by Brenda Poppy
Burned and Scarred
Brenda Poppy
Copyright © 2021 Brenda Poppy
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
E-book ISBN: 978-1-7356181-3-5
www.glassfishpublishing.com
To all the damsels who can save themselves from distress.
And to all those willing to take a chance on indie books and their eccentric authors.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
Auburn stared down into the depths of the Pit, contemplating death. Seeing as she was bound, gagged, and surrounded by armed Peace Officers, it was a rather imminent concern.
She took a moment to glance at the soldiers gathered around her and counted eight guns pointed in her direction. They sure had rolled out the cavalry for her. Well, technically for her and Hale. But since the strongman was currently lying unconscious on the ground, the soldiers were focusing the majority of their attention on her.
When she’d asked why so many officers needed to be on hand to watch her jump to her death, she’d been told they were there for “encouragement.” As in they were there to encourage her to throw herself down the large hole that led to oblivion.
No one knew for certain what was down there. Some believed that the bottom was covered with large spikes that would impale a person the moment they reached the ground. Others thought the hole might go directly to the center of the planet, where the jumper would be burned alive in an instant. Still more believed that it was just a big hole, and anyone who went down it would simply go splat.
Burn, as she was commonly called, didn’t know what she believed. All of those options seemed like a gruesome way to go. If she had been given a choice in the manner of her death, she would have chosen none of the above.
Still, curiosity tugged at her, so she sent her senses into the depths in search of answers. That was her gift after all.
Due to some combination of Kasis’ pollution and the planet’s inherently toxic atmosphere, over the last few generations some of the citizens had started to develop differences, changes in their genetic makeup that allowed them to do things that normal people couldn’t. For Burn, that meant the ability to detect even the smallest sounds – the hints of a whisper or the faintest rustle of movement.
Yet right now she couldn’t hear a thing. As she listened to the Pit, it stayed silent, giving no hints of the secrets that lay inside. The quiet was disconcerting, and Burn didn’t know what to make of it. Was there truly nothing down there? Or was it such a long drop that even she couldn’t penetrate the depths? Both scenarios gave her chills, and she tore her attention away from the edge.
Looking up, she noticed that her guards had started inching closer, closing their ranks around her in a less than subtle form of encouragement. Jump or we’ll push you, they seemed to say, and she took an involuntary step closer to the mouth of the Pit. Glancing down at her feet, she saw that she was perilously close to the drop-off, with only a few inches standing between her and the deep, dark hole.
Her mind raced for a way out, a way to avoid this seemingly inevitable conclusion, but she came up empty. She had used up all of her time and all of her favors. She had no more tricks up her sleeve.
This was it. This was the end.
She spared one last look at Kasis and its tiers, filling her sights with the familiar polluted landscape. It was dirty and damaged, full of ghosts and pain, but it was home, and she was going to miss it.
Her final thought before the end was of her sister, Scarlett. A desperate longing came over her, a desire to say goodbye – or to say anything at all. Burn couldn’t imagine how this would affect her, but she had to believe that her sister was strong enough to make it through. Burn couldn’t protect her any longer. Or, rather, they could no longer protect each other.
Pushing the pain and sadness to the back of her mind, she took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the city’s smog, and jumped into the Pit.
Needless to say, this was not how she had expected her week to go.
Chapter 1
Burn’s week had started off rather well. Or as well as could be expected when you’re part of a rebel alliance that’s been labeled an enemy of the state. All in all, though, that hadn’t really affected her.
It did help that her allegiance to the Lunaria wasn’t common knowledge amongst the government’s Peace Force. If it had been, it was probable that things like “a sudden and violent arrest” and “torture” would have been in her near future.
As it was, she was safe – at least as safe as anyone else in Kasis. With a government that was run by the military and laughed in the face of due process, the concept of safety was always a bit tenuous. And ever since the Lunaria had foiled the Peace Force’s plans to murder its poorest and weakest citizens, those that resided on the bottommost levels of the tiered city, the government had been on high alert.
Burn still didn’t understand how their leaders could have done it, deeming an entire class as unworthy of life, as if their presence were a stain on the city. Their hatred wasn’t new, but it had been growing over the decades, seething under the surface like a creature in its den. It was ever-present, ever-felt, a constant oppression, a bitter injustice. It seeped into the government’s decisions, their actions, their treatment of the mutated freaks. It lurked behind every disappearance, every unsolved crime, every wrongful arrest.
Yet the ManniK Battles had been different, active, a purposeful show of hatred. The Peace Force had plotted and planned, conscious of their goal. They’d abducted citizens and tested them, searching for their weakness. They’d armed their officers and taught them to kill. It had been strategic, calculated, deliberate. They’d stirred up unrest, turned the citizens on themselves, and used it as an excuse to go in shooting. And when it hadn’t worked, when the Lunaria came in to foil their plot, the Peace Force had thrust the blame on them, staining the rebels with guilt to make their hands look clean.
In the aftermath, they’d put in place a slew of new security measures designed to “protect the peace” – like PeaceBot droids equipped with full-body scanners and mandatory curfews enforced by armed patrols. They had also increased their random searches, targeting houses on the lower and middle tiers several times a week. But besides causing Burn some mild annoyance, the government’s new security procedures hadn’t inconven
ienced her too greatly.
Which was a relief, seeing as how she had recently killed the de facto head of the Peace Force, General Illex Cross, during the battle that he himself had orchestrated. She had been expecting some backlash from that. However, just like her allegiance to the Lunaria, the truth about that particular incident seemed to be buried in secrecy.
That hadn’t been her finest moment: shooting Cross dead with a bullet between the eyes. Although, in her defense, she had been driven mad by ManniK, the drugged gas that Cross had released onto the tier as part of his plot to kill its residents, so he kind of had it coming. Still, murder wasn’t something she took lightly.
The event weighed on her, as did the battle that had led up to it, and both made frequent appearances in her nightmares. More than once she had awoken screaming, certain that she was back in that place, surrounded by bodies and smoke and gunfire. Yet Scarlett would always come to reassure her that it was over, that they were safe.
Scarlett herself had nearly died in the onslaught. She had taken a bullet to the heart, and in the end, she had only survived thanks to her gift. Not only did her sister have an intrinsic understanding of machines and electronics, but she was almost a machine herself, with large swaths of metal in place of skin and wires intermixed with her curly red hair. So, instead of piercing her chest with a fatal blow, the bullet had met metal and ricocheted off, leaving only a dent in its place.
Still, Scar, as she was known to those closest to her, had suffered other wounds that weren’t as easy to shake off. She had lost someone, someone dear to her, and she still hadn’t fully recovered. Instead, she had thrown herself into her work, replacing feelings with faulty machinery and heartache with hacked systems.
Burn was afraid that Scar would retreat completely into the world of electronics and gadgets, succumbing to the unfeeling, metallic part of herself and leaving behind all traces of humanity. So she pushed her sister, encouraging her to go out, to talk to people, to find something other than cold steel and programmable chips to fill her life.
Burn had even dragged her along to the Lunaria’s meetings, knowing that if she could find a way to instill a purpose into Scar’s life, a way to revenge Symphandra’s death while making a difference in the city, then maybe she could bring the light back into Scar’s eyes. It wasn’t an easy feat, but it seemed to be working, drawing Scar out of her shell and giving her a reason to keep going, keep trying.
The Lunaria’s meetings had become more frequent since the battle, taking place several times a week in safe houses across Kasis. For the first time, it felt like they had gained traction in the city. People were unhappy. Not all of them believed the lies that the Peace Force had spread following the attacks: that the Lunaria had caused the chaos as part of a terrorist plot. Many people suspected the truth: that it was all a cover-up to disguise the force’s botched plan to rid themselves of the poor and mutated citizens on the lowest levels.
People wanted to join the Lunaria, to stand with their neighbors and fight. The Lunaria’s ranks had been depleted after the battle, cut almost in half from casualties and the loss of those who could no longer stomach the fight. Now their numbers were rising again as people began to realize the true corruption behind the slick veneer of their government.
Burn had long been one of the leaders of the movement, a driving force behind the Lunaria and its actions. Yet ever since the battle – and her defeat of Illex Cross – she had been placed in a position of honor, seen almost as a savior to the people, like a beacon of hope. She understood their urge to look to her for answers, but the truth was that she didn’t have them.
Burn didn’t know how to free these people, how to topple a government that had been in place for centuries. But try telling that to a room full of eager new recruits who were chomping at the bit to make a difference. Most of them took her desire to shun the spotlight as modesty, a trait which made her even more appealing as a leader. All she could do now was continue on as she always had, making decisions as they came and hoping they were the right ones.
✽✽✽
“Burn!” Scar yelled across the house, either unable or unwilling to march the few feet into her bedroom. “If you’re not out here in two minutes, I’m leaving without you.”
Burn knew she wasn’t lying. In fact, Scar had left her behind on more than one occasion, sometimes not even bothering to issue a warning beforehand. Burn hastily finished her business, sending one final piece of blackmail out into the ether before folding up her tab and stowing it in her pocket.
“I’m coming,” she shouted back, donning her cloak and grabbing her mask and goggles.
The world outside their door was highly polluted, with an ever-present haze lingering in the air. Their tier, which was a little more than halfway up in the vertical city, possessed only a light smog that hardly impaired visibility. The lower you went, though, the worse it got, until the endless blanket of gray obscured nearly everything in your wake.
The goggles and masks helped, allowing people to see and breathe through the dense clouds, but prolonged exposure could still be deadly. Burn’s own mother had perished because of it when she was only 4, the toxic substance poisoning her lungs until she began to cough up hideous globs of blackness.
Thankfully, they wouldn’t be descending too far on this particular excursion. The Lunaria had been gathering in different locations for each meeting, varying their modus operandi to avoid drawing unwanted attention. This evening’s event would take place only a few tiers down, in the home of one of Burn’s longtime friends, Meera. Equipped with its own secret entrance, it was a convenient place for clandestine assemblies.
You see, what they were doing was incredibly illegal. When the Peace Force had established their new rules following the ManniK Battles, they’d made sure to spell out these forbidden activities in no uncertain terms.
It was now considered a criminal offense to meet in groups larger than six, to organize meetings without a permit, to fraternize with known members of a terrorist group, and to plot in any way, shape, or form against the Peace Force or any of its members. Tonight, they’d be breaking all of those rules. But at least they were adhering to the curfew, so they had one mark in their favor.
Burn shuffled out of her room just as Scar closed the front door behind her. She silently cursed her sister’s promptness, yanking on her mask and goggles as she jogged after Scar. She caught up with her several blocks down the road, impeded somewhat by her sister’s long strides.
Burn was an average height, taking after their mother in looks and build. Scar, however, resembled their father, Arvense, whose red hair and gangly stature had made him stand out in a crowd.
Of course, Scar’s semi-metal exterior also made her stand out. On this particular occasion, though, she had taken measures to obscure her peculiar appearance, tucking her wiry curls under the hood of her cloak and wearing modest garments to cover her slashes of silver skin.
Being a “mutant,” as the Peace Force called them, wasn’t illegal. It wasn’t socially acceptable, either. They were more or less outcasts, looked down on by “polite” society – and outwardly shunned by the not-so-polite. Burn’s gift was easy to hide, but Scar’s made her a target. She didn’t like going out in public, much preferring the safety of her workshop, but when she did venture out, she made sure to conceal her differences and stick to the shadows.
The sisters walked cautiously through the city, taking a circuitous route to shake any possible tails. They remained quiet, not wanting to draw attention as they merged with the early evening traffic. Everyone they passed was similarly subdued, cowed down by the threat of violence from the armed patrolmen and the PeaceBots they used to enforce their control.
The sisters were stopped just once during their journey, forced to submit to a PeaceBot scan before they could continue, but their trek was otherwise unimpeded. They arrived in good time, finding themselves outside of the blue-doored house earlier than they had expected.
B
efore entering, Burn scanned the area – and the house – listening for anything out of place. No matter how much she trusted Meera and the others, there was always the chance that they had been caught or turned – or blackmailed into something they would never have dreamed of doing. She would know that better than anyone, having curried her fair share of favors through such unethical means. As she examined the tier, though, she heard nothing out of the ordinary.
Turning to the door, Burn gave a few light taps, administering a coded knock that had been agreed upon during their last meeting. At her touch, a notch in the blue wood slid open. They just glimpsed a pair of eyes, no doubt confirming their identities, before the door opened a crack and they were able to slip inside.
Burn gave Meera a quick hug before finding a seat next to Scar in the small living room. The house was cozy, with a modest kitchen across from them and a bedroom and bathroom off the back. It was the perfect size for Meera, who had lived alone since her husband died, but it was going to be a squeeze for the Lunaria, who’d have nearly 30 members in attendance.
Right now, there were only a few individuals present, meaning there were still seats available. If they’d arrived any later, they would almost certainly have been relegated to the floor. As it was, they settled themselves on a small sofa just big enough for two.
Despite the risks of their meeting, the mood was light and energetic. As more people wandered in, both from the front door and the secret entrance at the back, discreet conversations arose, filling the space with whispers as people shared their progress and ideas. Burn, however, remained quiet, content to listen to the room and absorb the energy as others spoke.
Eventually, the room filled to capacity, with people flowing into the kitchen and hallway, seated on the counters and floors and any other surfaces they could find. Burn no longer knew everyone there by name, with so many of their old members lost to the battle and so many new ones joining their ranks. It was a strange feeling, Burn thought, as if the old guard was slowly being replaced by the new.
