Unlikely Rebel (A Dark Revolution Novella - Book One)

by Amy Boyles

“What else are big brothers for?”

  I elbowed him.

  “Come. There's more.”

  “More?” I muttered. It was hard to believe there could be any more. But in the back of the church one of the walls had crumbled. Beyond the gaping hole stood a view of the city that proved unparalleled. From the hillside, Corinth looked like a quaint town. Smoke rose from chimneys, billowing into the sky like puffs of ebony cotton balls. A few mechanical wagons, their exposed cogs turning like well-made watches, blustered down the brick roads of Old Town, sputtering as they went. From here it looked peaceful, almost like a place one would want to live. I got dreamy-eyed just watching it.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice snarled behind us.

  We both whirled. The redcoat was young but built like a bull. He sneered at us as if bursting with excitement at the idea of intimidating two unarmed people.

  Colvin, of course, flashed a charming smile. That was my brother for you, never ruffled by anything. “I was showing her the view,” he said.

  The man scowled. It was then I noticed it. The glass monocle in his right eye. I gave Colvin a wide-eyed look. He replied with a nod so slight, if I hadn't been looking for it, I would've missed it.

  “You've shown her, so move on. This is restricted territory. You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested.”

  “We’re leaving,” my brother replied.

  My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. The soldier stood by the door, which meant we had to pass right in front of him. My cowl was still pulled low, so he couldn't see my face as I crossed the sanctuary. Colvin walked beside me, keeping his body between the red and me, forcibly blocking the soldier’s view. I crossed the stone floor with slow, deliberate steps, not wanting to appear nervous. But the red watched us with disinterest, as if he was impatient for his tour to end. As we reached the door, my confidence grew. I would be able to exit the church without being discovered.

  The soldier grabbed my cloak. “Let me see your face.”

  I froze, my body unable to work. My mouth wouldn't move to form an excuse, nor did my legs pump to run.

  Colvin pushed himself between the soldier and me. “My sister isn't well, sir. She's been sick and is still getting over it. We did everything we could to make sure the rest of us didn't catch the pox, but it left her scarred. The marks haven't all healed. I don't think she's contagious anymore, but you never know.”

  His grand speech stopped the red for half a second at most. He then replied with a smirk and repeated his command for me to lower my cowl. At this point I felt there was no other choice, so I did as he said.

  A tiny red light on the side of the monocle flashed as he eyed me up and down. I held my breath, praying the inevitable wouldn’t happen. He pulled his pistol, his hand shaking like it was the first time he'd ever arrested anyone. Not the confident red I’d expected.

  “You're coming with me, both of you. Anna Hinton, you're under arrest on the charge of fleeing legal custody without consent.”

  “Of course,” Colvin said, lifting his hands in surrender. He took a docile step of compliance forward, then grabbed the pistol and yanked it from his grasp. The stunned soldier looked at his fingers in disbelief as if waiting for the gun to jump back into his hand.

  “Hand me the eyepiece.” Colvin's voice was steady. Gone was my lackadaisical older brother, and in his place stood a rebel.

  The man did as he was told.

  “Does this send the information immediately, or do you have to connect it into a port?”

  The red shook his head, confused. “I charge it every night. That's all.”

  “Do they know you've seen us?” Colvin's voice tightened.

  “I don't know.”

  He regarded the red with an unkind expression. “I'll ask only once more, and then I'll shoot your left eye out,” he said with slow deliberation. “Do they know you've seen her?”

  “I don't know,” he yelled, placing his hands on his head. The man appeared broken, his will suctioned away when faced with his own barrel pointed at him.

  “Cowboy up!” Colvin said.

  He took a few quick gulps of air and regained his composure. “I don't think so.” The red thought about it for a moment. “No, they don't. I have to report it. I only receive the pictures; it doesn't transmit that I've made a match.”

  Colvin exhaled in relief and, for a brief second, looked down. The red made his move, lunging for the gun. Colvin reacted instinctively, chambering and then firing the bullet that ultimately lodged in the center of the man's chest.

  I tried to scream. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. In the end I watched as the man slumped to the floor, gurgling and coughing crimson until his lungs filled with enough blood to suffocate him. When he stilled, I checked for a pulse, just to make sure there wasn't one.

  “He's dead,” I said softly.

  Without a word Colvin took my hand and led me out through the rear of the church. We slid down the hillside, thorns and dirt matting my dress and hair. When we reached the bottom, we broke into a run until we reached the center of Old Town and the hustle and bustle of the doomed city. We didn't stop walking until we made it to the house, where Colvin deposited me with my parents. I spent the next hour on my bed, crying, wishing for once in my life that I could take a hot bath and forget any of this existed.

  Thirteen

  This time I heard the quiet jiggle of the window as it was unlocked—from the outside, I might add—and opened.

  “You've come to chastise me,” I said before he had a chance to speak. “Don’t bother. The voice inside my head is bad enough. I don’t need yours to add to it.”

  I heard his foot touch the rug. He paused and then shut the window behind him. “What makes you think that’s why I’m here?”

  I shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see the gesture. “Why else would you come? I'm sure Colvin told you what happened and now you're here to tell me that I shouldn't have pressured my brother into letting me go outside.”

  The bed sagged as he sat. “Well, you shouldn't have.”

  “As I said—my conscience is already punishing me enough. You don’t need to add to it.”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  I hugged my knees to my chest, an action that usually made me feel secure. This time no solace came from the gesture. “A man was killed today.” The words flew from my mouth with sadness I didn't expect.

  “I know. Even if your brother hadn't told me, I would've known anyway.”

  “How?”

  “The reds are going door to door, checking that everyone is who they say. Your parents have new papers, and their images aren't registered with the Patriot Party. You, on the other hand, your image is registered. So we have a couple of choices.”

  I wasn't going to like this. “They are?”

  He smiled. I knew it was to put me at ease, but it didn’t help. “You can stay here. When the house is searched tomorrow, you will hide under the floorboards in the living room. I've already shown your father where they are.”

  “And the other?”

  “Leave with me tonight. I'll slip you out of the city. We’ll return in a few days, once things quiet down.”

  “Leave my family again? I don’t know. Where will you take me?”

  He shook his head. “That, I can’t tell you. It’s better that you don’t know.”

  What if something went wrong once we were gone? Would my parents ever know what happened to me? If I stayed and was discovered under the floorboards, we’d all be hanged. This way, if I left with Branthe and we were caught, my parents wouldn’t be implicated. They wouldn’t be liable for what I’d done.

  “What about Colvin?” I asked.

  “He’s already gone. He left before the guard’s body was discovered. He wanted to get you as well, but I told him I’d see to you.”

  “How long do I have to think about it?”

  “You have until right now.”

  I pulled my hair back into a ti
e I kept on my good wrist. The pain in my hand was nearly gone, though the pinky and ring finger on my left hand would never work the same again. The bones were too destroyed to completely heal. “Then my choice is made for me. I’ll go with you.”

  “Get dressed,” he said bluntly.

  ***

  Branthe hadn’t been lying before—he knew the moves of every guard that patrolled the city. We moved swiftly, reaching one of the small outer gates within an hour. It was manned by two soldiers, both of whom immediately saw us. My escape was doomed.

  “Who goes there?” one asked.

  “Only lowly peasants,” Branthe said.

  “Stop or I’ll run you through,” came the reply. The man held a pointed staff at us. He would keep his promise.

  “I don’t think you have the brains to know how,” Branthe said.

  My mouth dried. Was he trying to get us killed? I hesitated, but he pulled me forward, egging the soldiers on.

  “Kill them,” the man said. The other soldier edged closer. I clutched Branthe’s arm.

  Branthe sounded a low whistle. “Is that any way to greet me?”

  The soldier stopped and raised his hat. It was Fief! The rebel smiled. “Open the gate,” he said.

  As the gate opened, Branthe turned to his friend. “And the guards?”

  “When they wake up tomorrow, they’ll feel like they’ve been drinking for a week straight. They’ll be so embarrassed I don’t think they’ll mention the fact that they fell asleep to anyone.”

  “Good job,” Branthe said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  With that we left the city and greeted the darkness. We reached a village at daybreak. I didn’t know the name of the place, nor did I recognize the location based on its position west of Corinth. But one thing was certain: the people treated Branthe like a hero.

  They greeted him with smiles and hugs. The men asked him for building and planting advice. The women presented newborn babies and offered him food. He accepted the attention with all the graciousness of the new aristocracy that the Patriot Party had instilled. They referred to him as Hope, a name he took without admonishment. At first I thought it odd that he’d be given a woman’s name, but then I saw the truth—Branthe had given these people hope.

  They lived without interference from the reds, growing their own food and administering their own protection. It was as close to utopia as I’d ever seen. Every courtesy extended to Branthe was also given to me. After a few hours I smiled as widely as the others, realizing that hope still existed in this world.

  That night they held a feast in his honor. Many danced and sang. I stayed to the corner of the room, unsure of my place amid the festivities. Branthe talked with the men, their conversation light as they smiled and nodded.

  “So many girls here have vied for his affections, and yet it seems you’ve won them.”

  I turned to see an older woman standing beside me, a mischievous look on her face. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  She nodded toward Branthe. “Come now, you must be blind not to notice the way he looks at you.”

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t look at me with anything other than sympathy. He thinks I’m naive.”

  “That may be true, but the look in his eyes says more.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  “Not about this, I’m not. I only wanted to congratulate you on capturing our Hope. He’s done much for us.”

  Not knowing how to respond, I merely replied, “Thank you.”

  She walked on, leaving me feeling more insecure than I had before. Did he really feel that way? My glance drifted to him to glean the truth. He met my eyes. I looked quickly away, embarrassed. To my dismay, he walked over.

  “Making new friends?”

  “Yes, no thanks to your introductions.” My own irritation surprised me.

  He replied with a soft sigh. “Such irreverence, Anna. Really, for a man who saved you from the clutches of Colonel Mann, I thought I deserved a little more thanks than that. Especially since I brought something for you.”

  “Oh? So I guess that means I owe you?”

  He paused. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “No, I don't think you owe me anything, nor would I want you to feel that way.”

  Now I felt bad. “But I do owe you.”

  He scanned the room. “Care to dance?”

  I’d never danced in my life. The couples on the floor made it seem so easy. They twirled and stepped in time to the guitarist’s song. My face would be introduced to the floor, that much was certain. “Umm.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” He took my hand, and there was nothing to do but follow. The first thing he did was to spin me. I was mortified, afraid of tripping, but Branthe led with ease and didn’t let me go. I felt safe in his arms and not for lack of myself, but I felt some of my tension toward him begin to disappear.

  “Tell me what happened when you were little,” he requested.

  “You mean when you saved us?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it, yes.”

  So I did, trying my best to make him sound dark and heroic and me not quite so young and fragile, as if that would jog his memory of the event. “And my father turned to thank you, but you were gone.”

  “I slinked away like a coward.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How dare you say that! I prefer to think you moved on to save someone else.”

  “Is that what you think of me? That I’m so courageous I’m out prowling every night, looking for defenseless people to save?”

  I glanced around the room, nodding toward the town’s inhabitants. “And that’s far-fetched?”

  He squeezed my hand and smiled. “No, it wouldn’t be silly at all if I was that man. But I’m not. I hide in the shadows, fighting my enemy in the dark, waiting for the right opportunity.”

  I gestured outward. “You think so little of yourself. These people see the world in you. It makes me sad that you believe so much less.”

  He tilted up my chin. “Well, we don’t want you to be sad. Dancing isn’t supposed to be sad. Tell me something instead that makes you happy.”

  “First tell me how these people live here so peacefully.”

  “It’s not always peaceful. There’ve been a few bad seeds who’ve tried to take away what they have.”

  I pinched my eyebrows together. “Who defended them?”

  “They did. My men helped train them to defend themselves. In return, any of my people are offered sanctuary here. But that doesn’t answer my question. Tell me something that makes you happy.”

  I exhaled, trying to think of something. I decided to tell him about life with my family in the country and about how silly Colvin was growing up. Within minutes I had him laughing. How he could laugh and still dance was beyond me. It required all my focus to keep up with him. Talking took concerted effort.

  “So he really tried to burn the barn down?”

  “He did. He was a little pyromaniac.”

  “And your father found him?”

  “Found him looking for matches and gave him the worst tan hiding I’d ever seen.”

  He wiped away a tear. “I’ll have to mention that next time I see him. And what about you? What were you like?”

  “Me?” I shrugged. “Just as boring as I am now.”

  “The last thing you are is boring.”

  I became acutely aware of the closeness of his body and the hand that held mine. With great tenderness he gently stroked my palm with his thumb. I met his eyes as the song ended. We stood in the center of the room, staring at one another. I felt the urge for him to kiss me. I wanted my heart to entangle in his. I not only wanted Branthe, I needed him, and every molecule in my body seemed to agree.

  I broke away. “You said you brought something for me?”

  “Yes.” He pulled a small package wrapped in paper from his waistcoat and placed it in my hand. It took half a second before I realized what it was.

  “Chocolate! Where did you
get it?”

  He led me back into the crowd of people. “If I tell you that, I'll have to kill you.”

  I giggled. Chocolate was so scarce no common person ever saw it. Rumors abounded that the only people who were able to get it were government officials, which he clearly wasn’t.

  I handed it back to him. “Who did you kill to get this?”

  He looked at the paper-wrapped confection with confusion. “I didn't kill anyone. There was a raid on a supply wagon a few nights ago. Among other things, my men recovered this. You're welcome, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. Well, we were back to our same old, same old.

  As the night wound down, he escorted me back to my sleeping quarters. I was to stay in the upstairs room of an elderly couple who had apparently already gone to bed. Branthe lit a lantern and walked upstairs to my door. There was a long pause as we regarded each other.

  “Do you want to stay?” I asked, shocked at my own directness.

  He sighed. “Anna, do you know what it is to be with me?”

  “No, of course not.” That’s the point of you staying, I wanted to add.

  His fingers cascaded down my cheek. “I wouldn't wish my life on you. There's no glamour in it. It's all hiding. Who I am can't be revealed, not to anyone.”

  “I'm already a fugitive. So are you. What does any of the rest of it matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  Then I did it. I couldn't help it. Being so close to him, to this man I'd wanted for so long, dreamed of for so long, I let boldness and brazenness overcome me.

  I kissed him. I thought he’d pull away, but he didn’t. Branthe’s lips met mine with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, as if we only had one opportunity to be with one another. I pulled away and opened the door. He didn’t argue about entering.

  His urgency must’ve rubbed off on me, for I felt like if I didn’t act, he would be gone and I’d never have another chance to be with him. Perhaps it was because of his status as a rebel, perhaps it was simply that he never stayed in my vicinity for very long—either way, I knew that if I wanted something to happen between us, I needed to act and fast.

  I lifted his hand and placed it on my breast. My breath shallowed as I waited to see what he'd do next. To my surprise, he pulled the fabric of my dress down and massaged the nipple, swirling his finger over it until the nib peaked. He then bent down and clasped his mouth over it.