The fire danced in her hand as she walked with the candle towards the stack of books at the far wall of the basement. It amazed her that books were forbidden. Zee knew how to read. In fact, she remembers that was the one thing she enjoyed of her former life. They let her read as much as she wanted. It was her reward for doing their tests. In fact, they wanted her in peak condition. She was supposed to be the best of the best. The smartest, the fastest…she was supposed to be a weapon. The only problem was, Zee didn’t like being told what to do, especially if she felt what she was being asked to do was immoral. They wanted a perfect soldier and ended up with a rebel. Zee smiled at the thought. They couldn’t change all of me.
She slid her fingers down the spine of the books, feeling the smoothness of the paper beneath her finger-tips. There was a volume of large, hard encyclopedias from the 1980s. It took up the entire bottom shelf of the bookcase. They were probably even helping to support the shelves above, being so massive themselves. The majority of the rest of the books were smaller and made of stiff paper, with a few of the hard board ones scattered about. She admired Dylan for keeping something so dangerous in the hidden basement. Her heart ached at his courage. Zee sighed, hoping that her presence here would not doom him and Alice. She didn’t want to start any trouble. She just wanted to live. But more than that, she didn’t want to go back to where they were keeping her…wherever that was.
Images and snippets of her memories were forming in her mind, like the coming clouds of a storm. Zee remembered being kept in a facility, dimly lit but cool. But if she was close to the desert, how was the building cool? Was it underground?
Zee sighed again and pulled a book from the shelf. Curling up in the corner, she set the candle in front of her and began reading. The soft glow of the flame danced across the words on the page. For the longest time words were the only friends that she had. Zee would find solace and escape in the pages she delved into after her torment by her captives. But now she had real friends; people that she could trust. She hummed softly to herself, letting the pages before her give her the hope that this world could be changed. If people like Dylan could quietly rebel, maybe others were ready to shake off the shackles of their oppressors.
Zee’s brow furrowed as she closed the book gently, watching the light flicker on the dark stairs in front of her. But what did she know of the lives these people led? Zee was kept somewhere with different rules. All that was forbidden here, she was given. Were the men who kept me the same men who oppress Dylan and his family? They didn’t seem too thrown off by the inspection by Knox, so perhaps they knew him. Maybe all of their enemies were the same. Maybe that was the thread of hope that pulled Zee in this direction across the desert.
Think about this next time you disobey. Do you think solitude is the worst thing that we can throw at you, Knox had said gruffly as he threw Zee out of the moving Jeep. Zee hugged herself fiercely, finally remembering how she ended up lost in the sand. They didn’t expect her to die; they wanted to break her spirit. But now their secret weapon was missing. Zee knew they would be frantic to find her. She would have to explain to Dylan and Alice everything that she could remember. Maybe they would understand why she would have to leave. Zee couldn’t keep them in danger, knowing that Knox and the others would stop at nothing to find her.
Dylan loaded the remaining bit of flour on the steam wagon that was their town’s payment for protection. Protection from what, he was never sure. It was probably more a bribery to keep Pierce and Knox from killing everyone. But the steam wagons gave them the essentials to live, and what they could produce as surplus the town was expected to give back. Although the Wagon Men, as Peirce, Knox, and the other steam wagon owners were called, sometimes had a different opinion on what “surplus” was. But all the townsfolk knew that if they couldn’t meet their quota, there would be hell to pay.
He wondered how Zee fit in. She must have been a slave or something. Possibly she escaped and that was how she ended up in the desert. Dylan wanted to protect her. He wasn’t sure what Zee went through, but it must have been horrible.
But no one at town seemed to know who Knox was looking for, even though all the men at the station were abuzz with rumors from the pop-inspection.
“It was clear he was looking for someone. It wasn’t the normal inspection. They don’t send Knox for inspections,” an older man said, stacking a burlap sack full of grain to take to the mill. Sweat beaded on his brow in the afternoon sun.
A younger man with copper hair laughed bitterly. “It must be a beast of a man they were looking for. My grandad used to say they only send the enforcers when there’s a rebel they can’t handle by the usual means.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down on a brick of salt.
Dylan thought for a moment. The two men had a point. Were the Train Men afraid of little Zee? “Who rebels anymore, Morton?” Dylan asked, knowing that if he didn’t pipe in to the conversation, it might seem odd.
Morton’s coper hair was aflame in the sun, as if his hair was made from fire. “No one in Brimstone, but that doesn’t mean that the other towns don’t.”
“Maybe he tried to start a rebellion, but the Train Men caught wind of it so he fled,” the older man mused as he brushed some sweat through his greying hair.
Dylan wanted the conversation to end before it reached dangerous territory. But men gossiped worse than women. And in a town where nothing out of the ordinary usually happened, hiding Zee wouldn’t be easy. But at least it seemed like everyone expected Knox to be after a man.
The older man was about to take his cart of grain to the mill when Morton piped up, “Who was that woman with Alice?”
Dylan’s breath hitched in his throat. He was glad Alice filled him in on Zee’s fake back story after Knox left. “She’s a family friend from Sand Haven,” he offered up, not wanting to give out too many details unless prompted by the other men.
“Maybe she’s heard of a rebellion,” Morton wondered more to himself than the others.
The older man snorted. “If Sand Haven was about to rebel, they would lock that town down so tight that no one would make it out.” With that, the older man picked up the handles of his cart and pushed the load down the wooden ramp. Dylan was relieved, but tried to hide his feelings under a mask of fatigue.
He clasped Morton on the back. “If I hear anything in the bar, I’ll let you know. But like Grim said,” he nodded in the direction of the older man pushing the cart, “word of a rebellion would never make it here. The Train Men would see to that.” And with that, Dylan walked back to his bar, lost in thought about Zee.
Dust kicked up from his feet, covering his legs in ruddy-colored sand. Some days he wished the desert would swallow the steam wagons. They were their life-line, but also their shackles. And then there was Zee. She was dangerous to hide, but it would be immoral to make her leave. Dylan didn’t know her long, but Zee seemed so sweet and innocent. Maybe that was why he couldn’t piece together how she fit in with the Train Men.
A bell rang suddenly in the distance, splitting through the din of the town. Dylan glanced up to see a dark brown wall headed straight for them. A dust storm. He ran to get to the bar in time to lock everything down. He jumped onto the wooden porch in front of the bar, and raced around the perimeter to lock down the shutters. The wind suddenly picked up violently just as he finished. He fought to shut the front door against the gusting wind and was finally able to bolt it shut. It was a good thing he kept the bar closed while he was unloading the steam wagon, as he and Zee would be stuck indoors for a while. Alice was already safe back at the homestead on her loom, but Dylan and Zee wouldn’t be able to make it back there before the storm hit. They had to wait it out here.
Sand ground on the walls outside, sounding more like water than earth, as Dylan checked the upstairs shutters to make sure that they were all still bolted shut. Dylan was glad that the rooms upstairs were empty, as it ensured that both Zee and him wouldn’t have any unwanted company. He slowly made his way back downstairs through the darkness of the bar. With all the windows shut and the sandstorm blotting out any remaining light outside, Dylan needed a candle to find the trapdoor. He felt behind the bar on the shelf where he kept the candles and matches. After a few moments, his hand finally found the shaft of a waxy candle. The wooden box of matches was immediately next to it. Carefully, Dylan lit the match and a solitary flame burst from the tip of the splinter of wood. He watched the one flame become two as he eased it over to the wick. After shaking out the match, he crouched down, threw back the carpet and pried open the floorboards. The hinges creaked in protest, but Dylan’s heart beat in anticipation at seeing Zee again. She was a mystery that needed solving. And she seemed so optimistic and not wiling to accept things the way they were, so unlike the women of his town who were hardened from years of labor and strict deadlines. Zee seemed to question authority, not to rebel for the sake of going against the rules but to try to make the world a better place. She believed that people should be treated better than the townsfolks were currently.
The glow of her candle in the far corner was inviting. Dylan paused for a moment on the stairs. She didn’t yet notice him and was humming to herself while reading. Her soft voice was honey to his ears. He had never heard someone hum before, yet he felt that if he walked in on someone else doing it, that it just wouldn’t have been the same. There was something enchanting about Zee.
She stopped and swirled around to face Dylan. “Sorry,” she said, looking down apologetically.
“Don’t be. That was beautiful. Besides, I’m the only one here to hear it.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “What song is that?”
Her brows knit in concentration. Finally, she just shrugged in defeat. “I am not sure, but I think it used to be important,” she said with a triumphant smile, even though the details were vague. “But I have great news.” Her smile grew even wider. Dylan could have sworn that her candle burned brighter when she smiled.
“What?” Dylan asked, sitting down on the dusty ground next to Zee. His breath hitched in his chest from being so close to her. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach; Zee was trying to piece her life back together and didn’t need him hanging around her like a love-sick puppy.
“I remember some stuff. Since I had some time to…relax down here alone, some things have been coming back to me.” Zee furrowed her brow. “I think actually, it was the inspection that helped jog my memory. I remember Knox’s voice. He was an enforcer at the facility I was kept at.”
“Wait…” Dylan put up a hand to stop Zee from continuing. “You were kept where Knox lives?”
“I think so. He was there an awful lot. He must have lived close by.”
“You’re from the Hub then.” This was bad. Dylan might have to one day face that he wouldn’t be able to protect Zee. If she was from the Hub, where Pierce, the owner and manager of the steam wagons lived, then he would never stop until he got his property back. If Zee was kept at the facility, she was Peirce’s property. And Pierce never parted with anything willfully.
“What?” Noting his change in demeanor, Zee put a comforting hand on Dylan’s. He felt electricity run up his arm from her touch. It vibrated deep into his soul and he wished that she would never let go. He doubted she felt it too, because she quickly removed her hand from his. The heat from her skin faded too quickly. Dylan wanted to wrap her in his arms so that he could absorb all of the energy that seemed to stir inside of her from his touch.
He sighed. Dylan didn’t want to make Zee paranoid, but if she didn’t know the truth about the Hub, then he needed to tell her. “It’s where the people who run the steam wagons live. They are the ones who control us. They have the power to stop our supplies if we revolt or don’t reach their quotas.”
To Dylan’s disbelief, Zee didn’t look at all surprised. “I figured as much,” was all she said. Gently, she closed the book she had been reading. Fahrenheit 451. Dylan had to smile. Of course she would choose that book.
“So…do you remember what you did there?” Dylan watched the flickering flames dance across Zee’s face. She was beautiful. Dylan imagined that in another time, Zee could have been a movie star. She looked like the women in the black and white posters that were hung on the walls of the secret basement, with her perfectly arched eyebrows and full lips. Dylan hoped that he could be the refuge that she needed, not just to hide her from the corrupt world of the Hub that sought to keep her hidden, but to give her the freedom that she needed to be herself without fear of repercussions.
“I remember…” Zee started. The somber look on her face pulled at Dylan’s heart. He could feel the pain etched on her face at the memory of her captivity.
“Zee, you don’t have to tell me about what happened to you,” he said, instantly wishing he could take back asking her about it after seeing her change in demeanor. “I don’t want you reliving that. What matters is that you are safe now. I won’t let them take you back,” Dylan vowed. She smiled in the darkness and her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “How do you like that book so far?” He asked, nodding at the book in her hands.
Her face broke into a toothy grin. “I love it. I haven’t read it in years!” As the wood above them creaked from the intensity of the wind from the raging storm, they talked about all the little things that made them individuals. The more they talked, the more that seemed to come back to Zee. It was fragmented at first, but she slowly started to divulge more about her past life in captivity. As the night wore on, Dylan could feel his soul weaving into hers.
Zee couldn’t remember ever having anyone take an interest in her like Dylan has. In her former life, she was just given orders or threats. She never knew that a person could care. All of the people at the facility were either cold and detached, or mean. Zee always read in her books about the compassion of others, but until she met Alice and Dylan she had never experienced it firsthand. But even though Alice was nice, Dylan ignited something inside of Zee that she never dreamed existed. He had awoken a deep tingling feeling inside of her. She never wanted to lose him. Zee hoped that the storm outside would never end so that she could remain in this basement with him forever. She feared that once they were back in the real world, that Dylan wouldn’t take as much of an interest in her as he did right now, since it was just the two of them.
As the sun they couldn’t see sunk below the horizon, ushering in the chill of the night, Zee started to feel a bit sleepy. Her body was probably still recovering from the effects the desert. Slowly, as if asking silently for permission, Zee leaned into Dylan and rested her head on his shoulder. Gently, he put his arm on her shoulder, careful not to press too hard on her burnt skin. Zee drifted into the comfort of his body, feeling his muscles beneath her face from years of loading and unloading the steam wagons. She had never drifted off to sleep this quickly in her entire life, for she had never felt truly safe and at home.