Free Resist by Sarah Crossan Page B

dawn and head for Sequoia. Jo and I row one boat while Abel rows the other. We’re fighting against the current and the wind and after only an hour my arms burn like hell, not to mention the hand I cut on the stack of cars yesterday. My pants are soaked from the rain and slosh of river water coming into the boat, and I’m barely resisting the temptation to ask how much farther we have to go, when Abel calls out, “Over there!” He points to a dock and Jo waves to show she’s heard.
    Abel ties up his own boat then pulls us in. Jo steps ashore first and arches her back and groans. “I’m so sore,” she says.
    “Thought I was the only one flagging,” I say, climbing out of the boat.
    “The wind’s too strong. It’ll be easier to walk,” Abel says.
    The city is shrinking and fewer of the buildings here have been bombed by the Ministry’s rampage over the past few weeks.
    “I remember where we are,” Jo says. Her face clearly betrays the fact that we’re nowhere near Sequoia, and I’m no closer to getting help for Jazz and Bea.
    Abel jumps back into his boat and throws his supplies onto the dock.
    “Why are you both so far from home?” It’s the first thing I’ve asked, and considering the questions whirring in my head, it’s a pretty timid one.
    “I was on a mission,” Abel admits matter-of-factly. “A spy. Didn’t turn out quite as planned.”
    “You were spying on the pod?” I ask.
    “The Resistance, but I was in the pod. I was hoping to get into The Grove, but got caught and almost beaten to death by the Ministry.” He touches his bruised face and glances at the tattoo on my earlobe without changing his expression. “If it hadn’t been for the rioting I probably would’ve died. The place was chaos, so some big shot threw me out a back door expecting I’d suffocate.” He looks at Jo, and she smiles. It feels good to know that at least one person benefitted from the rioting, and I have a mild urge to tell him I was responsible. But too many other people died because of what I did, so I keep quiet.
    “I ran away from Sequoia,” Jo says without being asked. “I was looking for The Grove and so was Abel once he got out. We met there. In the ruins. I’d heard about what Petra was trying to do. I’m sorry she’s gone.” I don’t tell her that Petra was a mad bitch.
    “So Sequoia’s the next best thing,” I say. Then why did she flee?
    “It’s a thing,” Jo says, her voice flat. “They’ve got air and doctors, and I need both. I’ll be punished when I go back. No one leaves Sequoia. They’re strict about that.”
    “I’ll be there,” Abel says. He steps onto the dock again, opens a compartment in his backpack, and takes out a protein bar that he breaks into pieces and shares with us.
    “Were you in trouble because of . . .” I point at her stomach. She looks down at herself.
    “Sort of.”
    “Shall we go?” Abel says.
    We move along the dock, up a short road, and find ourselves surrounded by hundreds of rusting cars positioned in perfect rows and columns. We weave our way through until we come out onto another, wider road, clear but for the odd fallen lamppost or overturned truck. Abel picks up his speed. Jo and I follow slowly.
    “Is Abel the baby’s father?” I ask, when I’m sure he can’t hear.
    “Abel? No.” She inhales deeply. “The father’s in Sequoia. He’s kind of vile.”
    “A lot of dads are,” I say.
    Jo comes to an abrupt halt and seizes my arm. “It isn’t a joke. If you cross Maks, he’ll kill you.”
    She releases me and walks on, linking arms with Abel. I watch, feeling a bit jealous that they have each other.
    I miss Bea.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
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    15
    RONAN
    The road is slush, strewn with cement blocks, sheets of broken glass, and misshapen metal poles. I would take pictures to use in a piece, but it isn’t exactly the time or place