The Rebels

by Eliza Green

  Dom showed Sheila the ropes while the others who hadn’t been rotated explained it all to the rest of the newbies. He caught sight of one of the new girls. She looked to be around seventeen years old and had shoulder-length brown hair. Her rounded shoulders and hands shoved deep in the pockets of her uniform shortened her average height. She seemed timid, afraid. Unsure. One of the boys bounded over to her and she shrank back from him. He smiled at her, asked her name. She relaxed her shoulders a little. Dom watched her lips move but caught nothing of what she said.

  Ω

  An hour into the afternoon, Sheila was clearly bored. She leaned on the top of her mop and pouted. ‘Is this all we get to do here? I was really hoping for something a little less mop and a little more watching movies.’

  Dom’s mouth curled into a smile. ‘Sorry, no movies. This is pretty much it for this floor.’

  Sheila looked around. Her gaze fixed on a group of girls by the vestibule whispering and glancing around.

  ‘Well, that looks interesting. I always did like a gossipy bunch of girls. How about I do some recon?’ She used her mop to steer her bucket over to the vestibule and introduced herself. The girls, wary at first, seemed to show more interest in Sheila when she pointed to Dom.

  They laughed at something and Dom tried to tune in to their conversation. Sheila worked fast; she’d been in Arcis just an hour and was already making friends. He smiled and shook his head at the scene then ran a clean mop over his section. He would ask her later how she put people at ease so quickly.

  Sheila remained at the vestibule for a while, chatting, laughing, and pretending to be girly. An act for the cameras, no doubt. A shiver caught him at the thought of someone watching their every move. He put his mop away and turned to the camera’s blind spot, the only place where he could be himself. He froze when he saw someone was already standing there.

  The girl with the brown hair and blue eyes—the timid one, the strange one who’d been here for half a second—had stolen it. Heat bloomed in his chest as he strode over to her. How dare she steal the only thing in this place worth a damn? She probably didn’t even know what she’d found. She was quieter than the girls Sheila had spoken to. But that made her no less annoying.

  She ate an apple. She stared the ground, her brows tugging forward. Dom’s approach startled her but she didn’t leave. Instead, she shuffled to the left, and dropped her gaze to the floor again.

  Dom controlled his irritation and settled beside her.

  He sensed her tension at his proximity, made all the more obvious when she shuffled again to make room, or to get away from him. He wasn’t sure. She glanced at his feet then at the ground and continued to eat her apple.

  Dom rested his hands on the railing behind him. Why couldn’t she find another spot? This was his sanctuary. If he made a deal out of it, she would know something was up, maybe rat him out to the wolves, tell them about the place the controllers of Arcis couldn’t watch.

  He had no time to make friends in Arcis. What was the point? Was that why he hadn’t been rotated? That didn’t make sense. Arcis masked itself as a place of learning, a place for teaching skills to the sixteen- to eighteen- year-olds, to prepare them for adult life. So why did they care if he made friends or not?

  He glanced at the girl. She wasn’t like the others: chatty, friendly, hopelessly under Compliance’s spell. This girl was quiet, meek and thinking a hundred things. It bugged him not to know what those things were.

  Maybe he should try this friendship thing. Get on Arcis’ good side.

  He turned to her. ‘Hi, I’m Dom.’

  The girl looked up at him. His breathing quickened when he noticed her eyes: rich, blue and sad, despite her dilated pupils.

  Her gaze shifted back to the ground.

  He elbowed her lightly. ‘This is the point where you tell me yours.’

  ‘Anya,’ she said, almost as if she hated the name.

  ‘So how’s your first day going?’

  She shrugged, the tension in her shoulders never lifting. He wondered what horrors she’d faced on the outside to still feel such strong emotions while on Compliance. He waited for an answer other than a shrug. Her eyes drifted up to the first floor, then to the closest camera.

  Screw it. Making fake friends went against his nature. He would stick with Sheila. They could play it up together for the cameras.

  He prepared to walk away, give up on this girl, when she said, ‘Did you know this is the only spot in the atrium where the cameras can’t see you?’

  His heart stilled at her words. He couldn’t help but smile. ‘Yeah, actually. I was going to tell you to go somewhere else when I saw you standing in it.’

  She locked eyes with him. ‘So why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because you looked like you needed a moment.’

  She nodded. Bit her lip. Put the rest of her apple in her pocket. ‘Thanks for letting me have it.’

  She pushed away from the railing and walked back to her section. His gaze followed her, and for the first time he noticed she was in the section beside his.

  His heart beat too fast. He looked up at the floors above him, shook off the feeling and returned to work.

  3

  Dom

  After their shift in Arcis had ended, Dom and Sheila headed over to Max and Charlie’s house in Southwest Essention. They still had the freedom to come and go, so they used every available moment to discuss strategies. Max had said it would be only a matter of time before Arcis insisted they stay permanently at the facility.

  Max stood by the fireplace in the living room, his arm draped over the black mantel, scrolling through data on a small screen. Charlie, his seventy-year-old father, sat on the sofa, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He held up a small square metal piece between his fingers to the light.

  Dom and Sheila had first met Max and Charlie in Foxrush. Both men had shown up in the town after several adults had failed to return following their day’s work in Arcis. Max had driven his truck right into the middle of Foxrush. He and Charlie had rounded up the people related to those in Arcis who didn’t return and interviewed everyone separately. Max had asked Dom when his mother had started working in Arcis, and when Dom had last seen her. Had she said anything when she was at home? Had she been acting strange?

  Other than Mariella Pavesi not returning home, Dom hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  Charlie and Max had sworn the group to secrecy, and asked for their help to find out what Essention—in particular, Arcis—was hiding. Dom had refused their offer at first. Trust took time to build and he didn’t hand it out to just anyone, certainly not to two strangers turning up out of the blue. There was only one person he trusted more than his mother, and it wasn’t his asshole father, Carlo. When Billy Swanson yanked up nine-year-old Dom’s T-shirt to get a better look at his scars, Sheila Kouris rebuked him with a swift jab to the nose. Billy cried for days and never came near Dom again. Sheila never once brought it up and Dom was grateful for her silence.

  He watched Max and Charlie, father and son, so at ease in each other’s company, with one dominant feeling: jealousy. Dom’s father had never given a shit about anyone but himself. For that, Dom killed him.

  Charlie looked up first. His weathered face broke into a smile. ‘Come here, my girl!’ He patted the space beside him. ‘I never get to see you much these days.’

  Sheila dropped into the seat and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  If anyone trusted people less than Dom did, it was Sheila. But seeing how easily she accepted Max and Charlie made him rethink his own trust issues. Charlie kissed her cheek.

  ‘Charlie, you old coot,’ said Sheila. ‘Why don’t you come by our little prison block? We can serve you meat and stale bread for dinner. A meat-crap sandwich.’

  Charlie hushed her. ‘I can’t have you talking ill of the food from our factory. All handmade by me and Max, you know.’

  Sheila picked up one of his hands and turned it over
to examine it. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. ‘Hmm. Oil, grease, metal.’ She let it go. ‘You don’t even know how to make a pie.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘I missed you, darlin’, and that sharp tongue of yours. I wish others had the guts to say what you do.’ He cupped her face, the thin square of metal still between his fingers. ‘And I wish you had the same guts to say what’s in your heart.’

  For the first time since their arrival, Dom saw Sheila squirm.

  Charlie let go of her face and dropped a kiss on her head.

  Sheila smiled. ‘Now come on, Charlie, no more flirting. Dom’s gonna get jealous. Isn’t that right, Dom?’ Still by the door, Dom smiled. Sheila’s mask was back up. Her eyes glittered with mischief, but he saw the effort it took for her to maintain her humour.

  ‘Too right.’ Dom stepped closer. ‘That’s my girl, Charlie. One and only.’

  Charlie put his hands up and feigned resignation. He winked at Sheila and she nudged him lightly.

  ‘If you’re hungry, you can get something from the kitchen,’ said Max.

  Charlie stood up. ‘Let me get it.’ He put the small metal piece down on the table and left the room.

  ‘Thanks for putting a smile on my dad’s face,’ said Max to Sheila. ‘It helps him to forget.’

  ‘Well, it just so happens I’m not faking it.’

  Max, Charlie, Dom and Sheila had arrived in the urbano together after the people from Praesidium had found them all in Foxrush. So far, their familiarity with each other in Essention hadn’t raised any suspicions.

  Dom followed Charlie to the kitchen. Charlie took down four bowls and a couple of cans of potted meat. ‘It’s nothing fancy, but it keeps us from starving.’

  Dom laid out the bowls on the table, opened the cans and began scooping out the contents.

  Charlie leaned against the counter, his light-blue watery gaze fixed on Dom. ‘You seem quiet. What’s up?’

  ‘I missed rotation.’

  Charlie nodded and the action triggered a memory for Dom. It was exactly the way Carlo used to nod, right before... he shook off the memory. He wasn’t back there. He wasn’t in that kitchen with a man used to getting his own way. This was Charlie. Charlie and his father were nothing alike.

  Dom sucked in a breath and released the tension on the exhale.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Charlie. ‘You’ll rotate next time. It’s not like we’re going anywhere. We’re prepared to see this out for as long as necessary. To get answers.’

  Dom gave him a lopsided grin. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘Well, what’s troubling you?’

  Dom hadn’t told anyone about his past, about how certain quiet moments stirred deep, restless feelings within him. ‘Nothing. I just don’t like being kept back. I thought I’d be further along by now.’

  Charlie squeezed Dom’s shoulder. ‘This is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what’s going on in Arcis, so don’t put it all on yourself. I’ve seen you do that before. Shoulder the blame for what happened to your mother, take on the responsibility of others. Sheila, for one. She can handle herself. Why not let her carry some of the weight?’

  His spoon frozen halfway inside a metal can, Dom looked up at Charlie. He wondered what kind of man he would have become had Charlie been in his life instead of his father. Charlie had lost someone, too: his wife, to the stress of losing a child years earlier—Max’s younger brother. It had surprised Dom to discover how open Charlie and Max were about their life before Essention. Dom had known them for four months and still he couldn’t bear to part with any of his secrets. Besides his mother and father, only one person knew everything about him: Sheila. And she would take his secrets to her grave.

  ‘Did I ever tell you what I used to do in Halforth?’ said Charlie. ‘Before Max and I took up with the rebels?’

  Dom shook his head.

  ‘I used to be a barber.’

  ‘Really?’ Dom scraped the contents out of the can.

  Charlie laughed. ‘I thought that might grab your attention.’ He pointed at Dom. ‘You have impressive hair, boy. And while I would never encourage you to cut your dreadlocks, if you ever fancy a change, know that your hair couldn’t be in better hands.’

  Dom touched the snarls of hair that hung just below his neckline. ‘I don’t know why I kept it,’ he lied. ‘It’s the easiest and the hardest hair to maintain. I’ve actually forgotten what I look like with short hair.’

  Charlie folded his arms. ‘It’s like your armour, a link to your past.’ Dom stared at him and Charlie laughed again. ‘Don’t be angry, son. I mean no harm. It’s just that I’ve been a barber for nearly thirty-five years and I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people. I see how some folks get when their hair is cut off. Might as well be losing a limb in some cases. Many don’t want to let go of their old selves. So they come in, ask for the exact same cut. Safe. Then there are the ones who don’t struggle with the decision. They’re carefree, bold, happy to show the world they aren’t afraid of a little change. And then there’s you.’

  Dom frowned.

  ‘You’re one of the people on the edge. You want to change, but you’re stuck inside your own skin, tied to a past that is not of your making. Your dreadlocks show the world that you’re different but you’re also masking something deeper. An indecisiveness that keeps you from trusting others.’

  Dom tried to steady his breathing, to hide from Charlie how close he had gotten to the truth. But he pulled the fear back inside, locked it up, smiled. ‘And you got all of that from my hair?’

  Charlie watched him for a moment then smiled back. ‘People tell me I should have been a psychologist. I read people better than a shrink ever could. And I’m cheaper too. No more than the price of a haircut. Take Sheila out there. She’s a sweet girl. But she hides her secrets like you. I like her. She’s tough.’

  Don nodded. ‘Yeah, she is. She likes you and Max and she doesn’t say that about many people. Trust me.’

  ‘And I like you both. Believe me, I don’t say that lightly, either.’

  Charlie grabbed a wooden board with a loaf of bread on it. He took a bread knife and one of the bowls and carried everything into the living room. Dom followed with the remaining three bowls.

  They placed everything down on the coffee table. Sheila was holding up Charlie’s square piece of metal.

  ‘What’s this, Charlie?’

  He wagged a finger at the object. ‘Ah, I’ll let my son explain.’

  Max picked up one of the bowls and a wedge of bread. He used the bread like a spoon and took a bite. ‘First, tell me what happened at rotation.’

  ‘Not much to say, except I didn’t make it,’ said Dom. ‘Only six did.’

  ‘Out of twenty-three?’ Max frowned. ‘Shit. I thought the programme was just a ruse. So Arcis is being picky all of a sudden? Now I want to know why.’ He shook the piece of bread at Dom. ‘What’s your impression of rotation? What’s its purpose?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think Arcis expects something from us.’ Dom took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure what, though. I mean, everyone’s on Compliance. They’re all acting the same. How can you breed individuality in an environment like that?’

  ‘You two are the exceptions.’

  ‘And yet, they didn’t rotate me.’ Dom’s thoughts went to Anya and how she wasn’t like the others, even on Compliance.

  ‘Go on,’ said Max. ‘First impressions, please.’

  Dom chewed on his thumb. He’d caught his nervous habit from never being able to predict Carlo’s next move. He hooked the loop on his belt instead. ‘Well, the work is bullshit. The wolves are an oddity I can’t figure out. But it’s a programme to teach us how to become adults. So maybe we need to start behaving like adults, or something.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling like I was kept back because I didn’t make an effort with the other participants. I mean, why else is Arcis watching us, except to see what we do? The wolves aren’t on the floor all the time, so it’s not ab
out the work.’

  Sheila finished a mouthful of food. ‘If it’s a friend you need to become, Dom, then a friend I can teach you to be.’ She lifted her brows and looked at Max. ‘The girls are practically salivating over this one, but do you think he even notices?’

  ‘I’m not interested in taking advantage of drugged-up girls, Sheila.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to. Just flirt with them a little. Make them feel special.’ She batted her eyes at him. ‘The way you make me feel all the time. It’s not hard. Just start by opening your mouth and saying a few words like, “Hi, my name is Dork.”’

  Dom elbowed Sheila and she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Max looked pensive. ‘We need you to really immerse yourself in the programme, Dom. We need you to reach the ticking heart of Arcis. The ninth floor. Have they said anything to you about why they didn’t rotate everyone?’

  Dom shook his head. ‘The wolves watch, supervise. Then they go away.’

  ‘At some point, we have to assume these meetings will no longer be possible if you’re forced to stay in Arcis.’ Max held out his hand and Sheila dropped the square-shaped object no bigger than a thumbnail into his palm. ‘That’s why Charlie has come up with this device—so you can stay in touch.’

  He handed it to Dom.

  ‘It’s a communication card made of an inert metal. Pretty rudimentary. Responds to a series of taps, like Morse code. You know the basics, right?’

  Dom nodded. He’d learned them while doing tactical training with the rebels.

  ‘How do I wear it?’

  Charlie tapped the area behind his ear. ‘A small incision. It will resemble nothing more than a small scar. Sorry. We can’t risk them finding it.’

  What was one more scar? ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Just the one?’ said Sheila.

  ‘I have two,’ said Charlie. ‘It took me a long time to find enough inert metal to make them. We only need one point of contact. Sheila, you’ll act as Dom’s backup.’