Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The Promotion
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kris says while bracing his arms between the truck’s window and seat. It’s hard not to laugh at his cringing.
“Kris, I can see the ditch. I’m nowhere near it!”
I turn the steering wheel as we return to the farm from the main road.
Clearly, I’m driving too fast for Kris’s liking, with his indigo glare widening while he runs his hand over his short blond hair.
Ren sits in the back, chuckling to himself.
His black hair curtains his brooding stare, and he winks at me as I smirk back at him in the rearview mirror.
In a few weeks, I’ll turn sixteen, so I’m allowed to take the truck off the farm to get my bearings in the area, but only if escorted.
Since the grown-ups were busy, my friends gladly obliged, although Kris has hated it ever since we set off.
He is the middle son of five boys from the Ramsay family, treating me like one of his many brothers.
When we get out of the truck, Ren pats me on the back, assuring me I did a great job, despite Kris’s whinging.
Ren joined the community with his family a year after me and was this shy little kid until Kris and I took him under our wing.
Here, in stretches of land beyond the Red Zone, a rebellion has been established.
The government deemed the area too destitute after the war, with no registered communities, leaving us to fly under their radar while we gather forces for a revolution.
My fathers joined old friends to create the site, disguised as a community, which we are—a community working towards the goal of overthrowing President Beckett’s regime.
We walk past a collection of farmhouses and men patrolling with rifles.
A lot of the families live here, but then there are men who live in trailers and caravans on the site.
Many are defectors from the government and army.
Kris and Ren return to their houses, and when I walk through my front door, I can still smell the coffee and recently varnished timber of my fathers’ farmhouse.
Since it’s only the four of us, we took one of the smaller properties.
It isn’t as homely as you would expect inside, since it doubles as the control room for the rebellion.
Beneath the chess table sits a tattered rug, concealing the cellar door to the armoury.
Maps are pinned to the walls, and boxes of data fill the floor with notes, but at the centre of it all, a circular oak table is the epicentre of operations.
Rex and Roscoe are true patriots, having served in the military together, with Rex eventually landing an advisory role as the chief of staff.
Roscoe was the one to introduce Malcolm, a British MI6 officer.
Not long after they became this infamous trio, a series of events occurred that triggered the Lost War, and my fathers found themselves turning their backs on the government.
They fought for what was right, and in doing so, they found me as a baby.
I was proud to be their daughter, and I know they have done everything in their power to protect me while fighting to restore America.
President Bryce Beckett weaselled his way into power, sweeping in to take the glory for my fathers’ victories, and began the deadly pursuit of my fathers, dispatching highly trained forces to hunt down and retrieve us.
Since my fathers invited me into the fold, they agreed it was important for me to learn to protect myself.
They trained me, strengthening me physically and mentally.
Malcolm taught me weapons, while Roscoe trained me in combat.
Rex’s time was always much sparser, but when he could, he would call me in to explain their plans and teach me strategies.
I had never felt closer to them, as a peer and a daughter.
But their protectiveness means they never leave me alone with anyone else, and with the revelation of their secrets, it was only then that I realised how much of a burden I was.
I had been holding them back this whole time.
So, I volunteered to join the rest of the women in the Independence Interval, releasing them to concentrate one hundred percent on the resistance.
To move us closer to a future of freedom for all women with a few years of servitude is the least I can do.
Rex drove me to Jimmy’s Diner himself. Jimmy is a trusted old friend, making it easier for Rex to leave me behind, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy for any of us.
“I can get to Jimmy’s from here,” I say to Joey. “If we snag a car, we can make the journey in a day. When we get down to Dallas, we’d be safe with the rebellion my fathers are a part of.”
Night has fallen as we prepare to close the bar, and since we are eternally under surveillance, we save these talks for outside, where the rushing river is enough to mute us while we collect glasses.
I say, “We sheltered plenty of runaways on every farm we lived on.”
He pinches empty bottles between his fingers. “Yeah. We had a few too. I suppose we’d be safe with farmers.”
It has been weeks since I first suggested escaping the city with Joey. It’s exciting yet nerve-wracking as we plot out a plan.
“Jack said every two weeks, there’s a scrap collection at the workshop,” Joey says. “He knows the guy pretty well, so he’s laying hints, but you know… There’s also one guy we both know who can get all sorts of things into this city… Maybe he can get us out?”
“Seth?! Mmmm… I don’t know if I want to drag Seth into this.”
“Why not? He would do anything for you.”
“I know he would. That’s the problem. I’d hate to have him caught up in it if things go wrong. It’s bad enough that your brothers are involved.”
“Don’t worry about them. They want us to get out of here. It’s all systems go with Team Finch,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.
I shake my head, laughing at how he always manages to kill the seriousness of a conversation.
With my hands full, I take a glance at the clear night sky.
We always take our time before going back inside, and these moments with Joey feel as natural as the Wilds themselves.
To be beside him, so close to the freedom of the world beyond the city…
I can’t wait to be out there with him. This is our future.
He tilts his head. “Look. The moon looks like a smile.”
I laugh while tilting my head, and my grin mirrors the lunar crescent shape cutting into the dark of night, when something catches my eye, and I gasp.
I point below the moon. “Look, Joey! You see?”
“What? The moon?”
“No! To the lower left of the moon. That star. It has a blue glow about it. Do you see?” We scrunch our heads together to share the same line of vision.
“Oh, yeah, but that’s not the North Star. That’s the North Star.” The bottles chime as he lifts his hand to point elsewhere.
“It’s Venus,” I say with a sigh.
It’s the first time I’ve spotted it since coming to the city, where the dense electric lights dull the sparkle of the constellations.
I spent many nights with Rex, looking at the heavens as he taught me all he knew about the stars, the planets, and space.
It always comforts me when I come out here, believing Rex could be looking up, sharing the constellations with me miles apart, but Joey’s closeness distracts me, sending a tingle along my skin.
I love being so close to him, and the way he looks at me.
I feel loved beneath his smiling stare. Sometimes—especially right now—I think about kissing him.
It’s too risky, but in moments like this, where his lips lure me in with a lulling force, I have to stop myself.
We gift each other tired smiles before separating, and I wonder if he thinks about kissing me as we reluctantly return to the bar.
My eyes widen as we step through the open bi-fold doors when I realise how lucky I was not to cup Joey’s face and run my palms down the back of his neck—to let them slip under his baseball tee as I pull myself to my tiptoes—because Donnie is leaning over the counter.
“Fuck,” Joey whispers, and then hollers from behind me. “Big Donnie! What’s up, man?”
He mumbles as he turns towards us, “Krick wants to see you.”
“What—now?”
“No—Lee. He wants to see Lee.”
“What—now?” me and Joey say together.
“Yes, now. How are you not getting this?” he says, unaware of how vague he’s being.
Shit. I take a big gulp. Why the hell does Krick want to see me at one in the morning? I glare at Joey. “Well, if you’re okay clearing up, then … I guess I’ll be off. I’ll grab my things, Donnie.”
As worried as I feel, Joey doesn’t look much better. Like a lost puppy, he follows me behind the counter, placing his tray on the side. He fidgets in place, running his fingers through his hair, while Donnie waits with his back to the counter.
“I’ll be okay,” I mouth to Joey. But I don’t know that.
What if Krick has seen the surveillance footage of Joey coming in that night, playing Elvis to me as we held hands?
After I swore at Donnie, he might have reviewed the footage of me running to Joey after Sasha left.
It’s hardly evidence of a romantic relationship, but for Krick, someone touching his property might be enough to piss him off.
I chuck on my jacket and hat, but Donnie squints at me. “Why d’you wear that hat? You look like a boy.”
“Yes, that’s the point, Donnie.” I roll my eyes. “It draws less attention to me.”
He shakes his head disapprovingly, and I wonder if he hates all women, or just me. I think I would hate the opposite sex too if I were as visually and personally offensive as him.