with them for combat.”
“Outsiders, I’d say,” Firestone pants, his voice thick. “Only folk I know who can shoot an arrow like that.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Met a few of ’em when I was living in the woods,” he says. “Caught me some game a few times when I was damn near starvation.”
After another twenty minutes of jogging, we slow to a walk. Firestone asks Jahnu to lead through the dark undergrowth. We set our biolights as the twilight fades to black and the dull green shadows guide us through the woods.
“Did you know anyone at Waterloo?” I ask finally.
“No,” Kenzie responds. “I know a few people stationed at Teutoburg and Alamo, but that’s it.”
“You don’t know anyone else?” I ask, surprised.
“Of course not,” she responds curtly. “The fewer people we all know, the fewer we can betray if any of us gets caught.”
The fewer we can betray. Of course they would operate in secrecy, protecting their members from each other, protecting the group from the individual.
I focus on running despite my worn and tired limbs. It’s better than remembering how I tried to get Remy and Soren to betray their friends and families, everything they fought for, in the cell where I kept them as prisoners. It’s better than remembering Lila and her dragon-shaped scar, her son taken from her. It’s better than remembering my mother, calling on Chan-Yu to kill Remy, a teenager, a former friend, her son’s first love.
With strength born from the injustice of everything the Sector has done, I pick up my running pace, following Firestone. I drown my exhaustion in anger. One foot in front of the other, I run through the sweat and smoke and blood.
4 - REMY
Winter 33, Sector Annum 106, 08H05
Gregorian Calendar: January 22
“Remy?” Something prods my shoulder. A finger, likely, to accompany the voice. I open one eye. There’s a hazy mug of steaming, orange-colored liquid floating in front of Bear’s nervous, worried face. For all my sullen fatigue, the smoky, woody aroma is tempting, and I know he’s trying to be helpful. I sit up, throwing the meager blankets off of me.
“What is it?”
“Rooibus,” he says.
“Roy-what?”
“It’s a kind of thé ,” he responds, using the Old French word for tea . “Hodges made some. Well, actually, he said it’s not really tea, which is why there’s no caffeine in it. But it’s supposed to be ‘energizing,’ or something, was what he said.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” Bear smiles, and it lifts my spirits. He’s so anxious to please. After everything that’s happened between us, it still surprises me that we’ve become close.
After all, I put a knife in his best friend’s neck.
It’s something to admire, that he was able to forgive me so quickly. Of course, he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to stay alive. He could have taken his chances alone in the Wilds, but he wanted to come with us. To the Resistance. But what astonishes me is that he doesn’t just tolerate me. No, Bear seems to admire both Soren and I, for reasons neither of us can discern. We’ve talked about it, the way Bear follows us, eager, so earnest, so kind. How did he get that way? After everything he’s been through? After everything we put him through? Neither of us have come up with a good answer.
“Everyone else is getting breakfast,” Bear says. “They put Soren on mess duty this morning. You should have seen him trying to flip flapjacks.”
I choke on my tea, laughing.
“Did he get any of them?”
“Not a one. Luckily they didn’t land on the floor. Finally Zoe had to take over.”
“Who’s Zoe?”
“The girl who works the comm center here.”
I nod, slurping at the weird orange drink, letting it cool as I sip.
“Bear,” I ask, hesitantly. “Has anyone said anything more about…?” About my father, I want to ask. About Waterloo. About Vale and Firestone and Kenzie and Jahnu.
He shakes his
“Outsiders, I’d say,” Firestone pants, his voice thick. “Only folk I know who can shoot an arrow like that.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Met a few of ’em when I was living in the woods,” he says. “Caught me some game a few times when I was damn near starvation.”
After another twenty minutes of jogging, we slow to a walk. Firestone asks Jahnu to lead through the dark undergrowth. We set our biolights as the twilight fades to black and the dull green shadows guide us through the woods.
“Did you know anyone at Waterloo?” I ask finally.
“No,” Kenzie responds. “I know a few people stationed at Teutoburg and Alamo, but that’s it.”
“You don’t know anyone else?” I ask, surprised.
“Of course not,” she responds curtly. “The fewer people we all know, the fewer we can betray if any of us gets caught.”
The fewer we can betray. Of course they would operate in secrecy, protecting their members from each other, protecting the group from the individual.
I focus on running despite my worn and tired limbs. It’s better than remembering how I tried to get Remy and Soren to betray their friends and families, everything they fought for, in the cell where I kept them as prisoners. It’s better than remembering Lila and her dragon-shaped scar, her son taken from her. It’s better than remembering my mother, calling on Chan-Yu to kill Remy, a teenager, a former friend, her son’s first love.
With strength born from the injustice of everything the Sector has done, I pick up my running pace, following Firestone. I drown my exhaustion in anger. One foot in front of the other, I run through the sweat and smoke and blood.
4 - REMY
Winter 33, Sector Annum 106, 08H05
Gregorian Calendar: January 22
“Remy?” Something prods my shoulder. A finger, likely, to accompany the voice. I open one eye. There’s a hazy mug of steaming, orange-colored liquid floating in front of Bear’s nervous, worried face. For all my sullen fatigue, the smoky, woody aroma is tempting, and I know he’s trying to be helpful. I sit up, throwing the meager blankets off of me.
“What is it?”
“Rooibus,” he says.
“Roy-what?”
“It’s a kind of thé ,” he responds, using the Old French word for tea . “Hodges made some. Well, actually, he said it’s not really tea, which is why there’s no caffeine in it. But it’s supposed to be ‘energizing,’ or something, was what he said.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” Bear smiles, and it lifts my spirits. He’s so anxious to please. After everything that’s happened between us, it still surprises me that we’ve become close.
After all, I put a knife in his best friend’s neck.
It’s something to admire, that he was able to forgive me so quickly. Of course, he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to stay alive. He could have taken his chances alone in the Wilds, but he wanted to come with us. To the Resistance. But what astonishes me is that he doesn’t just tolerate me. No, Bear seems to admire both Soren and I, for reasons neither of us can discern. We’ve talked about it, the way Bear follows us, eager, so earnest, so kind. How did he get that way? After everything he’s been through? After everything we put him through? Neither of us have come up with a good answer.
“Everyone else is getting breakfast,” Bear says. “They put Soren on mess duty this morning. You should have seen him trying to flip flapjacks.”
I choke on my tea, laughing.
“Did he get any of them?”
“Not a one. Luckily they didn’t land on the floor. Finally Zoe had to take over.”
“Who’s Zoe?”
“The girl who works the comm center here.”
I nod, slurping at the weird orange drink, letting it cool as I sip.
“Bear,” I ask, hesitantly. “Has anyone said anything more about…?” About my father, I want to ask. About Waterloo. About Vale and Firestone and Kenzie and Jahnu.
He shakes his
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