Rebel Bound

by Shauna E. Black

“She ate the apple you left for Caelin!” Mardy says.

  “What?” He turns to me. “You still haven’t eaten an apple?” Before I can protest, he’s up and weaving his way to the kitchen.

  I want to crawl under the table and hide.

  Ryanne reaches across to pat my hand. “Jate’s like a bulldog when he gets an idea in his head—he won’t let go. Better just to run with it.”

  When Jate returns, his expression is crestfallen. “They used up all the apples in the farina this morning.”

  I brighten. “Then I tasted an apple after all!”

  “Doesn’t count!” He wags his spoon at me. “You don’t get the full effect when it’s mixed in with cereal. Don’t worry. I’ll find some more.”

  Ryanne gives him a lopsided smile.

  “What?” he asks her.

  She shakes her head, trying to hide a laugh behind a spoonful of farina. I’m not quite sure what to make of the interaction, but I quickly forget about it as I become aware there’s a disturbance near the entrance.

  Ryanne looks past me, eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “Well, this is a surprise. Has he ever come to eat in the dining hall before?”

  Jate follows her gaze, then hastily scrambles out of his seat. “Lucio!”

  I turn to see the Impartialist leader coming up to our table. Mardy and I follow Jate’s example and leap out of our chairs.

  The wrinkles around Lucio’s eyes crease deeper as he smiles. “Don’t get up for me!” He addresses the room. “Really, all of you go back to your meal.”

  The crowd reluctantly returns to their seats, though more than a few glances are aimed at our table.

  Jate remains standing. “Can we help you, sir?”

  “I’m not here on official business, Jate. Relax!”

  “Yes, sir.” But Jate still doesn’t sit.

  “Actually, I came here to get Mardy.”

  Mardy makes a high-pitched squeak. “Me?”

  Lucio places a hand on her shoulder. “I have something I’d like to show you. Will you come with me?”

  She looks as though she swallowed her spoon whole. “I guess so.”

  “Good!” Lucio addresses the rest of us at the table. “You’re all welcome to come along, if you would like.”

  “I’ll run the bowls back to the kitchen,” Ryanne offers as we turn to follow Lucio to the exit.

  She catches up to us as we leave the dining hall, headed for the hotel.

  “I was impressed with the mosaic you left on my bedside table,” Lucio says to Mardy. “It was a portrait of me, wasn’t it?”

  Mardy wrings her hands nervously. Her voice is small and soft. “Yes, sir.”

  “A very good likeness! That style of artwork is very difficult, creating a complex picture out of so many small pieces.” We enter the hotel and continue along the corridor. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  Mardy glances back at me, and I give her an encouraging, if wan, smile.

  “My father was an artist before the explosion.” She clears her throat. “He taught me how to make pictures from the little stuff he scavenged. It gave me something to do while I waited for him to return.”

  Lucio looks over his shoulder at me as we enter the hotel. His expression is mournful, the curves of his mustache turned down with the corners of his mouth. “I’m so sorry. I assume you both lost your father some time ago?”

  “Five years,” I whisper.

  Ryanne threads her arm through mine and gives me a squeeze.

  Lucio nods. “A story all-too common among topsiders. I commend you both for your skills in surviving so long. But I’m pleased that I can offer you a respite from that now.”

  I gulp, trying to dispel the butterflies dancing in my stomach. Are we about to find out what he wants in return for all the care he’s given us?

  Lucio steps out into the concrete tunnel beyond the hotel. “This area of the tunnel has always seemed rather drab to me, don’t you think?”

  The question feels a little random until I notice that Jate is rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, his face flushed. Why is he embarrassed?

  “When I realized what a skilled artist you are, Mardy, I asked Jate to fetch you a few supplies on his next topside mission.”

  We’re coming to a pile of something shoved against one wall and covered with cloth. Ryanne squeezes my arm again. She looks as though she might bounce as high as the ceiling if she weren’t connected to me.

  Lucio stops walking, allowing Mardy to continue to the pile alone. She stares down at it for several long moments.

  “Under the tarp,” Jate says encouragingly. “What do you think?”

  Mardy squats down, pulling away the tarp. Bright colors of all shapes and sizes wink up at her. “They’re tiles,” she says.

  “As many as Jate and his team could find.” Lucio squats beside her and picks up a jagged orange triangle. “There’s also some cement mix.” He glances back and winks at me. “Don’t ask where that came from. Well? Do you think you could spruce up this tunnel somewhat? You’d be free to create whatever pictures you want on these walls.”

  A sob escapes Mardy. She flings her arms around Lucio’s neck and clings to him. He pats her back.

  I blink fiercely against the tears in my own eyes. I only have one good hand, but I try to grab both Ryanne’s and Jate’s hands together and squeeze. “Thank you!” I whisper.

  Ryanne tosses my hand aside and gives me a fierce hug. “I knew she’d love it!”

  CHAPTER 14

  After Lucio leaves, Mardy wants to start working on a new mosaic right away, but says that Deice will get after her if she misses her workout.

  The mention of Deice reminds me of our conversation with Keldon, and my throat tightens.

  “I’ll come along,” I say as Mardy starts back to the hotel.

  Mardy shoots me a look of panic. “You don’t have to. It’s probably better if you rest.”

  “Actually, that’s a good idea,” Jate says. “A little exercise would help you get some of your strength back, Caelin.”

  “I could run through some training forms with you.” Ryanne hesitates as she notices the look passing between Mardy and me.

  “That would be great!” I give Mardy a fierce grin and stride past her into the hotel hallway.

  She rushes up to me, hissing, “Please don’t do anything stupid!”

  “What do you mean?” I ask casually.

  “You know what I mean! Keldon shouldn’t have opened his big mouth about Deice. Really, it’s fine. I’m fine. You can go back to the room and rest.”

  I glance back at Jate and Ryanne. He stops beside one of the first doors.

  “This is where I’ll leave you ladies,” he says with a nod. “I have some reports to make to Lucio.”

  “See you later, Jate.” Ryanne gives a quick wave and jogs to catch up with us. She threads one arm through my right, and her other arm through Mardy’s left. “The three Musketeers, off to fight evil together!”

  Mardy gives me a dark look. “I don’t think Caelin is up to this. She should get more rest first.”

  “I’m not going back to the room.”

  “Then go look at the artwork or something.”

  “You heard Jate. I need the exercise. Besides, I want to watch you practice.”

  Mardy lets out an exasperated huff. “Fine. I’ll practice at one end of the room, and you get your exercise at the other.”

  She shakes off Ryanne’s grip and all but runs down the hallway until she slams out the door headed for the dining hall.

  “What was that all about?” Ryanne asks.

  I take a deep breath. “Mardy thinks I’m overprotective.”

  She snorts. “You are. But, hey, I get it. You’ve spent the last five years watching out for her. It’s kind-of annoying when you can’t control everything anymore.”

  I peer sideways at her. “Do you think I’m a control freak?”

  Her laugh echoes off the walls. “Totally!”
/>   The dining tables are mostly empty when we pass through into the hallway beyond. I soon discover where most of the people went as we open the door into the training room. The noise of exercise assaults my ears. The room is full of motion. I scan the space and see one man who is obviously in charge. He’s short, probably shorter than Jate, but built heavier. Unlike Hudson, though, his build is not made up of fat. His upper torso is wrapped in corded muscles that make his knit shirt bulge. His head is perched low on top of this mass of muscle as though he doesn’t have a neck. His hair is dark, though not as black as Jate’s, and cropped short to his scalp.

  “Is that Deice?” I ask.

  “Yep,” Ryanne replies. “He was an Undercity cop before he got kicked out. He really knows his stuff.”

  Deice seems older than Jate, but not as old as Lucio. He’s shouting at Mardy, berating her for being late and sending her to run through warm-up exercises with a large group off to the side. Mardy shoots me a final glare before joining the others.

  “Let’s work out over here.” Ryanne leads me to a mat in another area of the room, near the opening where the tunnel bends back on itself and heads for the graffiti art and the shelter’s exit.

  It doesn’t take long for me to tire of the exercise routines Ryanne suggests, even though she goes slowly. I beg for a rest, and we sit against the cold concrete.

  “I’ve gotten soft,” I say, panting.

  Ryanne isn’t even winded. “No. You’re still recovering. Pretty soon, you’ll be strong enough to go topside with us.”

  “And do what?” I raise my eyebrows. “Raid Coalition farms?”

  Bright spots appear under the dark skin on her cheeks. “Oh, we do more than that. When the moon’s full, we all form a circle around a fire and dance wildly, howling and jabbing each other with sticks.”

  I can’t help myself. I laugh.

  Ryanne turns to me with a look of shock. “What’s wrong, Caelin? Do you have something caught in your throat?” She drops the sarcasm and throws an arm around my shoulders, giving me a friendly squeeze. “You have a nice laugh,” she says. “You should use it more often.”

  Across the room, I notice Deice stalking toward Mardy’s group, and the laughter dies in my throat.

  “That’s enough drills!” he barks. His voice is loud enough to rise above the noise already bouncing off the concrete. “Pair up! I want Mariah with Jonson, Dilon with Zac, Mardy with Sloan, Geniya with Tal—” He continues, but my head is pounding too much to catch the rest of the names. Mardy is fighting Sloan—the one Keldon said was the best fighter in this bunch, the one who acts rude to everyone around her.

  Ryanne notices the expression on my face. “Don’t worry. Mardy’s learned a lot. She’ll do okay.”

  I can’t answer as Deice continues, “This is a winner-takes-all match, no rules. Use everything you can think of to get your opponent pinned on the mat. Once you keep them down for a count of five, you're declared the winner.”

  Even from here, I can see that Mardy's skin has gone chalky white. My anger flares. Is Deice deliberately making it hard on Mardy, as Keldon claimed?

  Ryanne stands, pulling me up next to her and threading her left arm through my right. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.” She gently tugs me toward the door, but I don’t move.

  “I want to watch this,” I say.

  “You’ve seen one fight, you’ve seen them all.” She pulls my arm again. “I have something I want to show you.”

  “Maybe later.” I leave Ryanne behind, walking over close to Mardy’s mat.

  Sloan and Mardy circle each other warily. Sloan has a bored look on her face. Mardy keeps on the balls of her feet, dancing out of the way whenever Sloan throws a punch. She moves a little faster than Sloan, and I can see it fuels Sloan’s anger. I watch her body move from relaxed to tense. She’ll be more dangerous now.

  I groan as Mardy misses a chance to get in a punch through a gap in Sloan’s defenses.

  “I think Deice is getting annoyed with us,” Ryanne says, coming up to me. “He doesn’t like people watching. We should go, really.”

  I spare a glance for Deice. He’s glaring at us across the ring of another pair of fighters.

  “I don’t care. I want to see how Mardy does.”

  They’ve taught her well. Her stance is solid, her body in a good position. She’s gotten in a few jabs of her own, but Sloan is more experienced. I see it in the way she moves, with a fluid grace, gliding from one step to the next almost like a dance.

  “Caelin, please—” Ryanne’s tone is desperate now, but I continue to ignore her.

  Then Sloan makes her move. It’s fast, almost quicker than my eye can follow. She feints to the left, and Mardy follows it, putting herself slightly off center. Sloan throws a punch into Mardy’s right side, at the same time sweeping a leg around and kicking Mardy’s dominant foot out from under her. Mardy goes down and Sloan’s on her right away, throwing punch after punch. Mardy curls up into a defensive ball, but Sloan’s punches keep coming.

  “Caelin, no!” Ryanne yells.

  I realize that I’m running at Sloan. I grapple at my belt for my knife, but of course it isn’t there. When I reach Sloan, I leap onto her back, swinging my cast around her neck and yanking her off Mardy. Fire shoots through my broken arm, but I don’t care.

  “Get her off!” I hear someone yell.

  Others are rushing toward me, hands grabbing my arms, pulling me back. I fight them, but someone twists my injured arm, sending pain shooting through me again, and I can't fight anymore.

  Sloan collapses to all fours on the mat as my arm releases her neck. She’s gasping and choking, shooting me dark looks over her shoulder.

  Mardy struggles up into a sitting position. Her nose is bleeding, bright red spots blossoming on her arms and face where bruises will mark her smooth, fair skin. She blinks at me in a daze.

  “I want her out of here!” Deice yells as he pushes through the crowd around me.

  Ryanne is there. She grabs my good arm and hauls me to my feet. “We’re going.” She scowls at Deice.

  “And make sure she doesn’t come back!”

  Ryanne drags me from the room and into the hall. I watch Deice giving Mardy a lecture before the door closes on them.

  Ryanne pushes me through one of the doors in the hallway. The room is empty except for a pile of supplies in one corner.

  “This is just great!” she rages. “Jate knew this would happen—that smug, self-centered son of a—”

  “Sloan didn’t have to beat on her like that!” I’m too busy dealing with my own emotions to pay much attention to Ryanne’s words.

  She wags a finger at me. “You shouldn’t have done that, Caelin! Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?”

  I’m pacing like a caged animal at one end of the room. Ryanne blocks the door.

  “I know you want to protect Mardy,” she continues, “but it was just a sparring match. You can’t jump on every opponent Mardy has and choke the life out of them.”

  Her words remind me that my arm is throbbing with pain. Shame starts to replace the anger, but I don’t want Ryanne to know that. “I told you before. I don't like Mardy fighting.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you think Lucio’s doing here?”

  “I don't know. Training little kids to be killers?”

  “Mardy is not a little kid. How old were you when you first started to scavenge?”

  I don't want to answer her. I go back to pacing.

  She stares at me for several long moments, her expression harder than I’ve ever seen it. “I was ten.”

  I stop, turning to look at her in surprise.

  “You know the life of a scav,” she says. “You get good at hiding and fighting or you die. You have to grow up fast, and you have to grow up smart. Be glad we’re teaching Mardy in a safe environment where her life isn’t on the line every time she steps into the ring.”

  “Yet,” I grumble.
r />   I lean back against the opposite wall from Ryanne. I’m cradling my injured arm. The pain is starting to creep into my head. I think about being a scav. I think about the constant worry—you won't find enough, or if you do, somebody stronger will take it away. Death is always there, lurking in sickness, in fights, in starvation. You push back against it daily, but it never goes away. I don’t want Mardy to go through what I did when Papa disappeared. But I realize suddenly that she did, that she’s always carried the burden of survival—like me.

  “Thirteen,” I say quietly. “I was thirteen when my father went out on a scavenge one day and never came back. We only had enough credit to stay in the shelter we were in for a couple more days, so I went topside and tried to do what he did.” I think of the first beating I took. Mardy cried into my hair all night after I made it back to the shelter. “I learned how to survive the hard way.”

  Ryanne comes up to me, envelopes me in her arms, and just holds me for a long time.

  “Are we really safe here?” I finally ask.

  Ryanne pulls back, studying my face intently. “There’s no such thing as safety in the world we live in.”

  I nod. I didn’t really expect one of her cheerful answers this time.

  “Come on.” She moves to my uninjured side to support me. “You must be exhausted after that vicious little display. Let’s get you to bed.”

  CHAPTER 15

  I lay awake in the AM, listening to Mardy breathe deeply next to me. This place is like Lincoln Shelter—lights turn off automatically when it’s time for sleeping. That was several hours ago, and I can’t sleep. Hudson gave me a pill for my pain, but my broken arm still throbs.

  The only good thing that came out of my attack on Sloan is that she got moved to a different room. When the other girls arrived after dinner, they walked on eggshells around me, as though they expected I’d attack them next. Mardy hasn’t said a word to me all day. She won’t even meet my eyes. If she’s that mad, it will probably take a week for her to cool off.

  I don’t need enemies down here. This place feels as though it’s strangling me, crushing me under the weight of the concrete and the city above. I breathe slow and deep, but the panic churns in my middle. I've had enough of resting and recovering. I want to get out of here, to feel the wind on my face again, smell the dust topside. It’s an irrational desire because topside is where the death rays of the sun are. Down here, I’m safe from the radiation. Down here, I have everything I need. But somehow, I can’t be satisfied with that.