Rebel Bound

by Shauna E. Black

  Reluctantly, I allow Ryanne to lead me out of the training room. We go through the dining hall and the empty tunnel into the hotel.

  “Now that you’re one of us,” she says as we traverse the length of the hotel hall and reach the glass door on the other side, “Lucio has authorized me to teach you the centrics.”

  I remember that term. “You mean the guns?”

  “Yep! I think you’ll be able to handle them, even with your arm in a cast.”

  I look at her doubtfully. “I hope so.”

  Her tinkling laugh echoes off the concrete. “You’re almost all better now, Caelin. Soon you’ll be fighting and running all over the topside with the rest of us.”

  We come to a temporary-looking wall in the once-deserted corner of the shelter. I’m surprised there isn’t more sound coming from beyond it until I remember the nearly silent action of the guns.

  “We had this shooting range set up outside, but the Coalition is cracking down on our defenses up there, so we moved it below.”

  We enter the room. There are more electric lights, and I see Keldon on a ladder to the side putting a lightbulb into another socket. He gives me a quick wave that I return.

  To the left against the wall is a large cabinet hung with weapons similar to those Jate and the others carried the last time we went topside. Wires run from these weapons into a squat fat box on the floor beside the cabinet. There’s a bin next to the cabinet filled with bits of glinting metal.

  Ahead of us, several people are lined up along a makeshift fence made of bright orange plastic. I’ve seen Coalition sentries use this mesh when they don't want scavs to enter someplace.

  Far across the room, round pieces of wood painted with traditional targets are propped against the concrete wall. They bounce and shake as people aim their guns at them and fire.

  Ryanne fetches one of the guns from the cabinet and holds it out for me to see. There’s a hefty handle with a thumb trigger. It has a disk in the center and a long thin barrel extended out the other side.

  “What kind of bullets does it take?” I ask.

  “That’s the great thing about it. It uses almost anything that will fit in the chamber. There’s ten shots. It runs on electricity, though, so it has to be charged. See that gauge on the side of the gun?” She points to a green bar along the handle. “It’ll go down as you run out of power. Here.” She hands me the gun. “Hold the barrel pointed at the ceiling when you’re not using it.”

  The metal feels cold in my bare fingers. The last time I held her gun, I wore gloves. I heft the weapon. It’s light, but a bit awkward. I remember the kickback that threw me halfway across the balcony the first time I used it.

  “Come on.” Ryanne motions me over to an empty spot at the orange fence. “I hope you’re right-handed.”

  “I don't really know. I haven't tried to write anything since I was a kid, and I don't think I knew my right from my left back then.”

  She laughs appreciatively. “Plant your feet here.” She shows me how. “Then raise the gun up to your eye level and sight through this scope. Aim for the middle of the target.”

  She steps back, and I point the gun with my good hand. I close one eye, aiming the barrel at the very center of the target directly across from me. Slowly, I press my thumb down on the button of the trigger.

  The gun’s disk spins and practically leaps out of my hand. I stumble, and Ryanne catches me, pushing me back up. She’s laughing. “Try again!” she says.

  Most of the other people in the room are looking at me with amused expressions. No one else is falling backwards from the kick of their gun.

  I set my jaw with determination and step back up to the wall. I aim the gun again, line it up with the target, and press the trigger. I'm a little more prepared for the kick this time, and don't fall flat on my butt. However, I quickly realize that I came nowhere near to hitting the target.

  I continue shooting for several minutes until my gun runs out of charge and ammunition. I turn to take it back to the cabinet, and Ryanne shows me how to plug it into the charger and reload the disk with bits of metal.

  “How long will it take?” I ask.

  “About an hour per gun. You can use another one while you wait.”

  I go through another round before I notice the voices in the room are dwindling. People are plugging in their guns, hanging them up, leaving.

  Ryanne takes my gun from me when I return to the cabinet. “It's time for supper. You’ve been at this for over an hour.”

  My left arm is stiff, the shoulder sore from holding the gun up and absorbing the kick. But I’m not ready to quit yet. “You go on ahead,” I say as I pull another gun from its hook. “I want to try just a couple more times.”

  Ryanne winks. “I knew you’d like this. I’ll save you a seat.”

  Everyone else is gone when I line up across from my target again. I manage to hit the outer rim once or twice, but I can’t get inside the first ring. I try again and again, making adjustments each time. My aim doesn’t improve much.

  There must be some trick to it, something Ryanne forgot to show me. I nearly empty the charge a third time without getting much closer to the center.

  I’m aiming at the target for a final attempt when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I swing around suddenly. Jate jumps back, holding up his hands, an expression of surprise on his face. I quickly lift the gun’s barrel to the ceiling.

  “I'm sorry!” I stammer. “You startled me.”

  Jate chuckles. “I'm just glad you didn't fire.” He shoves one hand into the pocket of his jeans. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, exposing the fair skin of his forearms. I’ve rarely seen anyone wearing short sleeves, but the generator keeps Dupont Shelter comfortable enough that we don’t have to dress in sweaters all the time, like we did in Lincoln.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “You weren’t at dinner, and when you didn't show up by lights out, I came looking for you.”

  I gape at him. “It's lights out?”

  “The techs rigged this room to be on its own switch, so it’s easy to lose track of time. Want to know what you're doing wrong?”

  My face heats up. I'm not sure that I want a lesson from Jate that will make me feel foolish. “Maybe some other time. It’s late.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  He leads me back to the fence and points down to my feet. “You need to set your stance a little wider apart so the kick doesn’t throw you off balance.” I realize that Ryanne showed me this, but as time went on, I’ve gradually moved my feet closer together. “Don't take all of the pressure in your arms. Your legs have more strength. If you’re solid, you’ll be able to keep the gun steady when you shoot. You have to practice this stance over and over again so that it becomes instinctive even when you’re running.”

  He reaches around me, pulling the gun up and pointing at the target. This close, I can smell something musky on him. It makes my heart beat faster. I swallow hard, trying to concentrate on his words rather than the skin of his arm brushing my cheek.

  “Aim down and to the side a little to compensate for the disk spinning. Like this.”

  He guides my hand. His touch sends currents of electricity racing through me. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding nearly out of my chest.

  When he steps away and jerks his chin at the target, I feel cold and abandoned. But I firm my jaw, determined to do it right this time.

  I set my feet as he showed me. He touches my hips lightly, correcting my stance. His hands burn wherever they touch. I hope that the smile quirking his lips isn’t mocking.

  I raise the gun slowly, aiming at the target a little low and to the right, like he showed me. I pause, glancing at him. He gives me a confident nod. I touch the trigger, and the gun’s disk spins, shooting off a round that hits the target on the line of the center ring. Elation rushes through me. I drop the gun, throwing my good arm around his neck.


  “I did it! I did it!”

  He pats my back awkwardly, and I suddenly realize that I’m hugging Jate. I jump back, face hotter than ever. But he doesn’t seem angry.

  “Just practice that,” he says. “Once you get it down, you'll be as good as Ryanne.”

  An awkward silence settles between us. He seems almost as embarrassed as I am. To cover it, I walk back to the cabinet, plug my gun into the charger, and hang it up.

  “Why were you looking for me?” I ask.

  Jate stiffens. His voice turns cold, the sour expression he’s carried the last few days returning. My heart falls. “Lucio wants to meet with our team in the war room first thing PM.”

  I study Jate, wondering at this change in his demeanor. “Are we going out on a food raid?”

  He won't look at me. “Not exactly. I'll let Lucio tell you. Come on—I’ll walk you back to the hotel. I have a flashlight.”

  We flip the switch on the way out to turn off the lights. Jate's flashlight seems to push against the dark shadows of the tunnel. It’s amazing to me that such a small thing can put out so much light, and I keep stealing glances at it.

  Jate catches me looking and laughs. “What? You’ve never seen a flashlight before?”

  “Not one that works.”

  He holds it out to me. I take it gingerly, arcing it around the tunnel. He puts up his hands to protect his face as I sweep it past him.

  “Not in the eyes!”

  I find a switch and turn it off, then on again. “How does it work?”

  “It uses batteries. Something I brought from the Undercity.”

  I hand it back to him. “It must be worth a fortune. All the batteries I ever find are corroded.”

  “There are precious few of them left,” Jate agrees with a nod.

  “Why did you leave the Undercity?” I ask slowly.

  His mouth quirks in amusement. “Hasn't anyone told you it's not polite to ask?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay.” He reaches out as if to touch my arm, but draws back before he does. “Undercitizens are usually put out topside for infractions, breaking the laws. It’s easier than finding a place to incarcerate them.”

  “Sloan?” I ask. I can't keep a little acid from my tone. “She was an Undercitizen, wasn't she?”

  Jate nods. “Sloan was a thief. She got caught one too many times. But me, I left of my own accord. Not too many people do that. We know about the deprivations up here, and nobody wants to put themselves in that kind of situation.”

  “Why did you?”

  He stops walking, turning to look at me. In the dim light, his eyes are the gray of storm clouds in the dim light. “I wanted to do something to help. I thought if I could save even just a few topsiders, it would be worth it. That's how Lucio and I are alike.”

  “And how are you different?”

  He looks quickly away. Instead of answering, he says, “I shouldn’t have brought you here, you and your sister.”

  I bite my lower lip. “What do you mean?” I ask. “You saved my life. Not just mine, but Mardy's too. Why do you regret that?”

  His jaw works, making the muscles jump and twitch under the skin. “I just wish ... that you’d gone back to Lincoln when I gave you the chance.”

  The bitterness I’ve felt over that incident pushes its way out. “Why don't you want me here?”

  “It's not that I don't want you here, Caelin—”

  “Then what is it?” I snap. “What is it about me that you find so repulsive?”

  Jate's expression darkens like the coming of PM. “This is not about you!”

  “Then what’s it about?”

  “It's those oaths! You took them, you got that thing over your heart like the rest of us, and there's no way back for you now even if you wanted to leave. You're one of us, for better or for worse.”

  I stand there, staring at him, seething. Why has he tried so hard get me to leave? His mixed signals make my head spin. He tells me one moment that he’s my friend, then the next he’s pushing me out the door.

  There’s something going on here, something he won’t tell me, and the secrecy burns. Maybe he doesn’t care about me after all, not in the way I hope. Crushing disappointment threatens to suffocate my anger. I storm past him before the tears can spill over onto my cheeks.

  “Caelin!” His tone becomes pleading.

  I just want to get away from him.

  Jate's footsteps echo off the concrete as he hurries after me. “Caelin, wait. Don't take it that way. I didn't mean—”

  His words are cut off as I stomp into the hotel and pull the door closed behind me.

  CHAPTER 21

  I almost decide to skip the meeting the next PM, but Mardy has been invited as well, and she is eager to go. After breakfast, we head for the room where I met Lucio before, the one Jate calls the war room. There’s a sentry standing beside the door, dressed in yellow armor. It surprises me that Lucio would consider the meeting important enough to guard the room, and butterflies flit through my stomach.

  The room looks the same as I remember, with the table in the center, though more crowded now with about seven people seated or standing around it. I ignore the empty chair next to Jate and move to a position against the wall, studiously ignoring him. Ryanne is there already and throws me a sympathetic smile over her shoulder. Sloan is there too, as well as Deice and another man I haven’t formally met.

  “Come in, come in.” Lucio stands as Keldon limps in after us, and Nolan and a man I don’t know follow. Keldon gravitates to Mardy’s side, though I think he would be more comfortable in a chair. But then, so would I.

  Once everyone is seated or standing, Lucio nods to the sentry outside, who closes the door. An audible lock clicks. I wonder if the device now embedded in my skin will unlock it.

  “Before we get started, let’s make a few introductions,” Lucio says. He goes around the room naming everyone. Jate’s team from the mission before is all there, including Valencia. There are two men I don’t know, named Ax and Olan.

  Lucio leans forward with his fists on the table. “We have received information that one of the collapsed entries to the Undercity has become unstable. The debris has shifted, leaving an opening through which we can send a team to infiltrate the Undercity. My friends, the time has come to begin putting our plans into action.”

  I’m not the only one to stare at him openly, though Ryanne and Jate don’t seem surprised.

  “What about the Coalition soldiers?” Olan asks. He’s a slight man, not much taller than me.

  Lucio gives a nod to Keldon, who says, “We’ve monitored their communications the last few days. They don’t seem to know about it yet.”

  “That’s why we must strike now,” Lucio interjects, “before they discover it.”

  Ax’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “But there are monitors wired into the system at every entrance. How do we get past them without alerting the Coalition?”

  Keldon licks his lips nervously. “Ehris is working on a program for everyone’s chips to knock out the monitors long enough for a small group to sneak past.”

  “Wireless?” Deice asks with surprise.

  “It works in close proximity.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?”

  Keldon rubs a palm along the side of his jeans, but it’s Sloan who answers. “Then we’ll blast the thing.”

  Jate shakes his head. “We can’t just go blasting our way in there. We’ll alert them to our presence, and they’ll send out drones to take us down. This whole thing depends on getting in unnoticed.”

  “Ah,” Sloan says sarcastically, “the element of surprise.”

  He glares at her. “This won’t work without it.”

  She leans forward on the table, arms carefully crossed. “What, exactly, won’t work?”

  “You needn’t worry about gaining access.” Lucio interrupts their staring match. “I will lead our troops in a coordinated attack on the
main entrance of the Undercity. That should keep them distracted enough that they won’t notice anything unusual in the outer passageways. Once inside, you’ll split up into two teams. Jate will lead the team to infiltrate the Coalition offices and take the president hostage.”

  “Why Jate?” Valencia asks.

  “He knows his way around in those tunnels better than anybody.” Lucio doesn’t explain his choice further, and I wonder how Jate knows the Coalition’s tunnels so well. He never told me what his occupation was in the Undercity.

  “Deice will lead the second team.” Lucio pulls something from a pocket of his leather jacket and sets it on the table in front of him. It’s the canister I saw Sloan give to Jate during our escape from the Coalition trap. “We obtained this at some small difficulty.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” Sloan murmurs.

  Lucio quirks an eyebrow at her, then taps the object with one finger. It’s smooth along the sides, with red and yellow writing, and a complex lid on top with a silver ring. “These grenades are very rare. The Coalition was developing them before the explosion, but hadn’t yet given them to the army. When the ring is pulled, it releases a gas that is potent enough to put large groups of people to sleep. Thanks to the courage of some among us . . .” He glances my direction, and my cheeks heat up. “. . . we obtained it, in spite of the setbacks.”

  Sloan gives me a dark look. I can't help it if Lucio is heaping the praise on me when Sloan was the one who found and retrieved the grenade.

  “Deice’s team will place this in a strategic location so it can disable as many Undercitizens as possible. Once the grenade is activated, we should be able to move in with our troops and take over the Undercity with little or no bloodshed.”

  “What if we fall into another trap?” Nolan asks. He runs a hand nervously through his thin hair.

  “Don’t worry.” Lucio claps Nolan on the shoulder. “There will be no one to betray you this time.”

  I can tell his words are meant to instill confidence, but I remember his casual observation on how easily we escaped the last time. Has Lucio discovered who really betrayed us?