Rebel

by Rachel Manija Brown

  “What are those metal poles?” Mia asked, pointing down the road. “Ever seen those before?”

  Ross shook his head and started walking. It bothered him to be so close to his grandmother’s tools and be unable to reach them.

  “It would take ten of us to lift one,” said Jennie. “But imagine having all that metal!”

  “We wouldn’t have to lift them,” Mia replied. “I could build rollers and a pulley system.”

  Ross kept going. The tools were gone. There was no point thinking about things that had already been lost. He’d find new things.

  He stopped at a building with an open doorway. It was overgrown with metallic vines but structurally intact, not even an inch off its foundations. This time Mia stayed well back, though she was quivering with eagerness, like a pup on a leash. Ross had been like that with his grandmother. The memory made him smile as he shaded his eyes from the light glinting off the vines.

  “Jennie, can you test the floor?” he asked.

  Jennie used her sword to prod at the debris that mounded the floor. What had looked like a heap of moldering cloth vanished like a rabbit illusion, revealing a furry creature the size of a small dog. The creature’s fur writhed, and hundreds of pinprick eyes opened. It had a mass of tiny babies clinging to its back. With a shriek, the creature leaped for the opening, skittered over Mia’s foot, and vanished into another building.

  The girls backed away, Mia shaking her foot madly. Ross tried not to laugh as he peered inside. A speck of crimson gleamed amidst the gray-green mold. He checked for eyes, then plucked out a folding knife. It was rusted shut, but he knew the type by the bright red handle. A good soak in oil, and it would be a valuable multi-purpose tool.

  Mia reached out to pet it—she owned one herself—then pointed. “What are those mounds over there? The ones in a row. I don’t think that’s a natural formation.”

  Once she’d called them to Ross’s attention, he recognized them. “Those are vehicles. I saw a row like that in the ruined city of Gold Point, but I had to pretend I didn’t know what they were so Voske couldn’t get them.”

  Mia bolted across the silvery road. Ross pursued her, delighted that he could finally get to explore one and intent on preventing her from getting herself into trouble.

  But to his relief, she didn’t attempt to fling herself inside. Instead, she stayed at a safe distance and looked to Ross. “What do we do? I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

  He inspected the mound. It looked stable, and he didn’t see anything living on or in it other than a few harmless-looking bugs. “Let’s start by scraping off the moss.”

  The silvery moss peeled off more easily than he’d expected, coming away in curling sheets like paper. The underside was sticky and smelled acidic, and he warned the girls not to touch it. Soon they exposed a rusted metal body with glass windows, and rotted seats and a round wheel inside.

  Reverently, Mia whispered, “It’s a car. Maybe it still moves!”

  Jennie circled it. “I see a wheel, but where’s the rudder to steer it along the road?”

  Mia pointed to the front. “In there. The engine has to be in there, too. Let’s get it open!” She hopped from foot to foot. “Oh, this is even better than I hoped! A real car, with a complete engine!”

  Ross, too, was thrilled. He’d seen pictures in rare books of cars. Legend had it they’d sped along the roads faster than the fastest deer could run. Legend also insisted that planes—another item he’d seen in Jennie’s books—actually flew in the sky, though he could not imagine how those thin metal wings would flap hard enough to lift a tube that seemed capable of holding a hundred people. But he’d never seen examples of either. They had stopped working when the world changed, and then had either been trapped inside the ruined cities or long since salvaged for their parts.

  Even if it was impossible to make the car move again, just seeing one made all the pain he’d gone through with the singing trees seem worthwhile. It was like finding that ancient book that only Yuki could read. It had been far more than a valuable relic. That book had changed his entire life. Without it, he’d never have made an enemy of Voske—never been struck by a shard from a crystal tree—never come to Las Anclas—never met Mia or Jennie.

  Ross wondered if the car, too, would somehow prove to be more than a precious discovery. But while he was standing and thinking, the girls were busy running around and examining the vehicle.

  Jennie exclaimed, “I see a crack. I think this is a lid! Give me your crowbar—sorry. I’ll use mine. It’s smaller, but it should be okay.”

  They levered up the lid and exposed a mass of engine parts, rusted almost solid. Swarms of brilliant blue creatures fled from the light and scuttled off along the road, squeaking shrilly.

  “Ugh!” Mia exclaimed. “Why do they always run over my foot?”

  “They like you,” Jennie said with a grin. “Maybe you smell good to them.”

  “It’s probably metal or oil,” Mia said. “They were living in an engine, after all.”

  That warm feeling filled Ross’s chest again, at Jennie’s joke and Mia taking it seriously and his realization that Mia might well be right. The girls were being so themselves. That little exchange had so much of what made him . . . He again hesitated over the word love.

  It’s what makes me want to be with them, he concluded.

  Then he shut down the thoughts and pulled some tools from his pack. Ross lost all sense of time as they poured oil over the engine and worked part after part free. It was as thrilling as his very first prospecting trip. So many parts were completely new to him. He only realized how much time had passed when they were down to components that were too heavy to lift or had corroded into nothingness.

  Mia rubbed a forefinger over the engine block that not even the three of them could lift. “Maybe next trip we could get this. Okay! Let’s go to the next car.”

  Ross looked up at the sky. The sun had changed position; they’d spent about three hours over that engine. “I don’t want to be caught here at dusk. Who knows what might come out. Let’s scout out that tower, then go back through the forest and camp in the desert. If there’s nothing in the tower, we can open another car tomorrow.”

  “Good idea.” Mia spotted a steel nut on the ground, and snatched it up to stuff into her bulging pack.

  Ross opened his mouth to warn her about what looked like a golden millipede heading for her foot, but he was too late. In a flash of glinting light, the thing leaped onto her boot and began scurrying up her leg.

  With a shriek, Mia kicked out violently, sending the thing flying. “I definitely don’t want to spend the night here.”

  She smacked her glasses up her nose, then brushed herself off all over. “Ugh, I can still feel things creeping on me.”

  Jennie patted her shoulder. “Let’s walk fast. Don’t give anything a chance to crawl on you.”

  The tower was much larger up close than it had seemed from the other end of the street. Ross had never seen anything like it before. It was smooth and clean, made of hexagonal panels six feet square, all glistening like white glass. There was one entrance, a hexagonal hole at ground level. A soft, deep thrumming hum emanated from the hole, unceasing and steady, regular as the tower walls. The air wafting out smelled of hot metal, like a forge.

  He reached into the hole, holding up the lantern. Light flashed and flashed again against the glass interior, reflecting from wall to wall and nearly blinding him. A squeaking noise arose and was drowned out by the rise of the hum. As his eyes adjusted to the brilliant light, he saw that the floor was covered in arm-sized white larvae, writhing and keening and blinking their enormous faceted eyes.

  The hum intensified until his skull and teeth buzzed. From the top of the tower, bees the size of large dogs flew down in descending circles, their bodies pulsing and their glittering stingers sparking. They were headed straight for Ross.

  “Bees!” Ross shouted, yanking his head out. “Giant bees!”


  He reached for a knife, then remembered that he had a better weapon. He’d spent every spare minute before the trip practicing with Mia’s gift. As Jennie and Mia fell into position beside him, slapping bolts into their own crossbows, Ross dropped a bolt into his, shoved the lever back, aimed, and shot the first bee to fly out of the tower. It fell out of the air and landed with a splat.

  Two bees emerged, but were hit by crossbow bolts. It looked like Mia and Jennie had gotten one each. But as he and the girls reloaded, more bees emerged. All three crossbows jerked up and twanged. Three more bees fell to the mossy road.

  Silence. They backed warily from the opening. Ross let out a breath of relief. Then a tremendous buzz bludgeoned their ears. The entire swarm of gigantic bees boiled out of the opening.

  “Run!” Ross yelled.

  He and the girls stampeded. Jennie sprinted ahead. Mia lagged, her overstuffed pack weighing her down, and her short legs taking three steps for every one of Jennie’s strides. Ross grabbed her arm and dragged her along with him.

  Mia pitched forward, knocked off-balance by her pack. Ross fell with her, trying to cushion her body with his own. They slammed into one of the flowered mounds, which crumbled beneath them like dry sand. Something writhed under his chest. His yell was echoed by Mia’s shriek. They dragged each other up and staggered away.

  Giant termites crawled out of the broken mound, fanning out their translucent wings, then took to the sky.

  Ross again grabbed Mia and ran with her, wishing he could ditch her pack. But it was strapped on tight, with far too many buckles to quickly undo. He clenched his jaw in the anticipation of pain, certain that stingers would stab him from behind at any moment. Their only chance was to get to the crystal trees and hope the bees wouldn’t follow.

  The angry humming rose to a high-pitched screech. Still running, he glanced back. The termite swarm hit the bee swarm in mid-air. The insects immediately attacked each other. Stingers jabbed, pincers snapped. Bees and termites spiraled overhead, locked in furious, glittering combat.

  Ross slammed into something hard. He fell, taking Mia with him. He’d run straight into one of the vine-covered poles. Vines slithered down, tangling their arms and legs. Glassy leaves and flowers shattered all around them. They fought their way free. Ross hadn’t felt any pain, but Mia’s face and hands were slashed all over with hair-thin cuts.

  Jennie pulled Mia to her feet. Ross scrambled after them. Blood and sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision.

  They didn’t stop until they reached a wall of shining vines. By now, the singing trees seemed like a refuge. Skidding to a stop, Ross closed his eyes and opened the door in his mind.

  Chimes rang out a warning. These trees didn’t know him. This wasn’t the same part of the forest they’d entered from. Desperately, he pushed the door open wider, throwing his mind open to everything but the death memories.

  The girls became heat shapes. The small one crouched, scrabbling, while the taller one stood with her hand raised high. Ross couldn’t see the flying insects, only the disturbances they made in the air. The air rippled near the larger shape—Jennie—and then smoothed out as she slashed her arm down.

  A distant voice called out, “Are you done?”

  Chimes rang out a warning. Ross shouted, “Don’t distract me!”

  The trees here were ancient, their memories confusing and many-layered. The humans they recalled were dressed in strange clothing and doing strange things. As curious as Ross was about those images, the trees were much more curious about him. They could see out of his eyes the same way that he could perceive with their senses. That was why the trees were letting him live.

  “Now!” Ross yelled.

  He couldn’t feel the girls taking his hands, but he could see them approach the heat-figure that was himself. Then he was lost in the images: rivers of light, metal carriages, moving paintings. Everything was so bright, so loud, so overwhelming . . .

  The song of the trees and the rush of images faded away, leaving him bewildered. Where was he? Who was he?

  “We’re out of range,” a voice was saying. “Ross, we’re safe now, you can stop.”

  The words made no sense . . . oh.

  The heat shapes . . . That’s me and the girls.

  “Ross, can you hear me?”

  He couldn’t seem to fit himself back into his body. For what felt like an eternity, he struggled with a crucial task he couldn’t quite remember how to do.

  Then he recalled the wall of concrete and the steel door standing ajar. Ross stepped through the door.

  His body was as heavy as if he were bearing up a ceiling. He couldn’t hold himself up. Hands caught him and lowered him to the ground. Even with his eyes closed, everything seemed to be spinning. A white-hot spike of pain stabbed from behind his eyes to his jaw.

  “Ross!” He recognized Jennie’s voice, though it was higher than usual. “Ross!”

  Someone was shaking him. It was Jennie—he knew the grip of her hands. It made his head hurt even more.

  “Don’t,” he managed to say.

  Jennie didn’t seem to hear him, or else he hadn’t spoken aloud. She kept shaking him.

  He caught her hands, his fingers clumsy. “Stop it. I’m just tired.”

  “He’s exhausted,” Mia said. A different set of familiar hands brushed his hair off his forehead as he lay on the sand where he’d fallen. “He had to go through the forest twice, without enough time to rest in between. Right, Ross?”

  “Yeah.” He felt a little better now that no one was shaking him, and Mia’s cool hands stroked his aching head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “There’s blood all over your face,” Jennie muttered. She didn’t sound reassured.

  “It’s only glass cuts,” said Mia. “From when we fell into the flowers. See, I have them, too.”

  Ross forced his eyes open. Mia’s face and hands were bleeding, but Jennie was the one who looked as if she were in pain.

  A movement past Jennie’s shoulder caught his eye. Over the distant sand dune, a figure flew through the air. It was a person, with long black hair streaming behind them. He blinked, wondering if he was still seeing a memory from one of the crystal trees. The figure—a young girl—landed lightly on the sand, then leaped again, impossibly high, holding a dagger upraised to kill.

  “Jennie!” Ross dragged his arm up to point beyond her.

  Jennie and Mia both spun around, Mia staggering from the weight of her pack. Jennie whipped out her sword. In a backswing too quick to follow, she sent the girl’s knife spinning.

  “Surrender!” Jennie shouted. “I won’t hurt you!”

  The girl leaped at Jennie, dodging her sword with impossible agility, and knocked Jennie flat on her back. The sword flew from Jennie’s hand, and the two girls began wrestling in the sand.

  Ross struggled to get up, but the world spun dizzily around him. He managed to make it to his knees, but pitched forward when he tried to stand and ended up sprawled on the ground again.

  Mia stood guard over him, her crossbow poised.

  “Leave him alone!” the girl shouted. She tried to head-butt Jennie, then gasped, “Two against one? Really brave of you!”

  “Stop fighting!” Mia yelled. “He’s with us! We’re not trying to hurt him.”

  “They’re my friends,” Ross said, but his words were lost in the shouts and gasps.

  Jennie pinned the girl down. Her voice was jagged and breathless as she gasped out, “All three of us escaped the forest.”

  “Liars. No one goes there.” The girl twisted her head to the side, grunted with effort, and lashed out with one leg as if she had no bones in her body. Her foot flew out at an impossible angle and kicked Jennie hard in the ribs.

  Jennie winced. “Ross, tell her we’re your friends.”

  The girl abruptly stopped fighting, her eyes widening with shock. “Ross? Ross . . . Juarez?”

  Before Ross could speak, the girl hissed out her breath. In a blur of movement,
she writhed out from Jennie’s grip. In an instant she was beside him, her mouth open wide with horror. Ross blinked. His vision was blurred with blood and sweat, but she looked strangely familiar.

  “Santa Maria,” the girl gasped. “The crystal trees.”

  Ross realized what she must be thinking. He pulled his shirt up and wiped the blood off his face. The girl still looked so horrified that he forced himself to sit up, though the effort left him even more sick and dizzy.

  “I’m not hit,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  The girl sat back on her heels. He watched her expressive face—her strangely familiar face—as her horror turned to confusion. “Then it’s true what they say. You command the trees?”

  “Well—” Ross was way too tired to explain what it was really like. He could never quite put it in words anyway. “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “But you’re hurt.” The girl’s voice rose to a frightened pitch. “You’re covered in blood.”

  He tried to make himself sound reassuring. He could see now how young she was—fifteen at most. “I got cut by some flowers.”

  “Flowers?” The girl’s voice rose incredulously.

  “Glass flowers,” Mia explained. “We were chased by bees.”

  “Bees?”

  “Giant bees.” Mia held out her arms in giant bee size. “A whole swarm of them.”

  “Bees,” repeated the girl, now sounding contemptuous. “You were attacked by bees and flowers.”

  “Who are you?” Jennie asked. “Where did you come from?”

  The girl jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “The west road.”

  But she didn’t look to Jennie as she spoke. Her gaze was fixed on Ross, intent and hungry. She seemed to want something from him, though he couldn’t imagine what.

  The last light of the sun illuminated her face. He knew he’d seen her before. But he couldn’t think where. The long black hair . . . the thick fringe of long eyelashes . . . the prominent cheekbones . . . Maybe she looked a little like Sheriff Crow?