Rise An Eve Novel

Pennsylvania as being primitive, with no electricity or running water. He’d said there were still murders there, fighting over the limited resources they had. He’d spoken of conquering them, of walling off the communities in the coming years. I hadn’t thought that these others, so far off, could be stronger in numbers than us, that they were actually more powerful, with more supplies amassed between them.
    As they neared, I scanned their faces, looking for the boys from the dugout, still believing they might be inside the City. Each face was completely unfamiliar to me. Many were caked in mud and dirt, their boots ripped open. Others appeared thin and haggard. One woman had her wrist wrapped in rope, the bone pressing against a flat strip of wood.
    “It’s finally over,” the older woman beside me said. From her white shirt and black pants I could tell she’d worked at one of the shops in the Palace mall. “This is the end.” She smiled, nearly laughing as the soldiers came closer, their guns drawn as they approached the warehouse.
    Two looked up at us, aiming at the top ledge. “One of you is going to let us in,” the man yelled. “The rest keep your hands raised. Stand along the edge of the roof, where you’re in sight.”
    A thin man with glasses volunteered, disappearing behind us, into the depths of the warehouse. He returned minutes later, bringing two soldiers with him. The woman had hard, chiseled features. Her cheek was smeared with dried blood. She kept her gun aimed at us as she spoke. “We’re going to ask this once,” she said. “Is anyone here associated with the regime?”
    We stood in a line, our hands in the air, and I tried to slow my breathing to keep my fingers from shaking. A few seconds passed. The woman next to me was watching, waiting to see if I would speak. I closed my eyes. I was the King’s daughter, that fact inescapable.
    No one spoke. The wind whipped over the roof, bringing water to my eyes. I counted the seconds, grateful when each one passed. The other soldier, who was shorter, his pants torn at the knees, walked in front of us. He inspected our faces, our clothes, pausing for a moment by the woman in the Palace uniform. “Did you work—”
    “Wait,” someone said at the end of the line. A man in a tattered gray jacket was staring at me. His finger shook as he pointed in my direction. “She’s the King’s daughter. They ordered her execution in the City today.”
    “For the attempted murder of her father,” the woman beside me added. She turned around, facing the soldiers. “You can’t punish her. She’s acted with the rebels, not against them.”
    The soldiers didn’t speak. The short, stocky soldier with gray hair pulled me from the line. He grabbed rope from his belt and began tying my hands, while the other soldier leveled his gun at my chest. Their faces were calm, betraying nothing.
    “Anyone else?” the female soldier asked. She spoke slowly, and I noticed then that her lip was cut, the flesh swollen at the corner of her mouth. “Is anyone else from the Palace?”
    “She shouldn’t be punished,” the woman repeated. She lowered her hands, stepping out of the line. “Please—let her be. She’s pregnant.”
    The man with gray hair pulled me forward, my hands tied. “That’s not your decision.” He led me toward the roof’s exit, the female soldier following us. The rest of the citizens just stood there, watching, their hands still raised as the soldiers pulled me down the stairs.
    As soon as we were alone, the words spilled from my lips. I tried not to sound desperate as they pulled me forward, the metal steps passing quickly beneath my feet. “I was working with Moss.” I could barely make out their faces in the dark. “He was in a position inside the Palace, and I was working with him in an assassination plot against the King.”
    The stocky soldier twisted the rope around his hand again, not looking at me as I spoke. We went through the cement warehouse, its dank, shadowy insides filled with half-built furniture—dressers, tables, and chairs. The rifle was pressed into the small of my back as we stepped out onto the road. “I’ve never heard of a Moss,” the female soldier said.
    “Reginald,” I said. “He went by Reginald inside the City. He worked as my father’s Head of Press.”
    A fire burned up ahead, casting a strange glow on the buildings. The stocky soldier pulled me along, the rope burning my wrists. “You