Rebel Bound Read online

  I nod weakly, and Gemma pats my good shoulder. “That’s a good girl.”

  When Gemma leaves the room, I study it closer. It’s as though one of the buildings I’ve scoured topside has come back to life, fleshing out with vibrant color and texture.

  It doesn't look like a hospital—at least, I don't think so. I've never been in one, except when Mardy was born. I was only six years old, and it was before the explosion. I have vague memories of white blankets and bland walls, a big open space with hardly any furniture. This room is nothing like that.

  It’s small, probably no more than ten paces across and fifteen wide with an electric light covered in a glass dome. There are no windows, just the brown pattern pasted to the walls. A door to my left is ajar. I glimpse the edge of a sink in what appears to be a small bathroom. The idea of a private bathroom only for the occupant of this room is amazing.

  Artwork hangs in frames, paintings of topside before the explosion. They’re beautiful, full of bright colors in greens and blues. It gives me a longing for a world I barely remember, and I turn my eyes away.

  Behind me, just at the edge of my vision, is a tall piece of metal from which a bag of fluid is hanging. The rubber hose that’s stuck in my arm comes from this bag of fluid. I wonder if that’s the medicine Gemma talked about.

  While the room isn’t crowded, there are several pieces of furniture besides the bed—a desk with a chair, a tall dresser with drawers that still have all the handles, and two square tables beside the bed. On one table to my left, I see the glint of colored glass. I squirm in the bed until I can get a better look. A weary smile spreads over my face as I recognize one of Mardy’s mosaics.

  “Caelin! I was so worried!” As though my thoughts of her have brought her to me, Mardy bursts through the door and rushes to my right side. “I was so afraid, and then this man came. I didn't know what to do. I let him take you. We had to get out of the sun. I got a burn—see?” She points to her face and the red circles around her eyes. “But Doc Gemma gave me some cream for it. The man had some sunglasses I could wear so the sun wouldn’t burn my eyes, at least. You'll never believe this place. It's the most amazing thing you've ever seen. And Lucio said to put you in his very own bedroom because they didn’t have any other beds available close to the infirmary. He’s so nice!”

  Mardy is cleaner than I've ever seen her, though the red on her cheeks makes her look like a raccoon. There are freckles on her nose. I’d forgotten she had freckles.

  “Lucio?” I wonder if this is the man who saved me and brought us here.

  “Yes. Lucio is the leader. This is his place. He takes care of lots of scavs. Well, they're not scavs anymore—they’re his people. He’s teaching them skills. And I’m learning to—”

  Gemma enters with a mug leaking steam. She makes a shooing motion at Mardy with her free hand. “Leave off already! You’re overwhelming her, can't you see that? And here I thought you were a mute. Guess you were just saving up.” Gemma's expression is stern, but her eyes are kind as she turns to me. “I'm going to have to sit you up to drink this. Straws are hard to come by, even here. Now, don't fight me or you'll find yourself wearing your soup instead of drinking it.”

  Mardy giggles at what I assume is a joke, but I’m too preoccupied to think about the humor as Gemma sets the mug on the small table beside my bed and slides a hand underneath me, pillow and all. She gives a quick jerk and moves me into a sitting position, sending a new wave of pain crashing through my arm.

  “Fluff the pillows, Mardy,” Gemma commands. And then she lays me back. I close my eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning and my arm to stop throbbing. When it does, I slowly open my eyes again. Mardy now holds the mug.

  Gemma jabs a finger at it. “Now drink all of that. It's been a long time, I'd wager, since you had a decent meal, so we’ll have to go slow. But this broth will get you on the right path. Drink all of it,” she repeats, giving me a critical eye. “I have to leave now, get back to my duties in the Undercity before I'm missed, but Hudson will tell me if you don't drink every last drop. Then I’ll have to bring a funnel the next time. I'll leave instructions for your care with Hudson and be back to check on you in a couple of days when I can get away again.”

  Gemma gives the top of my head a pat, then leaves the room.

  Mardy perches on the end of my bed beside my feet. “I think everyone is a little scared of Gemma, especially me.” She giggles. “But she knew what to do to save you, so I'm not complaining. Everyone calls her Doc behind her back, but not to her face. She hates that. I'm so afraid I'll forget sometime and get chewed out.”

  She blows on the broth, then places the mug to my lips. It feels good going down my throat, better than the soup we got in Lincoln Shelter. For once, it doesn't make my stomach upset as it hits my middle, and I realize with surprise that the nausea is gone for the first time in weeks. My head feels better too.

  “Where—?” I manage to ask between sips.

  “Where are we? Not the Undercity, although it seems like it. Do you remember when we talked about that big gang the other day with Torres? Well, we’re in their shelter now. We came in through a hole in the street. Somebody said all the other entrances are destroyed except that one. We walked topside for a long time to get here.”

  Mardy doesn’t know the city very well, but I’m pretty sure I understand where we are now. Dupont Shelter is controlled by the most powerful gang in the city, a group that’s managed to hold off Coalition soldiers for several months. The thought makes me nervous.

  “The food is really good here!” Mardy continues as she helps me sip the broth. “We get three whole meals a day. I had to start with broth too because Doc said we were so starved that our bodies would reject anything more substantial.”

  I weakly push the broth away. Her talk of food is not able to dispel the unease I feel at being in Dupont. “How long?” My voice sounds so raw and harsh.

  Mardy frowns. “What? What do you mean?”

  Instinctively, I gesture with my left arm. The movement brings pain. Involuntarily, I cry out.

  Mardy bites her lip. After placing the mug on the table next to her mosaic, she moves halfway to the door. “Should I get Hudson? What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head against the pillows, frustrated with my weak body. “How long have I been ... out?” I croak.

  “Oh! How long have you been unconscious?” I manage only one small nod of my head.

  She wrings her hands together. “A couple of days. Doc pumped you with fluids in that time, through this thing called an IV, and she started giving you medicine and cleaned you up ... well, she cleaned us both up.” Mardy laughs nervously. “We've all been waiting anxiously for you to wake.”

  I can't fathom who we is, since Mardy and I have never included anyone else in our family circle after Papa disappeared. I mentally squirm as I calculate how much all of this is going to cost in scavenge goods. I don't know how we’ll ever repay it, and I don’t know how reasonable this gang leader will be.

  If I’d gotten my share of Torres’s stash, I might've been able to just barely cover all the medical treatment and the fancy accommodations. But not now. I feel sick again. As soon as I'm strong enough, we’ll have to get out of here before this Lucio demands payment in favors we don't want to give. Mardy picks the mug up and offers it to me again. I shake my head.

  “Oh, come on, Caelin,” Mardy coaxes. “Doc will get mad if you don't drink all of it.”

  I shake my head again. The broth is making me feel stronger, and I push her hand away, spilling a little of the liquid on the bed. I pick at the IV tube with my good hand and work to swing my feet over the edge of the bed at the same time.

  Mardy sets down the mug and throws her arms around my torso. “Stop it, Caelin! You have to stay here. Help! Hudson? Help!”

  People rush into the room and push me back into the bed. I fight them, but I’m so weak. One man with thinning hair curses as he examines the thing in my arm.

&n
bsp; “She nearly got it out that time, but I think it's okay. I can flush it and get it going again. Hold her down while I get the supplies. Wish Doc had left me some Valium.” The man rushes back out of the room.

  I wonder if Valium is poison, and whether he's planning to kill me off. Mardy smooths the hair back from my forehead, telling me that it's okay, that we’re safe, to calm down. But I don’t want to calm down. I get my good hand free from the woman holding it and bat Mardy's hand away.

  “Who's in charge? I want to—” My voice is still weak, but Mardy understands.

  “Lucio?”

  “Yes.” I close my eyes. Nod.

  The bald man comes back with a small basket. He begins fiddling with the needle in my right arm.

  “If we fetch Lucio, will you calm down?” another man asks.

  I close my eyes in resignation and nod once. I allow my body to go limp as the bald man presses something into the IV. A cold sensation goes through my arm, and I jump a little.

  “Easy,” the bald man says. “It’s just saline. Won’t hurt you.”

  Mardy strokes my forehead again, and this time I don't push her away.

  “That's it,” the bald says. “Just relax. Everything will be fine.”

  Last time I heard that, my mother died. I open my eyes to glare at him.

  “This is Hudson,” Mardy says nervously. “He's been taking care of you, along with Doc.”

  Hudson smiles at me. He’s middle-aged with a ring of brown hair smoothed flat around the edges of his head. He’s pudgy and short. The food here must be good, if he can put on weight like that. He wouldn't last two minutes topside.

  The man who left to fetch Lucio returns, holding the door for someone behind him. I catch my breath, expecting to see the face of the man I noticed topside, the one who followed me through the city, the white face that haunted my dreams as I was apparently brought here. But Lucio does not resemble this person.

  Though he’s just as tall and has to duck to enter, he’s older. He has a wiry build and fluid movements. His clothes, green army pants covered in pockets and a T-shirt under blue flannel, look almost new. His hair is blonde, and he sports a short beard. Unlike the beards I’ve seen on scavs or those in the shelter, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed. I realize with a start that he could be the man I saw watching me after I got beat up by those scavs in the apartment.

  “How's our little patient doing?” Lucio stops at the foot of the bed with a smile.

  “She just woke up,” Hudson offers.

  “I’m so glad!” Lucio places a hand on my foot over the covers. I bend my knee, sliding my leg away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Who are you?” I’m too weak to put enough anger into the words.

  “Well, for one, I’m the owner of the bed in which you’re sleeping.”

  I frown. Is that supposed to be a joke? “What do you want?”

  I see in his eyes that he understands my meaning, and my cheeks grow hot.

  He walks over to the small table next to my bed, where Mardy left the cup of broth. He peers down into it.

  “You know, Gemma will get upset if you don't finish all of your broth. But it probably doesn't taste very good when it's cold. Hudson, why don't you go warm it up?”

  Hudson hops up from the chair at the desk. He takes the cup and leaves the room. Now it is just me, Mardy, and Lucio.

  Lucio takes the chair that Hudson vacated, and pulls it close to the bed. He’s now level with me, and I can see fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Is everyone in this place old?

  “I understand that you have lived a very difficult life as a topside dweller.” His eyes are blue, but so dark, they’re almost purple. “Because of that, it's very hard for you to trust other people. But not everybody wants something from you. You're in a place now where you can rest from the burdens that you’ve carried, recover from your illness and your wounds, a place where you’re safe.”

  I feel my emotions bubbling up inside me, anger mixed with sorrow. This is exactly the kind of place where I wanted Mardy to live, and now it’s beyond our grasp. “I can't pay you,” I croak. “I don't have anything.”

  “I don't need scavenge,” Lucio says with a twinkle in his eye. “I'm not looking for payment here. You only need to rest and get better.”

  I don't believe him, but I can see that it’s useless to argue.

  “I understand that you won't trust me right away,” Lucio continues. “But give me some time to prove it to you. Be patient. I really do have your best interests at heart.”

  Why? I ask myself. Mardy and I are strangers to him. My whole experience with the world after the explosion is that you look after yourself. It's just like Torres said—you shouldn't trust anybody. But I’m too tired to argue. It will feel good to rest, recover from all the sicknesses, eat enough food to fill my belly, sleep in a soft bed. And then, at the first opportunity, Mardy and I will get out of here.

  Lucio stands up and pats my knee before I can move it. “Hudson should be back shortly with your warm broth. He's a good nurse. He will look after you.”

  Then Lucio leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Do you trust him?” I ask Mardy.

  Mardy looks at me with surprise, her green eyes wide and innocent. I remember how young she is, and wish that I could protect her from the harsh realities of the world. “I think so,” she replies.

  I can't keep the bitterness out of my tone. “Just like we both trusted Torres?”

  Now Mardy's eyes get big enough to envelop her entire face. “Did Torres do this to you?”

  “He told me he would share his stash with me, but he was a thieving liar! He tricked me!” My venomous words are robbed of their strength by the thin scratchiness of my voice.

  Mardy gives me a quick hug. “Oh! My poor Caelin!”

  “As soon as I'm well enough,” I say into her hair, “we're getting out of here. Lucio wants something from us, and I'm not sure I want to find out what it is.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Gemma pokes her fingers at the edges of the wound in my side. After she unwrapped the bandage, I could see dark stitches holding the skin together. It's tender, and I slap her hand away.

  “Stop that! Do you want an infection?” Gemma snaps. “You’re certainly getting your strength back, I’ll grant you that.”

  It's been a couple of days. It feels as though I sleep all the time, but Hudson says that's normal. How he knows what normal is, I can't guess. Are there other patients here, other people recovering from radiation poisoning, and a knife wound, and a broken arm?

  “There's just a little bit of infection building up,” Gemma says to Hudson. Hudson is busy pulling the IV out of my arm. I feel as though I’m being rolled across broken pavement, with both of them working on me at the same time. But Gemma’s cool fingers distract me from Hudson pulling a needle out of my arm, so it doesn't freak me out quite so much.

  “I'll leave an antibiotic,” Gemma continues. “Give it to her twice a day, every twelve hours. And don't let her trick you about whether she's taken it or not.” She quirks an eyebrow at me, staring down sternly. “How are her radiation levels?”

  Hudson finishes with the IV and turns to consult a small screen placed on the dresser. “Fifteen rem, so they're not doing a whole lot better.”

  Gemma puts both hands on her hips, staring down at me like a boulder getting ready to fall on my head. “Are you taking the pills Hudson gives you?”

  I set my jaw firmly, determined not to be crushed by this boulder. “What are they?”

  Gemma lets out an impatient breath. “I'm not trying to poison you, child! If I wanted you dead, I’d just let nature take its course and not waste so much of my time and energy.”

  “Sounds like I’m more trouble than I’m worth to you.”

  “That’s the scav talking.” She scowls. “The Coalition’s taught you that you’re worthless, but it just isn’t true. Now, come on. We all want you to get bet
ter, especially your little sister.”

  I continue to stare at her stubbornly. Her words make me realize that in spite of her big talk, she’s all mush inside, and I want an explanation of the medicine.

  Gemma lets out another sigh, this time resigned. “They’re potassium iodide, to rid your body of the radiation. You also need to drink all of the fluids Hudson gives you so your body can flush out the particles.” Her mouth quirks crookedly in what I’ve come to realize is her smile. “Once upon a time, we would have worried about you getting cancer from all this exposure, but it's miracle enough for anyone to survive beyond their thirties, much less get cancer.”

  “How soon will I be back to normal—able to do stuff again?”

  Gemma's eyebrow quirks again, giving her face a lopsided look. “That depends on how good you are about taking your pills. If you rest and do what you're told, you should be up and about in another week or two. That arm will take a little longer. It was a clean break, but I won’t be able to take the cast off for a couple more weeks. If you're going stir crazy, Hudson can arrange a tour of the shelter. It’ll give you a little exercise, too. It's no good to stay cooped up in this little room all by yourself.”

  “But I’m not by myself. You and Hudson are constantly barging in on me, even when I’m on the toilet.”

  In spite of my acerbic tone, the idea of getting out of this room is thrilling. I’ve quizzed Mardy several times about the layout of this place, and she can't ever tell me much. She was never very good at directions. Besides that, Mardy says she’s not allowed to go topside. Oddly enough, it no longer seems to bother her.

  “If I'm going out and about among people again,” I say wryly, “I need something decent to wear. I don't want to go gallivanting around in my underwear.”

  Gemma barks a rough laugh that is startling in its sudden appearance. It disappears as quickly as it comes. “Hudson, find her some clothes.” She pats my shoulder, something I’m getting used to. “I'll be back in a few more days to see how you're doing.”

  Gemma goes out the door. Hudson considers me for a few minutes.