Resist

  “Not for me,” I say, and push my bowl of green food away. I rest my chin in my hands, waiting for dinner to end. I can feel Clarice watching me, but I don’t bother making conversation.

  After a painfully long time, the bells rings and we’re allowed to leave. I make for the doors, and Alina, when there’s a tug on my arm. “Are you trying to lose me?” Clarice asks teasingly.

  “Of course not. Come on,” I say. The last thing I need is her running to Vanya to tell her I’ve been inattentive.

  I pull on my face mask as we get outside. Alina’s waiting. “Hey,” she says. She ignores Clarice.

  “Can I catch you up, Clarice?” I ask.

  “Sure,” she says. She smiles and goes ahead.

  “She seems friendly,” Alina says.

  I roll my eyes. “I wish she wouldn’t be.” Now that I’ve stopped acting like an idiot when she’s around, we’re easy with each other.

  “We leave tonight,” she whispers.

  “Good,” I say. We haven’t had any time to prepare, but if Alina thinks it’s time, I believe her.

  She pulls me into the shadow of the main house. “We have to get Maude, Bruce, and some others before we go. We’ll meet on the second floor of the east stairwell at midnight. Be there, and make sure Dorian and Song are there, too. I don’t know if I can tell them. Maks has me on a leash.” She stalks off without any further discussion.

  I chase after her. “And the pod?” I ask. I shake her without meaning to, and she pushes me away.

  “Relax. We’re going to go fight alongside Bea and my aunt and uncle, but we’ll keep it between you, me, and Silas. No one else needs to worry about that yet.”

  “I think we should head straight for the pod. No detours.”

  Clarice suddenly appears. “Seriously? Are you going with the troopers?” she asks.

  Alina glares at me, like Clarice’s superhuman hearing is my fault. And I’m about to make up some lie when I remember the conversation back in our room. Clarice mentioned being glad she wasn’t in the pod, and I thought she meant because of the riots. Did I misunderstand? “Only a few people have been told we’re going back,” I say slowly.

  “Oh.” Clarice looks over her shoulder. “Did Maks tell you when you’re leaving?” Alina gives me another look, but this time it’s because Clarice must know something we don’t, and she wants me to get her to talk.

  “Tonight,” I say. I push Clarice’s hair away from her face and grin. This is how I used to flirt with girls. It didn’t always work and, unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work with Clarice. She steps back.

  “But none of the other academics are going,” she says. I shrug and Clarice kicks a stone against the main house. “Why should I lose my partner? It isn’t fair. Maks said it would only be the troopers going and that’s why they’ve been training so hard. Is it because you know the pod? Is it because you have inside information or something?” She stops speaking as someone comes up behind us. She waits until he passes.

  “My dad’s the army’s general,” I say hesitantly.

  “And you agree with what Maks has planned?” she says. “I want a new place to live, like anyone here. But cutting the tubing on the recycling stations? Isn’t there another way to destroy the Ministry?”

  Alina and I freeze. Can it be true? Would Vanya and Maks really murder so many innocent people? I start to panic, and have to increase the volume of oxygen coming into my face mask. I’m thinking of Bea and my brothers and mother. Of my father, who saved me in the end. And I’m even thinking of Riley and Ferris, who are royal pains in the butt, but were my friends in another lifetime. Even they don’t deserve to suffocate.

  “How did you find out about the mission?” I ask Clarice.

  “Jo,” she says nonplussed. “Maks told her, I think.”

  “Shit,” Alina says. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. When I see Abel . . .” She screws her hands into fists.

  “Abel knows?” I ask.

  “Of course he knows. He’s very selective with his information.”

  A group of troopers pass us on the path. “Alina, you coming?” one of them asks.

  “Sure,” she says, and walks backward toward them mouthing one word to me: midnight.

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  42

  ALINA

  Maks won’t sleep. He’s in the bed, and I’m on the floor. Every time I open my eyes he’s ogling me. And when he sees I’m not asleep, he smiles. Sometimes he winks, but usually it’s just the cool smile, like he knows what I’m planning. “You can climb in here with me, you know,” he says at one point, and pulls back the covers, unveiling his thick, tattooed torso and a faint musty smell.

  “No thanks,” I say, and close my eyes.

  It’s close to midnight and everyone will be waiting. Still, I try to relax, and after what feels like hours, his breathing changes. He snores loudly. I sit up and crawl over to the bed to get a better look at him. Although one of his eyes is half open, he’s totally out.

  His pants are hanging on the back of the door. I slide my hand into one pocket and then the other to feel around for the keys. They aren’t there. I rummage in one of the back pockets where cold metal finally licks my fingers. As carefully as I can, I pluck the clump of keys from his pocket. Maks gibbers in his sleep. I could do anything I wanted to him now. He isn’t so tough snoring with his mouth open. But I haven’t time to waste. I have to get out of here.

  I pick a key from the bunch at random and try it in the lock. It doesn’t fit. The next one slides into the lock but won’t budge. And on and on until, after trying nine or ten keys, one of them slides into the lock and turns. With a low groan it opens. I tiptoe into the hallway, using the key to lock Maks in the room, and run toward the door hidden in the painting.

  They are waiting: Silas, Song, Abel, and Quinn. And they’re all carrying several air tanks and small bags. “Where have you been?” Silas whispers.

  “Maks wouldn’t go to sleep.”

  “The keys?” Abel asks. I pass them to him and he curls his fingers around them like I’ve handed him a hunk of gold.

  “Where’s Dorian?” I ask.

  “He must have decided to stay,” Silas says, unperturbed.

  “He wouldn’t do that. I’ll go find him.”

  “We haven’t time.” Silas grabs my arm. “And he’s obviously made his choice.”

  “He told us himself he doesn’t want to live as a drifter,” Song says.

  “We can’t go without him,” I add. We came together and that’s how we should leave. Besides, we won’t be drifters if we can oust the Ministry.

  A voices echoes from one of the floors above. “Keep it down,” Abel says. He slides the painting to one side. “Are you coming?” The voices from above are getting louder and accompanied by footsteps. If we stand around prattling, we’ll be caught and then no one will be able leave.

  “I’m coming back for him,” I say. And I mean it. I’m not saving Maude and Bruce only to leave Dorian behind. He’s been with the Resistance since the beginning, and I’ve known him too long. He hasn’t changed overnight. I know he hasn’t.

  “Come on,” Silas says.

  Abel ushers us into the painting. The door clunks behind us and we descend slowly, careful not to slip and tumble on top of one another.

  “I’ll lead the way. I’ve been observing The Sanctuary for a few days now, so I’ve a good idea of the lay of things,” Abel says.

  “And the plan?” Silas asks.

  “We get in, unbuckle as many benefactors and kids as we can, and get the hell out of there,” Quinn says. Thankfully he doesn’t mention the pod or Bea.

  One thing at a time.

  Abel unlocks The Sanctuary door, and as we’re about to creep inside, a voice calls out. Damn. We have no weapons; wrestling with a nurse or several nurses isn’t part of the plan.

>   “Everyone get back,” Silas whispers. We jump away from the door. A shadow hovers over the light.

  “Vanya?” The voice is tight and cautious, and as the light is being sliced away, Silas leaps out of the night and on top of the nurse. We pile in after him. The nurse thrashes on the tiled floor in her white overalls, screeching like a tram coming into a station. I pull a T-shirt from my bag and stuff it into her mouth. Abel holds her arms, and Quinn and Song stop her kicking.

  Silas stands up and pokes her in the side with the toe of his shoe. “Tie her up,” he says. She continues to writhe. He roots in his bag and pulls out a T-shirt of his own that he rips into pieces. I quickly tie the ends of the fabric together and use them to bind the nurse’s hands and feet.

  “Some of us should go and release the benefactors while you take care of her,” Abel says. “The nurses only check in when the oxygen levels change, so we have about twenty minutes.”

  Silas thinks for a moment. “Where’s the air?” he asks. We can’t go anywhere if we don’t have a decent supply.

  “There’s a room down the hall where they give the benefactors tanks and make them climb and run. Look in the closet. Here,” Abel says. He throws the keys to Silas and Silas pulls a handgun from the nurse’s belt and throws it to Abel.

  And we’re off, Song, Abel, and I hurtling along the hallway and leaving Silas and Quinn to deal with the nurse.

  The room we enter is unlit apart from a thin moonbeam. Abel pulls out a flashlight, which he shines around the room. It’s the same ward I saw yesterday, beds along each side and people tied to them. The machines by the beds hiss and beep.

  “Over there,” Abel says, aiming the light at the far corner of the room. “Jo!” He goes to her, shakes her awake, and unfastens her wrists and ankles. He pulls the tubes from her mouth and nose, then looks down at the IV in her hand.

  “I can take it out,” I say, pushing him aside. I’ve never done anything like this, but I know what Abel’s hesitations have led to before. I put pressure on the needle and slide it from her hand. She squeaks. She points to her mouth and gasps and Abel puts his own face mask over her mouth to help her breathe.

  “You came,” she says, pushing the mask away. She hasn’t had the baby yet; they’re experimenting on her while she’s pregnant.

  I’m about to unbuckle the benefactor in the bed next to Jo’s when Maude pipes up. “You took your sweet time. I’ve probably got bedsores on me bum. Untie me. Hurry up!”

  She isn’t wearing shoes and throws off a surgical robe revealing her emaciated, naked body. “Where are your clothes?” I ask. She points to a bin in the corner of the room brimming with rags. I help her up, pull out the tubes and IVs, and she hobbles over to the bin and scrambles into an outfit that looks far too big for her. Within a minute, two more benefactors are next to her doing the same thing.

  I go from bed to bed, unbuckling scrawny ankles and wrists and pulling out tubes. “Quicker!” Abel says.

  Silas barges in holding a bawling toddler, its mouth a perfect ring of noise. Abel groans. “Shut. Her. Up.” If the situation weren’t so serious, his nerves would be comical.

  “You shut it,” Maude snarls and slaps Abel. Abel puts his hand to his face like it’s too hot to touch.

  “There aren’t that many of them,” Silas says.

  “Did you find the tanks?” I ask.

  “Quinn’s sorting that out,” he says.

  Abel scratches his eyebrows as the baby continues to bawl. The cry wheels around the room like a security alarm. Silas tries to cover the baby’s mouth.

  Jo is sitting on the end of a bed near the door rubbing her belly. She reaches out her arms and Silas hands her the baby he’s holding. Looking at them, I’m struck by the hopelessness of the situation. How will we care for infants? How will Jo crawl under the wall and away with her large belly, and who’s going to deliver her baby when the time comes? None of us are doctors. We aren’t even proper adults. She looks at Abel and rocks the baby. We aren’t on the run yet, and I feel defeated.

  “Show me the nursery,” Maude says to Silas, and that’s when I remember she was training to be a nurse. After everything I’ve felt about Maude, could she be our one hope? “The rest of you, keep releasing these ones,” she says, and they leave.

  We release the remaining benefactors as fast as we can. Most sit up and get dressed, but a few refuse to stir, the whites of their eyes glowing. And we haven’t time to convince them to leave.

  “Help us,” Silas says, darting back into the room carrying a child in each arm. Bruce seizes a sleeping girl from Silas. The rest of us tear toward the nursery and carry off a child apiece. Abel meets us in the hallway with a gaggle of children ranging from about four to eight. Their eyes are wide. “We’re saving you, okay?” I say, using a gentle voice. They nod, but they still look frightened.

  Within minutes we’re with the duty nurse, who is attempting to wriggle away. Some of the benefactors kick her, then choose an air tank from the floor where Quinn has piled them. Bruce has put down the toddler he was carrying and has a stack of sheets in his arms instead. He throws them next to the air tanks. He folds his and shows us how to make a sling. “Take one to carry the little ’uns,” he says.

  Maude is the only one of us not carrying a child. She chose to stock up on feeding formula, spoons, and bowls instead. She jangles when she runs, and a peculiar flood of true affection for the old woman washes through me.

  I push open the main doors with my hip, carrying a toddler in my sling at the front. And out of the shadows, Dorian appears.

  “You traitor,” Silas says, and takes a swing at Dorian. Apart from the thud of Dorian hitting the ground, it’s silent—all the children and benefactors look on in wonderment.

  “Stop,” Song hisses.

  “I came to warn you,” Dorian croaks. He struggles to his feet and uses Quinn as a crutch.

  “They’re coming, aren’t they?” Abel guesses.

  “I heard a ruckus outside my room. Maks is rounding up troopers, but I don’t think they know you came here.”

  “You didn’t meet us like we planned,” I say.

  “Juno wouldn’t go to sleep,” he says. I’m not sure I believe him. But he’s here now.

  “Can we make it out in time?” Song asks no one in particular.

  I look at the benefactors we’ve released. They’re wearing face masks, and look frighteningly similar to an army of zombies. “They’ll expect us to use the front gate and go north like everyone does,” Abel says. “They won’t suspect the back wall.”

  And we’re off again.

  I wait until last, steering the benefactors along the wall that separates Sequoia from the world. The baby in my arms giggles, tipping her head back and looking up at the stars. Thankfully none of the babies are crying.

  We reach the back wall and edge along that, too. The benefactor in front of me stops, and I bump into her. But no sooner have we stopped than we’re moving forward again slowly as our group slides through the hole one by one. And then it’s just Silas and me staring at the tunnel burrowed beneath the wall. He takes the child from me, putting her on her tummy in the dip and letting whoever is on the other side pull her through. “Is this crazy?” I ask Silas. His expression is hard and before he has a chance to answer, floodlights illuminate Sequoia and an alarm blasts out. The ground vibrates under the force of marching troopers. Silas pushes me to my knees, and I slink under the wall and out.

  “Hurry!” I say, breathing in freedom. And as I sidestep the junk and crawl down a shallow ravine to fetch Crab’s air tank, I can’t help watching the frail figures of benefactors and children smearing the wasteland and wondering how long until our oxygen expires—or we get caught.

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  PART IV

  THE RETURN

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  43

  RONAN

  The gymnasium is packed with the new recruits. They’re scrawny and sunken-eyed, but there are at least fifty of them, and although their bodies look weak, their eyes are doggedly determined. “Another set! Go!” Jude bellows through a megaphone, and they’re off—climbing ropes, leaping onto vaulting horses, swinging on the rings, or jogging around the track.

  Jude sees me and makes his way over. “Not bad, huh?” he says. He looks proud. He should be. I can hardly believe it.

  “You managed this in a few days?” I say, as an auxiliary runs past us. Runs!

  “They managed it,” he says. “See her?” His eyes fix on a girl on a balancing beam with braids twisted into buns at the sides of her head.

  “What about her?” I ask.

  “First time with a rifle she shot the bull’s-eye dead on. I thought it was a fluke. She repeated it three more times.”

  I laugh. “She must have joined the Resistance a while ago but managed to stay off the radar.” Jude nods. “Any sign of Quinn and his friends yet?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he says. A boy sprints past us and Jude claps. “Good job!”

  “When will they be ready to go?” It has to be soon. I can’t keep the Resistance in my studio much longer. It’s only a matter of time before Niamh starts to suspect something.

  He sighs. “It usually takes six months for the basics. I’m condensing it into four weeks.”

  “That’s still too long.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  I haven’t said anything about hiding Resistance in my studio. Jude would only have freaked out about the risk I was taking, and I didn’t want him to get cold feet and wash his hands of us. But it’s time for him to see how urgent this is. And he should shoulder more of the burden.