Rebel Return: Rebel Bound, #3

By Shauna E. Black

When their only transportation to the science base at Langley gets stolen, Caelin and her friends are left stranded in the decaying city of Richmond. Caelin's dreams of finding her mother and reuniting her family are scattered like the pieces of her sister's mosaics.

 

Although she regrets abandoning Mardy in D.C., Caelin is determined to reach Langley. But now they must travel on foot, facing the dangers of a countryside teeming with radiation and the relentless pursuit of Lucio and the Impartialists.

 

Their relief in reaching the safety of Langley's protective barrier is short lived when Lucio cracks Langley's defenses, bent on destroying the device that will restore Earth's ozone layer. Mardy is the only one who could stop Lucio. But will she? Caelin has to trust her sister to make the right choice this time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shauna E. Black
• Release date: Jul 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781940855240

Book preview

Rebel Return by Shauna E. Black

Rebel Return

Text copyright © 2021 Shauna E. Black

Cover design © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

Cover images licensed by Shutterstock

Published by Vivienza

ISBN 978-1-940855-24-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of Shauna E. Black.

Rebel Return / Shauna E. Black

Summary: When Caelin’s dreams of reuniting her family are scattered like the pieces of her sister’s mosaics, she must traverse a countryside teeming with radiation to stop Lucio and his Impartialists from destroying the only device that could restore the planet.

This is a work of fiction. Settings and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance characters may have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

To Kyle Palmer

For believing in my stories and their ability to inspire kids.

CHAPTER 1

The old steam tunnels beneath Capitol Square in Richmond are nothing like D.C. Undercity. These tunnels are narrow and dim, lights along the sides flickering with the ebb and flow of the electric generator. Pipes of various sizes run the length of both walls, like snakes stretched impossibly long, and there’s the constant sound of dripping water, coming from both everywhere and nowhere at once.

These tunnels make me feel claustrophobic, and I long for the open landscape of topside. But invisible gamma rays permeate the air, even at night, and staying out longer than a few hours is a bad idea, even with the protection of a radiation suit.

I know because I used to be a scav, spending my nights searching through the fragments left behind after an explosion ten years ago and halfway around the world ruined the ozone layer for the entire planet and drove the survivors to live underground. Spending so much time scavenging topside landed me with radiation sickness that nearly killed me.

That’s how I know what Jate’s going through now.

The putrid stench of vomit fills the basement of the medical facility as I burst through the door from the tunnel, bucket swinging in my hands. I’m too late. He’s already sicked up all over the blankets.

What took so long? Gemma, an older woman with a cloud of white hair and dark skin, scowls as I rush to Jate’s bed.

Running water is a little hard to find down here, I snap back at her. It took forever to get the bucket rinsed out.

Dropping the useless thing, I grab Jate’s shoulders as the wrenching heaves subside, offering him what little comfort I can.

Just be glad they have water at all, Gemma says. We’re lucky to be here, where they still have a small supply of potassium iodide.

It’s not helping, I complain. Jate’s not getting better.

Gemma clucks her tongue. Patience, Caelin. It took you a couple of weeks to fully recover. You can’t expect Jate to leap buildings in just a few days.

I’m all right. Jate takes a cloth from Gemma and wipes at his mouth, falling back down onto the bed.

We’re in an infirmary ward that’s been set up in the lowest floor of what was once the VCU Medical Center. Hospital beds brought from above and sanitized are lined up in two neat rows. The physicians here were glad enough to get Gemma’s help, but she’s made it clear she’s moving on to Langley with the rest of us as soon as Jate’s ready to travel again.

His skin is gray and pale against the dark smudge of his bangs and the bruises mottling it. Although the swelling has gone down around his right eye, Jate’s face is still misshapen. I came very close to losing him when he foolishly tried to rescue me from the clutches of Lucio, the leader of the Impartialists who’ve now taken over D.C. Undercity.

I should be furious at Lucio, but I can’t help remembering that if I’d just stayed with Jate in the undercity, if I’d left well-enough alone and not chased down Mardy, none of this would have happened.

Does he need more iodide? I ask.

No, Caelin. One a day, that’s my recommendation.

But he just threw it up with his dinner.

Gemma shakes her head. It digests quickly. I’ve treated radiation sickness a few times before, you know.

Stop fussing over me, Caelin, Jate says. I’ll be fine.

I’m sure you will be. I can only manage a fleeting smile as Gemma bundles the blanket into a soggy wad and thrusts it at me.

Put that in the washing basket, Caelin, then fetch a clean blanket.

Balancing the soiled mess gingerly, so as not to touch the vomit, I carry it to a large basket at one side of the room and dump it inside. A pile of patched and faded blankets is stacked on a shelf nearby. I grab one and jog back to Jate’s bed.

Most of the other patients are too caught up in their own struggles to pay much attention to us. A few have visitors huddled around the bed, chafing the patient’s hands, smoothing back hair. Most of those lying in these beds will not survive another week. People weren’t meant to live like rats underground in a cage, and death is an ever-present shadow no one can forget.

Bustling around Jate’s bed, I get the new blanket tucked in around him. He’s shivering again.

Do you need a drink of water? I ask.

He catches my hand and pulls it to his chest until I finally meet his eyes. The red is beginning to fade from the whites, dulling the intensity of his blue irises inside the ring of long, black lashes. Stop worrying your pretty little head, Caelin. I’m really fine. He strokes my palm with his thumb.

This time, my smile is more lasting, even if it’s spoiled by the tears springing into my eyes. Of course. He’ll be fine. Sure, he will. He won’t leave me like Father, and Mother, and now Mardy. Jate will never leave me alone. I clutch his hand as if I’m the patient in the bed who needs comfort, instead of Jate.

Jate shifts his attention to Gemma as she returns from a rickety side table. How soon can we get out of here, Doc?

Pursing her lips at the nickname – she’s never liked it, because she claims she isn’t a certified medical doctor. Whatever. – Gemma shakes a glass thermometer vigorously. The pilot is still negotiating fuel for the chopper, and you’re in no fit shape to travel yet, so I can’t really answer that question. Open.

He complies, and she jabs the thermometer under his tongue.

I wish we could have made it all the way to the scientific center at Langley in one trip, but a headwind slowed our progress, and the pilot insisted we needed to refuel in Richmond. The underground complex here is small, the hallways crowded. Even so, it’s a small percentage of those who used to live here. Not many people in this city survived the explosion and the repercussions that followed.

Removing the thermometer, Gemma peers at it. The fever’s down. They don’t have a dosimeter here to measure your radiation levels, but I think you’re improving. What you really need is rest. She glares down her nose at me. And that means, no more Caelin snuggle-bunny for awhile.

Aw, you’re no fun, Doc. Jate plants a feeble kiss on my hand. I think he uses the nickname just to rile her.

Gemma harrumphs. Besides, it’s your turn to guard the chopper tonight, Caelin.

I pull my hand reluctantly from Jate’s grip. Oh, yeah. I guess I’d better get up there.

Bring me an omelet when you get back.

I scoff. Like they have chickens here. Besides, you can’t even keep the gruel down.

Hey, I’m getting better. If Doc says it, I believe it. He winks, which proves to be a serious mistake as his face immediately contorts into pain.

Leaving Jate is like walking through syrup. The only time I can control the anxiety threatening to choke me is when I’m with him. These little tunnels feel like they’re going to collapse on top of me and all the people bedding down along the walls for the night. The crowding is worse than Lincoln Shelter, the underground vault where Mardy and I lived for several months before falling in with the Impartialists.

I pass a woman propping a ragged picture book on her knees while she reads a bedtime story aloud to a young girl resting her head on the woman’s shoulder. The sight reminds me of my sister, and I scurry past them, fighting not to panic.

Where is Mardy now? Has Lucio allowed her and Keldon to enter the undercity yet? Have they seen the massacre the Impartialists made when they invaded? Mardy has gotten in way over her head, this time, and I’m not sure how I’ll get her out, especially when I can’t trust her. After lying to me and betraying me to Lucio, Mardy has thrown her lot in with the Impartialists. But I saw the terror she tries to hide. I have to believe it’s not what she really wants. Somehow, there must be a way to save her.

Halfway to the topside exit, I spot Nya approaching. She’s all long limbs and refined features, but her delicate brows are knit together, her lips pursed into an angry pout, and her small chin quivers with rage.

I can’t believe a man like that was chosen to lead these people, she hisses, falling into step with me. When I told him I spoke with the full authority of the Coalition president, he actually laughed in my face.

The president’s dead, I remind her solemnly.

It doesn’t matter. If her eyes were lasers, she’d light up a row of firecrackers. Sydney gave me administrative authority. This Mayor What’s-his-name should respect that. But he said the Coalition has no sway here. Can you imagine?

Well, they are rather isolated, I say.

She frowns at me. Stop taking his side.

I’m just playing devil’s advocate.

Well, quit it. That’s not what I want to hear.

Does this mean he won’t give us the fuel?

He’s tired of Langley taking things from them without a return. He demands payment of some kind. She holds up her hands in exasperation. What are we supposed to give him?

We’ll figure out something, I reassure her. We’ve come to the intersection leading to the exit. I have to go. It’s my turn to guard the chopper.

Fat lot of good that will do, Nya grumbles. It can’t fly without fuel, can it?

I shrug and turn away to enter the basement of the capitol building. It’s even more crowded here, and I pick my way through groups of people to an alcove near a staircase. The black radiation suits we brought from Dupont hang on pegs, now cleaned and ready for re-use. I shove my feet into one and grab for one of the sonic rifles Hudson managed to secure when he escaped the undercity.

The sun is burning in an orange ball, just rising over the eastern horizon as I step out of the building onto the dead grass. I flinch, even as my visor darkens automatically. Old habits die hard, and I hate being topside in AM. The suit will give me some protection, but it will only last a few hours. Then Nya will have to replace me.

The chopper is parked on the brown hill before the capitol building like a giant black beetle with floppy antennae sprouting on its back. The dead spindles of trees and stubby bushes provide a backdrop around the base of the hill.

As I approach, Hudson sits up from where he’s lounged in the open side of the chopper and hops down, carrying the twin of my sonic rifle.

Any trouble? I ask.

He gives me a tired smile. I don’t know why Mayor Brannigan is so worried. No scav would dare attack in daylight. Besides, what are they supposed to do with a chopper that can’t fly?

You’ve never seen a car stripped for parts, have you? I ask.

He looks as if he might have just swallowed his tongue.

I chuckle. Go get something to eat, and if you see Nya, avoid her like the plague. She’s in a mood.

Hudson nods and is just moving off when I hear the sharp snap of a twig in the barren trees beyond the chopper.

I hold up a hand. Hudson, wait. I’m on the alert, scanning the area with my sonic at the ready. There’s something—

With a sudden, primal yell, a gang bursts from the cover of the bare trees and attacks.

CHAPTER 2

"Don’t just stand there like a ninny, I yell at Hudson, giving him a shove in the direction of the entrance to the undercity, go for help!"

He takes off at a run down the hill, bits of dead, yellow grass flying up in his wake. At the same time, I duck behind the bulk of the helicopter as a sonic blast rocks the chopper. Where did scavs get sonic weapons? And why are there so many of them, especially in the AM? It reminds me too much of Lucio’s gang in D.C. But there’s no time to dwell on those unsettling thoughts.

I swing around my own sonic rifle and return fire, the weapon kicking back in my hands, sending vibrations all the way to my shoulders. There’s no way I’m letting them dismantle this helicopter for parts. This is my ticket to Langley, my one chance to find my mom, and I won’t let a bunch of cutthroat scavs take it from me.

A group of the marauders breaks off from the main pack, charging down the hill toward the entrance to the undercity. They mostly manage to avoid the blasts from the guards stationed at the entrance, keeping to the concrete walls for cover. Bits of rock and dust explode into the air as sonic fire hits the concrete, but the scavs are undeterred. If anything, the debris gives them more cover as it adds to the chaos of their attack.

I’m hard-pressed to keep the scavs away from the helicopter. They’re coming from two sides now, and I’m forced to duck down and shoot under the body of the chopper to keep them back, then quickly swing around to the front to stop the advance of the first group. I can’t hold them off by myself much longer. Where is Hudson?

Suddenly, someone grabs me around the waist. I yelp and nearly blast him at close range before I realize it’s one of the Richmond City guards.

You scared me half to death! I scold him.

I’m sorry, miss, he says over the tinny speaker of the radiation suit. He’s firing at the scavs but pulling me away from the chopper at the same time.

What are you doing? I begin to struggle against his grip.

We have to get to the safety of the undercity. I can just make out the stern expression of his face behind the shaded visor of his radiation suit.

I wriggle harder. We can’t leave the helicopter to the scavs.

Mayor Brannigan’s orders, miss. His tone is clipped, brooking no argument, his arm like a vice as it drags me inexorably to the city entrance.

No! They’ll strip it! I try to fire off a shot at the scavs who’ve given up on the undercity entrance now and are swarming the helicopter. My aim goes wide as the guard drags me down the hill. You can’t do this!

The scavs are cheering, a sound only slightly dulled by my helmet. I dig my feet into the ground, trying to stop the guard or at least slow him down, but I only succeed in making long gouges in the dead grass. He doesn’t even pretend to fight the scavs anymore. He’s done his duty, thrown them their bone to distract them while he locks down the undercity against them.

If only Jate were here. Jate would understand why we need the helicopter. He would fight with me and stop the scavs from destroying our only transportation to Langley. But Jate can’t even stand up on his own two feet right now, and Hudson hasn’t returned with my other friends. Where is he?

I buck and kick inside the strong arms of the guard and growl in frustration.

He drags me onto the concrete entrance pad, around the debris the sonic blasts created. Fall back, he calls to the other guards at the entrance. We have to protect what we can.

Angry tears are hot on my cheeks, and I wish my helmet was off so I could bite his arm. He drags me toward the doorway. Then a sound makes him pause, and we all turn to look back. My heart seems to turn to sludge in my chest.

The helicopter’s engine stutters to life, the blades whirling faster and faster. How? I thought the chopper was out of fuel. Isn’t that why we landed in Richmond? Isn’t that why Faulks, the pilot Langley sent, insisted we had to stop here in the first place? We’ve been here for days trying to wheedle fuel from a stubborn mayor who refuses to sell when all this time the chopper had fuel in its tank?

The blades become a blur, kicking up wind that flattens the yellow grass. Most of the scavs are disappearing back into the dead trees and derelict buildings surrounding Capitol Hill.

The guard is no longer holding me, as though he’s forgotten his orders to lock down the entrance. We both stare as the helicopter lifts slowly from the ground like a lumbering beast struggling to detach itself from the ropes of gravity. It moves clumsily, as if the pilot is unsure of the controls, but finally pulls away, lifting into the sky to hover for a moment before slowly turning and flying east.

My stomach shrinks with it. There goes my route to my mom, drifting off into the sky, with the noise and the roar of a lion. Why did Faulks lie to us? We should never have stopped here. We could have been in Langley by now. We’ve wasted so much time. And now we might never get there.

The black splotch of the helicopter dwindles in the sky against the bright gray of the AM ash cloud. What are going to do now? How will we ever get to Langley without the helicopter?

The guard grabs my arm and gives it a tug. We should get inside, miss.

Let go of me! I yank away from him. If it weren’t for your interference, the helicopter would still be here. I hate that my voice cracks with a half sob instead of sounding as angry as I feel.

I was just following orders, miss, he says, reaching for my arm again.

I step away, to the edge of the concrete pad marking the entrance to the undercity. Just leave me alone.

We have to seal off the entrance until PM, he says.

I grit my teeth. I can’t stay up here all AM. Gemma will pitch a fit. I stare at the dwindling dot of the helicopter and take a deep breath, blinking back the tears and gulping down the emotions. I’m about to turn meekly to follow the guard to the entrance when I realize that the helicopter is no longer getting