Dissidence (13 page)

“
Mornin
’
, Sunshine.” Connor grins when I roll my eyes at him. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

“We survived.” I shrug. I’m beginning to wonder what exactly is supposed to be out here that’s so scary.

The sun inches into the sky little by little, and as it rises, so does the temperature. When we’re certain we won’t freeze to death in our wet clothes, we peel ourselves off the ground, and head east once more. Everything
,
the leaves, the grass, the bushes, everything seems to shimmer as the sun reflects off of the billions of raindrops still clinging to every available surface. It’s beautiful, like bein
g inside a kaleidoscope. There’
s something almost magical about the forest after the rain. It keeps me entranced as we trudge on.

At some point
, I think we’
re supposed to turn north, but I haven’t the slightest idea when. Lori was supposed to be our navigator. Thus far, I’ve been following Connor’s lead. The terrifying thought that maybe Connor has only been following
my
lead this whole time occurs to me just as we near the top of an in
cline, and it springs into view.
A
tall, chain link fence.

Chapter 12

Every colony has one, or so I’ve been told. Although I’m not entirely sure what exactly it’s supposed to be protecting us from, considering that after nearly a week of hiking through these woods the scariest thing we laid our eyes on was maybe an owl. The only thing the fence is effectively keeping out at the moment is us.

“How are we going to get in?” Not to state the obvious or anything but . . . “
We
can’t exactly just knock on the main gate.”

“We follow the tracks.” Connor states this as though it should have been obvious, which, if I had re
ally thought about it, I guess
should have been. The trains are the only way in or out of the colony, so if we follow the tracks, we ought to be able to slip in through the station. At least one of us has given this some thought.

It isn’t difficult to locate the tracks. A swath is cut through the woods, opening enough space for the supply trains to move easily between colonies . . . or between the
work camps
and colonies. It’s evening by the time we reach the cement platform where passengers and supplies are loaded and unloaded from the trains. It’s usually heavily guarded whenever a supply train rolls in, but considering we haven’t seen one all day
,
the station looks nearly deserted. From wher
e we sit, crouched in the brush
just south of the platform, I can make out two armed guards, but that’
s all, and neither of them
look
particularly interested in what they are supposed to be guarding.

Connor and I agree to wait until nightfall before trying to sneak inside, but I’m finding it difficult being so close and yet so far. The last time I was in my home colony
,
I stood less than fifty yards from where I am now
,
right there on that platform with Peter. He was begging me not to go, and I told him I’d write. I wonder what he thought when he never got my letter. I wonder what he’ll think when he hears everything I have to tell him now.

“Sit still, would
ya
? You’re starting to make me crazy.” I hadn’t even realized I was bouncing on the balls of my feet until Connor spoke up.

“Sorry.” I settle back down beside him, trying to contain myself. I just can’t wait for this nightmare to be over. “You think
it’s
dark enough?”

“I guess so. Besides, if we stay here any longer, I think you may explode.” Connor chuckles quietly when I whack him on the arm.

“Let’s go then.”

The platform is nothing more than a slab of cement protruding about four feet above the tracks. Getting up there should prove interesting. I slap my hands down on the platform, and I try to haul myself up using every last ounce of upper body strength I possess. The effort is laughable, as evidenced by Connor’s suppressed amusement. Apparently, all that time swinging a pick did absolutely nothing for my muscle mass.

The guards are about twenty feet away with their backs to us. Connor motions for me to put my foot in his hands, and then hoists up me, effortlessly
,
onto the platform. A moment later
,
he’s pulled himself up beside me. Sticking as low to the ground as possible, which is much easier for me than Connor, we rush towards the edge of the station.

Rather than risk the clatter of taking the three metal stairs, we opt to leap to the ground. Of course, I land with the grace of a bull in a china shop, twisting my ankle, and nearly toppling over
,
if
not for Connor’s swift arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up.

“Where are we
headed?” Connor asks once we’ve made it
a safe distance from the station and the prying ears of the guards.

“It’s too late to find Peter at work, and I don’t think we should go to his house.” Just because
Peter wouldn’t turn us in, doesn’t mean his parents wouldn’t.

“So what, go look for him tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we can try to catch him before he goes into work in the morning.”

“What about tonight
,
then?”

When we hit the next street I realize that, without even thinking about it, my feet have been
leading
me home.

“We can go to my house.”

I’m not even sure it’s still
my
house. A
fter a pairing, houses are always reassigned, but a girl can hope. Keeping our heads down and sticking to the shadows, we move into the residential district. When we turn onto my street, I’m suddenly overcome by the urge to sprint to my front door and kiss the welcome mat. When did I get to be so sentimental?

The windows are all darkened,
at least that’s a good sign, and
we sneak around back. It’s hard to make out anything as I peer through the window, but once my eyes adjust, it’s obvious that the house is still vacant. Finally, something’s going our way.

I back out of the way as Connor shimmies the window
open
, and then helps me climb inside. After he follows me in, we shut it as quietly as possible behind us . . . and freez
e. One question still remains: W
hat about the cameras? We know they’re here
,
even if we can’t see them, but are they still functioning now that the house is empty? It makes sense for them to shut the cameras off, but there’s too much at stake to count on them starting to make sense now.

If nothing else, my trial taught me one thing
,
that there are at least two rooms they can’t see. Motioning to the stairs, I move as silently as I can to the second
story,
and into my bedroom with Connor close on my heels. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shut the door behin
d us, and flop down on my queen-
sized bed.

This used to be my
parents
room, but after they were gone
,
I figured
why let the master bedroom go to waste? In my mad dash to get everything I owned packed up, I must have overlooked the bedding I was sleeping on. The sheets are still tangled at the foot of the bed, but at least they’re here. I wonder what happened to th
e rest of it. Doubtful they’re holding all of my boxes
in storage for me somewhere. The idea of some government crony rummaging through my belongings turns my stomach.

“
Sooo
. . .” Connor is still standing near the door eyeing me and the bed.
The
one
bed.
“I can take the floor if you want.”

“Don’t be stupid.” I sigh. “It’s big enough for the two of us, and it’s not like we haven’t been sleeping next to each other on the ground for the past week.”

“You sure?”

“How many times did you let me use your bed back at the camps? I can at least share mine with you.”

Without needing any further encouragement, Connor flops down on the bed beside me and sighs loudly. “Wow, this feels great.”

I can’t help but laugh at the goofy grin on his face.

“Do you think we can risk a shower?”

Connor twists to face me, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“The hall . . . do you think there are cameras in the hall between here and the bathroom?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He thinks about it f
or a minute before adding, “
I’m guessing we’re going to have to take that risk sooner or later anyway.”

Not two seconds after he finishes speaking, I feel the pressure in my bladder and sigh. He just had to put the thought in my head. I guess now is as good a time as any. “I’m going.”

“All right.
Just be quick about it. You don’t
wanna
get caught in the shower if a bunch of security officers show up at the front door.” Connor laughs like it’s a joke, but it immediately become
s
a legitimate concern for me.

I race down the hallway, barely daring to breathe, and slip into the bathroom. It’s difficult to see what I’m doing in the dark, but I’m not about to risk turning on a light. Fumbling around, I manage to get the water to an acceptable temperature, and slip out of my filthy uniform. There isn’t any soap or shampoo, but the hot water alone feels marvelous. I can just imagine the weeks
’
worth of dirt and grime washing from my body. I stand there as long as I dare before nerves over take me and I shut th
e water off. No towels either.
F
antastic.
I wring out my hair as much as I can
,
and find a
forgotten
loose hair tie in the
medicine cabinet over the sink
to ti
e it back in a sopping wet pony
tail.

The idea of putting my dirty clothes back on
skeeves
me out, so I
slip back into my undergarments
and hope that it’s dark enough to conceal the rest of me. I use the bathroom sink to scrub the other garments as clean as I can without any kind of soap, and then drape them over the shower rod to dry.

“About time, I was just . . .” Connor trails off midsentence as I rush back into the bedroom. Apparently it’s not as dark in here as I had hoped.

“Shut up. I washed my clothes in the sink, and they’re drying. And stop staring at me!”

He immediately shifts his eyes to the floor, clearing his throat several times before speaking again. “I’m
gonna
go in now.”

“All right.”
I’m still hovering near the door, afraid to get any closer to the bed in my state of undress with Connor still sitting on it.

I slide out of his way as he moves past me. He never lifts his eyes from the floor directly in front of him, but I can still see the amused grin playing on his lips. The moment he’s out the door
,
I dive into the bed and pull the sheets up around me. I hear the groan of the pipes as he turns the water on, but I never hear it turn off.

***

My eyes feel l
ike they’ve been glued shut,
my entire body aches
in rebellion
at the idea of moving an inch, and t
he bright morning light is piercing my retinas even with my eyelids closed. What time is it? I roll over
, fully expecting to be greeted
by my cat clock
’
s smiling face, but the nightstand is bare. Everything comes rushing back
,
and I
shoo
t
upright, the sheet pooling around my waist. I glance down at myself. I’m still only wearing my bra and underwear. Beside me
,
I hear Connor groan
,
and
I
snag the sheets, pulling them back up to my chin. He rolls over in his sleep, completely uncovering himself. He’s
l
a
ying
there beside me in nothing more than a pair of black boxers.
Oh, wow!
Without a shirt on, his muscular form is even more remarkable. Connor is
ripped
, but not in a scary meathead way.
I
n a very . . .
impressive
way.
His light hair is flopped over his forehead and partially covering his eyes. I have the sudden urge to brush it back
,
and shake myself, realizing I’ve been staring far too long. Who stares at people while they’re sleeping, seriously?

Climbing out of the bed before Connor can catch me embarrassing myself, I hurry to the bathroom. After surviving last night, I’m feeling more confident about the upstairs in general. My clothes are still slightly damp, but I can live with that. I slip the matching gray pants and t-shirt on, and head back to the bedroom, determined to wake Connor so we can get going.