Dissidence

by Jamie Canosa

  The cold night air feels as though it’s piercing my lungs, but I take deep breaths anyway. The sensation reminds me that I’m alive, unlike some of the others. On the way back, I was informed of the crushing news that we lost Julie. It seems almost impossible that someone with so much life in them could just cease to live suddenly, and I can’t shake the lingering fear that it really could have been any one of us. All around me, the camp has grown quiet. Almost everyone is settled in for the night.

  A few people mill around the dormitories talking quietly, and a light shines in one of the towers. Each of the other towers is manned by a single occupant as well, but they’re keeping watch in the darkness. Unlike the guards, these sentries all look outward over the fields and woods that surround the camp, prepared to alert us at the first sign of trouble. Luckily, there hasn’t been any so far, but it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know what they’re waiting for, but our luck can’t hold out forever.

  We need a plan, and it needs to be brilliant, and it needs to happen right now. No pressure or anything. I wrack my brain for some sort of epiphany. You know. One of those ah-ha moments where everything just falls into place. That’s what’s supposed to happen in times like this, right? So, what do we have to work with? We have people and weapons, but nowhere to really use them. We have wheat . . . boat loads of wheat. That’s it! Ah-ha!

  I practically trip over my feet racing toward the dormitories. I’m looking for Peter or Connor or Lori. I don’t really care who, I just need to talk this over with someone to be sure it makes sense out loud. Connor’s the lucky winner. He’s just coming out of the bathroom as I plow into the building, and I drag him back outside with me.

  “What’s wrong? What’s goin’ on, Girlie?” He glances around like he’s expecting to face trouble.

  “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” He visibly relaxes. “What’s up?”

  “I think I might have come up with a plan, but it’s completely insane.”

  “My favorite kind. So what is it?”

  “All right.” I settle down next to the building, and wave Connor down beside me. I’m not sure how convoluted this is all going to sound, and it may take a while to explain what I’m thinking. “I was thinking about negotiating. Obviously, Reynolds isn’t our man, and apparently that Perman guy is some kind of ghost.” Connor nods. I know he knows all of this already, but I’m getting to the good stuff. “Anyway, I was thinking, we planned to use force to get them to negotiate with us, but that’s not all we have.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  “We have resources. Technically, we have how many camps now? Six? And it’s not just the camps we have control of, we control those resources, too. We’ve got a few different crops, fish, timber, and iron. The colonies must be getting low, or they will be soon. Perman used resources to negotiate once before, why can’t we do the same now?”

  I know I was disgusted by Perman using resources as a ransom to get what he wanted, and now I’m basically proposing the same exact thing. But he wanted money and power, all we want is our lives back. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

  “You want to negotiate resources for freedom?” I nod so enthusiastically that it sort of gives me a headache. “With who?”

  Here comes the crazy.

  “Perman negotiated with the President for what he wanted,” Connor says slowly, clearly hoping he’s misunderstanding my intentions. He’s not. My lips stretch into a sly smile, and Connor only shakes his head. “You want to negotiate with the President.”

  I nod again, and Connor throws his head back and laughs. It’s a deep, genuine laugh. One I’m not sure I’ve heard before, and it’s a really nice sound. “Girlie, you never cease to amaze me.”

  ***

  Peter wakes me in the morning to tell me that the other remaining leaders are already gathering. “Connor’s telling everyone that you have a plan?”

  “I do.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “Yes, I have a plan.” No faith. “And it’s a brilliant one.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Yeah, too little too late, back-peddler. “Let’s get going, then, so I can hear this brilliant plan.” The smile in his voice does nothing to bolster his sincerity . . . or my confidence.

  Once we’ve all settled in, I lay out my idea. For several long minutes, it’s met with nothing but silence from everyone. Then, of course, Jacob has something to say.

  “All your plans have managed to do so far is get people killed. Why the hell should we listen to anything you have to say?”

  His words are like a knife, and I can’t conceal the gasp that escapes my lips.

  “Hey!” Peter immediately comes to my rescue. “Don’t be such an ass. None of that was her fault. We all agreed to go to O, even you . . . and Julie.”

  “Don’t you say her name!” Jacob jumps to his feet, followed immediately by Peter, and then Connor, who’s quick to back him up.

  I’m the next one up, and I place myself between them. “Did we come here to fight like little boys, or are we here to try and come up with an actual solution to our situation?”

  I’m not much of a threat, standing there surrounded by guys who are all at least six feet tall and me clocking in at a whopping five foot four and a half, but when Allan takes a place at my side, they all back down. There’s something about his quiet strength that refuses to be ignored.

  “How exactly do you plan on reaching the President?” Allan’s question sounds like a genuine inquiry, with no malice or disbelief underneath.

  “If he wants any of our resources, then he’s going to have to at least hear us out, right? I’m guessing it won’t be too hard to get his attention if we show up at the Presidential compound in Pennsylvania.”

  “Or they could just kill us all.” We all get it, Jacob. You don’t like this idea. Shocker.

  “He hasn’t yet.” I’m honestly not sure why. I suppose it would really put a crimp in their style to lose this many workers permanently. For the time being, I’ll just be grateful for it, whatever the reason.

  “They negotiated with Perman before. He just may be willing do the same with us,” Connor offers. “It’s not like we have a lot of other options, anyway.”

  It’s not great that the best selling point of my idea is the lack of any better ideas, but I’ll take what I can get. Everyone eases into more rational discussion, and I just sit back and watch. I’ve said what I have to say, now it’s up to them. About an hour later, things seem to be winding down, so I call for a vote. Jacob is, unsurprisingly, the last to agree, but in the end, he does. The look he shoots me as he’s leaving, however, makes me wary of his compliance.

  ***

  A harsh shake wakes me sometime in the middle of the night. I have to blink away some sleep to make sure I’m really looking at Jacob kneeling beside me on the floor. What could he possibly want? I’m tempted to ask him, but the dozens of other unconscious bodies sprawled throughout the crowded dorm space stop me. At, least someone should be able to get some rest around here. He moves toward the door, which is still standing open, and gestures for me to do the same. Trying to fight off some of the fatigue still clouding my brain, I get up and follow him outside. He’s about ten feet ahead and not waiting for me to catch up as I stumble along after him.

  The cold air helps my head to clear, and I briefly consider going back for either Peter or Connor but shake it off. I need to stop being so dependent on those two. We’re headed towards the fields, and he still hasn’t said a single word. Something isn’t right. What could he possibly need me out here for? Maybe I should go back for Peter or Connor.

  “Look.” He points to something near the fence, distracting me from some of my more rational thoughts, but in the dark, I can’t see a thing.

  “What?” When he doesn’t answer, I move past him to look at what he’s showing me.

  There’s nothing there but dirt and grass. As I turn to a
sk exactly what it is I’m supposed to be looking at, pain suddenly explodes in my right eye. The throbbing in my head is so bad that I barely register the feel of my body crashing to the ground. I try to pull myself back up, but a solid blow to my stomach knocks all the air out of me. I’m doubled over, gasping for breath when I feel hands closing in around my throat.

  “Jake,” I gasp.

  “Shut up.” Another blow, and I taste a mix of blood and dirt.

  “You are not the one who should be making decisions for all of us. You’re going to get us all killed. Your stupidity got Julie killed. It’s your fault she’s dead.”

  His hands are back around my throat, and this time I feel myself being lifted off the ground. The chain link fence against my back sends chills down my spine. I claw at his hands, trying desperately to pry his fingers from around my neck. Everything is starting to get fuzzy, and dark spots float in the air. My lungs are screaming for oxygen. I keep trying to pull him off, but now I’m just pawing at him. I can’t breathe. I’m going to die.

  Chapter 29

  All of a sudden, there’s air, and then there’s the ground again. I hit it hard and gasp, taking in as much oxygen as I can. From somewhere far away, I can hear the repetitive dull thud of flesh hitting flesh. Maybe not so far. From the blurry edges of my vision, I can vaguely make out two forms rolling around on the ground beside me. All my muddled brain can think is, I need to get up, I need to get out of here, but my body isn’t working right. I can’t get it to stop shaking long enough to move. The feel of hands on my shoulders starts me convulsively flailing.

  “Hey, hey, hey, Leigh. It’s all right. It’s just me. It’s all right.” Peter’s face swims into view, and I stop trying to fight him off.

  After that, I’m not really sure what happens until I wake up in a hospital bed. I run through a quick mental check to get my bearings. How did I get here? Peter. What happened? Jacob. What happened to Jacob? That one I don’t have an answer to.

  Sunlight assaults my eyes when I finally manage to pry them open. Really, only one of them. The other feels like it’s been glued shut. Peter and Connor both have chairs beside my bed. From the look of him, I’d guess Connor is what happened to Jacob. They both move at once when they notice I’m awake, and the suddenness make me woozy.

  “Hey, Girlie, how ya feelin’?” Not great, and from Connor’s soft tone, I’m guessing I don’t look so great either. He never handles me with kid gloves.

  “All right,” I croak.

  “I’m gonna get the doctor, you just lie still, okay?” Connor gets up and disappears, I assume to track down the doctor.

  Peter hovers by my bedside. His fingertips gently brush over my bruised cheek, and he winces. I must look really bad. Why did this happen? It doesn’t make sense, why did he do this to me? All at once, all of the fear I felt last night comes crashing back down on me. He almost killed me. I almost died.

  “Why?” My throat is tightening, and it feels as though I’m being strangled all over again. A lump lodges in my throat, making it hard to breathe, and a half-gasp, half-sob escapes.

  “Hey, hey, Leigh, don’t cry, you’ll only make yourself worse.” Peter’s voice is gentle as he shifts closer to me. “Jacob’s crazy. There is nothing that you did or didn’t do to deserve this, okay? He’s secured in one of the towers now with a guard. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe, I promise. All right? I promise.”

  “What happened . . . after?” My throat feels like it’s on fire every time I speak, but I have to know.

  “I woke up and saw that you were gone. When I couldn’t find you right away, I woke Connor, and we went looking for you. When we found you, Leigh . . .” He pauses and swallows so hard that I can hear it. It must have been a scary sight. Jacob is no small guy. “Connor tackled him and beat him bloody.”

  He tries to smile at me, but the worry in his eyes does nothing to calm my fears. Before I can say anything else, he’s pushed aside when Connor returns with the doctor in tow. At least it isn’t the nurse.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I just nod. I’m fairly certain that if I try to say another word, I may actually breathe flames. He’s a doctor. Shouldn’t he know that?

  “It’s going to be painful to speak or swallow for a few days.”

  Well, if he knows that, then why is he asking me stupid questions?

  “You should try to avoid talking as much as possible.”

  Seriously? Where’s the nurse?

  “I’ll get you a cold pack for those bruises, and if you can keep it on for about fifteen minutes at a time, the swelling should go down in a few days.”

  He heads off to get me that cold pack, and I’m beginning to wonder if medical degrees grow on trees around here. Peter takes the pack when he returns with it, and sits on the edge of my bed so he can press it to my cheek. At first, the pressure stings, but then the whole area becomes blissfully numb. Now, if only the rest of my body could feel that way. Connor sits back in one of the chairs, and for a while, we’re just quiet. I’m not supposed to talk, anyway. Instead, I take stock of my injuries. My throat and eye hurt, obviously, but also my jaw and my tongue—I think I bit it. My ribs are sore, he must have kicked me at some point. And my head hurts, it’s pounding.

  “What about . . .” I start, but Peter stops me.

  “No talking, you heard the doctor. Here, hold this, I’ll get you a paper and pen.”

  I take the cold pack from him and hold it against my face. It’s already starting to warm up, and some of the pain is returning. Beside me, I can hear Connor breathing harshly, and when I look at him, his jaw is clenched so tightly it looks painful. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen him this angry before. It’s a little scary. I touch his hand to try to calm him, or maybe it’s to calm myself I’m not sure, but either way, it seems to do the trick. His face softens as he turns his hand over, threading his fingers through mine.

  “I’m sorry, Girlie. I knew something was off with him. I should have done something sooner. I should have been paying closer attention.”

  I shoot him an ‘are you serious’ look, and he laughs. “How can you be so mocking without even speaking?” His grin fades, and he gives my hand a small squeeze. “I don’t want you to worry. You’re gonna be all right, and we’ll figure out what to do with him.”

  The way he said the last part worries me a little. Peter returns with my pen and paper, and I jot down, ‘What are we going to do with Jacob?’

  Connor and Peter exchange an ominous glance. Why does that not feel like a good thing?

  “I vote for shooting him.” At first, I can’t decide if Connor’s joking, and then when I do, I wish I hadn’t. He’s not.

  ‘No,’ I scribble.

  “He was going to kill you, Leigh,” Peter tells me, as though I’m not already aware of that fact.

  I point vehemently to the ‘No’ again. It’s a lot harder to argue when you can’t talk.

  “Well, we can’t just let him go, and we can’t keep him locked up in the guard tower forever, either.”

  Why are they both looking at me? I’m the one lying in a hospital bed. Shouldn’t I get a break from the decision making for a while?

  “I guess we could just kick him out, like we did with the guards,” Peter sighs, sounding none too satisfied with the option. “From that point, he’s on his own, though. It’s up to him to save his own ass. We’re not that far from the closest colony. We’ve made the hike. He can worry about how to get them to let him stay. It’s more than he deserves.”

  Thank you, Peter.

  I jot down, ‘Yes,’ on my paper. I considered writing something a bit longer and more drawn out. Something including the word brains, but I decided that having ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ side by side would probably be more useful later on. Plus, I’m not sure how much paper is available, so I should probably keep my rants to a minimum for now.

  “I’d still rather shoot him,” Connor growls, “but if that’s what you want, we can gather th
e other leaders and make it official.”

  I point to ‘Yes.’ I knew it would come in handy. Somehow, I manage to shoo them both out of the hospital and request a new cold pack from the doctor, all without a single word.

  As soon as I’m left alone, however, my hands start shaking again. I really need to get a grip. For the next two hours, I lie there silently, alternating between having the cold pack on and off my face. The fifteen minutes with it on feels much better than the fifteen off, but for the first ten of those minutes, my skin is still adjusting to the feel of the cold, so I’m really only even semi-comfortable for about five minutes out of every half an hour. After a while, the thought of shooting Jacob doesn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore.

  I’ve just about lost my mind by the time they get back. That’s what happens when I’m forced to spend too much time alone with myself with nothing to distract me.

  ‘So?’ I write and shove the paper at them as soon as they’ve settled into the chairs beside me.

  “Everything went fine,” Connor assures me.

  I tap my wrist. I don’t have a watch on, but he gets the point.

  “What to do with Jacob took all of about ten minutes to settle. Lori and Allan weren’t thrilled with the idea of letting him go, but they got over it.”

  That explains a lot. I shrug.

  “The rest of the time was spent talking about your plan.”

  Peter shoots him an annoyed look, but he’s not as inconspicuous as he thinks he is. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

  Ah, I get it. Don’t bother the poor little sick girl with the important stuff. Well, I’m fine, even if I can’t talk, or maybe even sit up without feeling like I’m going to hurl. It doesn’t stop me from thinking.

  ‘We need to leave soon,’ I write.

  “That’s what everyone was saying,” Connor tells me, and Peter rolls his eyes.