Upload, p.5
Upload, page 5
part #1 of Daughter of Rebellion Series
A jolt of pain runs up her arm. When Jett bends to alleviate the strain, whoever has her loses his grip. One arm free, she writhes to keep her attacker from grabbing her again. This is what she has trained for, and it’s time to put those years to use. With her right foot, she kicks backward. Her heel makes contact, and she jerks her arm forward, freeing both hands.
She turns toward her attacker. It is a young man about her age, dressed in the same training gear she wears, except his clothes do not match: his shirt is a deep green, and his pants are brown. He has a camouflage bandana tied on his bicep, and he looks at her wild-eyed. Jett only has a moment to take in his light-red hair and freckles before he lunges at her again.
Her first instinct is to tackle him, but instead, she kicks out. It’s a rookie mistake. The young man blocks her foot with his right forearm, sending a shock down her spine and making her stumble.
Vulnerable on the ground, she waits for another blow—but it doesn’t come. She looks up at her attacker, who is watching her recover. Beyond him, she sees Slade fighting another boy about their age. Slade’s attacker also wears a camouflage bandana, but his clothes are light brown.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” says the red-haired young man. Jett stays doubled over until the man speaks over her shoulder. “We mean no harm.”
She wrinkles her face in confusion and thrusts her arm out to punch him, but he grabs her fist and twists it behind her again, intensifying the pain in her shoulder. She throws back her elbow, ramming something hard. She feels the impact of bone on bone as her arm releases.
Resist! This is it! This is what she is to resist: the attackers.
“You won’t take us,” she says, turning to see him holding his mouth as blood rolls down his chin.
A loud pop echoes through the clearing, and Jett knows the black packager has disappeared. The young man puts his hands down and studies her. He grins through bloody teeth.
Her first instinct is to run, but to where? Immediately, she abandons the thought. She can’t leave Slade here to fight alone. Turning her head, she looks for him and sees him locked in a brawl on the ground. He is not faring well.
It was a mistake to divert her attention. Her attacker uses her distraction as an opportunity to lunge again.
Jett and the red-haired man fall to the ground with him on top. The stiff autumn grass is unforgiving and does nothing to soften the blow. Another miscalculation. She must focus. She has no time for sloppy errors. She tries to breathe, but his weight is too much. Jett punches him in the kidney, and there’s a loud groan as he rolls off her. That’ll show him.
For a split second, it’s quiet. She sees a perfect sky and gasps for air. She flips over, pulls her weight onto her elbows, and crawls away from immediate danger. All the while, she sucks air into her belabored lungs. After a few feet, she stands.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” he starts, but Jett is already coming at him.
He throws out his hands in self-defense. As she swings with her left fist, she misses and follows with her right. She is no longer planning her moves. Her muscles remember her training, and she fights like a warrior.
Borrowing his maneuver, Jett grabs her attacker’s wrist and twists his arms behind him. When he’s secure, she looks for Slade, but instead sees a young woman with narrow eyes and a dark ponytail running at her. A tangle of long limbs, the girl also wears a camouflage bandana tied around her bicep.
Jett knows she is not prepared to ward off another attacker; there is nothing she can do. The lanky girl tackles them both to the ground.
Jett hears the familiar crack of a breaking bone. The sound is common in training. It’s not her, so it must be one of her attackers. The female jerks Jett to her feet.
The red-haired boy holds his arm, his face distorted with pain.
“You broke my arm!” he cries.
Jett turns to see if he’s talking to her, but before she can tell, the young woman wraps her arm around Jett’s neck and squeezes. Jett can barely stand. The woman starts walking and Jett moves with her, trying to avoid a snapped neck.
Jett doesn’t fight it. She needs a minute to calculate her next move. As the girl pushes forward, Jett gets her first real look at the clearing. In varying states of decay, the trees reflect the afternoon sun in red, yellow, and brown. They stretch in every direction.
“Steady,” says the girl as she drags Jett in the direction of the pickup. And Jett complies—at least for now.
Jett’s eyes adjust to the sun and give her a look into the back of the truck. Inside are Covey, Valen, and Wynn, who squirm against restraints. Jett knows if they put her back there too, her struggle will be over. She’ll be a captive, undone in a matter of minutes.
Jett bucks against her captor, hoping to get a glance behind them, but it does no good. The young woman squeezes harder.
“Nowhere to go, sunshine.” The girl pushes Jett ahead. Somebody opens the hatch on the truck bed.
Jett thinks about running for the woods when she sees Amika gesticulating wildly next to the tree line. She is arguing with one of the attackers. What is she doing?
Amika looks around wildly until she finds Jett being dragged toward the truck. Jett doesn’t have to see her face to know Amika is weighing her odds. She’s trying to figure out what to do. Her decision is obvious as Amika shakes her head and dashes toward the safety of the woods and disappears into the trees.
Jett hates to see Amika go but knows the girl made the right decision. There’s no way Amika could take on both of Jett’s attackers at the same time, even if one of them is sporting a broken arm. On the off chance she could, she’d have to fight the burly man at the truck, too.
With no one to help her, Jett asks questions, hoping to slow their progression to the truck. “Who are you with?” she barely gets the words out. “Do you represent the North Colony?”
The young man whips around, holding his broken arm. “We represent no one but ourselves. We are the Rebels.”
Instead of slowing things down, her questions have the opposite effect. The woman pushes her forward with more force, applying pressure to Jett’s throat. It’s now or never.
Without warning, Jett plants her feet into the ground and pushes back with all her might. It is enough to knock both of them down. The woman loses her grip, and Jett takes a big gasp of air, flips over on her knees, and grabs the woman’s head, slamming it into the hard grass once, hard.
Jett jumps up and steps back. She puts up her fists to defend herself from the boy with the broken arm, but he raises his good hand in defeat.
The burly man turns around, and Jett runs. Her first instinct is to follow Amika, but she can’t leave Slade, and she can’t leave the others. Jett runs to help Slade. But when his attacker sees her, he backs off, unable to take a second opponent.
“We don’t have to save you,” the male steps backward.
It is Slade who answers. “That’s good, because we aren’t looking to be saved.”
The young man purses his lips like he wants to say something else, but a large, red packager opens in the middle of the clearing with a pop.
A dark-skinned woman honks the truck horn and yells something that beckons everyone toward her. Slade’s attacker takes a few strides before turning.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come with us,” he says and takes off toward the truck.
Jett takes off when the vehicle barrels in their direction. She needs to reach it before it’s gone. If she doesn’t, she risks losing Valen, Covey, and Wynn to the enemy.
Jett makes good ground despite the pain in her shoulder. When the truck reaches the running man, a brown arm reaches out and pulls him into the front seat without stopping.
The truck swings wide, and Jett is sure the driver plans to run over her, but it skirts by just in time, slowing a little as it does. Jett uses the opportunity to jump on the bumper. She is there long enough to see Wynn’s wide eyes before she loses her grip and is slung off.
As she hits the ground, the horn sounds again.
“Resist!” the dark-skinned woman yells, before the truck tears through the clearing and into an opening in the woods.
Slade catches up and pulls Jett off the grass. Jett can see that he is livid.
“Why would you do that? Jump on that truck? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Wynn, Covey, and Valen are in the back.”
Realization rolls over Slade’s face. “And Amika?”
“She ran off into the woods. Who knows where she is now?”
With the truck gone, Slade and Jett get a better look around. The red packager is behind them. Red is the colonial color of Balva, used only for the most important officials. They stare at it, waiting for something, but nothing comes.
“They took our wristbands,” Slade says, looking at Jett’s arms.
“They took half of our battalion, Slade,” Jett reminds him. When Slade doesn’t respond, she asks, “What do we do now?”
Slade doesn’t answer right away. Both hands cover his mouth as he presses his lips together and stares at the new packager.
“We could wait for whoever comes through,” Jett suggests.
Slade shakes his head. “No. It’s an official packager. That means a big shot. You know they’ll blame us for what’s happened here. Plus, the guards won’t go to any trouble to find Amika or the others. We need to be free to do that.”
“So, you want us to save them on our own?” Jett scowls. She can’t believe her ears! “That seems a little impractical.”
“You have a better idea?”
She doesn’t, but it seems like an impossible task. “Why don’t you think they’ll help us? We’re Balvan warriors.”
“I don’t know what your panel told you, but mine was very clear that you, Amika, and I would share the same fate. Amika took off, which means a shared fate would be exile. That’s the first reason. The second reason is that we can’t trust the Balvans,” Slade says.
Jett squinches her face in disbelief. The idea that Balvans are untrustworthy is unfathomable. “Why don’t you trust them? They’ve gotten us this far.”
“Yes, and look at us! We’re desperate to be killed on a battlefield after years of brainwashing. We hope to retire after years of battle, but where’s the evidence of this? I’ve never seen an old warrior. Have you?”
“Brainwashing?” Jett shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s the life of the servile. Everyone knows that. We’re warriors now, and we don’t see the retired because they are free from the system. They’ve done their part.”
“That’s what they want us to believe, but there’s a lot they’re not telling us. Besides…”
Jett waits, but he doesn’t continue. She throws her arms out as she speaks. “Besides what?”
“Never mind.” He turns away, but he must have a change of heart, because he turns back to her. “Look, I helped you get to this point; I clearly don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ll just have to trust me.”
Jett doesn’t know how to trust, but she knows Slade is right. The Balvans will come and find out the Rebels took the warriors. They won’t care that she and Slade are safe. Balva doesn’t champion the individual, only the defense of the colony. They reinforced this lesson repeatedly over the years; it’s the group that matters. No one stopped to pick her up if she fell. No one wiped her tears when she felt lonely or down.
The packager crackles, making them both jump, not sure what the noise means.
Slade turns to her, his face calm, but his eyes plead. “We’ve got to get out of here before things get any worse.”
“Okay,” Jett sighs. “Let’s go after the rest of the warriors, and we can come back as a full battalion.”
He shakes his head. “We can’t rescue them yet; we’ll need weapons first. There are too many to fight as it is. If we go like we are now, we’ll be handing ourselves over to the enemy.”
“Yeah…” Jett leans over and puts her hands on her knees. “So back to the original question: what do we do now?”
“We run,” Slade answers. “It’s all we can do. We can’t stay here. The Balvans will take us in. And if they don’t, the Rebels might return. We have to make our way to a Balvan settlement and grab some weapons.”
Jett is hesitant, but Slade is still and quiet.
“I don’t know about this.” She gives him a moment before asking, “How do we know where to go?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t understand why Trainer Feisor sent us here. I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. The attackers must have done something to move our destination, but I don’t know what. That has to be what happened. Otherwise, I can’t make sense of it.” He shakes his head. “The clearing is too open, too easy for an ambush.”
“That doesn’t tell us where to go from here, though.” Jett looks around and realizes how vulnerable they are in the clearing.
Slade nods. “For now, we have one clue. We can assume that the people who attacked us are not in good standing with the Balvans. They would want to head away from Balva, so let’s go the opposite way.”
Slade jogs toward the far side of the clearing in the opposite direction from their attackers. He turns back and notices Jett isn’t following. He stops.
“C’mon!” he waves.
Jett watches him. He may be a little paranoid, but what he says makes sense—the battalion needs to stick together, look out for each other; that’s what they promised, right? She thinks how lucky she is to have someone as smart as Slade on her side as she jogs after him
Chapter 7
Slade sprints toward the wooded area opposite to where the Rebels escaped, and Jett stays behind him. If she runs, Jett can pass him easily, but right now she is happy to follow. First, Slade has a better idea of where they’re going, and second, the pain in her shoulder increases with speed.
She wishes they were already in the shelter of the woods. The open clearing makes her feel exposed. It’d be easy to cut across to the woods, but the weeds and undergrowth would slow them.
It doesn’t make sense for the Rebels to return. A Balvan ship could come through the red packager at any moment.
An unsettling thought occurs to Jett, and she stops in her tracks.
What if they’ve lost their shot? Maybe the officials will disqualify them for being ambushed and separated. Would they do that? After all, in the grand scheme of things, are a few warriors that important? Panic rises in her throat.
Jett shakes her head. She could be wrong, but even if she isn’t, there’s nothing she can do about it right now. She needs to focus on the task at hand. They need weapons to save the others.
“C’mon, Jett!” Slade is a little ahead, but the woods are still a good distance away. “I thought you were supposed to be the fastest. You should be in the lead by now.”
Jett stabilizes her arm against her belly and breaks into a full run, catching him easily. For a few minutes, she jogs beside him, but he’s going too slowly. She’ll breathe more easily once they reach the trees. So Jett locks her arm into her chest, lengthens her stride, and runs ahead, knowing he cannot keep up.
“You don’t have to show off!” he calls.
Her feet barely touch the ground as she glides across the clearing. Soon, she is at the trees. She steps into the brush and takes a long breath. She feels safer already.
When Jett looks back, Slade has stopped for some reason. He’s about thirty meters away, but he is bent, holding his ankle.
“You okay?” she calls. “Need help?”
“What will you do, carry me? No, I’m okay. Stay put. I stepped into a small hole and popped my ankle, but I don’t think it’s sprained.” He looks up. “Where d’you go? I can’t see you from here.”
“I’m right here. Straight ahead.”
Jett looks around. It’s no surprise he can’t see her. The woods are dense with a mixture of trees, all of different types and colors. Autumn leaves and tall grass cover the ground. Not even her dark-green athletic wear or her pale skin can stand out from the clearing.
Watching him as he pulls himself to his full height, she thinks (for the second time today) that he is a handsome boy. Lean and strong. Smart, too. But why does she feel no attraction to him? The other girls blush when Slade is near—at least, Wynn does.
Jett shakes her head. It doesn’t matter now that they are warriors. Their mission is too big for anyone to care whether she flusters in the presence of a good-looking boy. Besides, her lack of interest makes her a stronger warrior; there is nothing to distract her.
She inhales the earthy scent of the woods and turns her head as a crisp breeze kisses her cheeks. With the woods dense and the undergrowth high, she has to part the brush to take a step. She pushes it aside with one hand, listening to the brittle grass crack and the dry leaves rustle over the sounds of swarming insects. When she takes a step forward, the brush snaps and bends back into place, doubling back and swatting her on the arms and legs. If the underbrush stays this thick, it’ll be nearly impossible for them to maneuver.
Standing on tiptoes, she looks over the tall grass and through the thick woods, trying to find a clearer path. She sees that the ground doesn’t get enough sunlight for the dense brush, and they’ll pass much easier away from the clearing’s edge.
She takes another step before looking back at Slade, but he’s gone. She cranes her neck and realizes that his figure is hidden by the trunk of an evergreen tree. She moves back a step and sees him in the clearing. He limps, favoring his left foot.
His ankle needs wrapping, but with what? She only has the clothes on her back. And his. One way or the other, one of them will have to sacrifice a strip of cloth.
Jett hears a loud rumble, like an engine. The next moment, a Balvan ground transport pod shoots out of the red packager, heading toward the other side of the clearing. Jett’s heart races as she yells to Slade.
“They’re here! I’m coming to get you.”
“No!” he says. “Don’t.”
