Free Article 5 by Kristen Simmons

sent him to a girls’ rehab and kept him out of the cities.”
    I pictured the soldiers lining up at the shooting ranges, and shivered. Chase hadn’t been detailed to a girls’ rehab, which could only mean he was a better shot than the guards here. I wondered if he’d killed anyone, but the thought made me so uncomfortable, I locked it from my mind.
    “Apparently not everyone has the same conscience as Sean,” I said bitterly.
    “Right,” she agreed. “Obviously you’ve met Randolph.”
    I clutched my knees involuntarily. My knuckles hurt. “He’s the one? Who did … that to Katelyn?”
    It was dark, but I could still see her nod. “So you see, there’s really no point in trying to escape.”
    “I have to try,” I said. “If they’re doing this kind of thing to us, what do you think they’re doing to my mother?”
    She hesitated. “Probably the same.”
    I stood up so quickly my head spun. “What has Sean told you? You have to tell me!” The weight of our deal hung in the air between us. There was no point in lying now that I knew her secret.
    “He doesn’t hear much,” she said defensively.
    The guards at the school were isolated; the rest of the soldiers had direct contact with their command, but a particular unit, the ones who had failed some aspect of their training like Sean, had been transferred under the authority of the Sisters of Salvation.
    “Who are these Sisters, anyway?” I asked. “Is Ms. Brock in charge of all of them?”
    “She wishes,” said Rebecca. “Brock was appointed by the Board of Education during the Reformation Act. She’s like, I don’t know, the school superintendent of this region. There are other Brocks, in other regions, running other reformatories with the same iron bra.” She giggled. “That’s what Sean calls it—an ‘iron bra.’ Instead of an iron fist, you know?”
    “I get it,” I said flatly. More evil headmistresses. More reformatories. It was enough to make me weak all over again. Rebecca’s brief smile faded.
    “Brock says that the Sisters are taking over,” she said. “Running charities and food lines and stuff. Of course, who knows if that’s true.”
    My mom volunteered at our local soup kitchen. I could hardly picture her wearing a blue skirt and a stupid handkerchief around her neck.
    “So Brock reports to the MM, but the soldiers here report to her?” I asked. Rebecca gave me a blank look, and I realized she’d never heard the nickname for the FBR. Having been here since she was fourteen, she was a little out of touch with mainstream culture.
    “Moral Militia,” Rebecca said wistfully, after I explained. “That’s funny.”
    Apparently, tending to the miscreants of society didn’t require the highest level of skill. The FBR was still technically in charge of the soldiers here, but Ms. Brock supervised their daily activities. Unfortunately, that meant that Sean had very little contact with the rest of the military.
    “But there’s a courier,” Rebecca continued. “He comes weekly to deliver messages to Ms. Brock from the outside. Mandates from the head of education. Revisions to the Statutes. Things like that. Sean hears rumors sometimes. He knew that they were going to stop the trials for Article violators a while ago, and he was right. It’s been over a month since a soldier came out here to pick up a witness.”
    “Stop the trials? What does that mean?” I asked, my voice rising.
    “Shh!” She motioned for me to sit back down on the bed. “I don’t know what it means. Maybe they’re just letting your mom go. Or maybe they’re sending her to rehab. Sean did say they need to ‘complete’ something in place of a trial. It’s a new protocol, I guess. He gets training on it next month.”
    In my mind I pictured my mother in my place. Her small, manicured hands on the table while Brock slammed the whip down upon them, like in my dream. I could see the obstinacy melt into fear. Her folding into the floor, just as