Renegade
Authors: J.A. Souders
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To Ben, for being my knight-in-not-so-shining armor.
And to the memory of my Uncle Rick, for giving me my wings.
Contents
C
HAPTER
O
NE
Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
—
C
ITIZEN
’
S
S
OCIAL
C
ODE,
V
OLUME
VI
My life is just about perfect.
Every morning Mother has the Maids wake me at precisely ten. Then it’s time for a light breakfast followed by a mandatory visit with my Therapist.
It’s nice to have someone to talk with.
After, I am free to do as I wish until it’s time to perform one of the duties Mother has requested of me. This morning I sit in my garden, quietly doing my cross-stitching. The garden is so peaceful in the morning, especially when the sea life outside the glass dome passes by.
The Surface could never compare. Not that I’ve ever seen the Surface. It is forbidden, even for me.
Which is fine.
My life is just about perfect.
The scent of roses, gardenias, lilies, and countless other flowers fill the air. Compared to the rest of the facility, the sunlamps make the air here feel sultry. Between that and the continual buzzing from the bees pollinating my lovely flowers, I often find myself falling asleep. The wind chimes my friend Timothy made for me tinkle in the current from the oxygen recyclers.
Timothy is from Sector Three. His father is a metal worker and his mother a child-care worker, but he’s been allowed residence in Sector Two because of his status as my favored Suitor. Due to his genetics he’s been chosen as a potential match for me.
It will ensure only the best are born in Elysium.
Of the three Suitors chosen for me, I like him the best. He is the most understanding of my … eccentricities. A warm feeling tingles in my stomach and I press a hand to it and smile. Yes, Timothy is my favorite.
A butterfly flits in front of me, distracting me from my thoughts, and lands in the blueberry shrubs, which are filled with the white blossoms of spring. I love that spring has come, and with it longer days, and that summer is just a few months away. My garden will be even warmer and the lights will be on even longer, allowing more free time to play among my flowers.
Music plays in the background. A soft, enchanting number that relaxes the mind and spirit.
There are Guards stationed around the room, but they don’t bother me. They’re just a fact of life. The cost of peace.
With that thought, I decide to take a walk in my gardens. My fingers fiddle with the pleats in the skirt of my dress. I cross over the concrete paths that separate the plantings in wheel-spoke fashion, leading from a path that rings the outer wall of the garden to the pond, which is dead center.
My life is just about perfect.
I’m drawn to the roses—besides my violin, they are my most prized possession—as if their scent has literally pulled me to them. They remind me of something—a fragrance that rests at the far edge of my memory. It’s too elusive to remember, but not enough to forget completely. My fingers brush the rose pendant resting in the dent of my collarbone.
It is the one thing Mother has allowed me to keep from my childhood, before she adopted me and named me Daughter of the People. Though if she knew what I use the necklace for, I am fairly certain it would disappear.
I stare at the roses for another moment. I can’t resist—just a touch. It is what I walk these gardens for.
Mindful of the thorns, I pluck a rose from the bush and bring it to my nose. I inhale its heady scent and hope it, along with the pendant, will bring forth my memory.
The pendant to recover what is lost. The fragrances to fill the empty spaces.
A vision of a woman and a much younger version of myself forms in my mind.
My breath comes fast through my teeth as the pain starts to bloom in my brain—and then a sharp stab in my finger pulls me back into the present. I glance down to see blood welling on the tip of my forefinger. A rose lies on the ground a few centimeters from my feet. I stare at it, wondering how it ended up there.
“Evie,” Timothy says from beside me. When did he get here? “Are you all right? Here, let me help you.” He pulls a first-aid kit from one of the metal beams that frame the windows, separating my gardens from the Atlantic, and then bandages my finger. His grin lights up his face as he looks down at me.
“There you go. All set.” He pats my hand and I’m overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to yank my hand away, while the other part relishes the warm tingle of his hand softly melting into mine. The latter is a comfortable feeling—not new. Not as if it were the first time.
“Wouldn’t want you to get sick now,” he continues.
“No,” I say, trying to remember why his touch is so familiar. “Wouldn’t want that.” A breeze from the recyclers blows by and I catch a whiff of Timothy’s scent. Memories roll under a deep fog in my head, but nothing is clear. I can’t even remember what I’ve been doing. Wasn’t I … somewhere else?
“Are you all right?” he asks. His blue eyes fill with worry as he watches me.
I nod.
“My life is just about perfect.”
He smiles, but there’s sadness in his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. I was worried”—he glances to the Guards—“you were sick or something, the way you were staring off into space.”
“How are your parents?” I ask, more from politeness than out of an actual interest. Although guilt tickles at me because I know I should care—that something changed between us, not too long ago, but I can’t remember what.
Timothy frowns. “I don’t know. They didn’t come for our traditional Sunday dinner yesterday and they haven’t been answering any of my messages, which is strange because Mom was waiting for me to tell her what your”—he stops with a glance to me, then sighs and continues—“how you’re doing. I plan on going over to Three today to check on them.”
“I see. Well, if you require assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.” How nice of his mother to ask about me.
“I will. Thank you,” he says.
We both realize at the same moment that he is still touching me. My eyes meet his quickly, heat spreading from my toes to my face. This isn’t the first time, I think again. My heart beats furiously and I’m gasping for breath. Because touching him is impossible. I would remember if we touched. Unless …
I drop his hand quickly, and we jump apart from each other, glancing around to make sure we weren’t noticed. We are not Coupled, and skin-to-skin touching is strictly forbidden.
He glances around, as I had just done, but then to my surprise, he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out. “I found this for you,” he whispers, leaning close.
I keep my hands where they are, but knit my brows together, trying to see what it is.
“It’s for your”—he glances around again—“collection.”
Immediately I get a buzz and shove my hand out, eagerly awaiting the possible Surface object. He drops a silver-colored metal disc into my palm. And I study it carefully. It has strange markings on it. A picture of a head on one side, and some kind of … creature on the back.
“‘In God We Trust,’” I read. I look up at Timothy. “What do you think it means?”
He shrugs, but I’m too excited to care. I’ve never seen anything like this before and I can’t wait to study it closer, but here’s not the place. I’ll have to ask Mother later. When Timothy isn’t around. Mother is indulgent of my curiosity about the Surface, but I doubt that tolerance would be extended to Timothy. I shove it into the pocket of my dress as Timothy bends to pick up the rose from the ground. Carefully he removes the thorns and hands it back.
“For you, Miss Evelyn.” His smile now is shy. My face still burns from the memory of his touch, and I lift the rose to my face to hide it.
The rose’s heady scent triggers some memory in the back of my mind. But before I can think on it further, Timothy wanders over to the small pond a few meters in front of us.