The Queer Rebels

Chapter 30: Enduring

The taut canvass of the cot is hard against my back. It's uncomfortable, but I'm too stiff to move.

I have scrapes on my hands and knees and a gash on the back of my head. But it's my wrist that is making me the most uncomfortable.

It's broken.

Snapped like a fucking twig.

Amelia heard about the protest and made it back to the Meeting Place. Other trained medics are here too. They set the bone, put it in a splint, and wrapped it tightly.

But even though they gave me enough pain killers to stop the throbbing, it's still awkward to position. Stiff and unmoving. So, I'm stuck on my back with this thin pillow under my head.

The events from today keep replaying in my mind.

When Renee and I made it to the other side of the fence, Alex, Tyree, Jenelle, and Mitchell were all already there. They only had minor bumps and bruises.

We had to wait a while for Christopher. And when he showed up, he was grim-faced and there were bloodstains in the car's backseat from his previous pickup.

The ride back to the new compound was silent.

It felt like a miracle that we were all alive.

Medics had a triage center set up at the entrance.

The NanoPens got to those who needed it most. And I wasn't one of those people.

So, really, I'm one of the lucky ones.

Looking around at the carnage from today, the cost, I'm not sure it was worth it. Worth the concussions and broken bones and internal bleeding. The pure and raw physical pain.

By nightfall, everyone was accounted for.

At least no one paid with their life.

I wonder how the city will retaliate. Because I know they will.

As I lay here in the near total darkness, the pervasive smell of antiseptic claws at my nose. The groans of the other lucky ones, who are also uncomfortable and cannot sleep, grates at my ears.

It's going to be a long night.

I turn my head and see Renee sleeping in the cot next to mine. She practically dragged me down the sidestreets and over the dunes to escape. And I can only imagine how overwhelming her introduction to the Queer Rebels was. I think she passed out from exhaustion before her head even hit the paper-thin pillow.

Maybe in the morning we'll have time to talk. For her to tell me what she knows. What Marcy said.

I look back at the ceiling. There aren't any windows in the back of the building where the cots are set up, but there are large plate-glass windows along the front, so some light trickles back here. Just enough to study the exposed beams crisscrossed above me. To get the events of today off my mind, I force myself to wonder about the people who built this building in the time before.

But then, there is a sudden vibration next to my thigh.

I reach down and grab the com-device. Picking it up, I see that the front screen has lit up. There is a message illuminated on it: Are you awake?

Is this from Marcy? I've never used one of these before, and Marcy didn't have time to explain it to me before she slipped it into my pocket.

I turn it around in my hands, studying it for the first time. I can feel buttons on the side and there is a smooth round circle on the back. But it's too dark to see if there's any text or symbols on the device that might help me figure out how to use it.