Resist

43 RONAN

The gymnasium is packed with the new recruits. They’re scrawny and sunken-eyed, but there are at least fifty of them, and although their bodies look weak, they are doggedly determined. “Another set! Go!” Jude bellows through a megaphone, and they’re off—climbing ropes, leaping onto vaulting horses, swinging on the rings, or jogging around the track.

Jude sees me and makes his way over. “Not bad, huh?” he says. He looks proud. He should be. I can hardly believe it.

“You managed this in a few days?” I say, as an auxiliary runs past us. Runs!

“They managed it,” he says. “See her?” He points at a girl on a balancing beam with braids twisted into buns at the sides of her head.

“What about her?” I ask.

“First time with a rifle she shot the bull’s-eye dead on. I thought it was a fluke. She repeated it three more times.”

I laugh. “She must have joined the Resistance a while ago but managed to stay off the radar.” Jude nods. “Any sign of Quinn and his friends yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” he says. A boy sprints past us and Jude claps. “Good job!”

“When will they be ready to go?” It has to be soon. I can’t keep the Resistance in my studio much longer. It’s only a matter of time before Niamh starts to suspect something.

He sighs. “It usually takes six months for the basics. I’m condensing it into four weeks.”

“That’s still too long.”

“What’s the rush?”

I haven’t said anything about hiding the Resistance in my studio. Jude would only have freaked out about the risk I was taking, and I didn’t want him to get cold feet and wash his hands of us. But it’s time for him to see how urgent this is. And he should shoulder more of the burden.

“Can you break for half an hour? I want to show you something.”

He checks the clock on the wall. “I have another unit coming at eight. And another at ten. I finish at midnight.”

“Fifteen minutes,” I say. Jude consults his pad.

“Ten,” he says. “Another set after this and then rotate!” he tells the soldiers. They don’t groan or huff or any of the things I used to do. They smile, happy to be driven hard.

I tap on the studio door a couple of times, then let myself in. Bea is standing with her arms wrapped around herself. Jude gazes at her and then at the people strewn on the floor, the table with boxes of protein bars and jugs of water arranged on it, and the pile of airtanks in the corner. “What is this?” His jaw tenses. “You haven’t . . . I thought they were living in the alleys.”

“We’re running out of space,” I tell him. Old Watson brought me another five fugitives yesterday. The studio is crammed to capacity, and there’ll be more.

“With Niamh downstairs? You’re asking to get caught, and when you are, we’re all in for it.” A few people are meditating on their sleeping bags.

“Harriet’s training us as best she can,” Bea says. “We do sit-ups and push-ups, yoga and meditation. It’s only been a few days and already I’m so much stronger. If only we could lower the levels of oxygen in here.”

Jude presses his lips together like he’s preventing himself from saying something cruel. “The buggy’s waiting. I have to get back.” He charges down the stairs.

“Have you asked him yet?” Bea asks. I shake my head and she shoos me out the door.

By the time I reach the bottom, Jude’s out of sight. I catch him as he reaches the buggy. “This is the last straw. We’ll be hanged. I should never have agreed to any of it,” he says, climbing into the back of the buggy.

I stick my head through the window. “You have to train them quicker.”

“I’m doing the best I can.” He rubs his temples.

“Can you hide a few in your house?” I whisper, keeping an eye on the driver.

Jude laughs, banging his fist against his leg. “You can’t be serious.” He pauses. “You are. You’re serious.” He laughs again so hard he coughs. When he’s recovered, his expression becomes hard as granite. “The girl doesn’t love you. If that’s why you’re doing this. If you think you’ll win her over, you’re going to be disappointed. I’ve known her since she was a child and she’s always been devoted to Quinn. And he’s been devoted to her. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.” He stares at me: a challenge. And I have to think about it. Is all this about Bea and some latent feelings I have for her? It’s true she makes me want to be a better person and fight for a better world. I think of her earnest round face framed by black hair. She’s pretty and smart and brave and kind, but Jude’s right—she doesn’t look at me with eager eyes. Maybe that’s why I’ve never let myself be drawn to her. I know it would be hopeless, and hopeless is not the love I want.

“Something should have been done about the Ministry a long time ago. Bea woke me up.”

Jude wipes his eyes. “I have a double garage. But with the buggy in there, it wouldn’t leave a lot of room,” he says.

“Can I give you ten people?”

“You can give me eight. But we do it at night. I don’t want Cynthia finding out. She’s close to her due date.”

“Tomorrow,” I say.

Jude leans forward and taps the glass between the backseat and the driver. “Get me out of here,” he says.

44 ALINA

Abel knows the area better than anyone, so he has been heading up the group, finding the safest route down slopes and over streams for the last three days. The rest of us stay in small groups, and we do a regular headcount, so no one gets left by the wayside.

When we left Sequoia, we scuttled along lanes and through fields for what felt like hours. And we never slowed. Not when the benefactors got weak or when those of us who are inefficient breathers had to increase the density of oxygen in our airtanks. Only when the children began to cry did we stop to feed them.

We’re huddled among a cluster of moss-covered boulders by the edge of a half-frozen lake. Mostly we’re quiet; if we hear anything, we’re ready to move again at a moment’s notice. It’s night, so we have barely enough light to see what we’re doing. When the sun is up, we’ll move on.

“What was that?” I whisper. I can’t rest and jump at the slightest crackling. When the Ministry was after me, I was afraid, but it was a faceless enemy. I can’t think of anything more horrible than being caught by Maks.

Maude stops stirring the powdered formula and water. She clicks her tongue. “I don’t hear nothing. Just these poor babies’ tummies grumbling. Mine, too. We got any more grub for the adults?” She lifts the milky spoon out of the bowl, licks it, and grimaces. I go back to rocking Lily, the child I’ve been carrying. She wriggles and reaches out to Maude. Maude pulls Lily onto her knee and forces a spoon into her mouth. “Shh, pet,” she soothes.

My stomach is knotted in hunger, and I only have one protein bar left. I break off a small piece of it and pass it to Maude, who chews and swallows it in a few seconds. I hand the rest of it to Jo. She looks down at the offering and wells up. She has plenty of reasons to cry, but I pretend I don’t notice and join Silas, who’s poring over a map. He’s put himself in charge of the route, and no one’s arguing, not even Dorian, whose clamor for control has come to a swift end. “We’ve almost no food,” I tell him. We didn’t have much in the first place, but now