by Aimee Carter
“Promise that no matter what happens to me, you won’t do anything stupid,” I said. “You won’t die to protect me, or die to avenge me, or—anything. If I’m going to be safe, then you have to be, too. Because I want that picnic in this life. I want that cottage. I want our future, and I’m not going to let anyone, not even you, take that from me again. Got it?”
He hesitated. “Kitty—”
“Yes or no?” I said, pulling away enough to look at him. “If we make it through today, then I swear to you I’ll stop being Lila. I’ll never leave you again, and we’ll weather this together. Either we’re going to survive together, or we’re going to die together. That’s the only way I’m going to let this end. I just have to know that you’re with me, too.”
He clenched his jaw, but at last he nodded. “All right. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, and I settled back against him. I would never stop worrying about him, and he would never stop worrying about me, but at least now we would be at each other’s side until the end. One way or the other.
Finally the sounds of gunshots ceased, and the door opened, revealing Scotia. Several wisps of hair had slipped out of her sleek ponytail, and her coat was stained with blood spatter, but at least she wasn’t dead.
“You two all right?” she said, and I nodded.
“You?”
She nodded, too. “We’ve taken over Section X and Section J. The Mercers are still alive, we think, but they’ve retreated into the manor. We have them surrounded.”
I swallowed tightly. “Don’t kill Hannah.”
Scotia frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Please,” I said. “She’s as much of a victim as the rest of us. You saw what her face looked like. Mercer did that to her because she helped me escape.”
“Do you have any idea what she’s done to people like you and me?” said Scotia, her mouth curled into a sneer. “She’s one of them.”
“Because it was the only way she could survive,” I said. “And I know exactly what she’s done to me. She saved my life. She’s the reason we have the codes in the first place. You’re the one who was letting Mercer stick his tongue down your throat for a chance at survival—she was doing exactly the same thing. It’s not her fault she was better at it.”
Scotia clenched her fists. “Fine. But if I’m doing you a favor, then you’re going to do one for me, too.”
“What kind of favor?” I said warily.
“You’re going to work your Lila Hart magic on the crowd out there and convince them to fight with us.”
I gaped at her. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said. “My people are gathering everyone now. We don’t have much time before reinforcements come from the other sections, and we’re down a dozen people. We have the weapons we’ll need, but we can’t hold them off on our own until the Blackcoats arrive. We don’t have the manpower.”
I stared at her. “And you want the prisoners to fight?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a secret cache of soldiers ready to die for us?”
I opened and shut my mouth. I was no stranger to speeches. In my three months as Lila Hart, I’d stood in front of a dozen crowds in various cities and encouraged them to stand up to the Harts and fight for true equal opportunity. I could recite that speech in my sleep if I had to, but never had I tried to convince anyone to walk straight toward their death.
“If they don’t want to fight, then there’s nothing I can say to convince them,” I said. “They have a right to protect their lives.”
“If we lose, they will bomb the entire section,” she said. “Prisoners, guards—everyone who’s left will be burned alive. If they fight, we have a chance. If they choose to act like cowards and let the rest of us die for them, then they’re dead anyway.”
I gritted my teeth. “If I get up there and convince even one person to stay and fight, their blood will be on my hands.”
“If you get up there and convince enough people to stay and fight, and we win, then they’ll have their lives because of you. They’ll have their freedom.” Scotia shook her head. “We all have blood on our hands already. Now it’s your job to make sure those people didn’t die for nothing.”
There’s no such thing as a bloodless revolution.
Knox’s voice echoed in my mind, and I closed my eyes. He was right. Scotia was right. I had gotten the codes, and now I would have to live with the consequences, both the good and the bad. People were going to die no matter what I did—they’d died already. I owed them a chance to survive.
“Okay,” I said. “On one condition. Benjy doesn’t fight.”
“And neither do you,” he said, touching my temple gently. It was enough to feel like someone was hammering a nail into the side of my head.
“I know how to use a gun. You don’t.”
“You’ve used a gun once. That doesn’t count.”
“But none of them have used weapons before at all,” I said. “I can’t just send them to their deaths without fighting beside them.”
“If you’re with them, they’ll be too busy trying to protect you to do any good,” said Scotia. “No one injured is going to fight. Period. And that includes you, too, lover boy.”
I squeezed Benjy’s hand. “We do this together. You promised. I won’t do this unless I know you’re safe.”
He grumbled. “Okay. As long as you’re not fighting, either.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll put you with the kids,” said Scotia. “Chances are the guards will go after them to get us to back down, but if we have a few plants—”
“Kids?” I said. “From where?”
“Section J. We’ve got them grouped together right now, but Rivers wants to break them up and scatter them so the guards won’t be able to get them all at once—”
“I know a way out.”
She stopped. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not very big, and it won’t fit many people,” I said. “I don’t know where it leads. But I do know it lets out somewhere that isn’t here. Except—”
“What?”
I hesitated. “You said the Mercers are holed up in the manor?”
She nodded. “We’ve got them surrounded.”
“I need you to figure out a way to get them out of there,” I said. “The tunnel’s in the cellar.”
Someone knocked twice on the door, and Scotia swore. Loudly. “I’ll figure it out. But right now, I need you to get up there and get us as many fighters as you can. Deal?”
I nodded, and she tugged open the trapdoor again. This time, as she and Benjy hoisted me up, I shielded my eyes against the late morning sun. I could do this. I had to do this.
As promised, Scotia’s people had gathered everyone back in the square. Unlike that morning, when everyone had stared up at Benjy and me with emotionless expressions, this time several groups huddled together as if they could shield one another from a shower of bullets. Many were limping or had their arms in slings, and as I gazed out across the crowd, I spotted a row of bodies laid out in the shadows of a nearby building.
My stomach turned. That was why I was doing this—to prevent these people from ending up like them. They had to have a chance, and right now, I was the only one who could give it to them.
I cleared my throat and, with effort, I forced myself to my feet. My legs trembled and my vision was still fuzzy around the edges, but they had come here despite their fear. The least I could do was stand.
“My name’s Lila Hart,” I called. “For the past two days, I’ve been one of you. But before that, I was on the other side—I was a VII, and I saw firsthand the horror that happens here. You don’t need me to tell you what your lives are like. You don’t need me to say how hard they are or how much you put up with just to survive. I’ve been
here for forty-eight hours, but many of you have been here your entire lives. You know this place better than I ever will. And you know what’s at stake if Jonathan Mercer and the guards retake this section.”
I glanced down, and through the trapdoor, Benjy smiled up at me encouragingly. I took a deep breath. I had no idea what to say, but as I opened my mouth again, words spilled out without any conscious thought.
“Isabel Scotia won the first round of fighting today, with her selfless and brave soldiers who picked up weapons knowing there was a very good chance they could lose—not just the fight, but their lives, too. They’ve chased the guards back, but they won’t stay there forever. The real battle is still coming, and as it stands right now, we’re going to lose.”
In the middle of the crowd, I spotted Rivers wearing an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit and what must have been hundreds of rounds of ammunition around his body. Two weapons were slung over his shoulders, and he held another at the ready. Our eyes met, and he nodded once.
“We need your help. I know you’re scared, and I know most of you have never held a gun in your lives. But you deserve better than this. There is so much more to this world than these damn gray walls and barbed-wire fences and the guards’ whims dictating whether you live or die. Out there, there’s hope. There’s opportunity. There’s love. There’s a place where you belong. And every single one of you deserves the chance to see it.”
Several men and women glanced at one another, and I pressed my lips together. I had to do this.
“I won’t stand here and make you promises I can’t keep,” I called, my heart thumping painfully, “but I will promise you one thing—you have a chance, right here and right now, to change your lives completely. And it is the only chance like this that you will ever get. So, please—fight with us. Not for me, not for Scotia, but for yourselves. For your lives. For your freedom, and for the opportunity to walk out of Elsewhere and start a real life. Because if we fail today, there will be nothing left of Section X. Jonathan Mercer will not distinguish between those who hid and those who fought. And the more fighters we have, the better chance we have at walking out of here alive. We’re in this together. We’re all equals today, and we will survive together, or we will die together. There is no in between.”
Silence. Those hundreds of prisoners stared up at me, their expressions unreadable. I stood there in silence, at a sudden loss now that the flood of words had stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Scotia climbing up the platform, and she joined me, setting her hand on my uninjured shoulder.
“Anyone who’s willing and able to fight, come up to the platform,” she called. “You’ll be given a weapon and shown how to use it. Consider my people your lieutenants, and listen to everything they say. We have a plan, and with your help, we can do this. Anyone who can’t or won’t fight—head to the dining hall. You’ll receive further instructions there.”
I stood beside her, barely daring to breathe. At first no one moved. Everyone looked around, waiting for someone to take the first step, and no one dared to meet my eyes. But at last, a man in his forties walked forward through the crowd until he reached the railing.
“If I’m going to die today, then I’m going down fighting,” he said, looking straight at me. “I’ve waited twenty years to have my shot at those bastards. I’m not going to waste it.”
I smiled, but a knot formed in my throat, and it was all I could do to stop my eyes from watering. “Thank you,” I said, my voice hitching. He nodded, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
Others began to step forward. Men, women—even a few who looked no older than me. One by one they joined us, each bringing us that much closer to victory. As they crowded around the platform, several men I recognized from the Blackcoats meeting handed them each a weapon. I leaned over enough to see that inside the railing, where guards usually stood, Scotia and her people had stored a cache of weapons and a dozen large crates of ammunition.
Slowly everyone began to sort themselves out. A thin trickle of men and women—nearly all limping or sporting visible injuries—headed toward the dining hall, but to my relief, the vast majority of the prisoners stayed and waited their turn for a weapon.
“It worked,” I said, stunned. “They’re really going to fight.”
“It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it got the job done,” said Scotia. “Every death today will be worth it if we win. And I’m going to make damn sure we do.”
I glanced at her. “We need to get the kids out of here before the fighting starts.”
Scotia nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I have a plan. It’s not pretty, but it’ll get the job done. Right now I need you to go to the dining hall and make sure everyone capable of leaving goes with you. I’ll have one of my men bring the kids to you as soon as possible. By then, we should have Mercer Manor cleared.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll need enough time to lead them there safely.”
“I’ll make sure you have it.”
“Good.” I hesitated. “I don’t know what you have planned, and I don’t want to know, but I fulfilled my side of the bargain. You fulfill yours. Don’t kill Hannah.”
Scotia scowled. “Like you said, none of us can make any promises right now.”
“Just—try. Please.”
She nodded, and with that, I headed back to the opening in the platform. Benjy helped me down, and together we opened the door and headed out into the square.
Walking away from the crowd and toward the dining hall was one of the hardest things I had ever done in my life. Everything inside me begged to stay there, to pick up a weapon and fight beside them. But I couldn’t move my injured arm, and the farther we walked, the dizzier I grew. I wouldn’t be able to help them. I’d be a hindrance at best, and at worst, I’d get several of them killed.
“I hate this,” I said to Benjy. He slipped his arm around my waist, and I leaned against him as we walked. He still favored his right side, where it looked like he had a few bruised, if not broken ribs, but he refused to complain.
“You’re doing the right thing,” he said. “Everything you told them was the truth. They know you would fight alongside them if you could. What you can do is help get the kids to safety. That will mean more to them than a few shots fired.”
Not if those shots saved someone’s life, but I didn’t argue. We trudged through the slush until we reached the dining hall, where several dozen people had gathered. Most were sitting down, and a few were laid out across tables while others tended to them. The smell of blood and death hit me like a sucker punch to the gut, and I steeled my stomach against it.
“Now what?” I said to Benjy.
“We help until the kids get here. Come on.”
Together we headed toward the nearest table, where a woman was trying to stop the flow of blood from a bullet wound in an unconscious man’s leg. I didn’t know much about medicine, but I pulled off the makeshift sling Hannah had given me and handed it to Benjy. Wordlessly he created a tourniquet around the man’s thigh.
“Can you do me a favor?” I said to the woman. Tears ran down her dirty face, and she nodded. “Can you go around and see who’s able to walk? Everyone who’s seriously injured needs to be brought downstairs—there’s a room that will keep them safe during the fighting.” I hoped. “We need everyone’s help to move them there while there’s still time.”
She nodded, and shakily she began to walk around the dining hall, going from group to group and asking for help. Soon several people were using tarps and plastic sheets found in the kitchen to carry the injured and unconscious down to the room where the Blackcoats had had their meeting. It wasn’t much, but at least they wouldn’t be out in the open.
Twenty minutes later, Rivers arrived, leading a group of at least a hundred children. The ones who could walk held hands, forming a line that never seemed to end. Older men and women who
must have been their caretakers carried the smallest ones—toddlers and infants who couldn’t have been more than a few months old, and I bit back a curse. If the guards found us, we would be completely defenseless.
“Val,” called Benjy as they entered. A blonde woman who reminded me of Nina, the matron of our group home, looked up. “Over here.”
She carried two sleeping babies in her arms, and when she joined us, Benjy took one. “What’s going on?” she said.
“We’re getting out of here.” As he launched into the plan, I headed across the dining hall to join Rivers. He stood at the doorway, weapon in hand, as he kept vigilant watch over the eerily quiet street.
“How long before we can move?” I said. His steady stare didn’t waver.
“Scotia gave me a ten-minute warning. Gather everyone together, and I’ll lead you there.”
“Any idea what she’s going to do?” I said, and he grimaced, all traces of his boyish demeanor gone.
“Concentrate on doing your part. Let her handle the rest.”
Worry fluttered in my chest, but for once in my life, I did as I was told. There was nothing I could do to help Scotia and Hannah, but I could help those kids, and I had to focus on that.
By the time those ten minutes were up, Benjy and I had sorted the children into small groups and assigned an able-bodied adult to look after them. I was kneeling beside a five-year-old girl on the verge of tears when a loud blast sounded nearby, rattling the dining hall. Several children screamed, and I flinched as the world seemed to tilt all over again.
“Rivers,” I called, stumbling toward him as quickly as I could. “What’s going on?”
He spoke into a communication device on his shoulder and glanced at me. “Time to go.”
One by one, we ushered the groups out of the dining hall and into the freezing cold. It was early afternoon by now, but clouds had gathered, and as we made our way through the back alleys toward Mercer Manor, it began to snow.
As we passed each block, I spotted clusters of men and women holding weapons and standing on the corners, watching us. Several nodded, and one man—the first man who had volunteered—smiled.
