The Dissenters

by Lauren M. Flauding

  I try to get away, but Jaren kicks me hard in the stomach and I double over in pain, unable to move. He pins me down and starts twisting my left arm. I scream as I try to free myself, but his grip is too strong. At the point when I'm sure he's succeeded in breaking one of my arms, I see a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye and suddenly Jaren is pulled away from me. Looking up, I see that Joby has apparently come out of nowhere and is now engaging Jaren. They wrestle for a bit, and then Joby knocks him out cold with a powerful back hand to the face. Jaren crumples to the ground and I gingerly get to my feet to address my old friend.

  "Joby, thank you so much! When did you ?—"

  "You should get out of here," Joby cuts in abruptly, pushing the mop of red hair out of his face. "When he wakes up, he'll still be trying to break your arms."

  "But, I... "

  "You should go," he repeats. I try to read his expression, but his eyes are dull and offer no hint of their former friendliness. I look back at the entrance and see that the number of soldiers has doubled since I came. A group must have come in when I was fighting with Jaren. Among them are Alia and Liam, who I notice are holding hands. I walk through the group of confused looking soldiers and manage to make eye contact with Alia before I exit through the doors. Luckily, Alia follows me out.

  "Mari, what are you doing here?" She asks worriedly.

  "I came to find you," I answer, turning to face her, "I wanted to see you and I have some questions."

  "Mari, you shouldn't have come. It's really dangerous here; they drop bombs at least twice a day. We've already lost about 20 soldiers to massive injuries..." she drifts off.

  "Who drops bombs?" I urge.

  "The North," she responds matter-of-factly.

  "Have they told you anything about the North? What do they want?"

  "They want our Amplification technology," Alia says, reciting the one bit of information that the Community has disclosed about our enemy.

  "But why don't they have it in the first place?" I pry, "Would it be so terrible to just give it to them?"

  "I don't know," Alia muses, clearly never having thought of these possibilities before, "but they're very violent, so I can't imagine it'd be any better for us if they obtained Amplification," she reasons.

  "Well, what are you guys doing to stop them?"

  "We... I can't discuss that with... well, you know," she says awkwardly. I know what she's trying to convey. She can't discuss war strategies with ordinary, non-Amplified people, like me. I understand that it's a Community policy, but I thought my own friend might make an exception.

  "It really is good to see you," Alia admits, wisely changing the subject. "It's been really stressful with all the drills and attacks. If it wasn't for Liam..." she trails off sheepishly. I raise my eyebrows at her and she reddens a bit. "I don't know how it happened, Mari," Alia blurts out, almost apologetically, "he's just so nice and he makes me laugh... you don't mind, do you?"

  "Of course not," I laugh, "I think it's great."

  "Okay, good," Alia says, relieved. I'm about to ask her if there's anything wrong with Joby when the door opens and a girl whose name I can't remember sticks her head out.

  "Hey Mari, Jaren is regaining consciousness and is asking where you are," she informs me.

  I sigh and look warily back at the Mall-cruiser station. I'd like to talk with Alia a little longer, but she should probably get back to her duties, whatever they are, and I don't think I can sustain another beating from Jaren. I turn and give Alia a hug.

  "Be safe," I tell her.

  "You too. I'll send you an Adhesive as soon as I can."

  I walk back to the station and board the Mall-cruiser. Just as we start pulling away, I look out the window and see a desperate Jaren half-limping toward the cruiser. He's waving his arms and probably shouting profanities I can't hear. He trips on a stray piece of cement and falls face first into the dirt. I watch him pound his fists into the ground in an apparent tantrum as the Mall-cruiser slowly leaves Compound L behind.

  Chapter 6

  "You're sure that was the last cruiser to Compound Q?"

  "Sorry, sweetheart, looks like you're stuck here for the night."

  As much as I want to yell at the station manager for calling me "sweetheart," I refrain. I figure it wouldn't be wise to provoke two Amplified people in one day. Plus, getting mouthy with the creepy station manager wouldn't do anything to improve my predicament. I guess I somehow spent too much time in Compound L because I didn't get back in time to catch the last Mall-cruiser home. This is probably why almost no one travels to the other compounds; it's nearly impossible to go anywhere and get back in one day.

  I sit down at the deserted station and consider my options. I could go find my brother Adrian, but we're still not on the best terms and I'm too prideful to go beg him to take me in for the night. I could walk home, but that's over 12 miles away and would take me at least 3 hours. I could, of course, try to run home like I always used to, but I haven't done that since before Training, and the thought of it makes me a little nauseous. But the only other option is to sleep on one of the hard benches here at the station, and I'd rather be moving than lying out in the open, vulnerable and alone, so I decide to run as much as I can and then walk the rest of the way home.

  I wince as I start running. My leg muscles are stiff from sitting on the Mall-cruiser most of the day and from months of not getting any more exercise than squatting and walking around at the farm. On top of that, my abdomen is aching from where Jaren kicked me. After about two miles, I'm wheezing and sweating profusely. I take my last hydration capsule and immediately I'm reenergized, but the feeling only lasts a few minutes.

  By the time I've gone 5 miles, I'm completely exhausted. I'm constantly tripping over my feet and I'm barely doing more than a slow jog. I can't run anymore, I think, but somewhere in the back of my mind is an annoying little voice that keeps telling me that to stop would be to give in; that my will power has to be stronger than my body. I want to shut the voice off, but I know that the voice is me, because it's frustratingly familiar, not like the invasive feeling of having someone else's voice in my head with the Override.

  6 miles. I feel like death. My legs keep moving me forward.

  7 miles. Over half way there.

  8 miles. I start talking to myself.

  Mari, just stop running and let yourself walk. No one will know or care that you didn t run all the way home. I'll know. I'll care.

  9 miles. I'm gasping for breath and my head is throbbing. How in the world was I able to run this distance so often? But I keep running.

  Somewhere in between the 10th and 11th mile the pain falls away and my fatigue disappears. I feel a rush of adrenaline and I run faster, almost giddy with this new-found and completely irrational energy. I don't know where it came from, but I'm not complaining. I pass the school. It looks foreboding in the dark surrounded by it's new, tall walls. Soon I can see the edge of the farm, which means that home is only a half mile away.

  I'm almost sprinting now. I haven't felt this good in months, probably not since I did that double back flip right after I became Amplified. The air is cool and feels amazing on my face. I close my eyes to savor the moment, which turns out to be a terrible idea. A few seconds later I promptly smack right into something solid and warm, and I'm propelled violently to the ground.

  "What was that?" I hear a low, gravely voice cut through the darkness.

  "No idea," a woman's voice answers, "something came flying out of nowhere and hit Jim. He's out cold."

  "Was it an animal?" The first man asks.

  "An animal? In Compound Q? I doubt it."

  It's dark and my vision is a little hazy from the hit, but I can now faintly make out two figures, as well as a man crumpled on the ground a few feet away from me; the one I ran into. The man and woman standing are each holding large, bulging sacks. A third sack, presumably from the man on the ground, has spilled out next to me. I sit up slowly and see that I'm
nearly surrounded by corn and tomatoes. These people have apparently looted the farm. I look up and see the man and woman approaching me. I quickly lie back down on the ground, hoping that if they think I'm unconscious, they won't bother me.

  "It's just some girl," the man scoffs.

  "What's she doing out so late? You think she's a spy?" The woman asks.

  "Don't know. Guess we better kill her just in case."

  Kill me? Are you kidding? Like the man said, I'm just "some girl." What am I going to do? Who am I going to tell? Would they really go to such lengths to keep anyone from knowing about their illegal activities? In the next moment I find out how serious they are.

  "Bruce, break her neck."

  The man's command to his Amplifier takes effect as he moves quickly toward me, and I have only a second to figure out the best way to stay alive. He's bending down to grab my neck when I swiftly pull my knee up into his chest. He groans and falls back, and I use the time to roll away from him. I try to stand up, but now the woman has jumped into action and pummels me with her bag of vegetables, sending me sprawling on the ground. When I manage to sit up, I see that the man is coming at me with arms outstretched and the woman has a gun trained on me. I'm out of options.

  Suddenly, there's commotion behind me, but I don't have time to turn around because something hits me hard in the back of the head. I hear gunshots as I loose consciousness.

  ____________

  I have to blink my eyes several times before the blurriness dissipates. I've woken up in some sort of cell, and I'm completely alone. I start to wonder if maybe I've died and this is my hell, but it doesn't seem quite awful enough. I lift my head to try and take in more of my surroundings, but I'm immediately dizzy. I reach back and gingerly touch the spot on my head where something or someone hit me. There's no blood, but it stings when I put pressure on it.

  I'm lying on a hard cot, which is the only piece of furniture in the room. The lights are unfamiliar — ancient looking, almost — and they give everything a pale, yellow glow. There's a small camera in the corner, which isn't a surprise, the Community has conditioned us to expect to be monitored every second of our lives. After several minutes I start to doze off, but am startled awake by the door opening. When I see who walks in, my heart just about leaps out of my chest. Miles Paxton strides over to the cot and leans over me with a crooked smile on his smooth face.

  "Welcome to the Dissenter base, Mari."

  Chapter 7

  There are so many things I want to say to Miles, but before I can organize my thoughts, the door opens again.

  "So, she finally woke up," states a gangly man with thick glasses as he walks in. He's followed by a pretty blonde girl who for some irrational reason I immediately don't like.

  "Yeah, only took her a few hours," Miles responds somberly. He's suddenly very formal, his hint of a smile from before has disappeared. "She'll probably need to rest a while longer before she can leave."

  "Why was she brought here?" The blonde girl asks suspiciously. "She was minutes from her house, wouldn't it have been safer to take her home?"

  "Yes," Miles responds evenly, "but she received a severe blow to the back of the head that needs to be monitored."

  "I'll say," the other man chimes in, "you hit her so hard I thought her head would fly off."

  I look at Miles incredulously. "You? You're the one who knocked me unconscious?"

  Miles exhales and meets my eyes. "I didn't know it was you, Mari," he says coolly, although there's a trace of pain in his expression. "We'll call it even," he adds, pointing to his shoulder. I search his face, trying to figure out if he's joking or if he really is still bitter that I shot at him last year. I open my mouth to defend myself, but the blonde girl cuts in.

  "Wait, you two know each other?"

  "Yes, we're from the same compound." Miles answers quickly. He turns to the man with glasses. "Blaine, will you keep an eye on her for a few hours? I have to go check on supplies with Sabrina."

  Before I can say another word, Miles and the blonde girl, who I assume is Sabrina, are heading out the door. Just before they turn the corner, I see her take Miles' arm. Suddenly I feel severely nauseous.

  "Let's check your head, you just got really pale," Blaine observes. I let him feel along the back of my skull as I try to rid my mind of the terrible thoughts I'm having about Miles and Sabrina. I hardly ever get jealous, so these feelings are a bit overwhelming and I don't appreciate the gnawing ache in my stomach. But that could also be from running almost 12 miles and then getting knocked out.

  What did I expect? It's been over three years since Miles left and he's definitely an attractive guy. It makes complete sense that some lame blonde girl would have snagged him by now. I feel stupid. Stupid for agonizing over every word he said to me when we saw each other again last year, stupid for getting excited about the note he left me on the Mall-cruiser, stupid for getting myself so worked up over him. Honestly, where is my resolve?

  "Yep, Miles messed you up pretty good." I flinch at the sound of Blaine's voice. Somehow, in all my thoughts, I forgot that someone was examining my wound.

  "I guess he did," I reply, wondering if he's referring to my heart or my head. Probably the latter.

  "There's a fair amount of swelling and bruising, but there shouldn't be any permanent damage."

  "That's good to hear," I respond with a sigh. A thought crosses my mind. "Hey, what were you guys doing near the farm anyway?"

  "We noticed some suspicious activity on our feeds, so we decided to go up and check it out," Blaine replies nonchalantly, as if they routinely go out of their way to defend the farm. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if they do. But it was something else he said that caught my attention. He mentioned they went "up."

  "Where am I?"

  "You're at the Dissenter base." Blaine responds evenly.

  "Right, but where exactly is the Dissenter base?"

  "Ah, can't tell you that," Blaine says with a tight smile. "There's a reason this base hasn't yet been discovered by the Governor or the Restrainers: absolute secrecy."

  I didn't think he would tell me, but I figured it was worth a try. I study the walls and ceiling of the cell and note the musty, damp atmosphere.

  "But we are underground, right?" I venture.

  "That is correct," Blaine answers after some hesitation.

  "Could I take a look around?"

  Blaine takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. I guess he didn't expect me to ask so many questions. Finally he looks at me with an expression that's half wariness, half amusement.

  "I'll show you a few areas."

  ____________

  "Where are we going now?" I've tried not to ask too many questions on this impromptu tour, but walking around the base makes me feel like a kid learning about Amplification for the first time.

  "I think there might be something of interest to you in the library," Blaine responds, leading me down a dimly lit corridor that looks like it hasn't seen much traffic in the past few years.

  I'm guessing I've only seen a small portion of the base, but I'm already in awe of its magnitude and functionality. When we first came out of my cell, I was surprised by the height and expanse of the hallway. The walls and ceiling were made up of hundreds of thousands of smooth stones, which somehow made everything look brighter. Blaine showed me some of the dwelling spaces for those that live at the base permanently, which happens to be almost all of the Dissenters. Apparently, a few of them still live in the Community and act as spies. The rooms were modest but comfortable, and complete with everything you would need.

  Next, we briefly looked into the surveillance room, which was nothing special, except that there were feeds from nearly every area of the Community, including one from outside the Governor's mansion. I wonder if dear Governor Plenaris knows that his enemies have eyes on his front door. I was tempted to stay and watch the feeds for a while, but a burst of loud voices from down the hall made Blaine steer me quickly
in the other direction.

  We passed by something Blaine called a kitchen. I don't know what they use it for, but I'd really like to find out; the smell was incredible. And then he showed me the lake. I was so shocked when we came upon it that I almost stumbled right in. It seemed so out of place, this massive body of water that was half a mile wide and stunningly illuminated by moonlight coming in from a small hole at the top of the cavernous space. I stood at the edge of the water and took in the smooth, limestone walls and the intermittent drops of water that fell from them into the lake. It was absolutely breathtaking.

  "Here we are," Blaine announces, opening a heavy door off to the side of the corridor. We step into a large, circular room which is completely lined with tall shelves filled with books. I've never seen so many books. My dad used to have a few that he had kept from his great-uncle's collection. I think they were all about healing and medicinal plants, which I figured was kind of useless since the Amplifiers take care of almost all of our health problems. In any case, several years ago the Restrainers came through the Community and took away everyone's books. My dad was pretty upset about it, but when they came, he handed them over without a fight. I guess he really didn't have a choice.

  I turn around and see Blaine sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the room, holding a small book and looking at me expectantly. I walk over and sit down at the table. He slides the book over to me. It's a plain-looking faded blue book, clearly very old from the wear around the edges and the yellowed pages.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  "Open it," Blaine responds simply.

  I lift the cover and gasp. The first thing I see is an old photo of a woman who looks almost exactly like my mom. I gingerly lift out the fragile picture and turn it over. I can just barely make out a name written on it: Lucia. I replace the photograph, turn to the first page and read: "This journal belongs to Lucia Valentina Guadalupe Ramirez."