The Rebels

by Eliza Green

  ‘That’s okay. I prefer my skin unblemished,’ said Sheila. Dom stared at her, and her face drained of colour. Sorry, she mouthed.

  Dom smiled and shook his head with a look that said not to worry. He had to accept sooner or later that his scars were a part of him.

  ‘Both of you need to wear them. Max and I must insist,’ said Charlie. ‘If something happens to either of you, we need to know.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Dom stood up. ‘I’m going to use the track outside before I go. Can I get the key?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Charlie. ‘Let me insert the device and test it before you go.’

  Dom turned to Sheila. ‘You want to come running with me?’

  Sheila laughed. ‘And ruin this perfectly shaped body? Hell, no!’

  4

  Dom

  The atrium was deathly quiet, apart from the sound of mops swishing across the white-tiled floor. It had been a few days since rotation and the buzz from the new participants had been replaced by monotonous repetition. Busy workers crammed into the open space to make it feel claustrophobic. Dom craved the outside, the ache in his legs when he ran. He checked the time and wished away the eight hours remaining in his shift when he would burn off his excess energy. It wasn’t a long track, maybe a few kilometres at most that ran behind the bungalows in West Essention nestled between two gates, one finishing at a playground. He would run in one direction, then turn and run back. After a few laps, he usually ended up in the playground that was hardly ever used, where he’d lie on the grass to think.

  While he enjoyed the running, the alone time appealed to him most. He only asked Sheila along to be polite. She hated any sort of sport and always refused. Truth was, he wanted to pound the pavement alone and pretend he wasn’t stuck in Essention or that his mother wasn’t missing.

  Dom thought back to his piano at home, the one his mother had bought from a neighbour. It was an old upright, nothing special to look at, and some of the keys were missing, but Dom loved the sound it made. His mother adored music even more than Dom did. He’d asked the neighbour where he could learn to play. She had given him the name of a friend in Covington, five kilometres west of Foxrush.

  Music had started out as a distraction, to give his mother something else to think about than her jerk of a husband. Dom never raised his fist to anyone, but he had made an exception for his father. Carlo hated the piano so much that he’d broken three of Dom’s fingers—two on one hand, one on the other—slamming the lid down while Dom was practising. It was the longest six weeks of his life.

  But his asshole of a father was no longer breathing. Dom had made sure of it.

  The wolves, alert and roaming, snapped Dom out of his thoughts. He dragged his mop across his section and waited for them to leave. They usually did, eventually. Unless something or someone interested them enough to make them stay longer. They liked to watch the participants. To unsettle them, perhaps. At least that was what Dom guessed. He couldn’t think why else they’d stay to watch teens perform the dullest activity in the world. Twenty minutes was their maximum, but they often got bored after ten. Dom saw no pattern to the exact amount of time they stayed on the atrium floor. The only certainty was they showed up at least once a day.

  Dom caught Sheila’s eye and she stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled and shook his head. She was so much bolder than he was. She had made several friends already. The younger boys would look away when she approached, and stare at her when they thought she didn’t notice. But she always knew. Some of the older boys, less shy than the younger ones, would talk to her. Sheila flirted harder with Dom whenever it seemed like they were about to make their move.

  Sheila wasn’t comfortable with guys. Dom had been her safety net for as long as he could remember. Sheila felt safer with the girls who hung on her every word while secretly envying her.

  But there was one girl who kept her distance from the rest; one who mopped alone and ate alone. One who drew his attention every single time.

  Anya stopped and rested her arm on the top of her mop. She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth as the wolves continued to roam. Her casual stance sent a blaze of annoyance through Dom. He stiffened when a wolf turned and examined her with its yellow eyes. But did she care? No. She stared into space, like she was in a daydream or something. He hissed a curse through his teeth.

  Why does she do that? Why does she pretend the wolves aren’t there? That they’re no threat?

  He had yet to figure out the wolves or their motives. But one thing was clear: given the right circumstances they could be dangerous.

  While the wolf watched her, Anya continued to look around the atrium.

  What the hell is she doing?

  Despite his reluctance to make friends something compelled him to speak to the girl, to snap her out of it.

  It’s none of your business what she does, Pavesi.

  So why did his heart hammer when the wolf got closer to her, its head low. It sniffed the air between them, as though it was trying to work her out. And yet Anya leaning on her mop, caught up in her thoughts, showed no reaction. Anyone else would have moved by now, would have done anything to break the wolf’s attention on them. It was almost as if she invited the attention.

  Dom’s heart slammed into his ribcage now as he mopped closer to the border between their two sections. He tried to catch her eye. The wolf inched closer, more curious. Its action alerted the other wolves to Anya. He had to do something. Anything.

  He extended the handle of his mop and nudged her arm with it. She jerked and blinked at him in surprise. Her eyes were dark-blue pools of confusion.

  ‘You’ve got company.’

  She turned to see where he nodded and blushed hard. She swept her mop across her section, glancing at the wolves that now stood in a line in front of her. Her hands shook. The wolves locked her in their menacing gazes.

  He wanted to stand in front of her, to block them, to take her punishment for her, like he had for his mother on more than one occasion. But he was supposed to be indifferent to this behaviour, to pretend he was like everyone else: on Compliance.

  Anya turned and dunked her mop in the bucket of water then squeezed out the excess. And still the wolves watched and waited, getting restless. He saw her draw in and release air, her breathing tight but controlled. She kept her eyes down and concentrated on her section. One of the younger wolves that had been digging in the arboretum earlier pressed down a paw in her section, dislodging dirt. It pressed again and pushed its paw around a little, leaving a dark brown swirly mess. Anya ran the mop over it without acknowledging the wolf.

  A larger wolf grunted at its younger colleague. The four of them dispersed and roamed the atrium separately. Dom kept his eyes on the girl. She glanced up, noticed the wolves had given up, touched her eyes and released a long breath.

  Ω

  Lunchtime came around and Dom was ready for some alone time. To his relief, Sheila was distracted with her new female buddies. It gave him the chance to grab some food and escape before she asked him to join them. He found a secluded spot outside and sat on the grass with his back pressed up against the wall. He unwrapped his sandwich and brought it to his lips. That’s when he saw Anya sitting a few feet away, cross-legged on the grass, staring at the food she’d brought with her.

  He collected his things and walked over to her, changing his mind about alone time. ‘Is this seat taken?’

  Anya looked up at him in surprise as he dropped to the ground beside her. He usually gave strangers a wide berth, but something drew him to this girl.

  ‘I just came outside for some air,’ she said.

  ‘Me, too.’

  They sat in silence and while Dom chewed slowly, he ran through some conversation topics in his head. Anya unwrapped her sandwich and took the smallest of bites. Did she even want him there? She wasn’t like the other girls in Arcis. Compliance made them too robotic and they usually laughed, smiled, and tried to get more of his attention. B
ut this girl didn’t care if he stayed or went.

  He remembered when he’d met Mia a year ago, a girl from his hometown of Foxrush. They had gone to the same school but he’d barely noticed her until she started talking to Sheila. She’d been coy about talking to him, glancing over at him, expecting him to make the first move. So he had, because girls wanted guys to do the work. Mia had laughed at his lame jokes and played with her hair. And after, Sheila had slapped him on the back and told him she was renaming him Dom Juan because he was so smooth with the ladies.

  But when Mia had wanted to take things further, he’d panicked. He didn’t want her asking questions about his scars.

  To him, it was all fake: the laughing, the joking, the flirting. He didn’t feel like a Don Juan, or anyone to be desired. But sitting here with Anya, he sensed that if he put on a show, she would see right through it. See him for the fraud he was. And that unnerved him.

  He stared at his feet.

  Anya remained oblivious to his presence. He liked being able to sit there without having to say something. But he really wanted to get her talking, to hear her voice again.

  He sneaked a peek at her, surprised to find her no longer looking at her lunch. She was looking at him, her brow furrowed as if studying him. What assumptions had she made about him, what conclusions had she reached? Would she guess what he was?

  ‘Where did you come from?’ she said.

  His eyes widened, but he pulled his surprise back fast. ‘From one of the towns. You?’

  She tilted her head to the side. ‘You don’t look like the other boys here.’

  That’s because I’m no longer a boy.

  Dom tugged on one of his dreadlocks and smiled. ‘Yeah, I guess not.’ He wondered how well his fake smiles masked his true intentions: that he didn’t belong here. That he was too old for the programme. That he was a rebel. That he’d grown his hair out on purpose because Carlo hated long hair on boys. Dom had inherited his father’s looks—coffee-coloured skin and slim nose—but the hair was something he could control.

  If Praesidium had done its job, then Anya and the others would believe the rebels were the enemy. Max had warned him and Sheila never to reveal who they were to anyone. The rebels were hated, despised. Compliance made Praesidium’s lie much easier to swallow.

  Anya stared at him for a moment longer than was comfortable, then dropped her gaze back to her food. She took another tiny bite. Dom wondered if the Compliance had curbed her appetite.

  ‘Why aren’t you inside hanging out with the girls?’ said Dom.

  She shrugged. ‘I like it out here. It’s less crowded. I guess this is going to sound a little bitchy, but the girls in there aren’t really people I could be friends with.’

  Dom smiled to himself. They were more similar than he had realised.

  ‘Am I on that list of people you can’t be friends with?’

  Anya looked up at him; the sincerity in her eyes forced him to swallow hard. ‘I don’t know you well enough to say.’

  Dom grinned and shifted so he sat cross-legged in front of her. ‘Okay, ask me something. Just to put your mind at ease.’

  Anya abandoned her food and made a bridge with her fingers. ‘Okay, do you work out?’

  ‘You mean with weights and stuff?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘Why?’

  He frowned at her question. ‘Why do people normally work out?’

  ‘There are a number of reasons, but two I will mention. Because they’re vain or they use exercise as an outlet for something.’

  Dom leaned back on his hands, his legs still crossed. ‘Well, I guess I’d have to say the latter.’

  Anya nodded and frowned at the same time, as if she was making new assumptions.

  ‘Do you?’ He’d noticed her lean and strong body.

  ‘Not since I came here. I used to run in the evenings but that all stopped when...’ She took a deep breath.

  Dom almost blurted out about the existence of the running track. But did he want to share it? Maybe she’d find it on her own.

  ‘I like the way running makes me feel,’ said Anya. ‘Alive.’

  ‘Yeah, the weights keep me strong. And I like to run, too. It clears my head.’

  ‘Exactly!’ She smiled and Dom saw her true beauty. ‘I sleep really well after a run, like my mind is empty enough to switch off.’

  ‘So, the girls in here aren’t potential friends?’

  ‘Nah. I’m sure they’re nice and all, but I’m not interested in the same stuff they are. It’s easier for me to be alone.’

  ‘But wouldn’t it be easier if you made friends? Made the time a little less painful?’

  ‘Like you do?’ She laughed, and it was the most thrilling sound. He wanted to hear it again. ‘I’ve seen you, Dom Pavesi. All alone at lunch. Never talking to anyone during the day.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘I’m talking to you, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yeah, but before that. You have a routine. You don’t stray from it.’

  ‘You’re watching that close, huh?’ He hated being predictable. But in Arcis, it was expected. And essential.

  Anya blushed so hard he wanted to touch the burn. ‘No, I just notice things, that’s all.’

  Was he becoming easy to read? He’d have to be more careful around her, to not wear his own secrets like a jacket. His heart thumped as he asked, ‘Yeah? And what have you figured out about me?’

  She played with her fingers. ‘Not much. We all have secrets. Sometimes it’s best not to ask.’

  Dom wondered what secrets she carried around.

  The bell sounded and Anya jumped to her feet. She gathered up her lunch and walked walk back without waiting for Dom.

  He watched her leave. Why did this girl fascinate him so much?

  5

  Dom

  Dom waited for Sheila by the entrance to Arcis. The early evening sun was beginning to dip in the sky, but not by much. It was moving into summer and there was a small stretch in the evenings.

  Sheila sulked as she approached with her backpack over one shoulder. He knew not to bother her when she was in a mood about something. He guessed it had everything to do with Arcis.

  Her heavy gait as they walked shot his concentration to hell. He shook his head and recounted his steps to the edge of the force field surrounding Arcis. He already knew how many, and the exact number to reach the base of the steps for the Monorail platform. But repeating the finer details kept his mind sharp. Next he would jog the distance and time it, to see how fast he could get there. It might prove useful to know that someday.

  Exactly twenty-two steps from entrance to edge. Same as that morning. Counting the same steps didn’t change the result.

  Dom slipped through the thick, heavy, humming force field, made easy with the chip in his wrist. Once he’d tried going through the force field using one of Charlie’s discs, a generic one that worked to block the signal. He’d positioned it over the chip, as Charlie had instructed him to do. He wanted to test if the chip even worked, or what its purpose was. With the signal blocker in place, the field became denser and more resistant against his body. When he removed the blocker, the load lightened instantly. The only explanation was that the chip in his wrist synced Dom to the frequency of the force field.

  Max and Charlie, both with generic chips, couldn’t pass through the force field. Only the teens picked for the programme could gain access, and that terrified Dom.

  Dom and Sheila were on their own in Arcis. That’s why he counted.

  Sheila said nothing all the way to the Monorail platform. Dom saw Anya just ahead, holding on to her backpack like it held some treasure. She wore the Essention uniform—black trousers and coffee-coloured tunic. Strands of her brown hair had come loose from her ponytail and the gentle evening breeze made them dance.

  Anya kept to herself on the platform. Others from the programme stood nearby but they didn’t interact. He wanted to tell her that ignorin
g others guaranteed nothing in Arcis. If she wanted to rotate, she would have to prove how well she could interact with others. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that friendships were the key to getting off the ground floor. For some reason, it mattered to those on the ninth floor of Arcis; the six who’d been rotated were some of the more talkative among the group.

  He and Sheila boarded the train and sat together.

  Sheila huffed out a breath. ‘I’m so sick of this. I hate manual labour.’ She held her hands out and examined her nails. ‘Look at my hands, Dom. They’re ruined.’

  But Dom was only half-listening to her. He watched the people on the train, caught up in their weird, sometimes glassy-eyed Compliance stupor. He could see the moment when they drifted in and out of awareness. He and Sheila had been given the antidote, but not before Max had insisted they experience the drug first, to understand what it felt like.

  It was the worst couple of days of his life. His mind had not been his own. A deep fog had invaded his clearer thoughts that kept him from counting, kept him from seeing things he would have noticed in an instant. Like the menace of the wolves. On Compliance, they were hazy, soft versions of themselves. Not really there, not really a threat. Off Compliance, the outlines of their bodies sharpened into alarming focus and their unnaturally yellow eyes simmered with restrained violence. It frightened Dom to think how fast he’d accepted things while on the drug.

  Charlie had only a limited supply of the antidote. Dom couldn’t have been happier to receive it.

  Ω

  Dom and Sheila climbed the steps leading to their apartment block. They had arrived at Essention’s hospital together, and their cover story about Sheila being his sister and knowing Max and Charlie from Foxrush had tricked the authorities. But Sheila had been sicker and was stuck in the hospital for a few weeks longer than him. At least they’d been allowed to live in the same accommodation.