Defiance Rising

TWO

  He passes me the flashlight once I’m through and hoists himself inside, latching the door behind him.

  “Afraid someone might break in?”

  “Nah. Just force of habit.” He moves between the rows of seats toward the back of the car. If I thought the air in the tunnel was thick, it’s far worse within this small, confined space. With no windows to open and both doors sealed, the scent of sweat and stale air permeates everything.

  As I approach the middle of the car, I notice obvious signs of long-term habitation. Small burlap sacks, lumpy with concealed supplies, line the space beneath the cracked plastic seats. Larger bags fill an open-air compartment near the ceiling. A blanket and stained pillow run parallel between the final rows of seats.

  Bastien reaches down and lights a lantern to replace the flashlight before plopping down onto a bench. I stand awkwardly in the aisle, glancing all around. “The Hover Wings will be up there for a while.” He leans into the bench, resting his arms along the seat back. “There’s no rush.”

  “You call them Hover Wings?”

  He shrugs. “Sure, that is what they do. Why?”

  I slowly sink onto the bench opposite him. It feels hard, cold and unwelcoming against my backside. I lean into it, trying to think of what it might be like to jostle along the dark track. I don’t think I would’ve liked it one bit.

  “We call them Sky Ships.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose.” He thinks it over. “I’m sure the only ships you’ve seen are the transports flying over the mountains, but the Caldonians have many metal contraptions.”

  “Are you ok?” Bastien leans toward me, concern pinching his brow. “You look really pale.”

  I blink, surprised by the question. “Why do you care?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to be nice, ok?” He raises his hands in mock surrender.

  I sigh and slump down on the bench, my gun still held tight in my palm, but pointed down at the floor. “Sorry,” I mutter, shoving my hair back out of my eyes. “I’m not real comfortable in tight spaces.”

  Bastien grins. “It’s a heck of a lot cozier than in one of those Hover Wings!”

  “Good point.” I drop my gaze as I feel my lips curling into a hint of a smile. “So this is where you live?”

  “Yep. Welcome to Chez Bastien.” He spreads his arms wide to encompass the tight space.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s French.” He rolls his eyes when I stare blankly back. “I’m guessing you never learned that.”

  I look around the space for any signs of books. I’m surprised when I don’t find a single one. “How do you know so much?”

  Bastien takes a deep breath and looks past me, staring at the darkness beyond. “My mom was a teacher before the invasion, history mostly, but she loved all forms of learning. She used to tell me about this grand library near the center of town, with wall to ceiling bookshelves stuffed full of knowledge. When I was younger, she would sneak out and bring a couple books back for me, but then the Settlers moved in and she couldn’t go any more.”

  “Settlers?”

  “It’s what I call the aliens who live here. Some are transient, coming and going from city to city, but the ones that stay behind are the Settlers.”

  “Do you have any other names for them?” I ask, intrigued by his insight into our enemy.

  “Sure, you’ve got the Grounders, who work on the outskirts of town, the Squaddies, who patrol the streets on foot, the Droners, who man the spider machines and the Gentry, the snooty what’s its who run this place.”

  “You seem to have a good lay of the land here,” I muse, tucking my feet under my legs.

  “Yeah, well I was born and raised here. You sort of get a feel for the place.”

  My brow furrows. “How did you and your family manage to survive so long?”

  “They didn’t.” He rubs his hands on his thighs and falls into an uncomfortable silence.

  “I lost my parents, too.” I don’t like to speak about them. A part of me worries that I might be treading on their memories if I do. My father took a red laser to the chest when I was fourteen. Mom went down after being shot in the back. I found her lying face down in the woods the next day, left to rot out in the open.

  Bastien clears his throat and rises from his seat. He paces halfway down the subway car and then returns with determined steps. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone willingly come here.”

  “And?”

  He stops pacing to stare at me. “It’s not safe. You should go back to the forest and stay there.”

  “I’m not leaving.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare back at him. Does he really think I don’t know the risk?

  I’m the first of my generation to step foot here. Part of me is proud of this fact, but it won't matter if I can’t make it back in one piece.

  “Are you always this stubborn?” Raising his arms overhead, he grasps the metal rack railing and slowly swings back and forth.

  “My friends would say so.”

  “There are more of you?” His eyebrows arch so high I’m sure they’ll disappear into his hair line.

  I flinch as I realize my slip. “There are always more.”

  The skin around Bastien’s eyes creases as he drops his gaze to focus on the floor. “Not always.”

  A faraway look slips over his face and I squirm. This guy may have saved me from the Sky Ship but he’s too melancholy for my liking. I guess he has every right to be, but I’m not comfortable with emotions, or strangers, or bonding on any level.

  He expels a weighted sigh and looks up at me. “You look thirsty. Want something to drink?”

  “That depends,” I hedge. What I really want is to wait for dark and get the heck out of here, but it’s impossible to judge how much time has passed since I entered this underground prison.

  “On what?”

  “Why am I here?” I sit forward, resting my gun on my knee, present and unforgotten.

  Bastien casts a hesitant glance down at it before he shrugs. “You’re the first human I’ve seen in months. I thought we could chat.”

  “Chat?” I scoff, watching as he dips low to search through one of the burlap sacks under his seat. Although his back is angled away, he darts several cautious glances back at me.

  “Yeah. You know, talk, shoot the breeze, cut loose. That sort of thing.”

  “I know what chat means,” I grind out, watching his every movement carefully. If he pulls a gun on me, I’m aiming straight for his heart.

  My finger flinches over the trigger as he rises. Two red metal cans rest in his hands. I squint to read the letters in the dim light, sounding them out slowly. “Coke?”

  “Never had one of these before, huh? Oh, you’re in for a real treat.” Bastien holds out a can toward me. “Try it. Don’t mind the expiration date. I’ve been ignoring those for a while now.”

  Hesitantly, I take it from him and watch as he tugs on a metal tab on top of the can. My eyes widen with surprise as a brown foam bubbles out over the top and onto his fingers. He quickly dips his head to slurp up the mess. “Delicious. Go on, give it a pull.”

  I stare down at the can in my hand. It is cool to the touch, smooth and completely foreign to me. Deciding it’s obviously not poisoned, I tug on the tab and frown as the foam spills over my hand and onto the floor.

  I guess that explains why my boots feel like they’re permanently stuck to the floor, I muse.

  Keeping Bastien in sight, I slowly raise the can to my lips and take a small sip. “Yuck!” I spit out a sugary spray all over the floor.

  He laughs out loud as he sinks back onto his bench. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks deeply from the can. A small stream of liquid spills around his lips and drips onto his sweater, but he swipes it away with little thought.

  “This stuff is disgusting.” I rub my tongue on my sleeve, trying to g
et the sugary aftertaste out of my mouth. “What is this?”

  “It’s soda, the most popular drink of all time. People used to drink it by the gallon.”

  “It’s revolting.” I pinch my nose with disgust as I hand the can back to him.

  “Well sure, if your diet only consists of berries, rainwater and squirrel.” He blasts me before chugging the rest of my can too.

  “We eat more than just squirrel,” I retort. I know I should hang my head in shame for that lame comeback, but the sting of his jab takes me by surprise. Why am I letting this guy get to me so easily?

  “The point is that you tree huggers don’t know how to appreciate real food.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, tucking my handgun into my side as I roll my eyes. “At least we don’t hide in filthy subway cars.”

  “You got a problem with my house?”

  His tone implies sarcasm, but I’m not sure if I’ve just insulted him. “I’m just saying you can’t compare the two together. Living here, in the City, isn’t like surviving in the woods.”

  He sets the soda cans aside as the skin around his eyes pinches ever so slightly, his gaze hardening. He leans forward, capturing my full attention. “You’re right. It’s not.”

  I stand up and tuck my gun into the back of my pants, right between my knives. The pressure of the cool steel against my skin is reassuring. “Look, I’m grateful for you letting me hide out here for a bit but I think I should be going.”

  “Wait!” He leaps to his feet and pulls me back as I head for the exit.

  “Don’t touch me,” I growl, yanking my arm from his grasp. I reach back for my knife, knowing I can slice through his abdomen before he can even turn for his shotgun.

  “Sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing away. “I just can’t let you go out there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Although you may think you know what it’s like here, you’d be wrong, Princess. Those Hover Wings don’t just come for a fly by and go on their merry way like they do when they pass over the forest. They’re dropping off soldiers.”

  “More of them?” The urge to kick him in the shin for calling me “princess” is nearly too hard to resist, but I reign myself in as I think over the implications of his words. More aliens means more search parties. How long can my friends and I remain hidden in the forest?

  Like it or not, I need him.

  “They’re looking for something,” he continues, biting on the side of his fingernail. His hands look grimy; no doubt it’s been a while since he took a decent bath. “Don’t ask me what, but I just know they are.”

  “How do you know?” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to get a read on him. His tone is even and his eyes are locked onto me instead of drifting off the side. There’s no sign of sweat along his brow or even a twitch in his fingers. He’s either a really good liar or he’s saving my skin right now.

  “Well…” he scratches the light stubble across his jawline. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid?”

  I puff up with indignation. “I can be careful when I want to be.”

  “Must not want that too often then, huh?” He chuckles to himself.

  I reach back and grasp my knife. The temptation to lash out and knick the chin of his pretty little face curls my lips into a smile. He follows the curve of my arm around my waist and takes a step back. “Wise decision.”

  He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re feisty. I like that in a girl.”

  “And I’m going.” I turn and stomp toward the door at the far end of the car.

  I have no idea how he manages to get in front of me. One moment he’s standing behind me and the next he’s flipping off the wall and landing only a couple inches from my nose. I gasp and stumble backward but strong fingers clasp around my wrists and yank me upright. His hands are large and calloused against my tender skin.

  “Do you mind?” I hiss, yanking free of his grasp

  “Actually, I don’t.” His fingers uncurl from my arm and I step back from him, unnerved by his proximity.

  “What’s with the acrobatics?” I lower my hands to my sides, resisting the urge to rub my sore wrists.

  “Do you want to see my proof about the Grounders or not?” He asks, evading my question

  I purse my lips as I try to decide. A huge part of me wants to know, but that would mean spending more time with Bastien and right now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. He makes me feel annoyingly flustered and I can’t quite figure out why.

  “Look, I’ll show you the way. Once we get there, you can decide. Fair enough?”

  I look beyond him into the dark tunnel. I can’t say that I fancy wandering around out there on my own trying to find the exit, but what if Bastien knows about the tremors? I have to know what is causing them before I leave.

  “Fine,” I sigh, shaking my head in disbelief. How did I get myself into this? “I’m in.”

  I try to ignore his triumphant grin as he leads me toward to rear of the car. He dips low to retrieve his flashlight and shotgun. I raise an eyebrow at the second item. “Rats,” he shrugs in explanation.

  “Must be some large rats.”

  “You have no idea,” he laughs. The way he says it makes me wonder if Bastien might just have a hidden fear of furry little rodents or if he’s hiding something.

  He unlatches the metal handle and shoves the door open. I wince at the squeal of rusted metal echoing ahead of us into the tunnel. Bastien hands me the light and leaps out confidently onto the darkened track. When he holds up his hand to me, I peer over the edge.

  The drop onto the tracks looks to be only to be about four feet, but leaping out into darkness makes me nervous. What if I land on one of the tracks and twist my ankle? Then I’d be stuck here, with him and mutant rats.

  “You coming?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, gripping the edge of the doorway. “Can you give me some light?”

  Bastien sighs and sets the flashlight down on its end. The white beam of light pierces through the darkness, shining up to the ceiling above. I squint, trying to see the curve of the track.

  “We don’t have all night, Princess.” He offers his hand to assist me.

  I clamp my fingers tightly around his and leap to the ground, easily missing the wide tracks. When I let go, I’m pleased to see him shake out his bruised hand.

  The light bounces before us as we walk, casting dancing shadows around the domed tunnel. Our footsteps echo as we follow the metal tracks leading away from the subway car. The hairs on my arms and neck rise as I struggle to peer through the oppressive darkness around us. “Don’t you ever get claustrophobic down here?”

  “Sometimes,” he admits. “It’s still the safest place in town.”

  The scampering of feet nearby sends me reeling into Bastien’s side. He reaches out and steadies me, snickering as he lifts the light to reveal the mother of all rats. Its brown fur is matted and its beady eyes gleam in the light. “Let me guess, you don’t like rats either.”

  “I don’t like being startled by them. Big difference.” I pull away from his grasp and run a hand through my disheveled hair.

  “Uh-huh.” I can tell by the way the light bounces that he’s laughing at me. I grit my teeth and walk on without him. Thankfully, he rushes to catch up or my bravado would’ve come to a grinding halt without his light. We walk for several minutes in silence.

  “So why are you in the City?” he asks.

  “You’re gonna go with mindless chatter now?”

  “No,” he says, turning to point his flashlight at a set of steps that rise up to another level. I start to mount the first step, but he pulls me back. “I really want to know.”

  I chew on my lip, thinking over the ramifications of my words. What if he’s a spy for the Caldonians? He’s certainly hot enough to fit the bill, but his eyes are true blue and his words hold th
e slightest hint of an accent. “I ran out of food a couple days back. I’m low on ammo and it’s getting cold. Seemed like a good idea.”

  Bastien raises the light to peer at me. “Short, sweet and with as little emotion as possible. That seems to be your M.O.”

  “Like you would know,” I scoff.

  “Fine,” he shrugs. The light sways, illuminating discolored ceiling tiles overhead. A large exit sign hangs down over the steps. “You don’t have to tell me about your friends or how you learned to aim a gun like that. I’m sure you just read it in a book somewhere.”

  My hand drifts to the back of my pants where my gun is wedged. Memories of years’ worth of training sessions with Eamon in the woods near our camp filter through my mind. Bruised muscles, cracked knuckles, torn ligaments…good times. I still have the scars to go along with Eamon’s spear fetish.

  Life in the rebellion has never been easy. Food is always scarce and medicine is practically non-existent.

  My days are consumed with either training or hunting, although I prefer hunting. The woods are my sanctuary, the only place I can escape the rigidity of stone and regulation.

  I shake my head to clear out the memories and stare Bastien down, not giving him an ounce of information. “You said you have something to show me?”

  He shoots me a pointed look, one that tells me he knows I’m holding something back, but he doesn’t question me further. Instead, he raises his finger toward the stairs. “Follow this to the top and you will find a metal door that leads out onto the street. Open it slowly. It tends to stick so be careful with that. Once you’re on the street, turn right and make your way to the building on the opposite corner. You’ll find a set of stairs in the back. Go to the roof and take a peek, but keep your head down.”

  “You’re not coming?” I ask as he holds out the flashlight to me. Now that I’m here, faced with who knows what on the street above, I have to admit I’m a little unnerved. I can handle anything that the forest throws at me but the City seems to play by completely different rules. Maybe having Bastien next to me wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.

  “I said I’d show you the way. That’s it. Besides, you seem capable of handling yourself.” His voice is tight as he shoves the light into my hand then turns and plops down on the bottom step. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  I raise the light to shoulder height and peer up the stairs. This section of the subway seems older, dingy and stained yellow by years of disuse.

  Each step I take buries Bastien further into the darkness behind me. I’m nervous, but I refuse to show it. Maybe this is what he planned, for me to beg him come with me.

  The stairs level out onto a wide platform. A patchwork of cracked, gray tiles leads to the outer door, where an old chain dangles from a broken latch. I shine the light on the door, surveying the hinges, and notice they are rusted and pulling away from the wall. I’m surprised the door has remained standing this long.

  Taking a deep breath, I press the button on the back of the flashlight and fall into complete darkness. I consider calling out to Bastien to make sure he’s still there but choose not to. I don’t want him thinking I’m scared.

  I curl my fingers around the cold metal knob, twist and pull. Nothing happens. I try again and again with the same result.

  “Need help up there?” Bastien calls from the tunnel below. I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

  “No. I can do it on my own, thanks.” I swear as I yank on the knob. The door only shifts slightly and I have to remind myself not to yell in frustration otherwise this entire stealth mission will go down in flames.

  “You are more stubborn than an old mule!”

  “You don’t even know me,” I grunt, straining against the door.

  “Don’t need to. It’s pretty obvious.”

  Releasing the handle, I crouch down and search the floor for pieces of broken tile. Latching onto one the size of my palm, I hurl it down the stairs into the darkness. It smacks into the wall and shatters.

  “Throw like a girl, too!” He howls with laughter.

  “Urgh!” If I don’t get this door open soon I swear I’m going to throttle him. I twist and turn the knob until I’m a sweaty, panting mess. “What is wrong with this door?”

  “There’s a trick to it.” He pauses for what I assume to be dramatic effect. If he means to increase my frustration then it’s working. “You have to say please, though.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  I roll my eyes, wishing I’d taken my chances with the Sky Ship earlier. This guy is pig-headed, obnoxious and combative, three things I can’t stand in a guy. “Fine. Please.”

  “Nope. Gotta make me believe you.”

  I curl my lips into a sneer, annoyed that I can’t even blast an evil eye at him in the dark. I take a deep breath, seeking a calm that I don’t feel. I take three more just in case. “Bastien, will you please tell me the secret to opening this door.”

  “Hmm…needs some work but I guess it’ll do. Lightly tap the lower right corner with your foot and it’ll open right up.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re annoying?” I hiss over my shoulder at him.

  “No.” The silence rising up from the tunnel makes me pause with my foot pressed against the door. “There’s no one left to talk to now.”