Rebels

by Jill Williamson

  Mason didn’t doubt it. “I have something to add. The monthly blood draws all nationals must get . . . It’s only a theory at this point, but Rich — ” Should he tell her that Lonn was alive? Why not? “Richark Lonn and I believe that the bio — ”

  “You spoke to Richark Lonn?” Her eyes were round, amazed.

  “I’ll give you a hint, Miss Flynn: Liberation is not death. Yes, I came to know Mr. Lonn quite well. He and I are looking for answers in hopes of finding a cure.”

  “There is no cure.”

  “Are you so sure? We feel there has been no cure yet because of the task oaths everyone is required to take. The task oaths, we feel, were set in place to keep people from learning about all the lies the government was hiding. If the doctors can work with the biochemists, instead of being so separated, we think we will make progress toward finding a cure. But as is, our theory is that the biochemists have — without patient consent — turned every Safe Lands national into a test subject as they search for a cure.”

  “That’s preposterous.” But she fidgeted, like she was wondering over his words.

  “Is it? I’ve been in the Safe Lands for less than six months, and I’ve seen people in terrible health. Surely in your profession, you have too.”

  “Of course we’re in terrible health. We have a terminal disease.”

  “Yes, but Lonn and I, we think the biochemists are doing more harm than good. One of your demands on the air should be that doctors and biochemists work together toward finding a cure. And that they stay accountable to the public with their findings.”

  “You’re saying that my meds are hurting me more than helping me?” Her voice was high-pitched, borderline hysterical. “That they’re doing this to me?”

  “I don’t know that for certain, but I do know that something in them is harmful. And that should be disclosed. You should have the choice whether or not to further harm your health.”

  “Well, we agree on that much, trig.”

  CHAPTER

  32

  The car stopped outside the front entrance to the ColorCast building. Jemma broke out of a daydream about Levi and looked at Kruse, waiting for him to get out and open the door for her as he usually did, but he remained seated. When she looked at him, she found him holding out a slip of paper, a finger held up to his lips.

  She took the paper and read it.

  Rebels are about to make their move against the Safe Lands. Today, in your interview, Luella will ask you to tell the truth about your situation in the harem. This will not be edited, and I’m sure that Levi Elias will see it at some point. Use it wisely. This is your one chance to let Safe Landers and Mr. Elias hear your true story.

  Jemma looked at Kruse, and he winked. “We’ve arrived, Ms. Levi. Shall we?”

  Was Kruse a rebel? Had he been helping her all along? “Yes, I’m ready.”

  Kruse opened the door and helped Jemma out. She couldn’t believe how big she felt already, and she was only twenty-eight weeks along. She wondered how Shaylinn was feeling with two babies in her belly.

  Kruse led her inside the building. As usual, the couches were already arranged on the stage. But there was no one in the audience today. In fact, the entire building appeared to be deserted.

  “Isn’t anyone here?” Jemma asked.

  “Only the necessary staff today,” Luella said, coming at them from the back booth. She was wearing a slinky black dress that looked to be made out of rubber. “I hope Kruse briefed you on today’s twist.”

  She glanced at Kruse. “He did.”

  “Excellent. Then let’s get started, shall we? I’ve been waiting years for a day like today. So much excitement. I can hardly wait.”

  A day like today. What had Luella meant by that? Jemma followed the woman up onto the stage, wondering if she could really say that her baby was Levi’s. If she did, wouldn’t Luella Flynn edit that out?

  “Why don’t you go ahead and get comfortable on the sofa, femmy?” Luella said. “It’s a new one. Just replaced. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  “I don’t have to walk out from the side?”

  “Oh, not today. This is a special interview! New things are happening.” Luella took Kruse by the arm and dragged him to the side of the theater.

  So Jemma walked up onto the stage, settled herself in the middle of the little white loveseat, and waited. Luella and Kruse looked to be discussing something important, then Luella turned around and ran backstage on her high-heeled shoes. How could she move so fast in those things? Jemma could see her behind the curtain, just offstage, checking her own makeup.

  My, this was a special day!

  A few minutes later, Luella joined her onstage. She sat on the sofa beside her and Alb started recording. Jemma relaxed a little. Luella was an easy person to talk to when you weren’t worried that she was twisting every word you said.

  “Jemma, our lovely queen, welcome. We have a very serious topic to discuss today, and I’m so thankful that you’ve been brave enough to come forward. My guess is that you aren’t the first who has had to deal with this, but it is my fervent hope that you will be the very last. Tell us the truth, Ms. Levi: Are you and Lawten Renzor really lifers?”

  Jemma couldn’t speak. Tears flooded her eyes, and she cursed the hormones the medic at the SC kept giving her.

  “This must be very traumatic for you. Take your time.”

  Jemma met Kruse’s gaze where he was sitting in the front row. He nodded for her to speak. “No, we’re not lifers.” She paused for another breath, having worked up her emotions too high. “The people who edit the interviews made it look that way. But I never said those things to him.”

  “So your baby . . . ?” Luella leaned close. “I thought Lawten was the donor.”

  “No! He wasn’t,” Jemma said.

  “This is all very shocking,” Luella said. “How did you come to be in the harem, Ms. Levi?”

  “The first time or this time?”

  Luella leaned back on her couch. “Both, if you’re willing to share.”

  “Well, the first time, Safe Lands enforcers came to my village and killed many people. They captured the survivors and brought all of the women to live in the harem and told us we had to be surrogates.”

  “Our Guild killed your people and kidnapped them? Outsiders? I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible shock.”

  “It was. We found out that the people in the Safe Lands are dying because of the thin plague, and plague is the reason it’s been five years since a baby was born here. Your government was worried about that, so they went looking elsewhere for uninfected people.”

  “Yes, but Kendall Collin,” Luella said. “Don’t forget Baby Promise.”

  “Baby Promise,” Jemma said, “as dear as he is, was a failure to your Guild. Kendall Collin was uninfected when she came here, but her donor was an infected Safe Lander, which means Baby Promise is also infected.”

  “That’s terrible news. We had thought Baby Promise was our hope for the future.”

  “He’s a sweet baby, but he’s infected with the thin plague.”

  “How did you come to leave the harem?” Luella asked.

  “I was rescued by men from my village. We lived underground with Black Army rebels until we came back to free more captive women from the harem. It was then that I got caught and put back into the harem the second time. That was when the task director general told everyone that he and I were lifers and that this baby was his own.”

  “And that’s not true?”

  “No. I’m not going to exchange vows with the task director general because I’m already married to Levi Elias. I’d like everyone to know that I was pregnant before I was captured this second time. The medic confirmed this on my first appointment in the SC. Lawten Renzor wanted you to think the child was his, but that’s a lie, like so much of what he says. The child belongs to me and my husband, Levi.”

  “So even now, you’re a captive in this place. What do you truly want?”<
br />
  “I want enforcers to open the gates and let me and my people go home. I want to be with my husband and family.”

  Luella looked at the camera. “There you have it, Safe Landers. The truth. The first of many you will hear. It’s hard to believe that this has been going on in our fair city. But as promised, today we will discover many ways we’ve been lied to by our task director general and the Safe Lands Guild. Next up, what liberation truly is!”

  “We’re clear,” Alb yelled.

  “Wonderful.” Luella set her hand on Jemma’s knee. “We prerecorded this, but I promise you it will air unedited. We just don’t want to be here when it does.”

  Jemma wanted to believe her. “When will it air?”

  “Today. Early afternoon. The Safe Lands Guild meeting starts at two. I plan to show this right before. And if I’m not mistaken, your Levi will be coming for you around then, so be ready.”

  CHAPTER

  33

  Everything was set. Luella Flynn had given Omar two sets of contact lenses that could record. Omar wondered if she knew Lhogan in the Technology Research Organization. Ruston had also made a crossbow that would shoot a grappling hook and rope up to the top of the Safe Lands wall. This was how Omar would get back . . . at least that’s what they all hoped.

  In the middle of the night, Omar rode the Midlands train all the way through the manufacturing district and got off at the very last stop. It was an extremely cold night, and Omar was thankful for the layer of clothing he was wearing over his Owl costume. Hopefully that layer and the climb would keep him warm. The night was silent but for the swish of his pant legs, the crunch of each step over the snowy sidewalk, and the occasional clink of the items in his backpack.

  Snodgrass Road ran parallel to the Midlands/Lowlands wall. Omar followed the road until he stood about halfway between the first and second turnstile towers to the north of the Midlands/Lowlands gate. He walked between two buildings, toward the wall, until he could see the metal fence that ran along the wall about ten feet out. Behind it loomed the Midlands/Lowlands wall. It was merely a black shadow obstructing the view but for the red lights that ran along the top. Omar looked behind him, up the space he’d walked between the buildings. He looked to his left, his right.

  No one.

  “SimTalk: tap: Zane.”

  “Where are you?” Zane asked through Omar’s SimTalk implant.

  “Between the first and second turnstile towers. Standing right in front of the fence.”

  “Hold on and let me find you.”

  Omar slipped off his backpack and pulled out the wire cutters.

  “Found you,” Zane said. “Just let me figure out where to shut off the fence and you’ll be on your way.” Omar could hear Zane’s fingers tapping dully over his GlassTop. “Okay. The fence should be off. You’re going to have to go fast. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m going.”

  Omar ran up to the fence and started cutting. He only needed to cut a space big enough to squeeze through, but this was chain link, and that meant a lot of cuts. He snipped the links up in a straight line and stopped about three feet up from the ground. Then he took a big side step and did the same thing two feet down the fence. When he finished, he pushed his back up against the middle section. Like the flap of a pet door, he was able to back through the chain link. Once he was on the other side, the fence snapped back in place, jangling. Hopefully that would make it difficult to notice any holes if anyone came looking.

  “I’m through,” he told Zane.

  “Okay, then I’m going to turn the fence back on.”

  “Do it.” Omar turned and looked up at the wall. It had been fairly easy coming down, but going up . . . He shook off his fear and traded the bolt cutters for the crossbow in his backpack. The moment his hand closed around the crossbow’s grip, Levi’s words came back to him.

  You can’t afford to miss.

  And he couldn’t. He had one shot to get this right.

  “Fence is back on,” Zane said. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “The motion detectors in the section in front of you should be off. There’s a truck passing by on the wall above. So hold up for a minute before you shoot.”

  Omar looked back to the wall. The little red lights were out now in a six-yard strip at the top of the wall above him. He took a deep breath. His father’s words came to him this time, the day he’d missed the buck and scoped himself between the eyes.

  “How could you miss that? He was four yards away!”

  Omar touched the bridge of his nose. His fingertips came away bloody. But it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as his pride did. “Maybe I should try the crossbow.”

  “Crossbow?” Father snorted his exasperation. “If you can’t shoot a rifle, you can’t shoot a crossbow. Go home and have your mom look at that. Levi! We’re going to see if we can chase down that buck Omar scared off.”

  Omar rubbed his scar.

  Enough stalling.

  He removed a pillowcase from his pack, then carefully withdrew the coil of rope. He set it out in front of his feet where he wouldn’t accidentally step on it. All the little knots made it look tangled, and Omar checked it to make sure it was still perfectly wound. It was. The hook should carry it right up into the sky with no difficulty.

  “The truck is gone now, Omar,” Zane said. “You can go ahead.”

  “Okay.” Omar raised the crossbow and forced himself not to think about Levi or his father. He aimed, exhaled, aimed again, and fired.

  The hook soared into the dark sky, the rope lassoing out in coils in its wake. He stepped back, lowered the crossbow to his side, and watched the pile of rope continually shrink as the hook carried it higher and higher.

  He bit his lip as he watched. Please, please, please . . .

  And then the rope stopped ascending. It fell, lax, against the wall. Yes! Omar ran to it, lifted it carefully, and pulled slowly, hand over hand, hoping for the tug that would secure the hook so he could climb.

  “I see your hook,” Zane said. “You’re pulling it across the road. Good thing it didn’t fly much higher or you might have caught it on the rail across the road. That would’ve been bad.”

  Ooh. Yes, it would’ve. “Can you still see it?”

  “Nope, I just lost it. My angle is no good from this camera. You should have no problem catching it on that rail.”

  “That’s the hope.” Omar pulled slower now, hand over hand, staring up at the black wall.

  “I see it!” Zane said. “A little more.”

  Omar pulled another hand’s width.

  “It’s caught. You got it!”

  Omar pulled again. And again. “It doesn’t feel like I — ” And the rope went taut. “I do. I’ve got it.” He sighed his relief and smiled to himself.

  “Now get going,” Zane said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

  Omar put the crossbow back in his pack, put on the pack, then started to climb. His time in the Lowlands GMC had likely wasted away what little muscles he had built up lifting weights, but he hoped he had strength enough to climb to get up the wall. Because it was a very tall wall.

  That’s why they’d tied the knots. To give him a rest every few yards. When his hands passed the first knot, he tried to watch it as he climbed, to see when his feet reached it. He didn’t spot it again until it was past his feet though, so he gripped the rope between his feet and slid down a little until he felt the shape of the knot press into the arch of his foot. He held himself there, testing it. He let go with one arm. Shook it out. Grabbed the rope again and shook out his other arm.

  Good. This might actually work.

  Up he went, hand over hand, taking rests when he needed to. Zane kept him company in his ear, and the rest of the journey went without a hitch. Omar reached the top and climbed over the rail. The road was deserted at the moment, and Zane still had control of the camera. Omar gathered the rope carefully, then removed the grappling hook,
and carried it across the road and hooked it to the rail on the other side.

  From where he stood, he looked down on the Lowlands. He couldn’t tell one sector from another in the darkness. But he did see the grid of glowing greenhouses. And it looked like two of them had been set on fire.

  “Nice,” Zane said. “I see the fires through your eyes.”

  “Yeah, but only two.” And they were relatively small. Two of the four dozen greenhouses. “Think I should wait?”

  “No, the patrol is headed back your way. You’ve probably got five minutes, but don’t linger. He’ll likely have more going by the time you get down.”

  Hopefully the fires would be distraction enough to keep the watcher busy even if he accidentally set off the wall’s motion detectors. Zane seemed to think the motion detectors only ran around the bottom thirty feet of the walls, but there was only one way to prove that, and Omar had no intention of finding out.

  He climbed over the rail until his feet were hanging off, then slipped over, hands clutching the rope. He squeezed the rope tightly, slipping down inches at a time, trying not to touch the wall. It curved out about six inches along the top, creating a very small overhang for Omar to try to stay under. Once he had descended ten feet or so, he went hand over hand, but his arms were already very tired and soon he was sliding down. The friction made his hands warm beneath his thick leather gloves.

  Another thing he didn’t know: whether the motion detectors monitored the surface of the wall or the area in front of it.

  It didn’t matter. The Owl was going down, motion detectors or not.

  By the time he’d reached the halfway point, at least a dozen greenhouses in sector one had caught fire. Flashing red and blue lights of the fire enforcer vehicles lit up the night below his feet.

  “They’re getting a bunch of them,” Zane said.

  Yes, they were. “I’ve got to get down there while there’s still a distraction going on.”

  “Jump,” Zane said. “I think you can make it the rest of the way.”