Rebel

by Amy Tintera

  “It goes on your shoulder,” Micah said. “One hand at the back, one in the front.”

  I grabbed a spot under the barrel and another behind the revolver. I leaned forward to look through the black tube thing mounted on top and saw a smaller circle inside a bigger circle, to help aim.

  “That’s your sight,” Micah said. “I know you’ve never used one before, but just aim best you can and pull the trigger. You have six rounds, then hand it off to one of these guys and they’ll give you a new one and reload for you. I have a feeling you’ll be awesome at it.” He punched me lightly on the shoulder with a grin.

  He had a lot of faith in me based solely on my number. Riley must have told him about me, and I guess he approved of me freeing the Austin Reboots, but still, he seemed just as obsessed with my One-seventy-eight as HARC was. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  “Take her up!” Micah yelled to the man sitting in the pilot’s seat. He pointed at me. “Scoot back. We’re leaving the door open so we can shoot.”

  I edged back until I hit the corner of one of the seats. The shuttle lifted into the air with a jerk and I tucked my chin into my chest as a strong wind swept over me. I watched the Reboot shuttle pilot, who seemed calm and comfortable steering us into the air, even in this weather.

  “Has he done this before?” I called over the wind.

  Micah nodded, taking a quick glance back at him. “We have a couple old HARC shuttles we repaired after shooting them down. Only one still works, though. And we’re out of fuel.”

  “We have visual on four shuttles.” The voice came from Micah’s com and I gripped my launcher tighter.

  Micah pointed, getting on one knee as he rested the launcher on his shoulder. “There they are!”

  I took my place beside him as four black HARC shuttles dotted the clear blue sky and soared straight for us.

  “Wait until they get closer,” Micah ordered. “Wait . . . wait . . . now!”

  One of the shuttles roared past us, and another hung back. The two remaining raced in our direction, and I aimed the launcher at the wide pilot’s window of the nearest shuttle.

  I squeezed the trigger. I missed.

  A loud bang ripped through the air as Micah’s shot made contact with the side of one shuttle, and the two boys beside us promptly let out a “whoop!”

  “Faster!” Micah yelled at me. “Aim for the pilot window!”

  I had been, but it wasn’t exactly easy with the wind and new equipment. I decided now wasn’t the time to mention that.

  The shuttle I’d missed shot past me and I jumped as an explosion rocked the ground. One of the towers burst into flames and I took in a slow breath.

  Focus.

  Our pilot whipped us around and I tightened my fingers around the launcher as I peered at the shuttles that had just taken out the tower. I aimed for the window. I took a breath. I fired.

  The shuttle lurched as the windshield exploded, and I ignored the “whoop whoop!” as I took aim again. The second grenade soared through the open window and what was left of the shuttle hit the ground so hard I’d swear I felt it.

  Micah took out the straggler shuttle but three more roared in, one making it past me as it headed for the Reboot shuttle hovering over the reservation. Smoke rose from inside the walls and the gunfire was constant. I felt a twinge of fear for Callum as I discharged my last rounds at a shuttle. Maybe I should have brought him with me.

  A blast rocked our shuttle and I was suddenly glad he was on the ground. A large piece of the back end of our shuttle was missing, the metal above a row of seats breaking off and tumbling through the air.

  I turned my attention back outside to see even more shuttles. At least ten whizzed around me.

  Ten HARC shuttles. And we had two.

  I glanced at Micah to see his brow furrowed in concentration, his finger pressing down on the trigger. Another shuttle fell from the sky.

  “You gonna watch me, or are you going to do something?” he asked as he handed off his launcher and took a loaded one. Some of his excitement was gone, replaced by intense concentration and maybe even a hint of fear.

  I tightened my grip on my launcher as I aimed. I wasn’t going to escape from HARC only to be killed by them a few hours later.

  I fired. Again and again, until two more shuttles fell from the sky. I handed off my launcher as our shuttle took another hit and the pilot swung us around so hard I had to grip the doorframe to keep from falling out.

  “Having a hard time holding them off, guys!” the pilot called.

  “Keep trying!” Micah yelled.

  We were losing altitude with that second hit, and I shot as fast as I could at the remaining shuttles. There were only four now and, as I watched, someone on the ground destroyed another one.

  Micah managed to obliterate one more, but we were headed down so fast I abandoned my launcher and threw my arms over my helmet. We slammed into the ground and I flew through the door, rolling to a stop several yards away.

  I coughed as I got to my hands and knees, wiping the dirt off my face with the back of my hand. There was some blood, too. My left arm was broken in several places, and it felt like most of my ribs were either cracked or bruised.

  I scrambled to my feet just in time to be knocked down by another explosion. I curled up into a ball as pieces of metal crashed all around me.

  When the smoke cleared I got to my feet again, shaking off the pain tickling me all over. There was only one HARC shuttle left in the air.

  My eyes widened in surprise and I looked back at the reservation, half expecting it to be entirely gone. But the walls still stood (minus one tower). Smoke billowed from a few spots inside, but it wasn’t like total destruction.

  These Reboots were good. Scary good, actually.

  “Who’s got the last one?”

  I turned at the sound of Micah’s shout to see the last shuttle hovering in the air not far away. Someone on the ground fired, hitting the very edge of it. It lurched and spun and Micah made a sound of approval as it crashed into the dirt.

  “Whoop whoop!” Micah’s yell was followed by more cheers and whoops from a few Reboots in the area.

  He turned to me, grenade launcher resting against his shoulder, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Not bad, huh?”

  A trail of shuttle pieces littered the ground between us, and the Reboots around us were laughing, talking excitedly. They hadn’t just beaten HARC, they’d crushed them.

  I met Micah’s eyes, returning his smile.

  Not bad at all.

  THREE

  CALLUM

  “SO, YEP, THAT’S THE GROSSEST THING I’VE EVER DONE.”

  The boy in front of me snorted as he patted the arm I’d helped him sew back on. The skin was already starting to re-attach, the blood and bone disappearing from sight. “You must not get out much.” He ran a hand over his dark hair as he hopped to his feet. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Be more careful with it next time.”

  He chuckled, since we both knew there wasn’t much he could have done about a bomb exploding a few feet away from him. After I’d left Wren, I’d been lucky enough to stay away from most of the action, but the first and second waves had been hit pretty hard. Not all the Reboots made it.

  I’d felt the beginnings of panic until Wren walked through the gates with Micah about an hour ago. He’d ushered her into one of the big tents with a few other One-twenties and I hadn’t seen them since.

  “Isaac, by the way,” the boy said, sticking out his hand. There was no bar code on either wrist. He was about fifteen or perhaps a bit older. He was several inches shorter than me and had a slight build, which I thought probably made him look younger than he was.

  “Callum,” I said, shaking it. I pointed at the dark skin of his arms, where he was missing a bar code. “Never at HARC?”

  “Nope.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.” He stared past
me, like he didn’t want to discuss that further, and shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping forward. “What’s your number?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  He let out a short laugh. “Well, I’m sure you have other qualities.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly.

  “I’m just messing with you,” he said with a grin. “I’m an Eighty-two. Not that impressive, either.”

  “How do you know your number if you were never at HARC?” I asked.

  “They have death timers here.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “It takes your body temperature and determines how long you were dead. A Reboot’s temperature always stays the same, so we can use it even if it’s been a while since the Reboot happened.” Isaac gestured behind him, where Reboots were gathered around the fire pit, holding bowls. “Want to go eat?”

  I nodded, brushing the dirt off my pants as I got to my feet. I squinted in the late afternoon sun at the big tent, but the flap was still closed. No sign of Wren.

  “That’s Micah’s command tent,” Isaac said, following my gaze. “You can’t go in unless invited.”

  “What do they do in there?”

  “I dunno. Pat each other on the back for staying dead so long and being awesome?”

  “I can’t really see Wren doing that,” I said.

  “One-seventy-eight? They’re probably all fawning over her in there.”

  I sighed, tempted to go in and save her. But Wren never needed saving. She’d come find me when she was ready.

  I followed Isaac to the fire pit and grabbed a bowl of something that looked like oatmeal, glancing at the Reboots around the fire. The mood was mostly relief, with more than a few somber faces scattered through the crowd. They’d been excited and celebrating earlier, but now that it was over they looked exhausted and sad about the friends they’d lost.

  I walked past unfamiliar faces and found a spot next to Addie. Isaac plopped down next to us.

  “Addie, Isaac,” I said. “Addie helped Wren rescue all the Austin Reboots.”

  Addie nodded at him. “Hey.” She passed off her empty bowl to a Reboot coming around to collect them. She turned and gave me a quick once-over. “I appreciate you not dying. I would have been pissed if we went to all that trouble to get you the antidote and then you just up and died a few hours later.” A smile twitched at the edges of her mouth.

  “I tried my best,” I said with a laugh. “Did I say thank you? For helping Wren?”

  She waved her hand. “Don’t thank me. I know what it’s like to be on those drugs.” Her eyes met mine briefly and I nodded, quickly dropping my gaze to my bowl. Addie was the only other person beside Wren who knew I’d killed an innocent man while on the HARC drugs, and I could see the sympathy in her eyes. I didn’t want any sympathy. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but sympathy felt wrong, considering what I’d done.

  “So do you guys usually rebuild after this?” Addie asked Isaac.

  I glanced around to where she was gesturing. The tents lining the paths to my right were destroyed, fabric flapping in the strong winds. Plenty of the smaller tents had made it, especially those toward the back of the compound, but I’d estimate that fifty or so were in pieces on the ground.

  The shower and restroom area had taken a hit as well. I’d visited them earlier and found a large hole blown out of the men’s side. At least their plumbing system still worked.

  The tower on the right side of the compound was completely gone, as well as a small part of the fence in that area. But overall, we’d sustained way less damage than HARC. I’d only glimpsed it for a moment, but there were fragments of their shuttles littering the dirt in front of the compound for as far as I could see.

  “Yeah, we’ll probably start tomorrow,” Isaac said. “Patch together as many tents as we can first.”

  “It’s not really that bad,” Addie said. “You guys are impressive.”

  “We’d been preparing for a year,” Isaac said with a shrug. “And our monitoring systems are new. They had no idea we knew exactly when they’d be coming.”

  I opened my mouth to ask where they got their equipment, but I heard a shuffle and turned to see Wren plunk down next to me. She had dark circles under her eyes, but when she looped her arm through mine and smiled, she looked genuinely happy. I introduced her to Isaac and she quickly shook his hand before leaning against my shoulder again.

  “Everything all right?” I asked, taking a quick glance at Micah’s tent.

  “Yeah. Micah just wanted to hear the whole story. How we escaped from Rosa, got to Austin, met the rebels.” She gave me a look between amusement and annoyance. “He had a million questions.”

  I leaned forward, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. I pressed my lips to her cool forehead, trailing my other hand down her neck. The sun was just starting to set, but I wanted to pull her close and ask if we could find a tent and stay there the rest of the evening.

  “Isaac, take her for me for a few minutes, will ya?”

  I looked up to see a girl passing Isaac a chubby baby. He was less than thrilled, but he took her, arranging her in his lap and sliding an arm around her tummy as the woman walked away.

  “What the . . . ?” Wren pulled away from me and stared at the baby, her lips parted. “Is that baby . . . ?”

  I glanced down at it and took in a sharp breath as I realized. The baby had bright blue Reboot eyes.

  “Did it die and Reboot?” Wren asked.

  “Nope, she was born like this,” Isaac said. He grabbed the baby’s arm and made her wave. “Creepy, right?”

  “So creepy,” Wren said, poking the baby’s arm quickly, like it was going to bite her. “So when Reboots have kids, they come out like this?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do they heal?” Addie asked.

  “They sure do,” Isaac said. “They’re total Reboot.”

  “But . . . without a number, I guess?” Wren asked.

  “Yeah, no number, obviously. We think they might take after the higher parent, but eventually the numbers won’t even matter.”

  “Is she yours?” I asked, trying to keep the horror from my voice. I mean, babies were cute and all, but Isaac seemed a little young.

  “God, no.” He made a face. “I’m just holding her.” He glanced around, thrusting her in Wren’s direction. “Here, take her for a minute. I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

  “What? No.” She quickly leaned away.

  “Only for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He plopped the baby in her lap and hopped to his feet. Wren held her at arm’s length and frowned. She did not appreciate that, because she immediately began wailing.

  “Here,” Wren said, thrusting her in my direction. “Take the mutant baby.”

  I laughed as I took her. I’d never held a baby before, or not that I remembered, anyway. I was four when my brother, David, was born, but I doubted my parents let me hold him. Apparently I was doing it wrong, because the baby was still screaming. I glanced at Wren. “You’ve angered it.”

  “Oh my God,” Addie said in exasperation, plucking the baby from my grasp. She bounced her in her arms and the cries began to quiet.

  Wren blinked at the baby a few times, turning to give me a “weird” expression. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

  “You’re not a mutant,” Addie said, grabbing the girl’s hand and giving it a gentle shake. She turned to Wren, her expression changing to worry. She ducked her head, lowering her voice. “Is there anything we should know?”

  “About what?” Wren asked, covering her mouth as she yawned.

  “About Micah? And everyone here?”

  “You know as much as I do.” She shrugged as she took a quick glance around. “They sure can fight, though.”

  Addie kept her gaze on the baby, biting her bottom lip as she nodded slightly. I got the feeling she wanted Wren to reassure her, to tell her we were safe and she could relax. But Wren just stared st
raight ahead, watching as a group of Reboots laughed on the other side of the fire pit.

  I considered pointing out that people would be looking to her for answers, but she rubbed a hand across her eyes and yawned again and I felt a burst of sympathy for her. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to mention that.

  “Hey,” I said, running my hand down her back. “How long has it been since you slept?”

  She frowned and cocked her head. “A couple days ago? When we were at your house.”

  “I’m going to see if I can find us a tent or something,” I said, getting to my feet. “Are you hungry? I can grab you some food.”

  She shook her head. “No, Micah gave me some.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  She smiled at me over her shoulder as I headed in the direction of the big tent. Micah appeared to be the only one in charge here, and I had a feeling he’d be more than happy to accommodate a request on Wren’s behalf.

  The flap to the big tent was closed, and I scanned the area, unsure of what to do. They needed a knocker or something on these things.

  “Micah?” I called.

  He poked his head out a moment later, his eyebrows lowered. “What?”

  Apparently his friendliness didn’t extend much beyond Wren. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Wren hasn’t slept in, like, two days and she’s exhausted. Do you have somewhere she can rest for a while?”

  His frown disappeared. “Oh, of course. I should have told her. I had a tent cleared out right over there.”

  I turned to where he was pointing at a small tepee-style tent that had been untouched by the blast. I wondered who he had “cleared out” to make room for her.

  “Hey, Jules!” he yelled. “Did you get pillows and blankets and everything in that tent?”

  “Yeah, it’s all set!” she called from behind him.

  “Thanks,” I said, turning to walk away.

  “Let me know if you need anything else!” he called.

  I sort of waved in reply, torn between being annoyed at her special treatment and grateful that had been so easy.