Sneak Peek Inside Rebels!

Chapter 2

“Liberated without delay?” Mason glanced at his little brother, Omar, who was secured to the seat across from him in the back of the prisoner transport van. Both had their hands and ankles cuffed, and the ankle restraints had been clipped to a bolt on the floor. Their trial had just ended. They’d been sentenced to premature liberation by the Safe Lands Guild. “So, without delays as opposed to being liberated with delays?”

“It’s perfect.” A grin spread over Omar’s face, which was sweaty and pale. Strange to see him smiling, since he’d just received the worst sentencing the Safe Lands had to offer. “Lhogan and Zane will see everything. And Zane can broadcast it as the Owl.”

The contacts. Mason had forgotten he was wearing them. A little thrill shot through him at what this might mean. The greatest mystery in the Safe Lands, foiled by two rebel outsiders and some incredible technology. He couldn’t help but return Omar’s smile. Things might be looking up after all.

Omar waved at him. “Hello, Levi. Hello, Zane.”

“They can’t hear you,” Mason said. “The contacts are visual only. No sound can be transferred.”

“I know. I keep forgetting they disabled my SimTalk.” The van went over a bump, and Omar groaned and clutched his stomach. “It hurts, Mase.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all Mason could say, and he’d been repeating it for the last two days. Omar was suffering withdrawal from his chemical dependency to who knew what types of substances. Omar probably didn’t even know.

To make matters worse, whenever the guards were fed up with Omar’s screaming in the Rehabilitation Center, the enforcers had come and administered what they called a “mercy vape.” No more than one mercy vape per prisoner per day, but such mercy was counterproductive to Omar’s recovery.

Since they’d been in trial all day, Omar had not yet been given a mercy vape, and he looked it. Plus, daily meds were administered during dinner, so Omar was also currently without whatever mystery stimulant might be included in his meds.

Another groan from Omar, this one even more pathetic. Less than twenty-four hours without some sort of stimulant and his brother was falling apart. Mason prayed the deprivation wouldn’t kill him.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Omar managed to pant out. “We should’ve been back by now.”

The drive was taking more time than it should. It had been a five-minute ride from the Rehabilitation Center to Champion Auditorium that morning. They’d been in the van twice that long already.

Omar bit his lip and grimaced in pain. “If they’re just going to kill us, the fact that Zane can see isn’t going to be much help. And it’s not like they can see where the truck is taking us right now.”

“Maybe liberation isn’t death,” Mason said, though he had no evidence to support that theory. Liberation was a mystery in the Safe Lands. It happened to everyone at age forty, though some were prematurely liberated when they died, reached three strikes on their record, or if the Safe Lands Guild decreed it must be so. Omar had three Xs, or strikes, after this last infringement. Mason now had one. But the Guild had voted in favor of liberating Mason too. Lawten Renzor’s idea.

“But what else can”—Omar sniffled and panted, having difficulty breathing again—“liberation be, though?” Another pant. “Seriously.”

“I don’t know, but it reminds me of something I overheard when we were at Champion House. Lawten told Otley that if Otley killed him, Otley would be liberated. Otley said he’d never be liberated. Then Lawten said, ‘It’s that or the Ancients.’ As if Otley had a choice between those two things.”

“Ancients?” Omar squinted at Mason. Could withdrawal affect eyesight? Perhaps it was a migraine. “Those guys in the hoods?”

Mason nodded and shifted his weight as the van went around another turn. During their trial—or lack thereof—in the Champion Auditorium, there had been sixteen people sitting up on the platform wearing black hoods. Lawten had addressed them as the Ancients of the Safe Lands. “What if that’s the ultimate promotion? Perhaps becoming a hooded Ancient is the only way to avoid being liberated at forty.”

“Why would anyone want to wear a hood for the rest of their lives?”

“To escape something worse. Whatever liberation is.”

Omar rubbed his temples. “You’re saying that a select few who know the secret of liberation have a way out by becoming an Ancient? Wouldn’t everyone sign up?”

“I don’t think they can. Lawten said that he doubted the Ancients would accept Otley, knowing how treasonous he was—as if he needed to apply. And such knowledge is likely only open to the top government officials of the Safe Lands.”

“That’s good stuff, Mase.” Omar sniffled. “The Owl should look into that.” He looked directly into Mason’s eyes. “Look into those hooded Ancients.” He pretended to pull a hood over his head, but it just looked like he was scratching his ears. Then he slouched back against the wall. “Still, where would they live? I’ve never seen any old people walking around the city.”

“Maybe they’re forced to live apart from everyone else?” Mason suggested.

“Maybe they’re not old, Mase. Maybe they’re young. Maybe Luella Flynn was under one of those hoods.”

“Their voices sounded old.” Though Mason had only heard a couple of them speak.

“I don’t know, brother. I still think liberation is a firing squad.”

“That would be too messy for the Safe Lands. Death by lethal vaporizer is more their style of execution.”

Omar smiled dreamily. “If they’d let me OD on brown sugar, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. It’s almost like flying.”

The comment pricked Mason’s nerves. “Don’t say that stuff, Omar.”

“It just itches so bad. What if they don’t give me any more? What if—” Omar straightened. “We’re stopping.”

Indeed, the van had slowed down, and now it stopped suddenly. Mason could hear the hum of a garage door, though he couldn’t guess whether it was going up or down.

The back door of the van opened into darkness revealing a single enforcer, visible from only the waist up.

“Welcome to lib prep.” He raised a SimScanner at Omar and fired.

 

END OF PREVIEW

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