Rebel Bound

by Shauna E. Black

  “I’m almost out of ammo,” she yells as she follows us through the door and takes up a position beside it. She opens the disk of her gun and begins shoving small items into it.

  Jate stops at the foot of a staircase. “Any charge left in that thing, Sloan?”

  Sloan pulls the Coalition rifle around in front of her and consults a gauge. “Just a little. They have it set to stun.”

  My knees buckle, and I slump toward the floor. Jate catches me, pulling me back up and supporting me against him.

  “You and Ryanne hold them off as best you can. Nolan, there’s a computer in that office over there. Contact Dupont. Find out how many troops the Coalition has in this area, what we’re up against. I need an escape route, and I need it fast.”

  One of the other men, Nolan, nods sharply and races off in the direction Jate told him to go. Jate helps me over against the wall and down onto the floor.

  “Are you okay?” He examines my face intently.

  “I'm fine,” I say, even though I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.

  “She got hit with a sonic,” Ryanne explains.

  He glances over his shoulder with a glare for Ryanne. “I thought she was going back to Lincoln. That was the plan.”

  Ryanne is stiff beside the doorframe, gun raised. She turns with a jerk, fires at the soldiers outside, and returns to her position. “We’d all be captured or dead by now if Caelin hadn’t followed me.”

  Jate looks surprised. “What do you mean?”

  I squirm uncomfortably, but Ryanne won’t let me off the hook.

  “She took the soldiers by surprise—knocked one of them out with that cast, I think. But she could use some training on the centrics.”

  I’m not sure what she’s referring to, but I make a guess it’s the weapons.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Sloan says. While her eyes rove the street outside, she digs into a pocket, pulls out a fist-sized oval device, and tosses it to Jate.

  The woman named Valentine or Valencia or something gives a low whistle. “You got it after all?”

  “He gave away the hiding place with a look when we confronted him. I snagged it during the commotion.”

  Jate's expression is grim as he pockets the device. I wonder what it is and why the Impartialists want it so much.

  Nolan comes out of the office, ducking low to avoid the windows as a sonic blast shatters one. “Ehris says there are reports from all over downtown. They’re sending in sentries and whatever they’ve got, converging on our position. But she thinks we can punch through up by Rock Creek, if we stay off the roads and cut through buildings. Lucio’s bringing down a unit to meet us there.”

  “That’s it,” Ryanne says, tucking her gun back into its holster. “I’m out of charge and ammo.”

  “Okay.” Jate looks at each of us in turn. “Sloan, you cover us with that gun, and we’ll get out the back door. Once we’re outside, I want everybody to split up. Head in the general direction of Rock Creek, but let’s confuse them, make them divide their forces to follow us. Caelin, do you think you can run a little bit farther?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “I’ll keep her going,” Ryanne offers.

  Jate shakes his head. “If she collapses again, you won’t be able to carry her. Caelin, you’re with me. The rest of you, scatter.”

  He pulls me to my feet and puts a strong arm around my waist, nearly lifting me off the ground. I wince as the movement sends needles shooting through my broken arm.

  “Remember,” Sloan says from her position at a window. “I only have a couple of shots left in this gun.”

  “Fire them, then follow us out,” Jate says. “Ready? Go!”

  CHAPTER 18

  We dash around the stairs and down a hallway. My boots slip on the smooth floors. I hear the tinkle of glass behind us as Sloan breaks the window through which she’s been watching and fires. I suddenly feel bad for criticizing Sloan. She’s risking her life to give the rest of us a chance to escape.

  As we race out the back of the building, we fan out in different directions. Jate supports me on my good side, and we reach cover across the street slower than the others.

  After that, Jate leads me through buildings, down alley streets, and into bare clumps of trees. The distance that would normally take us half an hour to traverse seems to take most of the PM. We’re nearly caught twice, but he seems to know the streets even better than I do, and somehow we always slip through. Until we get to Pennsylvania Avenue.

  Jate comes back to where he left me resting in the hallway of an old hospital. “We can’t cross,” he says with a grim look. “They must have every soldier in the Undercity up here. They’ve raised barriers at intersections for blocks in both directions. At least the Coalition is keeping scavs out of the area so nobody gets caught in the cross fire.”

  “Do you think anybody else got through?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  My mind is working furiously, imagining the streets of the city and how we could escape the net closing us in. “What if we double back, past the theater, and cross over onto the island? Then we could go north up to the Francis Bridge and get around the soldiers before cutting east back to Dupont.”

  His expression is thoughtful. “That could work. I doubt they expect us to go south of Kennedy. But that’s a long detour. Do you think you could make it?”

  “I made it halfway across the city with a knife wound and a broken arm. I think I can handle this.”

  “Yeah. You were delirious.”

  I give him a half smile. “Has anything changed? I followed you out here, didn’t I?”

  He barks a laugh. “That’s what I get for bringing a crazy woman home like a little lost puppy. Come on.” He helps me to my feet. “We’ve got a long way to go before AM.”

  We retrace our steps, going south past the theater until we come to a bridge that crosses the vast Potomic. Jate’s right. The Coalition doesn’t seem to expect us to move south. Once we get beyond the theater, the soldiers thin until we don’t see any more. But there are scavs. Our bright armor makes us stand out in the dark, a target for the hunters that roam the city in PM. We do our best to stay out of sight, going through buildings whenever possible, staying in the deep shadows. Finally, we cross the Potomic again, now moving north. I get weaker and move slower as PM wears on.

  We’re winding through a trashed restaurant when I stumble into a pile of rusted pots and can’t get back up.

  “You should just leave me here,” I pant when I collapse under my weight the second time.

  “No way.” He grabs me under the arms and hoists me to a sitting position.

  “I can get to Lincoln Shelter before AM.” I think about the can of applesauce I left in the street beyond the shelter, and wonder if anybody’s found it yet.

  “You’re wearing our uniform,” he says grimly. “They’d kill you on sight. Besides, you’re not in any shape to get back there by yourself. We’ll just rest here a minute, then I’ll carry you.”

  I huff a breath. “You will not. Do you think I want everybody to see you dragging me in like a bag of potatoes? I’ll walk on my own two feet. Just as soon as I rest.” I lay my head back against the leg of a table and close my eyes.

  It’s only when the screech of static wakes me up that I realize I’ve fallen asleep. I panic.

  “Jate!” I yell.

  He jumps from where he lies curled up on the floor next to me. I don’t feel quite as foolish after realizing I wasn’t the only one exhausted enough to drop out cold.

  “What time is it?” He claps a hand to the side of his helmet as the screech is repeated in our earpieces.

  “Jate? Can ... hear me?” I make out the faint words of a voice woven in with the static.

  Jate snaps to attention, pressing a button on the arm of his suit. “Roger that. I’m here.” He scrambles to his feet, stepping around broken chairs to reach a window of the restaurant. “It’s AM again,” he s
ays to me. “Probably close to noon, by the position of the sun. We slept a long time.”

  I groan when I try to stand. My leg muscles are sore, and there’s a bone-deep weariness I can’t seem to shake off. “What’s noon?”

  Before he can answer, the crackling voice comes again over the earpieces. It’s clearer this time. “Hold ... position. I’m coming to you.”

  “That’s Lucio.” Jate returns, supports my good side. “He must be close for comms to be that clear.”

  “How does he know where to find us?” I ask. “We’re way off course from where we were supposed to be.”

  “Lucio’s clever. He has his ways.”

  The answer isn’t very satisfying, but I concentrate on maneuvering the obstacle course of the restaurant until we reach the back door. We step out into bright sun peeking through interspersed clouds of ash. I want to cringe into the shadows, but Jate pulls me forward to the street. There’s a man in pale yellow armor running out of a side alley toward us.

  “I would have been here sooner,” Lucio pants, “but the Coalition had Dupont surrounded. We finally drove them off about an hour ago.” Sweat slicks the hair inside his helmet, drips down the side of his face into his beard. He swings an arm around me and supports my other side. The two of them practically carry me through the city in an eastward slant toward Dupont Circle.

  Jate’s expression is grim. “Did anybody else make it through?”

  “The whole team is safe. They moved faster than you did, got through the net before it closed tight.”

  It’s my fault. If I had just gone back to Lincoln Shelter, like Jate wanted me to, he would have made it to safety by now. “I’m sorry,” I stammer.

  Lucio blinks at me. He seems more winded than Jate, not as physically up to the challenge of carrying me. “Why?”

  “I .... They tried to keep me from going with them, but I followed them anyway. I slowed Jate down. He should have just left me behind.”

  “That’s not true,” Jate protests at the same time Lucio speaks.

  “Never! Jate knows better than to leave a team member behind.”

  “I’m not a team member,” I pant.

  “My dear, Ryanne told me what you did for her at Kennedy. I think we can all agree that you’re a team member now.”

  For some reason, Jate doesn’t seem as pleased about that statement as Lucio does.

  “If anyone should be blamed,” Lucio says, his tone turning dark, “it’s that arms dealer. Sloan told me he betrayed you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jate answers. “Gage said the price of betrayal was that none of us would make it out of there alive.”

  Lucio shifts his hold on me. “It seems his words were prophetic—for him, at least. It’s a miracle your entire team made it out alive and well.”

  Jate gives him a sharp look, but Lucio doesn’t acknowledge it.

  “Sloan also reported that you secured the item,” he continues. “You still have it, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. Then our plans can proceed.”

  When we reach Dupont Shelter at last, I nearly fall down the steps into the warm glow of the electric lights. The paintings spilled across the walls never looked so beautiful. Even the stale air smells sweet as Jate helps me get the helmet off.

  Before we’ve taken five steps into the tunnel proper, Ryanne comes rushing toward us. She’s no longer wearing her uniform. Her hair flies in a wild cloud around her head.

  “Why did it take you so long? I thought you’d been caught! We’ve all been walking on pins and needles down here!”

  She hugs Jate first, then me. Suddenly, she steps back with a stricken look. “Radiation particles! Oh, I don’t care. I’ll take a shower in a minute.” She hugs me again, tight enough to hurt the healing wound in my side. “I’m just so glad you made it back!”

  “Your sister has been very worried too,” Lucio says to me as he pulls off his own helmet. “I told her to get some rest, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still working on those tiles of hers. As soon as you’re cleaned up, you’d better find her and ease her mind. We’ll shut down the lights in about an hour.”

  It doesn’t take long to get out of the armor with Ryanne helping. She leads the way around the curve of the tunnel to a hotel restroom where we wash off any lingering radiation particles.

  As I’m rubbing soap along my arms, I say quietly, “Lucio thinks we have a traitor in the group.”

  Ryanne’s hands freeze a moment, then rub more vigorously at her cheeks. “Why do you say that?”

  “He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence we got out so easy. The soldiers were protecting one of us.”

  “Easy?” She turns to gape at me. “You think that was easy?”

  I stare down at the water draining into the sink. “They had us cornered. The only reason we got out of there alive is that they let us go.”

  Ryanne’s laugh sounds forced and hollow. “You’re imagining things, Caelin.” She pats her face and arms dry. “Come on. Mardy’s waiting for you.”

  By the time we reach the hotel exit into the unused portion of the tunnels, I’m fighting exhaustion every step of the way.

  “I’ll leave you alone with Mardy,” Ryanne says at the door. She gives me a long hug, then turns to go back up the hotel hall to her room.

  I can hear the scrape of metal on stone before I see Mardy halfway down the tunnel. She’s crouched on the concrete floor, spreading something over a tile with her back to me. On one side of the wall, colorful blocks are beginning to form a pattern I don’t yet understand. But the effect is beautiful, especially here in this drab portion of the shelter.

  “I’m back,” I say as I approach.

  She looks up with a startled expression. Then she drops the tile with a clatter and jumps up to hug me tightly around the neck.

  “Why did you leave?” she sobs. “You didn’t say goodbye!”

  “I’m sorry.” I swallow a lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat. “I didn’t mean to. It all happened so fast.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t come back!”

  I think about Jate and Ryanne’s plan to coerce me to stay in Lincoln Shelter. How would Mardy react if I’d done what they asked?

  “I always come back,” I say firmly. “That will never change.”

  She pulls away from me. Her skin is blotchy and red from crying a long time. “What’s so great about topside,” she asks vehemently, “that you want to abandon all the wonderful things Lucio has given us here in Dupont?”

  I squirm uncomfortably, thinking about my answer for several long moments. I owe her that much. “I guess ... I’ve been going out topside almost every day for five years now. It’s different up there, fresher air, more open spaces. I guess I was going stir-crazy being cooped up down here. Maybe I’m starting to understand how you’ve felt, all these years,” I finish sheepishly.

  Mardy studies me silently. I wonder if she’s going to throw one of her tiles at me or hug me again.

  Finally, she winds her left arm around my right one in a fair imitation of Ryanne. “Come on,” she sniffs. “We’re both worn out. Let’s get to bed.”

  CHAPTER 19

  I shock myself by sleeping for nearly two days straight after my escapade topside with Jate’s team. I overhear whispered conversations Mardy has with Hudson that are laced with worry, but at the end of those two days, I feel stronger than I have in a very long time. I ask Ryanne to help me with exercises in the empty corridor while Mardy works on her mosaic, since Deice no longer welcomes me in the training room.

  Noises start coming from further down the corridor. It sounds like construction—hammers pounding and wood banging against concrete. When I ask Ryanne about it, she has a secretive glint in her eye and refuses to give me a straight answer. The few times I wander down the tunnel to see for myself, it looks like they’re building another wall like the one at the opposite end of the shelter closing off the training room, though I can’t fathom why.<
br />
  It’s a full week before I see Jate again.

  I’m in my room, perched on the bed with a book open in my lap. Mardy has helped me learn more letters, and Ryanne found a children’s book somewhere with faded pictures and easy words. I’ve almost reached the end of a story about a sleeping princess when there’s a knock on the half-opened door.

  I look up to see Jate peeking his head around the door frame. I slam the book closed and shove it under the covers, cheeks flaming.

  “Can I come in?” he asks.

  “Um. Sure.” I shove the book deeper.

  He saunters into the room and sits on the bed across from mine. The springs whine. “You girls get the best mattresses,” he says, bouncing the bed a few more times. “Mine’s as hard as a rock.”

  “I guess chivalry isn’t dead, even in this day and age.”

  He grins. “Not as long as I’m around, anyway. How are you feeling? Better?”

  “Much better. Hudson said I was done with pills yesterday.”

  “That’s great news!”

  “You’d better believe it!”

  “What about your arm?”

  “Gemma was here a couple of days ago. She took an x-ray and said it was a mercy I hadn’t broken it all over again. She injected some more accelerator.” I hold up the cast. “I hope she’ll take this thing off soon.”

  “Me too.” He looks around the room, and I get the sense he’s trying to work up the courage to tell me something. My insides flutter. What’s wrong? Is he going to ask me to leave Dupont Shelter again? Finally, Jate takes a deep breath and turns back to me with a plastic smile. “Lucio wants to see you.”

  I feel cold and hollow. “What about?”

  Instead of answering, he hastily adds, “You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

  He shrugs, looking away again. “He’s going to talk to you about joining the Impartialists.”

  I catch my breath. So I’m not getting kicked out, after all. Just the opposite. “Isn’t that a good thing?”