Free The Defiant by Lisa M. Stasse Page A

enough for me,” I tell him.
    I gaze out the window. The road ahead is clear. We’ve passed the roadblock. I should feel relieved, but instead I feel more anxious than ever. The officer mentioned other roadblocks. We might not get so lucky next time.
    â€œFaster,” Kelley says to Shawn.
    He speeds up.
    â€œHow far are we now?” I ask Kelley, as the trees rush by at the side of the road. “I mean, from the safe house.”
    â€œTwenty minutes. Unless we hit another checkpoint.”
    â€œYou think that’s possible?”
    â€œI hope not,” Shawn mutters. “But there’s a chance.”
    I sit back in my seat, gazing out the windows. “I’m ready for whatever happens.”
    â€œI know you are,” Kelley says, glancing back at me. “You handled yourself well back there. But this is only the start of your journey. Don’t be too cocky and overconfident. That can get a person killed.” She pauses. “Remember, this isn’t Island Alpha. You can’t go around fighting and killing people with impunity—at least not until the revolution starts. This is New Dallas. The rules are different here. And we must play by them, until we get the chance to rewrite them.”
    â€œYou think I don’t know that?”
    She turns back around. “Just checking. Remember, a lot is riding on bringing you and the other kids to the rebel cells. You’re meant to be a catalyst to help us start the revolution. But if you get caught, then we’ve wasted a lot of time and energy, and you’ve jeopardized a lot of lives.”
    â€œI’m not planning on getting caught.”
    â€œNeither am I,” Shawn says.
    â€œNobody ever does, right?” Kelley asks. “Yet people get caught every day. Shawn, you acted too nervous back there. You were too quiet.”
    There’s a moment of silence.
    â€œI’ll do better,” he finally says.
    Kelley nods. “Just keep driving. If everything goes well, we’ll be there soon.”
    I gaze out the windows at the cityscape now passing on either side of the road. I’m looking forward to arriving at the safe house. But more than that, I’m looking forward to meeting the rebel cells and starting the process of tearing the UNA to pieces.

5 THE SAFE HOUSE
    T WENTY MINUTES LATER , AFTER driving down several winding roads, we reach the safe house. We were lucky and did not encounter any other roadblocks or military checkpoints along the way.
    We are now in a suburban development of old, large tract homes. Built before the UNA took power. They are run-down and ramshackle. Some look abandoned, with caved-in roofs and broken-­down walls. But others look no worse than the tower blocks of New Providence, or even the orphanage where I grew up.
    â€œThat’s it,” Kelley says, pointing to a huge house up ahead, with two massive dead oak trees in the front yard. “The safe house. It’s empty right now. We’re the only ones using it. There are twenty other safe houses spread around New Dallas in a radius of thirty miles.”
    A couple of the safe house’s windows are broken, and the shutters hang awkwardly off their frames. The house is black and imposing, as though its exterior was scorched by flames at some point.
    â€œThank god we made it,” Shawn says, finally exhaling in a big rush of air, like he’s been holding his breath for a long time.
    â€œPark over there. To the left,” Kelley instructs. Shawn does as she says, pulling up the driveway and shutting off the car. He flicks the headlights off.
    I stare out the windows at the darkness. Inside the house, I can see faint light, as though candles are flickering somewhere in there. I feel a chill run over my body, and not just from my wet hair and the cool night air.
    â€œLet’s go,” Kelley says.
    Then I catch a glimpse of movement inside the house.
    I freeze.
    â€œStop!” I hiss.