The Defiant (3 page)

The branch crashes down across my back and I cry out. He arches his head back as he struggles to get up. I realize this is my one chance. I slam my right fist into his throat as hard as I can, connecting directly with his Adam's apple. He chokes and shudders. I can't relent even for a second.

I hit him again, savagely crushing his windpipe. He gasps for air. I roll sideways as the drone who bit me lashes out with his hand, his fingernails slicing my forearm.

I stagger to my feet. The second drone is still lying on the ground clutching his knee. The drone I hit in the throat continues to gasp for breath, flailing wildly on the grass. I stare at the two remaining drones. The one I hit in the face is bleeding from both eyes.

He opens his mouth and hisses at me, revealing a tongue that has been deliberately sliced in two. The drones do this to themselves, as part of a twisted ritual.

“You don't scare me!” I yell. I see a nearby rock, the size of my fist, and I rush forward and pick it up. The drones are both watching me. I can feel their desire for my flesh.

I stand there glaring back. I don't know when the test will end. Probably when I've defeated all the drones. Maybe even killed them.
But is that even possible?
It's four against one. The one I kicked in the knee is already trying to get up again.

I'm about to run forward and attack the two drones who are still standing, when the one I hit in the crotch suddenly pulls a large knife out from the back of his waistband.

I'm startled.

The blade glints in the sunlight.

He grins at me, his eyes burning with madness. His mouth tries to form words, but he can't speak. His mind has been affected by the UNA drugs. It's rotting from the inside out. But he can still kill. Those primitive impulses clearly remain intact.

He races forward with his blade outstretched. I can't get away in time. He crashes into me, swinging his arm back to stab me. The blade flies forward. I barely dodge the blow. The knife plunges deep into the grass as he grunts.

Without a second to spare, I slam my rock against his fingers as hard as I can. I hear bones breaking. He yelps and snatches his hand back. And for a second, the knife is left embedded in the earth.

I grab the handle and use my weight to pull it out of the ground as I roll sideways. I get to my feet, panting. The drone is clutching his hand. Blood is dripping from it. He and the other drone stare at the knife in my hand.

I begin advancing on them, holding the knife with the tip pointed downward, so I can slice up at them with my full strength if they approach. The drones don't look scared or worried. They look angry and demented.

I glance behind me and see the two other drones still on the ground. The one I punched in the throat is barely breathing. I doubt he's going to survive. The other drone can't stand up because his knee keeps giving out.

I turn back and continue toward the two remaining drones. They split up, moving sideways, one to my right and one to my left, so they will be harder to attack. I crouch low with my knife, ready to slice whichever one comes my way.

The boy with the injured hand makes the first move. He lunges
toward me unexpectedly. I swing my knife up right before he hits me. The blade slides upward and over his chest and neck, cutting through his skin. He screams so loudly that it temporarily deafens me. Then his elbow crashes against my jaw. My vision sparkles for a moment. I kick against his clawing, bleeding body.

I scream as someone starts pulling my hair. It's the other drone. He has run forward, taken a fistful of my hair in his hand, and knotted it around his fingers.

I lash out with my knife and try to cut his hand, but he moves out of the way. I scream again as he pulls my hair. I can't find his hand anymore. So instead I use the knife to slash off part of my hair. I get free.

The boy staggers back, off balance, holding my hair in his hand. Then I slam the knife into the back of the drone who is bleeding on top of me.

He doesn't scream. He just slams my head again violently with his elbow. I stab him again and again in the back, as I kick against his body. He keeps forcing me against the ground. I don't feel any pain, just numbness and shock.
This can't be the test—something must have gone wrong
.
I'm going to die here.

Then the boy is off me. I scrabble away across the grass. I glance back and see him convulsing there. The ground is soaked with his blood from multiple knife wounds.

Only one drone is standing. The one who pulled my hair. He looks uncertain, now that his fellow drones are dying or injured.

I feel exhausted and terrified. I grip my bloody knife. I just want this to be over.

“Come on!” I try to yell, but the words come out like a broken whisper. My whole body feels bruised and battered.

The drone keeps watching me. He is like a beast of prey. But
even beasts of prey know when the odds are against them. I see his eyes pivot to take in the bloody bodies of his companions, writhing on the ground.

I raise my knife higher. My arm is shaking, and I try to keep it steady. I know that I cannot show any fear.

The drone bares his teeth at me. I prepare myself for the onslaught.

But then, startling me, he turns around and starts loping toward the jungle. It takes me a second to realize what is happening. He is running away.

Should I give chase?
I can't believe the test has been allowed to go on for this long. Or be this brutal. I'm covered with wounds.

The drone is near the edge of the forest. Soon he'll be out of view.

I'm trying to decide what to do—when suddenly an arrow flies out of the trees and strikes him through the back. The drone keels over, dead. He didn't even have time to scream.

I just stand there, the knife in my hand.

A second passes. Then another. The injured drones around me are struggling on the ground, but none of them poses a threat.

I drop my knife. It tumbles to the grass. I refuse to kill them if they're no longer a danger to me. If killing is what the test requires, then I've done enough of it.

I glance around, looking for the hidden cameras again. “I'm done!” I yell. “The test is over.”

“It sure is!” an excited voice calls out. A girl emerges from the trees nearby, clutching her bow and arrow.

“Gadya?” I ask, confused but relieved to see her. She looks the same as always: a tangled mess of blue hair, homemade piercings, tattoos, and haunted dark eyes.

She rushes over and hugs me hard, slinging the bow and arrow behind her.

“You made it!” she says into my ear. “I knew you would!”

“
I
didn't!”

I see Cass emerge from the trees behind her, lithe and poised, also holding a bow and arrow. Cass is frowning. She runs a hand over her short black hair. Her brown skin looks luminous in the sunlight.

“You got lucky,” Cass mutters when she reaches us. “I had tougher mutants to fight.” But she hugs me too.

Other kids step out from behind Gadya and Cass, and guard us from the injured drones.

I realize that I'm shaking. “I could have been killed,” I tell Gadya. “I barely made it!”

“Naw,” she says. “We had bows and guns trained on the drones the whole time. If any of 'em got close to killing you, we would have shot them first.” She pauses. “But then you would have failed the test.”

I take a deep breath.

“Nice job making that drone run away,” Cass adds, somewhat grudgingly. “Impressive work.”

I feel sick to my stomach. I wonder what will happen to the injured drones. Will they be killed, or will they be used to fight someone else? The one with the crushed larynx is unconscious. I can't believe the scientists are treating them this way. As though they aren't even human.

“Did you know it would be crazy drones?” I ask Gadya and Cass. They shake their heads.

“No,” Gadya says. “That was a surprise from the scientists. To shake things up and make the test harder and less predictable for us.”

I nod. I know that each of these insane drones was once normal. Just like me. But the UNA drugs affected them differently and turned them into monsters. It's only luck and genetics that prevented me from such awful mutations.

“Where's Liam?” I ask Gadya.

Gadya rolls her eyes. “You should be celebrating that you passed the test. You're going to the UNA with me! Quit worrying about Liam.”

“I'm not worrying. I just want to know.”

“He's in a mandatory strategy session with some hunters. He'll be out in a few minutes.”

I nod. I see scientists now at the edges of the trees. They put shackles on the injured and dying drones and drag them away. The drones struggle, but the scientists keep them under control.

“I need some water,” I tell Gadya, exhausted. “And I need to get cleaned up.” I glance down at my clothes. They are covered with sweat and blood. I stink from the battle.

Gadya nods. “Come with me. I'll help you find something fresh to wear.”  We start heading away from the testing ground and back into the main camp, along with Cass.

I passed the test. I will be leaving this island and going back to the UNA with Liam and Gadya.

I look down at my hands. Today I killed someone, almost on instinct. My hands are shaking, so I jam them into my pockets. I must prepare myself to fight and win battles more intense than this one. My future depends on it. I can't afford to feel afraid.

T
ODAY IS THE DAY
when we begin the journey back to the UNA. Of all the kids and scientists, only a small number of us have managed to pass the brutal test. Some didn't even bother taking it because they knew they would fail, or they let their fear overwhelm them. But more than half of the entire population of the island volunteered to try, even if most of them never got past the isolation tanks.

I sit next to Liam and Gadya in a giant wooden meeting hall constructed from oak beams, with a thatched roof. It's just us and a group of fifty other kids. The ones who have passed the test. Dr. Vargas-Ruiz, the head scientist and one of the leaders of our colony, stands in front of us.

“I just want to review the strategy with you one last time, before you return to the UNA,” she says.

“Boring,” Gadya mutters, but I shush her. While we've heard the plan before, and gone over it in great detail, I want to hear what Dr. Vargas-Ruiz says.

“As you know, five small airplanes will be taking you back to
the UNA today, each one covered with radar-resistant material,” she says. “Each plane will be carrying ten to twelve people, along with two pilots.”

I glance around at the kids. I wish more people were going with us.

“Once you arrive in the UNA, each of you will be sheltered by different rebel cells. They have already prepared for your arrival. You will share your knowledge with these rebels, and travel with them to different areas of the nation.” She gazes around at us. “You are symbols that the UNA can be defeated. The rebels must grow their numbers. Your presence will encourage them to do that, and give them heroes to believe in. Many civilians want to fight the UNA, but they are afraid. You need to share your stories and information with them. You are pioneers. You must help the rebel cells find more recruits and coordinate the cells.”

“Are you sure this will work?” Liam asks.

“Yes. We are laying the groundwork for a revolution. A civil revolt, where the people overthrow the government. The people outnumber the UNA guards a hundred to one. Most successful revolutions come from within. You know that.”

“And after the revolution?” another rebel in our group asks. “Tell us the plan again. I want to know that risking my neck is worth it!”

“Once the citizens rise up and bring down the government, more scientists will come over and help set up a new provisional government, in conjunction with the European Coalition. The goal is to ultimately create a new democracy, and hold fair elections. We have no plans to hold on to power like dictators. The people need to choose their own leaders. We will help guide them onto that path, until the UNA is a free country once again. We will also work to
distribute food and medical supplies, and to keep the infrastructure running as best we can.” She pauses. We're all staring at her. “I'm not saying that any of this is going to be easy. There will be spies to root out, and pockets of government resistance to combat. But I believe that once the citizens know the truth, and hear your stories, and learn about the existence of the rebel cells, they will no longer be satisfied to live under the UNA's tyranny.”

“I hope she's right,” Gadya mutters.

“Me too,” I reply. I feel a knot in my stomach. I reach for Liam's hand, and I squeeze it. He squeezes it back.

“Now let's go see everyone else,” Dr. Vargas-Ruiz says. “It's time.” We all stand up and follow her out of the meeting hall and up a wide dirt pathway. I glance around. The other kids look nervous, but also determined. We keep walking.

Our path leads to a huge cleared area in the forest where many of the other inhabitants of Island Alpha are waiting for us, along with the airplanes that will take us back to the continental UNA.

We walk onto a raised wooden platform, a foot off the ground. I stand between Liam and Gadya. The other kids who are going back to the UNA follow. To our left is a homemade dirt runway.

Many of our friends didn't pass the test, like Cass—mostly because they were hampered by old injuries. Alun was automatically disqualified because he only has one good eye. And Rika and Emma refused to take the test because they are avowed pacifists and don't want to fight anyone. I respect that stance. I used to be just like them until I was forced to become someone different.

But I wish they were traveling with us. I grew to depend on their various skills, and I trust them with my life. From our group of friends, it will only be me, Liam, and Gadya moving forward and being sent back to the UNA.