Resist b-2
Page 22
I place a hand on his chest. He looks at the sky and then at me. “Quinn,” he says. His breath is short and soft. “Quinn,” he repeats, and closes his eyes.
60
BEA
Sequoians, Resistance, and Ministry stare at the black vapor filling the sky. I’m behind a bombed-out buggy, scrabbling to stop Jazz from joining the fray. Lennon and Keane sit on her to keep her down, and we watch Silas sprint toward the explosion. Gideon and Harriet are close behind. Alina is nowhere to be seen.
“The tower!” Vanya blares into the megaphone, reminding her troopers of their mission. And then she vanishes from the balcony of the station. She wants them to storm it, but there are too few of them to do anything. I peer over the hood of the buggy. Only four Sequoians are still standing, their backs to the tower, their hands in the air. The others are supine, Ministry soldiers and Resistance members pinning them down with their boots. If Vanya thinks she still has a fight on her hands, she’s delusional. She’s already lost.
“Charge!” Vanya screams, rising out of the dust and storming our way.
Before I can stop her, Jazz has my gun and is aiming it at Vanya. If what Quinn said is true, she’s about to shoot her own mother. No matter how crazy and dangerous Vanya is, I can’t let Jazz do it. I knock the gun from her hands and it lands next to Lennon. He looks down at it, horrified.
“The pod is mine!” Vanya screams. She has no gun, only the megaphone. Two members of the Resistance who lived in Ronan’s attic with me march toward her.
“Shoot her,” Jazz tells Lennon, reaching for the gun.
“No,” I say, and stand on it. Maybe I should tell Jazz why, but I don’t. That can wait for another day.
The Resistance members pull Vanya to the ground and stomp on her megaphone. She kicks and claws at them.
Silas, Gideon, and Harriet are specks. And I still can’t see Alina. “Stay here,” I say.
Jazz holds on to my leg. “Take me with you.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be back. Keep an eye on Lennon and Keane.” She looks at the twins, who are sniffling, and rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” she says.
I take off as fast as I can, repeating the words Alina is alive, Alina is alive in my head over and over. She is the toughest of us, and when the time comes, she’ll be the last to go.
As I reach Gideon and Harriet, a strong chemical smell penetrates my mask. The ground is covered in confetti pieces of metal. They are crouching beside Alina. Silas is standing over them. They look up at me as though I’m a ghost.
“Alina?” I say. Her face is blackened, her hair charred at the ends. I wait for her to open her eyes and say something cutting. “Alina.”
“The blast . . .” Silas says, and stops. He can’t speak for choking.
“But she’s okay, isn’t she?” I kneel next to her and touch her hand. It’s warm. There’s a nasty gash above one of her eyebrows.
“She’s gone,” Silas says.
“No, she isn’t. . . . Give her some air.” I put my hands over her chest and begin compressions, pushing hard on her heart like I did with Old Watson. It has to work—Alina’s always survived.
I lean over to blow into her mouth when Harriet lays her hand on my arm. “Stop,” she says. “Please.”
And I do. Because Alina no longer looks like herself. She’s completely serene.
She’s dead.
Gideon takes off his facemask and kisses Alina’s forehead, then uses the heels of his hands to wipe away tears.
It’s too much for Silas; he walks away and bellows into the sky.
I brush Alina’s face with the back of my fingers. Her skin is soft. The last time I saw her was at The Grove. It was the briefest good-bye. It wasn’t enough.
Tears trickle over my facemask into the earth.
I’ve felt this before, like someone was ripping out my heart, but it doesn’t make it any less painful.
I am crying so hard now, I can barely see. I squeeze Alina’s hand.
I want to tell her what’s happened. I want to tell her who she is and what she’s done. For me. For all of us.
But there’s only one thing that would matter to Alina.
So I lift my facemask and press my lips to her ear.
“I think we won,” I say.
PART V
THE SPRING
61
BEA
A girl arrives on-site with a small pot of cement powder and Maude squeals at her. “Are we building a house for leprechauns? I said we needed a barrel of the stuff, you nincompoop.”
“I’ll get more.” The girl scuttles away.
“Looks great,” I say. And it does. It’s the tenth dwelling we’ve built. At this rate we’ll have a place for everyone to sleep by summer. Maude rubs her nose along her sleeve.
“Where’s lover boy?” she asks.
“Mine or yours?”
“Oh, get out of it, Bruce and me’s just pals, that’s all.” Her skin burns red.
I take a few gulps of air from the facemask hanging around my neck. “We’ve had more petitions from Premiums asking to join the settlement. Have you time to interview them with me?” I look at the pod in the distance. It sparkles faintly. Now that people can come and go freely, and have seen what we’re building, they want to join us.
“I need to refill this,” Maude says, tapping her airtank. “I can meet ’em when I go to the recycling station.”
Dark clouds murmur. A droplet lands on my arm. “Rain,” I say, and smile.
“Oh yeah, the plants’ll love it, but what about me ’do ?” She pushes her scraggly hair behind her ears and pulls her hood over her head. She shuffles away toward the small hut we’ve built for Jo and her baby. Abel takes care of them, and maybe they’re a couple, but it doesn’t stop him visiting Alina’s grave every day. And he’s obsessed with planting. It’s because of him the nursery is blooming.
“Where’s she going?” Ronan asks, appearing on the half-finished roof of the building.
“You can’t work in the rain. Come down,” I tell him.
He waves away the suggestion and tightens the straps on his dungarees. Quinn is coming our way, and as he passes Maude, they exchange a few words before moving on.
He stands behind me, puts his arms around my waist, and nuzzles my neck. “Wanna take a trip into the city for a few days? Just the two of us,” he says.
I hold out my hand and allow the rain to pool in it. “We tried that once before and it didn’t work out,” I say.
“Just ’cuz something doesn’t work out the first time . . .” He trails off.
“Maybe we should invite Ronan, just in case,” I say. “Or Maude.” I laugh.
“We can handle it. We don’t need anyone else,” he says.
“Are you talking about me?” Ronan calls from the roof. He never stops working, and he’s been teaching me how to paint. When I spend time with him, Quinn is quietly jealous, but I suppose that’s okay. And normal.
“Quinn and I might take a trip. We wondered if you wanted to come with us,” I say.
He laughs loudly—sarcastically. “Yes, I’d love to join you on your snog-fest.”
“I promise we won’t make out at all,” Quinn says, and kisses the back of my neck.
“Stop slacking off,” Ronan says, and returns to work.
Quinn smiles and lets me go. “Do you want to see something?” he asks.
I follow him to the garden where Abel is on his knees in the dirt. “There,” Quinn says, pointing. I crouch and touch green shoots that have burst through the soil, clawing for light.
“Pear trees,” Abel says, smiling. “And I reckon the strawberries will be ready by summer.”
“At this rate, we might live another few years,” I say.
“We made it this far. It would be irresponsible to die now!” Abel says.
“I better get to it,” Quinn says, passing a trowel from hand to hand. “We have a lot to do.”
And he’s right. We all have
a lot to do. A lot to learn. A lot still to be afraid of. But today, I’m glad of the rain on my hand and my own shallow breath.
The elements finally belong to us all.
And for now, that’s good enough.
About the Author
SARAH CROSSAN is a former high school English and creative writing teacher. She is the author of Breathe, and she lives with her family in England.
www.sarahcrossan.com
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Credits
Cover art © 2013 by Christian Fuenfhausen
Cover design by Christian Fuenfhausen
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Resist
Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Crossan
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Crossan, Sarah.
Resist / by Sarah Crossan.
“Greenwillow Books.”
pages cm
Sequel to: Breathe.
Summary: Alina, Quinn, and Bea, now outlaws and outcasts, make their way to the last enclave of the Resistance but once there, they discover they can count on no one but each other and may, in fact, have to betray those they considered allies.
ISBN 978-0-06-211872-1 (hardback)
EPUB Edition AUGUST 2013 ISBN 9780062118745
[1. Science fiction. 2. Survival—Fiction. 3. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 4. Insurgency—Fiction. 5. Environmental degradation—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.C88277Res 2013 [Fic]—dc23 2013011914
13 14 15 16 17 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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