Rebels

by Sarah Noffke

  Vider’s nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. And then he growls, his clenched teeth flashing. “Good to see you again,” he says, not looking at my face, his lustful eyes pinned on my chest. And the way he laces his words together brings a sour taste to the back of my throat.

  To my astonishment, Rogue stays calm. His hand flexes in mine, but otherwise he doesn’t react. I release Vider’s skills, not wanting to burn myself up with his energy, which I don’t need right now.

  “I could smell your filth in my house,” Vider says, his gaze shifting back on Rogue. “Why were you there?”

  “To get some of my things,” Rogue says, sounding casual. More relaxed. I’m grateful he has his temper in check.

  “There’s none of your things left there.”

  Rogue shrugs. “Well, I know that now.”

  Vider locks his green, punishing eyes on me. “And Em, I figure you’re responsible for taking down the local broadcasting. It won’t last long though,” he says, looking unaffected, unimpressed. “A real shame you’ve chosen to be so unhelpful. You could have been a wonderful asset.” There’s an extra inflection on the last word, which pairs awfully with the sinister look on his face.

  “We know what you did,” Rogue says, his voice full of all the warmth his father’s lacks. “We know about the children. The testing.”

  “Congratulations,” Vider says, drawing up the corner of his lip with a sneer. “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you’ve invaded my home? Are you trying to stop me?”

  “What you’ve done, what you’re doing, is wrong. You don’t see it because you’re blinded by power and greed, but you will be stopped.” Rogue speaks with a courage he didn’t have the last time he confronted his father. Being in dream travel form does offer some comforts because it wouldn’t be hard to escape him. However, in the right circumstances he could kill us right now, but I’m not sure how he’d do that.

  “What I don’t understand is why you’re so naïve to stand here in front of me and make these threats not realizing I’ll do everything in my power to hunt you down. I was kind enough to allow you to have your medicine to fix your headaches. I even gave you the chance to leave. But like the idiot that you are, you returned and this time you won’t leave alive.”

  “You think you can hunt us down and kill us?” Rogue says with a laugh. “That’s your threat? Do you forget, Em owns every power she encounters?”

  “Em isn’t invincible. She has no power on Middlings. To them, she’s solely a little girl they can do whatever they want to. And they’ll do whatever I tell them, know that.”

  “And then what? Are you going to kill us the same way you did to my mother?”

  Vider pauses. Regards Rogue with even more contempt, but doesn’t become flustered. “Because I’m a man of reason and great tolerance I’ll give you the opportunity to turn yourselves in.”

  Rogue laughs again. Actually claps his hand to his chest. Shakes his head in disbelief.

  “It would be a great story,” Vider says. “My son returned after all this time. I’d have you converted, of course, but you’d live. Your life might even be a peaceful one, since I’d have your memory wiped clean. No more irksome memories. And none of the tendencies toward unacceptable behavior. Don’t you see, son, I don’t want to kill you, as of now,” he says, angling his head to the side and raising his bushy eyebrow. “I’m giving you a chance to become a member of this society again. I’m giving you a chance at salvation.”

  “You’re deranged to think we’re going to buy this bullshit,” Rogue says.

  “I didn’t say this deal applied to Em. She’s Damien’s problem, and I suspect he’ll want to deal with her in other ways. She did after all make us look quite foolish that night in the labs, blasting us with electricity. And he’s not the forgiving type like me.”

  “You’re delusional to think I’d turn myself in, Father,” Rogue says, biting on the last word.

  “What I am is a man who knows how people work. I know how to motivate. You seem to think you’re on a crusade. You’re the one who has deluded yourself to think that these are your people. You’re wrong. These are my people,” Vider says, a heated anger entering his tone. “Rogue, you aren’t in a position of power and it’s time you realize that. You have the option of turning yourself in and—”

  “It won’t happen,” Rogue says flatly.

  Vider cracks a pleased smile. “And each day you don’t turn yourself in,” he says, acting as if Rogue hadn’t interrupted him, “one Middling child will not survive genetic defect testing. That child will be one of the unfortunate souls who has the defect we test for.”

  Rogue freezes. His hand tenses in mine. This isn’t something I know how to navigate. My instinct tells me to run. To dream travel. To stop listening to Vider, but I remain planted in place.

  Vider watches us, then casually shrugs. “It’s simple really. At my order, the lab tech takes the withdrawal and then injects another formula. I’ve had it for a decade now.”

  “It’s how you murdered those children you kidnapped,” Rogue says, disgust in his voice.

  His father smiles.

  “You’ll be stopped. You can’t do this.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?”

  “The US government.”

  Vider laughs, a booming one that hurts my ears. “I own that government. I tell them what to think! I make them leave us alone. You may think you know me, what I’m capable of, but you have no idea. Unfortunately, I can’t control your mind, but if I could you’d realize how powerless you are against me. And you’d also realize I’m not an enemy. I’m your redemption. I’ve started small, but look at what I’ve done for my people. And slowly I’m helping more, extending my power to support others.”

  “You’re a murderer,” Rogue says.

  “So were George Washington, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Alexander the Great. As a leader you have to make sacrifices. You have to do things others won’t.”

  “What’s sick is that you believe this,” Rogue says.

  “What’s sad is that you don’t, son. You could be happy. Could have a life. No one will argue that my people are happy.”

  We both remain silent, not denying him, or giving him any indication that we know the truth.

  “Now leave here. You’re pests who have no rights, no control, and no influence. Stop deluding yourself into thinking you can do anything. My people will search for you and if they find you it won’t end well. Or turn yourself in, Rogue, and innocent people won’t die. You have until tomorrow night.” Vider turns and strolls to the cabinets flanking the far wall. He pauses, angles his head over his shoulder, and flicks his eyes at us. “That’s the end of this friendly negotiation.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We have to act fast. That’s the first thing Rogue and I decide upon returning from our dream travels. We can’t run away, as Vider intends. And Rogue can’t turn himself in. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let Vider tick off innocent lives every single day. I’m confident he’ll make good on his threat, and the news would create a great stir, making Middlings more likely to have their infants tested. It’s another win-win for the President.

  We need to escalate our plans. I’d told Parker he had as much time as he needed, but now I’ll have to take what he has. And wherever Nona is with her explosives and planning will have to be enough. We don’t have time to wait, to make the plan perfect. Not one baby will die. And if we are successful then Vider will have so much to worry about that the last thing he’ll do is have time to punish Rogue. He’ll be scrambling to find a way to control an entire population of Defects, soon to become Rebels.

  “You promise to be extra careful?” Rogue says for the thirteenth time since we concocted the plan for the day.

  The rain finally broke at sunset. I slide on a sneaker, knotting it twice. With my face angled to the side I shake my head at him. “No, I’ll only be careful. Nothing extra,” I say, letting a smile slip from my lips.
<
br />   He sighs. Throws himself back, his hands in his tangled curls. I was hoping my joking would cut the tension, but I’m not sure if anything can at this point. We awoke, unable to exit the tent and knowing we shouldn’t dare try to sleep or dream travel again. All night we held each other and listened past the drops of rain for Vider’s search team. He said Rogue had until tonight, but he’s not a man to be taken at his word.

  “If you encounter any problems, I want your first instinct to be to leech and electrocute or whatever you need to do to survive,” Rogue says, his wild eyes staring at the mesh green ceiling of the tent.

  “It won’t come to that,” I assure him. “I’ve snuck through the Valley before.”

  “But my father wasn’t on alert.” Rogue bolts back to a sitting position, a restlessness living in him. “Gods, I hate letting you go off on your own.”

  I rest my hand on his and wait until he brings his frantic eyes to mine. They’re rimmed with fatigue. Mine must be too, but the hour of dream travel will be our saving grace; it’s way more restorative than sleep. “Go with me, Rogue.”

  His wide lips pinch together. Jaw flexes. Eyes stiffen. “No,” he says with a rough shake of his head. “I’m not ready to see Dr. Parker. Not yet.”

  I open my mouth, but snap it shut before I say something which will only make him more stressed. Since we returned from his father’s office he’s had an extra strain in his gaze, his eyes coated in what feels like an unending worry. I wish we’d never traveled to the Government Center. I wish he’d never had to stand in front of his father and face his manipulation and threats.

  “Okay, it’s better this way anyway,” I say, zipping up my jacket and laying my hand on his leg, which is buzzing with his nerves. Seeing Rogue this worked up isn’t rare, it’s an absolute first. He’s my calm in commotion. He’s the rebel smiling when the danger mounts. He’s the guy daring to joke in the face of death. But that’s not what I’m witnessing in him right now, and it’s strangely all right. It brings a new courage to my heart. If Rogue needs to worry, then I’ll be his shelter. If his nerve has weakened then I’ll lend him mine. “You relay messages to Nona and Zack and I’ll meet you three this afternoon” I say.

  Rogue nods, his eyes not meeting mine. “Okay,” he says, leaning into me, but seeming to be locked away in his head. His lips graze mine, a mechanical movement.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I say, and stand and exit the tent before he stops me with his doubtful eyes.

  ***

  The earliest I could ever get an appointment with Parker was nine in the morning. I’m hoping that means he doesn’t leave his house much earlier than that. Traveling through the Valley this time is a little trickier than before. People are bustling to work and I don’t have the gift of Rogue’s incredible speed. However, I’ve learned how to move so I don’t gain attention. I have a beanie pulled down low over my loose blonde curls. My nervous hands are concealed in the pockets of a gray hoodie. And the jeans I wear tell onlookers I’m not worth a second glance. From their eyes I’m a Middling. The only chance a Reverian will notice me is if I run into them, but I’m careful to keep my path clear. I’m careful to move in a way that makes me instantly forgettable. Indistinct. Unidentifiable.

  Parker and his family live in a modest bungalow. It’s a third of the size of my home, but it’s pristine. He’s a doctor and therefore assigned moderately desirable housing. I slip down the alley when no one else is on the street and then enter his gate, the second on the right. I’m growing extremely tired of entering houses from the back door, but not more than I wish to rid this world of Vider’s cruelty. I knock softly on the door and wait. At least I’m not entering his house without permission. A solid minute passes. It’s a quarter after seven.

  He has to be home. Has to.

  There’s no way I can speak to Parker at the lab. It’s excessively busy. And there’s too many people who know me. Again I knock on the door, careful to make it loud enough to be heard inside the house, but soft enough not to draw attention from neighbors. A Middling knocking at Parker’s back door would draw curious attention. It would be reported immediately.

  The door handle jiggles a few times, like the person on the other side doesn’t know which way to turn it. Finally the door slides back three inches. An eye draped in wrinkles stares back at me. Gray and black hair hangs on the other side of the enquiring brown eye. “What do you want?” a croaky voice says.

  “To speak to Dr. Parker,” I answer at once, wanting to bolt through the door, blasting past this ancient door keeper. “We’re working together and I need to see him.”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” the old woman says with a slight accent, pulling the door back to show her whole face. This must be Parker’s mother. She’s not as old as Tutu, but close. In her eyes is a tenacious spirit and boldness that I would salute if it wasn’t keeping me from seeing an important person.

  “I can’t prove it. Just tell him that Em is here to see him,” I say, standing tall, not an ounce of pleading in my voice. Something tells me this isn’t the type of woman you beg to. She would see that as a weakness.

  Her cheeks rise with the flick of a smile. “Em, huh?” she says in a distinctly different voice than the one she had seconds prior. “You said you worked together, why didn’t you simply say you’re a patient?” She opens the door wide, a welcoming gesture. “And why are you dressed like that?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have time to explain. Is Parker here? Can I see him?”

  She nods. Turns. Hustles off through the kitchen and down a darkened hallway. “Ibwa, Ji-hoon, sonnim-i,” the old woman says in Korean, then turns back to me briefly. “He’ll be down in a minute.” And then she hurries to another room, leaving me standing in the kitchen which has strange smells and utensils I don’t recognize. Through the wall I hear Parker’s mother talking to someone in Korean. Parker’s father probably.

  A few seconds later quick footsteps race down the staircase. Parker says something to his mother, his Korean choppier, less flowing than his mother’s. She responds and then more hurried footsteps.

  Parker races into the kitchen, fear in his features, his movements, his raspy breaths. “What are you doing here?” he says, his voice crazed with worry. He has on his usual get-up, button-up shirt, tie, and slacks. He’s only lacking the white lab coat.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice actually lacking any remorse, “but I have to have the locations for the formulas now. Things have escalated. Vider is on to us.”

  Parker flips his head over his shoulder, checking the hallway where he just came from. His movements vibrate with caution. “Shhh,” he says. “Not so loud. Why did you come here?” His voice a tight whisper, his eyebrows drawn together.

  “I had to. I didn’t have another choice,” I say, matching his volume. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed. We have to act fast though, so I need those locations. Whatever you have.”

  “Em, you shouldn’t have—”

  “Too late,” I say, cutting him off. “And this whole rebellion will be too late if you don’t hand over what you have. Vider has made some serious threats and I only have one chance to stop him.”

  Parker seems to consider this. He pushes his black-rimmed glasses up on his nose with one finger. “Okay, but in the future, you have to stay away from my family. Leave them out of it. Don’t draw attention to them.”

  “There shouldn’t be any future with you and me. I need the locations and then we’re done. Then I’m gone from your life and you’ll be free to decide how to proceed.”

  He nods, seeming agreeable to this notion. “Although I haven’t decided how to proceed after this. I guess it will depend how things shift.”

  “Hopefully dramatically,” I say. I extend a hand. “Do you have the maps?”

  “Yes, I’ll get them, but they aren’t complete, although mostly.” He rushes from the room, leaving me staring at the blank spot he just occupied.

  He doesn�
��t leave me waiting long. “Here,” he says, laying three crisp pieces of paper in my hands. They aren’t the maps I drew. They’re better, with straight lines and neat labels. They’re an exact makeup of the labs. Areas are highlighted in blue. Numbers alongside these areas indicate the amount of units of cerevitium there. And beside those are special instructions detailing how to gain access when codes are needed.

  “Thank you,” I say, daring to fold the pristine maps and slip them into my hoodie.

  “You’ll also need a new keycard, since they changed out everything after you broke into the lab the first time,” Parker says. He holds out a card with his face neatly imprinted on it. “Here.”

  “But if I take that, then how will you—”

  “I have two,” he says, and for the first time this morning a tired smile surfaces on his face. “I’m notorious for leaving mine at the labs, so they issued me two. It’s kind of an ongoing joke about how I’m a talented doctor, but can’t find my own left shoe.”

  “I don’t really find that funny.”

  “Nor I,” he says, agreeing with a nod of his head.

  “So that’s all we need. Done deal.”

  “Well, you also need a lot of luck, but I can’t help you with that.”

  “I know you would if you could.”

  He gives me an uncomfortable stare. This isn’t something he ever expected or thought he’d have to circumnavigate. Helping terrorists.