DEFIANCE
HANNAH HANSON
Copyright © 2014 Hannah Hanson
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this work, in whole or in part, in any form.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, organisations and products depicted herein are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
To the reader who yearns for yet another book but has ran out of money
In the wake of their fears, they had not realised they were creating a monster, a vengeful creature that would pursue their destruction.
CHAPTER ONE
Clouds slowly gathered in the sky, their dark grey lining more prominent against the glaring orange of the setting sun. The raindrops started as whispering air hovering just above the masses of old houses. Then, without warning, the unmistakeable streak of a lightning bolt ripped through the sky, followed immediately by the crash of thunder. Amelia stood by the dirty, cracked window, staring intently as the group of neighbours in the muddy street quickly dispersed to their homes to seek shelter from the rain. Unlike the Central City, Area Eleven, formerly known as North London, was uncared for.
There were no clear pathways nor was the government concerned about placing restrictions to ensure the safety of its people. This was the norm in most countries. After the Great War, anarchy and chaos governed the world until the elite, the rich, and those with enough brutality and hunger rose and joined forces. In London, the government elite were less brutal, but Amelia found them no better than those who ruled elsewhere in the world.
Amelia inhaled deeply; a gush of foul air raced into her lungs, causing her to choke. She quickly grabbed her throat as she steadied herself. Four men, the cause of her distress, marched in her direction. She had seen them before. She had felt their unnerving presence. They walked resolutely through the rain, their navy blue suits perfectly ironed against their bodies, their hair combed back neatly. They had those same vacant eyes Amelia had seen so often on the faces of government workers. Her heart fluttered like the battering of wild wings as the men walked like robots, their gaze fixed on Amelia’s front door.
“Dad!” Amelia screamed. She turned to run but her legs gave way and she tripped over her own feet in anticipation of what was about to come. She knew very well what it was, and as she stumbled and fell, her thoughts took her to dark places.
“Amelia, what is the matter?” murmured her father's calm voice as he stretched a helping hand towards his daughter. A gentle smile crept over his long, refined face. Amelia wanted the words of warning to flow out of her mouth, but she stammered, and the old mahogany door crashed open with a loud thud that left her heart pulsing in her mouth.
The four men quickly entered with automatic pistols drawn. “Mr Jonathan Raymond, you’re under arrest for treason,” said one of the men. His dark blonde hair was soaked from the rain and his brown eyes twitched.
“I have done nothing wrong,” Mr Raymond said as one of the other men grabbed his arms and proceeded to cuff them behind his back.
“Leave him alone!” Amelia said as she raced towards the man with the blonde hair. She pushed him forcefully and raised a fist, which he grabbed. He stared at her through venomous eyes as he pushed her away. Amelia’s mother, Teresa, and her brother, Daniel, had by this point come to see what all the fuss was about. In that moment, Amelia saw weakness in her mother’s eyes; they were filled not with defiance, but tears, which trickled down her caramel skin. She held onto Daniel’s hand tightly as she muttered soothing words: “Don't cry, Danny. It's alright.”
“Mum, help him,” Amelia cried. She didn’t notice her own stream of tears until she tasted them at the corners of her lips. She wiped away the droplets with her right palm and tried to calm down. Her father had told her many times not to let her emotions engulf her. She grabbed her right hand, which trembled uncontrollably, with her left one and studied the four men carefully: Their features and their names and serial numbers were embroidered on the small patch of fabric above each one’s right suit pocket.
“I’ll come back soon,” Mr Raymond said. His voice was full of certainty, and although Amelia did not believe it, she forced a smile. Her father looked at her through kind blue eyes that seemed to glow against his pale skin.
Teresa walked carefully towards her daughter, placing a firm hand on her shoulder while the four men forcefully dragged Mr Raymond away. Amelia shook her mother off, followed the men at a run, and stood outside in the rain to watch. Her nostrils flared as she wiped away the rain that blurred her vision. She wished the sky would clear and the endless rain would cease as her father was pulled towards an armoured vehicle. A strange feeling stirred within her breast as she gazed upon her father’s noble figure: tall and lean with broad shoulders. His brown hair curled softly, and even though she could not see his face, she knew he felt no fear, only remorse at leaving his family behind. But Amelia, to her dismay, was not as shaken by the event as she thought she should be. Her body reacted with such calm it frightened her. The tears that streamed once earlier had dried up and the trembling had ceased. She hoped her father could see how collected she was. He would be proud.
The people gathered outside their houses in crowds and muttered rather loudly among themselves as they observed Amelia with disdain. She knew what they were thinking, but she didn’t care. Abruptly, her father stopped walking; he was several feet away from the vehicle when he turned around. “I love you,” he shouted as he smiled, his white teeth gleaming against the dark sky.
Teresa and Daniel started to run to him, to embrace him, but the guards were quick to hold them back. Amelia, however, stood transfixed, her feet rooted to the muddy ground, her fists clenched unconsciously. She flashed a forced smile to her father, waved, and walked back into the house. She had seen enough.
As she entered the house, she wiped her muddy feet sloppily on the mat, smiled, and walked towards the small bathroom at the back of the house, next to the small kitchen. Like all the other houses in this Area, their house was single-level; many people simply could not afford more than that. But its small and enclosed rooms made the harsh winters bearable, and for that, she was grateful.
She flinched at the sound of the moving vehicle and waited for the shuffling of her mother and Daniel racing inside. “Your father will be back; just you wait,” Teresa said as she held onto her son tightly.
“Don’t give him false hope," Amelia said. “Dad won’t see daylight ever again.” The words flooded out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. She turned to her brother and regretted those sharp words; his expression showed how they pierced his heart like a dagger. Dismay clouded Daniel’s shocked eyes, while anger blazed through her mother’s tearful ones.
“I’m sorry; I was wrong,” Amelia whispered as she walked towards her brother in an attempt to undo what she had already done.
“You’re ruining my polished floor with that mud,” grunted her mother. Teresa walked past her daughter. Amelia stood there for a long time, staring at nothing, until eventually she headed towards the bathroom near her bedroom. Amelia undressed and rubbed a shaking hand over her mouth as she stepped carefully into the shower. When had her hands started to tremble again? She did not know.
The hot water ran down her spine, causing her to shudder. She knew better than to let its warmth completely engulf her. Hot water was a scarce commodity here. She quickly ran her fingers through her long, dark curls, enjoying the sweet scent of lavender soap. She stepped out of the small bathroom, her warm feet pressing against the cold, worn-out flooring. As she dashed into her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the small mirrors hanging in the corridor. In a certain light, she was breath-taking. Her brown eyes gleamed under her dark, defined eyebrows. Her skin was a warm
olive tone and she had a small mole just below her right eye. She hated that mole.
She shook her head and walked away briskly, forgetting the silence in the house. She did not want to think of her father; each time his absence came to her mind, her throat constricted. She felt helpless. The wind was beating against the old latched window as she entered her room. She looked around nervously; the icy-cold room appeared smaller than usual. The smell of damp wood had consumed it. Rays of light weaved through the cracks that had formed over the years. The sky had cleared, but just barely. The oak floorboards creaked with each step she took, and as her heart raced uncontrollably, she could have sworn she felt something—or rather, someone. She swivelled around, hands clenched. Nothing.
She opened one of the drawers and picked a grey long-sleeved shirt to match her black trousers. She wanted something to suit her mood. She sat on her unmade bed and stared out of the window. Tears of agony trickled down her plump cheeks, and she bit her lower lip to stifle a sob. All the emotions she had attempted to suppress came flooding back. She grabbed her pillow and threw it aimlessly across the room. “Why?” she whispered. Her father had not retaliated, nor had he attempted to defend himself. She knew very well he was more than capable of disabling all four men, so why hadn’t he? Was her father’s submission a sign? What made him so certain they would not execute him? She agonised over endless questions, each one more painful than the other. “Amelia, dinner,” shouted her mother. Amelia dragged herself to the dining table, her eyes fixed in an accusing stare as she walked to where her mother stood laying the plates.
“You could have helped,” Amelia said.
“Your father was wrong; you’re still a child,” Teresa said. Her voice had changed; it was suddenly neither menacing nor cold, but subdued. The disappointment in her dark, beady eyes made Amelia shudder.
“I’m not a child; I’m going to turn seventeen in a few months!”
“Eat your dinner.” Teresa sat down on the chair. “You’ll understand some day.”
“Understand what?”
“Just eat your dinner,” Teresa said, avoiding Amelia’s fierce eyes.
“This is what I hate about you. You give people crumbs then change the subject!” The words hung in the air, full of venom. She didn’t intend to sound so callous, but the words had come out without a thought. She did that often. Her mother flinched as though she had been slapped.
“I’m sorry, Mum; I didn’t mean it,” Amelia said apologetically. Amelia found her mother irritating, but she knew better than to address her in such a manner. If her father had taught her anything, it was to be respectful.
“I don’t feel hungry; can I be excused?” Amelia stood up before her mother could respond. Her brother, who had spent the whole time rearranging the peas on his plate, raised his head. “Your problem is you have ears but you don’t listen,” he whispered, perhaps more to himself than to his sister.
Amelia lurched across the table and grabbed him by the collar, her eyes burning with rage, her hands quivering.
“Careful, the food!” Teresa said.
“I dare you. Hit me,” Daniel taunted. She let go of his collar and straightened her shirt. Her anger had consumed her beyond reason. Amelia steadied her trembling right arm and tried to calm herself. She didn’t intend to harm her brother, not really. What was she thinking? She looked at her brother and hoped he saw the regret in her eyes.
Teresa could no longer keep the tears at bay; she buried her face in her palms.
“It’s okay, Mum; please don’t cry,” Daniel whispered.
Teresa stared at her son through tearful eyes. Daniel had matured so quickly, he seemed almost unrecognisable to his mother. She forced a feeble smile and wiped the tears away.
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