“Our last leadership member has finally passed a crucial test,” Ms. Strepp announced without looking at me. “You’ve all been working hard. Tonight you’ll be rewarded.”
Warm, recognizable food? Check. Sweet, fruity, punchlike substance? Check. Dressing up in fun, sparkly party wear? No. But I did shower.
Recent rains had left the middle of our camp full of frozen, churned-up mud, but we threw down a layer of dried pine needles and danced there anyway. Someone rigged a portable sound system and it hung from a tree, blasting music we hadn’t heard in forever. A cold, full winter’s moon hung low in the sky, casting long, silvery shadows, disguising bruises and dirt, highlighting scars with fine white lines.
The whole camp was dancing in one writhing, disorganized clump, but Nate and I and Becca and Tim tried to stay together as much as possible. The music was too loud, its bass reverberating in my chest and making my ears ring. Someone had spiked the punch—more moonshine—and all of my aches and pains and injuries melted away into the night air. I felt exhilarated and intensely alive. And despite the differences that Ridiculous Rebecca and I had, have had, and will have—in this new, post-cell life of battle and secrecy, violence and fear, there was no one I loved or trusted more. I guess she wasn’t really “Ridiculous Rebecca” anymore—not after the Crazy House. “Reckless Rebecca” on the other hand…
Nate grabbed my arm and spun me around, pressing close so our bellies touched. He smelled like harsh camp soap and I saw he’d worn his least-destroyed camo pants. After Becca, Nate was the person I was closest to. He and Becca’s boyfriend, Tim, had both easily passed leadership training, making hard, life-or-death choices with no hesitation. I was thankful they were with the Resistance rather than the United. Nate looked down at me, his eyes shining despite a darkening bruise on his left cheek, and I smiled up at him and looped my arms around his neck.
“Attention!” Ms. Strepp had to raise her voice three times before someone shut off the music. She climbed on top of a wooden crate and looked at us, these hundreds of kids she’d mercilessly trained and beaten into some sort of a military force.
“Some of you have been here a year or more,” she began. “Some of you have been here only weeks.” A kid got a flashlight and aimed it up at her, giving her a weird, statuelike appearance. “Some of you have a grasp on the broader picture of what we’re facing, and some of you have simply learned to shoot.” Her eyes, always frosty, raked over us. “But enjoy yourselves tonight. Feel young, feel free, feel hopeful. It’s perhaps the last time you’ll feel any of those things.”
I frowned—this wasn’t the cheerful, “Go get ’em!” speech I was expecting.
“Tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that, will be uncertain,” she said. “Starting tomorrow, we will officially be at war with the United. We will be on the path to overthrow them, to seize their power, to topple their leaders. It will be the only path we know, and we’ll stay on it until we succeed—or die.”
My buzz was wearing off and my dance-fever warmth had ebbed, leaving me chilly.
“My troops, my comrades-in-arms, my soldiers—we will be free!” She punched her fist in the air and shouted it again. “We will be free!”
The rest of us took up the chant, punching the air and yelling, “We will be free! We will be free! We! Will! Be! Free!”
9
BECCA
NODDING AT US IN SATISFACTION, Ms. Strepp jumped down from her box. Within minutes we were dancing wildly again, throwing off our coats, putting our hands in the air, and letting every instinct of life move us to the rhythm of the pounding songs. While we’d been in training, every moment had been controlled, focused, dedicated. This was the one night to let loose.
Thank God Careful Cassie had finally passed the last leadership test. I mean, good lord, what was so hard about it? After the last three months of training, she should have been like, Kill Becca? Sure! No prob. The last three months had made our stint at the Crazy House look like a goddamn spa.
“Here.” Tim handed me a cup and I took a sip, then smiled.
“Spiked!” I said, draining it. We headed back to the dance area and leaned together, arms wrapped tightly around each other, and swayed slowly to some sappy song about how love was like a walk in the rain.
“You feel good,” he murmured against my hair. I rested my head on his shoulder, glad I’d taken the time earlier to get most of the tangles out of my hair. A lot of girls here had gone the crew cut route: easier to care for, keep clean, and gave enemies nothing to grab. So far Cassie and I had both resisted, but I was weakening.
“You know what?” I said into his muscled chest. “I hope when we’re out fighting, we’ll find one of those non-cell towns Strepp told us about. The ones with the big houses and fancy cars.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Take it over, raid their food. Medical supplies.”
“Do you believe all that stuff she told us?” I asked. “All those pictures and videos of people with so much… stuff. And everyone in the cells with barely enough to scrape by? It just seems crazy. Not real life.”
“I guess I believe it,” he said slowly. “I want to think we’re fighting for something.”
For seventeen years, Cassie and I had lived in a regular ag cell, going to school, helping on our parents’ farm. It had been boring as hell. Now, with the whole United ahead of us, our army rushing out to meet whatever, I was too excited to feel fear.
Tom
orrow, everything—my life—would really begin. This party, this celebration, felt like the last night on earth as we knew it. Slowly I edged us over to the food table, where I refilled our cups. He threw his back and I finished mine in three gulps. Grinning at each other, we rejoined and clung together, barely moving our feet.
“Tomorrow we’re getting our assignments,” he said. “Strepp has been dropping hints for weeks.”
I nodded. “Fingers crossed that the four of us end up on one team. She has to keep us together.” Cassie, Tim, and Nate had my back, without question. We would fight more effectively as a unit. A unit of trust.
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” he said, stroking my back. “All the shit we’ve gone through, the pain, the injuries—it’s all been leading up to tomorrow.”
“I know,” I said. “Strepp better make it worthwhile, that’s all I’m gonna say.” Reaching up, I wound my arms around his neck.