as she could until her legs were free. She planted them against the side of the helicopter and pushed free.

  Floating in the shocking cold, she oriented herself in the darkness. The water-breather worked, but the lifesaver was slow to inflate. Finally, it caught, and she kicked her feet as it pulled her towards the surface.

  Lana’s head broke free, and she pushed the water-breather up, gasping. Her arms and legs were already too cold to feel. She looked around, unable to see Brady or the other soldier.

  “Brady!” she rasped. “Brady!”

  There was no response. Lana looked up at the bridge, trying to determine which way it was to shore. She’d die if she stayed in the water. She wasn’t too far from shore, though any distance felt impossible with her cold body.

  She pulled the water-breather down and focused hard on kicking her wooden legs. With grueling slowness, she drew nearer the shore. Finally, she felt rocks scrape one leg, and Lana lifted her head. The bank was within reach.

  She stretched and pulled herself onto the bank, shaking hard with cold. She couldn’t stand, not with her frozen body, and she rolled onto her back, out of the water.

  Hot tears started down her face. Lana lay gasping, unable to catch her breath for several moments. When she could, she pushed herself up and gazed out over the dark river.

  “Brady!” she cried again.

  No answer. An idea occurred to her. She pulled her micro free and rested her wet thumb against it until the screen unlocked; it worked. The Horsemen were in her other cargo pocket. She scanned the area for any other micros operating in the area.

  There were none. Brady could’ve lost it in the river, but she should still pick up some electromagnetic fluctuation, if he was anywhere except the bottom of the river. Lana sank to the ground, too shocked to register what to do next.

  Anger and sorrow collided within her. Brady hurt her, yet he’d been her only friend and protector. Her last words to him had been spoken in anger. New emotions flooded her. She’d admired him as the Guardian, but she’d fallen in love with the rebel leader. Her anger at him slid away as she huddled against a large river rock, alone. Tears filled her eyes, and she sobbed.

  Lana cried for a long time, shaking. When no more tears came, she roused herself. Her Guardian was truly gone. Her whole body resonated in pain at the thought. She had to get the Horsemen to safety.

  Her clothes were still drenched. She needed new ones, or the cool night would do her in. She pulled her micro free again and looked for the nearest emerops.

  Another address popped up. Her address. She’d been too tired and cold to remember just how close to home she was. With one last look at the river, she turned away and climbed the bank clumsily before heading towards the road leading from the bridge to her home.

  Home. Her throat tightened at the thought. She’d never expected to see her condo again and couldn’t shake the feeling it wouldn’t be the same. There was no electricity in this part of the state, and looters would’ve likely taken everything.

  But it was all she had left. Her step faltered, and more tears spilled.

  Be strong. For Brady, she told herself. The thought of him almost crippled her.

  While her step was anything but sure, Lana forced herself onto the road and walked. Her body shook off the chill by the first mile marker and by the second, the moon was directly overhead. She heard disconcerting sounds of heavy weapons fire in the distance, and the forest smelled as if it were burning.

  Brady’s caution and Mr. Tim’s words returned to her as her thoughts cleared with the exercise. She looked around when she reached the third mile marker, aware she was a sitting duck. The rebellion’s grays were enough to get her shot by anyone. She moved off the road into the ditch.

  At the fourth mile marker, she paused. The road was ripped open, as if by a massive bomb. The gap was twenty meters wide and on the other side, a graveyard of burnt-out vehicles. The scent of charred flesh and metal still lingered, and Lana covered her mouth and nose with her hand as she started forward again.

  Morbid curiosity drew her from the gutter to the highway. She walked down the middle of the carnage, peering into hulls of greencars. Some had charred bodies while others were empty. She’d read many reports of damage and was struck by how easy it had been to dismiss the humanity of the war they were in.

  She pulled out her micro to see what had happened along this stretch. There were no media reports, but one intelligence spot report described the carnage.

  Attack on feds fleeing towards Sky Bridge. No survivors.

  Lana replaced the micro, looking anew at the green cars and their silent occupants. It was impossible to identify anyone or anyone’s individual vehicle. Yet she couldn’t shake the thought that these weren’t any feds; these were the feds from her condo community.

  She continued walking down the middle of the road. The destruction disappeared by mile marker five, only a few hundred meters from the turnoff to her condo community. She looked back at the lines of those who fled, overwhelmed again.

  If not for Mr. Tim, this would’ve been her fate.

  Inexplicable anger at the politician surged through her. He’d used her and saved her, not for her, but for his own purposes! And here she was: back where she’d been the night he called her away. Only this time, she’d lost everything: her belief in him, her Guardian.

  She’d meet the same fate as those on the road to the bridge. There was no one to protect her now. All she had was herself.

  Wiping away angry tears, Lana trotted to the entrance to her community then slowed to a walk when she became breathless too fast. She was weak and chilled. To her surprise, the condo community was as quiet as the night she left. Moonlight spilled over triangular roofs into grassy front yards. The parking lot was empty, and the only sign of unusual activity was the open gate.

  The grisly scene leading to the condos likely dissuaded anyone from visiting, she rationalized. She went to her condo and walked up the stairs slowly. She paused to look around again, caught in the surreal sense that everything that happened the past few months hadn’t touched the condo community. She could almost pretend nothing occurred.

  Pressing her thumb to her door, she realized there was light lining the windows of the condo beside hers. Lana’s hand dropped. The occupant of the neighboring apartment was Mrs. Watson, a retired fed. She was an older woman who may not have gotten the same communiqué that sent all the other feds in the community to their deaths trying to escape. Still, Lana wasn’t convinced she wanted to discover what lay behind the door after the travesty along the road. She hesitated until recalling Jack, the shepherd mix she’d left with Mrs. Watson.

  Lana walked down her stairwell and up Mrs. Watson’s stairs. She knocked and inched away, not wanting to find her neighbor and dog dead. The door opened, and Lana gripped the railing to keep from fleeing.

  “Lana?” Mrs. Watson’s features registered surprise. Her brow knitted together as her eyes took in Lana’s clothes.


  “I’m sorry,” Lana said quickly. “I shouldn’t—”

  “You’re drenched. Come in.”

  Mrs. Watson left the doorway. Lana hesitated before following. The apartment was almost as she’d last seen it: comfortable and crowded with oversized furniture and rugs coating every carpeted space. The only difference was the boards hammered over each of the windows, and the weapons sitting beside Mrs. Watson’s rocking chair and stacked on the couch. The woman was armed as well as Brady, Lana noted.

  The occupant of the large chair in the corner of the living room launched towards her in a flurry of brown and black fur.

  “Jack!” Lana exclaimed as the large animal knocked her back. “I can’t believe you’re okay!”

  “He’s more than fine. He took out one thug,” Mrs. Watson said proudly. “I didn’t think he had it in him after how you baby him.”

  Lana’s face grew warmer. Jack smelled clean and looked healthy with his long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He jumped on her again, planting his paws on her shoulders. Mrs. Watson disappeared down a darkened hallway, returning quickly.

  “Jack, down! Put this on,” she said. In her outstretched hand was a robe. “Just place your … your uniform in the dryer. Jack! Down!”

  Lana flushed. Mrs. Watson only offered a small smile, shoved the robe at her, and resumed her seat on the rocking chair. Lana retreated down the hall, trailed by the happy dog. The condo’s layout was the same as hers, and she found the bathroom where she expected. She changed, grateful to be out of the cold, wet clothing.

  Her gaze settled on the lights, and she wondered how the elderly woman had electricity when no one else did. Lana drew a deep breath and placed the clothing in the round dryer in the linen closet before returning to the living room. The retired fed had cleared a spot for her on the couch. A steaming bowl of soup awaited her on the coffee table. Jack sat beside it, wagging his tail.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Watson,” Lana said, overwhelmed by the kindness of her neighbor. She sat, patted Jack, and lifted the warm soup, sighing. “What are you still doing here?”