by Masha Leyfer
“I hope so too.”
“Three more minutes and then we’ll move out.”
We ride for two more hours before Mike stops us. He points West and we begin to jog. We come to a large rise in the ground, as if something has been buried underneath it.
“This is it,” Mike says. “You want to do it?”
“Sure. You have the tools?”
He hands me his backpack. I pull out the shovel and uncover the powerline. Even that small segment of it looks malicious, like a dormant rubber snake. I pull out the saw and carefully begin to cut away at the line, cutting first through the rubber and then through all of the wires inside. Once the powerline has been completely severed, I look up at Mike for approval. He gives me a thumbs up and nods back to the direction from which we came. I push the saw back into the backpack. Mike takes it from me and we begin to jog back. Quick and simple, just like my first raid. It would seem almost pointless if one didn’t know how important communication is to the CGB.
We reach the snowmobiles. I begin to swing my leg over, when suddenly, I feel a sharp point at my back and a voice hisses words in my ear.
“Don’t move.”
I freeze. The breath I had begun doesn’t come out. I let my eyes move to Mike. I can see his body has gone rigid, but I don’t dare to move my head to see anything else.
“Get off,” the voice hisses behind me. I put my leg back on the ground, careful not to put any more pressure into the point at my back. Next to me, I see Mike stepping off his snowmobile as well.
“Hands up.”
I lift my arms carefully. Once they are completely up, I feel the pressure release on my back.
“Turn around slowly. Don’t try to pull anything.” I begin to turn around and shoot Mike a quick glance. He shoots me a reassuring glance back. It’ll be alright. Despite his efforts, I can see the doubt in his eyes.
I turn around and find myself looking at a bayonet pointed at my chest. The knife at the tip glints menacingly, a grim reminder of how vulnerable I am.
I let my eyes move up to the face of the person holding it. A pair of thick rimmed broken glasses sits crookedly on the bridge of her nose. They are held together by what must be an entire roll of black tape. The right lense is cracked down the middle. She must have not had them replaced since the Blast.
Her black hair cascades in a straight sheet over her shoulders and down her back. Her face is round and her expression creased in a permanent frown. She would have been gorgeous if not for her condition. Her smooth skin is marred by multiple scars. Her hands are dirty and calloused. The dark circles under her eyes make her eyes recede into her head and her irises are hollow and emotionless. She must be about Big Sal’s age, but I’m not really sure. She looks really young and really old simultaneously.
“Stop staring at me,” she whispers. “Which one of you is in charge?” I glance at Mike. “Him? Move, so that I can see both of you at the same time.”
I move to Mike’s side. Now I can see a man with another bayonet standing in front of Mike.
“Speak, boy,” the woman says. “Where are you from?”
“We represent the Rebellion,” Mike says stiffly.
“The Rebellion.” She stares at us and I feel even more uncomfortable than I already do with the bayonet aimed at my heart. “And what are you doing here?”
“We were cutting the CGB’s powerlines, Miss. It cuts off their communication.”
I glance at Mike. I have never heard him call anybody miss. It’s an honor to even be called by name, much less an actual title. This woman must be very important.
Whoever she is, the way her dark eyes search my face is sharper than the bayonet pointed at my chest.
“You say you’re from the Rebellion. Prove it.”
Mike looks around, as if afraid that somebody might be listening.
“For protection, we exchange the initiation of the Tertiad.”
Mike’s words spike a vague memory in me. After the raid, Nathan had said something about a Tertiad. What was it that he said exactly? Vague words drift back to me. Fallen angels....protection….very powerful group.
I look up at the woman in front of me. Is she a Fallen Angel? If they are as powerful as Nathan told me, she seems like she would fit right in.
“So you are Mike Kerman,” The woman asks. Mike nods.. “It’s been a long time,” she says before turning her gaze to me. “And who are you?... You must be Molly, yes?”
I nod, bewildered. How did she know that? She turns back to Mike.
“Kerman, last I heard, you were still on A.”
“We’ve just found out the location of the CGB’s base this week, miss. We’ll be moving on to B next week.”
“Next week when?”
“Wednesday.”
“Good. Expect us on Monday. You’re free to go. Clear out.”
They drop their bayonets and slink back into the forest without giving us another glance. I get back on my snowmobile, confused. What just happened? Who is that woman? Why is Mike so nervous around her?
Mike hops onto his snowmobile and starts it up without saying anything.
We ride for an hour before we reach a path wide enough for two snowmobiles. I speed up and pull up next to Mike.
“Mike! What the hell just happened?”
“Keep riding. I can’t answer that here. When we get back…” I pull back behind him. What is going on? Mike rides lower on his bike as if hiding from something. And Miss? Mike refers to most people as hey, you.
I spend the next two hours in excruciating silent anticipation.
At some point, it begins to rain. I sigh melodramatically. The water droplets are cold and miserable. By the time we reach camp, the rain has died down to a drizzle, but I am shivering and Mike and I are soaked to the bone. As usual, the Rebellion cheers at our return. We hop off our snowmobiles. Big Sal runs up to us first, muttering, “You poor dears,” and handing us both towels.
“How’d it go?” somebody shouts.
“Good. Listen up: somebody get a fire going and be here in ten minutes. I have an announcement to make. Big Sal, will you get the two of us something warm to drink?”
“Already on it.”
After everybody disperses, I turn back to Mike.
“Are you going to explain to me now?” I ask, wiping raindrops out of my hair.
“I’m going to explain it to everybody in ten minutes. For now, get changed. You’re going to catch a cold.” With that, he goes off to his tent, leaving me alone. I squint at him in distaste but go to my own tent to change into something warmer and drier. When I come out, Big Sal hands me a large cup of tea.
“Stay warm, dear.”
“Thanks, Big Sal,” I take a big swig and let the warmth dry my aching bones.
In several minutes, everybody crowds around the fire, shifting their logs closer to the warmth. Mike stands.
“Is everybody here? Good. Okay, listen up: we ran into the Archangel Julia.” I hear murmurs run through the camp. Julia’s name is whispered with reverence and fear. The Archangel? What was it that Nathan said about that word?
The Archangel Julius, who was their leader at the time.
We ran into the leader of the Archangels? I shiver. What would have happened if we didn’t have a deal with them?
“And the Archangel let you go?” a voice shouts from the crowd.
“Yes. Remember the Tertiad. They can’t harm us. Now listen up. The Archangel is visiting us on Monday, before our raid of the base. She didn’t say any more, so we don’t know what she will be doing. But whatever she wants to see, we better look good. And then Wednesday, we move on to Part two. Be ready. Part two is the beginning of the end.”
CHAPTER 29
The next several days are the busiest on my memory. We spend every waking hour either preparing for the raid or for Julia’s arrival. We train double time and tidy up as best as we can. Emily puts all of the most impressive looking weapons on the top. We all even out our tents. Big
Sal keeps the wood stacked in a neat pyramid formation. The changes are superficial, but they make us feel more secure. There isn’t much else that we can do, so we fill our time with training, nervously awaiting Julia’s arrival. There aren’t any official meals anymore. Big Sal keeps the food tent stocked with sandwiches, and we grab them in between training sessions.
A large group of us go up to the Field of Hope every day. We train in silence for hours on end. The only sounds are the rings of knives, the thunks of metal on wood, and quiet grunts of pain accompanying the sound of a lost fight. At night, we gather back at camp. Mike goes over logistic details. Eventually. he starts repeating himself, but none of us mind. Hearing the raid laid out over and over helps us a lot.
After Mike falls silent, the rest of us discuss among ourselves in hushed voices. The topic of our conversations is always the same: the raid. We discuss how important it is. We discuss how the close the end is. Uncertainty clouds the air. We are so close to being done, and after that?
Nobody knows what’s after that.
Nobody is ready for what’s after that.
The days pass. We wait. We fight. We train. It seems that an entire life can pass like this. But it can't. We must move. We must go on. We must continue.
The future is uncertain. The future is terrifying.
But there is no other way.
Always move forward, Mike had told me once.
So we do.
Sunday night, all of us go to bed nervous. The Archangel Julia said she would come the next morning. Mike told us to do what we usually do and train. We don’t know what she’ll be evaluating exactly, so best not make fool of ourselves by pretending to be people we’re not. In the morning, Big Sal makes scrambled eggs and toast, leaving several portions for the Archangel and whoever else may be accompanying her. We eat in a rush. We don’t want to be caught by the most powerful person within hundreds of miles eating breakfast.
After we eat, Nathan and I stay in the clearing to duel. Mike, Smaller Sally, and Big Sal also stay in the clearing, awaiting the archangel, going over and over the details of the upcoming raid. Emily, Rebekah, and Desmond go to shoot right outside the camp, so that they will be able to see the Archangel’s arrival but will not be seen immediately by her.
Nathan and I duel with thin wooden swords. We are almost equal in our level. Nathan wins only several more duels than I do. We don’t train for long. About an hour after we start, we hear galloping. Everybody stops what they’re doing and stands up. I hear the shots stop in the woods, and I know that Emily, Desmond, and Rebekah heard the galloping too. In half a minute, we see its source. The Archangel and her accompanying gentleman ride into camp, Julia on a beautifully built black horse, the other man on a white one. They stop their horses. Mike rushes up to them to take their reigns. Julia and the other man hop off. She puts her hands on her hips and she surveys the camp. She instantly looks like the entire place belongs to her and I can’t blame her: she looks like she deserves it. Subconsciously, I straighten my back.
“So, Kerman,” she says. “This is the Rebellion.”
“Yes.”
“Quaint. Tie our horses to a tree, will you?” Mike takes the horses’ reins and leads them over to a tree on the edge of the clearing. “This isn’t all of you, is it?” she asks.
“No, Miss, we have more people, but they’re out in the fields training.”
“The fields?”
“We have several more clearings like this one where we train.”
“All right. You will take me to them later. I would like to talk to the people who are here first.”
“Of course, Miss.”
“You,” she says, turning to Big Sal. “You must be one the older Sally, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do?”
“I take care of general business and I work the computer. Would you like me to warm you some toast?”
“Toast? No. You say you have a computer?”
“Yes.”
“What do you use it for?”
“I look for electrical signals. That way, I can tell when one of our sabotages has been repaired. We also have cameras set up in numerous places. I monitor them from here. That’s how we found the CGB base.”
“And where is the CGB base?”
“In the capital.”
“Please be more specific in your answers. The old capital or the new capital?”
“Apologies. The old capital.”
“Good. You are attacking on Wednesday?
“Yes.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do?”
“Destroy them. We have explosives and weapons. I’ll be staying here to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can hack it from here.”
“It?”
“The door. It has an electronic code. I can hack it. They’ll get in and burn the place to the ground.”
“Good. You two,” she turns to us. “You are Molly. We’ve already met. You must be Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“You look a lot like the rest of your family. And you two are lovers?”
“No,” we say simultaneously. I let go of Nathan’s hand, which I didn’t even realize I was holding and blush.
“Hmm. Shame. From Nathan, I want to know, what are you fighting for?”
“Tomorrow, ma’am. I want the future to be better than this.”
“Good. From Molly: why did you join the Rebellion?”
“I lived most of my life in Hopetown—that’s a small CGB controlled town several hours away from here—and I figured that there had to be more.”
“And the Rebellion is more?”
“Partially yes, but more importantly, the Rebellion creates more.”
“And do you believe that?”
“I do.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. There are three of you standing in the shadows. Come out. I have questions for you too.” Desmond, Emily, and Rebekah step out. “First of all, why were you hiding?”
The three of them exchange a glance and then Rebekah answers.
“We weren’t hiding, miss. We just didn’t want to get in the way.”
“Wrong, but I’ll accept it for now. Second question: all of you will answer. Why do you think the Rebellion is important?” She points at Desmond. “You first.”
“To get rid of the CGB and create a better world.”
“And why do you think the CGB makes the world worse?”
“People die because of the CGB. They treat human life like it’s dispensable.”
“It’s not?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure?” She fixes him with her piercing stare and he doesn’t respond.
“Well?”
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Fine. You. Your name?”
“Rebekah.”
“Rebekah.The survival specialist. You answer next.”
“Purpose.”
“Tell me more.”
“We all need purpose in life. Mine is to fight.”
“Fight what? All of you have habits of making your answers too kurt. What are you fighting?”
“Death.”
“You don’t want to die?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m not done.”
Julia nods.
“Good. And you.”
“Emily, miss.”
“You are the weapons mistress, yes? Good. Why do you think that the Rebellion is important?”
“Hope.”
“Hope?”
“Yes. The people out there—what do they have to live for? What hope do they have that their existence will ever be anything but tolerable? I like to think that simply the fact that there is a rebellion, that somewhere, people are fighting for them, even if they don’t succeed, gives them hope and gives them the strength to make it through.”
Julia nods.
“Good. Very good. Harold,” she addresses the man with her. “You stay here.
Ask any more questions you have. And Kerman,” she turns around. “Take me to the fields. I have more questions of my own.”
“Of course.”
Mike leads her out of the camp. The other man stays, as instructed. None of us dare to say anything. We just stand and look out at the place where they left.
“So,” Nathan says awkwardly. “Harold is your name?”
“My name is none of your business.”
Nathan nods.
“Fair enough.” Harold stares us down one by one until we are all forced to look down at our feet.
“So you train,” he says finally. “And what do you do in your free time?”
None of us respond, because the answer is that we drink.
“Well, in the Rebellion, there isn’t that much of a distinction between training and free time,” Nathan says finally. “We train because we want to. We fight because we can’t imagine our lives without this.”
Harold nods.
“And do you ever question the fight?”
“Of course, but that’s part of the fight itself. What is a fight, or any journey for that matter, without the doubt that accompanies it?”
“You tell me.”
“Incomplete.”
Harold nods in response.
“That’s accurate. Without darkness there can not be stars, and without light, there can be no shadows.”
In half an hour, the Archangel Julia returns, along with Mike.
“I’ve seen what I need to see,” she says. “I expect that you will do well on Wednesday?”
“Of course, Miss.”
“Good. Give us our horses.”
Harold joins Julia as Mike unties their horses from the tree and hands Julia and her escort their reigns. They swing over onto their saddles.
“Farewell, Kerman. Until next time.”
They gallop away before Mike has a chance to respond. We stand in silence for several minutes.
“Well?” Big Sal says finally.
“Well what?” Mike responds absentmindedly.
“What did she think?”
“I’m not sure. She’s very hard to read. We better not screw up on Wednesday.”
“We won’t,” Emily says.