The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

1. Freedom Fighters

 The girl stared at the bricks. She counted the gray lines that kept them together, the concrete fillings that kept the lies inside the warehouse. Adeen had learned that technique years before, when her mind escaped her mother's empty eyes. It had been so long since then. A trainee screamed to her right and she turned to look at him. Although her muscles tensed by the scream, her eyes showed nothing but boredom and exhaustion. The trainee, a boy with blue eyes and blonde hair, was pinned to the ground by another trainee twice his size and with half intelligence. Adeen sighed.

"Kieran, let go of him." Kieran pressed his hands harder against the boy's chest. Adeen shook her head and walked to where the fighters stood. She lowered herself until her eyes were leveled to Kieran's. "Kieran, what's rule two?"

His pitch black eyes settled on his trainer. "I ain't telling you shit, girl. You're barely two years older'n me."

"Your choice." Adeen said seconds before she let her fist fall on the small spot on Kieran's back she knew would cause the most pain. He groaned and let go of the kid, who practically ran to the corner farthest away from his tormenter. Kieran looked at Adeen and stood up. She did the same. "Rule two."

"Once we're inside the warehouse, those around us are our allies. We can't hurt them unless someone superior tells us too."

"I don't recall telling you to hurt him, Kieran. Either I am going crazy or you broke rule two. And for the sake of those around me, I certainly hope for the later." She nodded at him, and Kieran understood. He took off his shirt. "Care to tell me what the punishment for breaking rule two is?"

"Thirty seconds in the Tank the first time. A minute the second." Although Kieran tried to appear bored and indifferent, his eyes betrayed him.

Adeen nodded. "It's your second time, Kieran."

Adeen didn't need to tell her student what to do. Kieran followed her to the eight feet tall Tank full of water that surveyed the rebels as they trained every day. Booze, a man almost as despicable as the beverage he was named after, smiled at his victim.

"Had begun wondering when you'd screw up." He picked up the weighs that would be tied to Kieran's feet. "Honestly, had been waiting for this." Booze said as he tied the bags to Kieran's feet. Kieran, knowing resisting was basically a plea for more, stood still. "Been a while since anyone has been stupid enough to get himself a cold bath."

He chuckled. Booze —with his gray eyes that were red most of the time, a scar that ran through his entire right cheek, messy black hair and yellow teeth- was an identifiable man. An Eight, he was member of the lowest of the Castes. He was the only Eight in the warehouse, most were Sixes like Adeen. A few Sevens like Kieran. Eights barely survived in the streets, and they never had enough strength to do something other than to lie and try to sleep the day off. The only reason Booze was admitted into the warehouse was because he was once a Five. Until he was captured close to a riot, and was sentenced to fifty lashings and a life as an Eight. If the Guards would have figured out he was the one that warned the rebels about their approach, he would have been executed.

But Booze was pardoned by either fate or mere ignorance, and so he became the man who did the dirty jobs. He helped Kieran up the staircase behind the Tank. Adeen stood back and watched as they struggled to reach the metal platform that stood on top of the Tank. Many trainees stopped and watched as Kieran sat down and Booze made sure the straps were properly placed. Although he was about to inflict the rebel pain, the Eight grinned and laughed.

"He's crazy." Someone said behind Adeen. She recognized the owner of the voice as Thyra, a witty twenty year old girl. She was Adeen's only female friend.