XY Revolution

“You shouldn’t be reading that,” a familiar voice calls from over the fence. I roll my eyes and close my book.

“Once again, Nate, I don’t care,” I tell him.

He swings himself over the fence, like nothing’s happened. It’s the first time we’ve spoken in over a year.

“I guess you’re getting scared now,” he states, taking his usual seat in front of me.

I sigh and say, “Do you have a point to being cryptic? Or are you just trying to peak my interest? Because you’re failing miserably on that.”

“Your birthday’s coming up. You know, D-day and all.”

“I’m not getting married so there’s nothing to worry about.”

I open my book again and try to focus on the words in front of me, which just seem to float off the page. He’ll know he’s hit a nerve. I know there’s that give-away crease between my eyebrows.

“But what if you can’t stop it? What are you going to do then?” he asks softly.

I look up at him, seeing his baby-blues full of nothing but concern, oddly enough. I’ve treated him like absolute crap. I mean he said some stupid things and all, but I’m the master of holding grudges.

“I don’t know,” I admit then scratch the back of my neck.

He takes my hand in his and I freeze, “Look, my offer still stands. If you want a back-up plan, I’ll be there for you, okay?”

“You didn’t do anything,” I mumble.

“Huh?”

“The pre-auctions. You didn’t do anything,” I say more clearly, and much louder.

I know the accusation in my dark eyes must be hard to face. He doesn’t maintain eye contact very long. And why would he? He knows I’m right.

“Freya, you didn’t exactly give me a chance.”

I ignore that.

“Look, I just don’t understand what you want from me. What’s in it for you, marrying me? Do you love me? Do you want me to cook and clean for you? Do you want the pressure off from choosing some other girl? Or do you just not want any guilt?”

“You know what your problem is? You’re so fucking suspicious. You think that every guy just wants to cage you; every guy’s a scumbag.”

I take a couple of deep breaths and try not to shout every curse I know at him.

“Nate, you don’t want to marry me. I appreciate you trying to help me, I do, but this would never work. My option two isn’t marriage. I’m a fighter, and that won’t ever change. I’ll fight until I die.”

“Okay. Well, good luck then,” he says softly then walks out the gate from our backyard.



Morrison’s next Friday is as alive as ever. Jane’s talking animatedly about her love for Mr Darcy, as per usual, and Josh and I sit there listening and laughing. Tyler’s playing a jazz tune with old Mr Warner, who used to be a professional pianist. Before the Downfall of course.

Then the alarm goes off. It consists of three high-pitched beeps, telling us that the trip-wire has been effective and that Joe, the security guard in the shop upstairs, is most likely dead.

Silence in the club, and boots on the rickety stairs. Josh gives me an urgent look, and then hauls Jane over the counter. I’m quick to jump over it myself.

“There’s a tunnel under here, you’ll come out by the glass factory. Run,” he whispers, and some of the floorboards rise.

I lift the hatch and Jane scurries inside, without needing any orders.

“You next,” I tell Josh and he shakes his head.

“I need to be here for my grandpa. I promised Ma I’d look after him.”

Meanwhile I watch as several regulars sneak down the manhole.

“I’ll…see you round,” I tell him.

Kiss him for what’s probably going to be the last time, and then slip into the darkness. The trapdoor closes above my head.

“Freya,” Jane whispers and wraps her arms around me.

She’s the only one who’s stuck around this end of the tunnel. I hug her back, tears in my eyes and tell her to stay quiet.

“Tyler…” she reminds me and my blood runs cold.

My stomach starts to turn and my hands begin to tremble.

“We’ll wait for him,” she says and I nod fervently.

I can hear the door to the club opening, and several pairs of boots entering. That distinct sound of council-issued gloves on guns is everywhere.

“Everybody, hands up. This is a raid,” a booming voice announces. “We’ve had an anonymous tip-off that this illicit establishment supplies banned books to the public – including females – and also allows females to perform music without a licence. Oh and of course, stay out after curfew!”

“Yes, it does,” an elderly voice confirms. Mr Warner.

“Are you the owner?”

“Yes.”

A gunshot sounds and a body collapses. Jane clutches my shirt with her fists. Her eyes are tightly shut.

I know I shouldn’t let her listen to this, but I can’t move. We can’t move till we get Tyler.

“The rest of you, stay still while we search the premises for any more…rebels.”

There are suddenly footsteps right above our heads, and the pounding of my heart rings in my ears. I just hope like hell that they can’t hear it.

The footsteps move into the kitchen, and that’s when the real action starts.

There’s a crash and scraping of a heavy suit of raid-gear on the ground.

“Stop him!” someone’s shouting, but their next words are caught in their throats.

I make out a gurgling sound after the next gun-shot. Tyler’s always been a good shot, and he prides himself on being able to hit the jugular. On one hand, I’m cheering him on, excited as I’ve ever been, and on the other, I’m horrified that what he’s done will end up with him lying dead in a pool of his own blood, the red liquid oozing through the cracks in the floorboards and onto my head.

The automatics start to go off and the raiders from the kitchen try to return, but I can hear the careful shots which hit their mark every time. Body, after body falls.

“Josh! Grab a gun! No! Watch your-”

Another body hits the floor, but there’s no gunshot.

“You son of a bitch,” Tyler says.

I think he hits a raider with the butt of his gun in the back of the head. The next thing I know, light floods into the tunnel. Tyler’s blood-covered face looks down at us, then he starts to cry.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he says, relief and adrenaline making him shake.

I reach out for his hands, and then coax him into the tunnel. He closes the hatch above us, then hugs both of us.

“C’mon. We’ve got to go,” he then says. “Or they’ll kill us all.”

The tears are already gone, but he’s never been one to cry. Right now, there’s a smile on his face, looking down at Jane and I.



Tyler’s on his phone the moment we start to smell the sea breeze. Dad’s waiting for us when we emerge behind the glass factory. Jane sprints towards him and he scoops her up. She then starts to hyperventilate, cry, and mumble incoherently. Seeing her like this tugs at my heart.

Tyler and I share a look before he throws his arm around my shoulders, and says, “Thanks for waiting for me. I…I thought I was dead.”

“You could’ve. But we had to know.”

“Dad’s going to be pissed that you didn’t get her out of there when all of that shit went down, Frey. I mean I get it, but she’s so young.”

“I’ll tell Dad that splitting up is a bad idea.”

Tyler sighs, “Yeah, except it’s going to happen anyway. It has to happen.”

I frown at him.

“What’s going to happen exactly?”

“You’re going to leave us, Freya. You…you need to go fight. Join them.”

“I’m not the one who just killed a bunch of raiders,” I tell him. “Even Jane kept it together better than I did!”

“But look at you now, and look at her.”

I turn my attention back to Jane, who’s still clinging to Dad while he rocks her back and forth, singing to her softly. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her bottom lip is trembling.

And I’m…okay.

“Freya, you’re a gifted sniper and you can skin a rabbit faster than any of us,” Ty says with a hint of pride.

When I open my mouth to tell him he’s got this round the wrong way still he just continues with, “I will protect myself and protect my family, but I don’t have the drive you do. At the end of the day, I’ll do what I can to save myself. I can’t just give myself to a cause. Sarah’s pregnant, for crying out loud! I can’t leave.”

“You said the Resistance were nothing but trouble. Now you want me to join them.”

“Frey, the point of the Resistance is that they’re trouble. I just don’t like how entitled they think they are to a fifteen year old girl.”

“Come on you two! Let’s go!” Dad shouts, cradling Jane in his arms, and we run after him to the car.

I don’t ask Tyler what happened to Josh.