The Defiant (7 page)

“Are we going to the same destination?” I ask. “I mean, me and Gadya?”

She shakes her head. “Not right away. We're taking you to different safe houses. I'll explain in the car.”

She's about to turn away, when I call out, “What about the others? We lost some on the way down. Liam—” My voice catches when I say his name. I have to be strong.

“I know. I heard Jonah's dispatch. We'll send scouts to find them if they don't turn up soon. Other vehicles will then come and pick them up.” She pauses. “You need to worry about yourself right now, not your friends. They were trained just like you,
right? If they survived the jump, then they know what to do.” She turns back around again, and starts heading away from me. “Now hurry up. Get out of those wet clothes.”

Gadya and I look at each other.

Gadya steps forward and hugs me hard. “I know we'll see each other again. And Liam too. Soon.”

“Definitely. I'll contact you the first chance I get.”

“I'll do the same.”

“This is the start of everything,” I whisper. “We're going to get our country back.”

“Or die trying,” Gadya replies.

“Come on!” the woman yells at us. Her voice now has an edge of frustration. “We have to go. Other convoys will be coming soon.”

I part with Gadya.

I never expected to be alone like this so quickly. That wasn't part of the plan. I thought we would have more time together with the rebels before going our separate ways. I am now isolated from Liam and Gadya.
I hope this woman is the ally that she seems to be
.
I cling to that thought as I follow the woman and climb inside her waiting car.

I
HAVEN
'
T BEEN INSIDE
a UNA vehicle in months. I'd forgotten how small and utilitarian they are, compared to that tram on the wheel. All new cars look pretty much the same now, mandated by the government. Gray metal sedans with curved hoods. They're mass-produced cheaply by giant factories located in the place that used to be called Mexico. Older cars are on the road too, but they are clearly being phased out.

I slide into the back of the car, and close the door behind me.

A man is sitting behind the wheel. He doesn't turn back to look at me. The woman sits in the passenger seat.

As promised, there's a pile of clothes and a new pair of shoes waiting there for me on the backseat. They are simple and utilitarian. A green blouse, a gray jacket, and jeans. Designed not to attract any attention. I start stripping off my wet shirt and pants.

“Don't watch,” I say, although there's really no room for modesty. I awkwardly get my wet clothes off and the dry ones on.

“Slip your old clothes into this bag,” the woman says, handing me a plastic bag. Then she takes the bag from me and tosses it out the window and into the forest. It disappears from view into the brush.

“Won't that leave a clue if someone's looking for us?” I ask, startled.

“The bag is coated with chemicals. It will disintegrate itself and the clothes within fifteen minutes.”

I nod. “Good.”

The woman hands me a passport and some documents. “Additional fake papers. Things they couldn't forge on the wheel. Keep them safe.”

I glance down at them. One of them is a very official-looking government ID card. It has my photo on it.
A photo of me from before I got sent to the wheel
.
I look younger and more innocent in it than I ever remember feeling. It has the name “Elyssa Jones” on it, instead of my own. I put the documents into my jacket pocket and button it.

“Take this too.” The woman hands me a government earpiece. “It's disabled so you won't hear anything through it, but it looks official.”

I slip it into my ear.

The middle-aged man sitting behind the wheel finally glances back at me without warning. He's wearing thick glasses, and he's balding slightly. His wide face does not look friendly. Unlike the woman, he doesn't even look confident. Just pale and sweaty.

“What's the code?” I ask him, suddenly nervous about his identity. I need to check that he's a rebel. I'd forgotten until now, but Dr. Vargas-Ruiz gave me and the other kids numbers to remember—codes we could use to confirm a person's identity and make sure that they were on our side. We're not supposed to use them except in emergencies, but without Liam and Gadya around, I feel vulnerable.

“Seven-eight-one-four,” the man replies. “But you should save that for emergencies, remember?”

I nod, relieved. “I know.” It's the right number.

“Let's go,” the woman says.

I think about Gadya, who is probably watching me right now from the truck. I glance back, looking for her out the windows, but it's too dark. I know that both of us are worried about Liam.

I want to ask this man and woman in the car with me a million questions. They are the first continental UNA rebels I've met, other than Jonah. The man pulls the vehicle back onto the road, the tires sending up a sudden spray of dirt and gravel.

“Careful,” the woman cautions.

The man nods. “Sorry.”

We start driving down the bumpy dirt road. The headlights are completely off now. The man is navigating by a small LED screen mounted behind the steering wheel. It makes everything look surreal and green.

“What do I call you?” I ask. “What are your names?”

“I go by Kelley,” the woman says. “You can call me that.”

“Call me Shawn,” the man says.

“I'll never know your real names, will I?” I ask. “Doesn't seem fair.”

“You'll know our real names when we defeat the UNA,” the woman replies.

We keep driving.

We pull out of the forest, and suddenly I see wide roads and a city sprawling before us in the distance. We're on the edge of a construction site near the forest. The man slows down, driving the car down another gravel road, mostly hidden from moonlight in the shadows of trees.

“Are you sure people aren't watching this place?” I ask. I glance behind us to see Gadya's vehicle, but it's not there. “Where's the truck?” I ask.

“Waiting for three minutes. We've timed everything perfectly so that we won't both get caught if there are any roadblocks.”

We continue driving. It doesn't take us long to reach a two-lane road. We pull out of the construction area and stop in front of a chain-link fence. It's a gate. Two figures rush out and open it for us. Both of them are dressed in black and wearing stocking masks, obscuring their faces. Our car starts moving again, through the opening.

“They're with us,” Kelley says, in response to the masked men.

“I figured as much,” I tell her.

I stare back out the window and see the men racing to close the gate again and lock it. They disappear into the shadows.

“You have to relax,” Kelley says, sensing my nerves.

“Would you be relaxed if you were me?” I snap back.

“Probably not, but I'm not you, am I? If you're nervous and tense, and we get stopped, then that will cause a problem for all of us.”

We reach another larger road, this one with four lanes. Shawn pulls onto it. I look past the reflections through the curved windows of the car. There aren't many cars on the road at this time of night. Yet I see a few headlights behind us, and a few up front. This is not a Megaway, or even a large highway. It's just a regular road, winding its way around the city.

“Maintain a constant, steady speed,” the woman cautions Shawn. “Not too fast and not too slow.”

“That's what I'm doing.”

I wonder if this is a married couple. She seems to be the one in charge. I realize they are risking their lives to do this for me, and to help the revolution. I'd almost forgotten what a huge risk they're taking. If they get caught, they'll probably get tortured right along with me.

“Thank you,” I suddenly say.

“For what?” Kelley asks.

“For taking this chance on me, and on the others.”

“Thank us when we get to the safe house,” the woman replies, without turning around. “We're not out of danger yet.”

We keep driving. On the side of the road are trees and then, set farther back from the road, monolithic gray towers. Government housing, like the kind I grew up in with my parents, before they got taken away. It will be the people living in these buildings, the everyday inhabitants of the UNA, who will be the ones to help us reclaim the country.
Or at least that's what I hope.

I still can't believe that I've returned here. It's been six months since I set foot on the continental UNA. In a weird way, Island Alpha feels more like my home now.

“Look up ahead,” Kelley says to Shawn.

I peer between their heads to get a view out the windshield. I see a row of cars slowing. Some have already stopped in a line far ahead of us. “What is it?” I ask nervously.

“It's a roadblock,” Shawn says. I can hear the fear in his voice. He turns to Kelley. “Maybe they know.”

“They don't know,” Kelley replies, her voice calm and firm. “Keep driving. Don't slow down.”

“But—”

“Do what I say.” Her voice is unflinching.

“It's not too late to turn around,” Shawn says softly. “We could find another road. Try to avoid detection.”

Kelley looks straight ahead. “Anything we do now will draw attention to us. We don't have a choice. We must keep going.”

Shawn doesn't say anything. He just keeps driving.

I clutch my knife, ready to fight if I have to. If this car is
overtaken by UNA troops, then I'm going to take some of them out with me.

I remember what Gadya once told me—that she refuses to be taken alive. That she would turn her weapon on herself if she had to. I know I have the strength to fight. I also hope I have the strength to end my own life like that.

We approach the line of cars. I glance back and see more cars slowing behind us. My heart is beating faster.

I turn to look out the front windshield again. I see government soldiers and police officers standing at the front of the line, checking IDs. A few cars have been pulled over to the shoulder of the road. The cars are being thoroughly searched as the occupants stand there, being guarded by uniformed men with assault rifles.

I see a family of five—three young kids and two parents—being herded over to the side of the road to be publicly strip-searched.

My mind is racing. This is the worst-case scenario. I knew getting stopped at a roadblock was possible, but I didn't think it would happen. Not so soon. I was hoping we'd be able to make it to the safe house before the roads got shut down.

Our car comes to a halt. There are six cars ahead of us. Soldiers are walking down the line. I see an officer near us, eyeing our vehicle. But he doesn't do anything, at least not yet.

The officer just stands there. Every traffic lane is being stopped, in both directions. Other officers stand around under glaring portable spotlights. They wear full uniforms and visors. My heart sinks.
They must know
.
I've never seen a roadblock this large, not even on the Megaway, and this road is much smaller.

Kelley turns back to me, as if sensing my thoughts. “Don't panic, Alenna. I told you the roads were rough tonight. Remember
your cover story and we'll be fine. These things happen. It might have nothing to do with any of us. It could be routine. The guards will check our papers, but they are perfect forgeries. We can get through this roadblock without any problems as long as you act calm and don't say or do anything suspicious.”

I nod.

“Can you handle that? I need to hear you answer me.”

“Yes, I can handle it,” I tell her. “Don't worry.”

“Good.”

Shawn doesn't say anything. He's just gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

“I'm not going to panic,” I add, partly to reassure the woman, and partly to reassure myself.

In my head, I rehearse my cover story. That I am their daughter. That my name is Elyssa Jones, and that I'm sixteen years old, and live in New Dallas. The scientists made us rehearse these stories as part of our training.

I unbutton my jacket pocket so that I can access my fake ID documents easily. I know that these papers might not hold up under extreme scrutiny, but they should be more than enough to get us through a roadblock. Unless the police already know about us, and are on the lookout for me and the others.

“It'll be our turn soon,” Shawn says, staring straight ahead. His voice is tense. “What if we get caught?”

“Relax,” the woman tells him. “You're more liable to give us away than Alenna. Calm down.”

“You've done this before?” I ask softly. “Right?”

Kelley nods. “I have, many times. He hasn't. I only met him a month ago. This is his first time.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And you should be grateful that he's here. There weren't many volunteers for this assignment. It's considered the most dangerous one.” She pauses. “To be caught aiding someone like you carries a mandatory death sentence, without a trial, for both the culprit and his or her entire family.”

“I didn't know that,” I say softly, feeling sick.

“Now you do.” We move forward again.

“So you're not really a couple?” I ask.

“Of course not,” Kelley says, sounding almost annoyed. “My husband was killed by government soldiers three years ago.” She doesn't say anything more, but she doesn't need to. I understand why she is helping us.

“What about you?” I ask the man softly. I need to know that these are people I can trust in a crisis.

“My brother was taken six months ago,” he replies. “He was at home with his wife and their little boy. Soldiers came and grabbed him. We never saw him again. I vowed that I wouldn't sit around and let bad things keep happening to people who didn't deserve it. I started asking around, and then I was contacted by a rebel cell—”