The Resistance

hunched over it uncomfortably as if deep in thought. The founding father of the Underground, Pip was, to Peter, the nearest thing he’d known to a father – closer to him even than Anna’s father had been. Pip had been there from the beginning, guiding him, helping him. Later, Peter had discovered that he wasn’t the only one. Pip guided and led everyone in the Underground; everyone was equally in thrall to his hypnotic eyes, his unspoken power. Pip wasn’t the Underground’s official leader; it didn’t have one, because Pip refused to let the structures and hierarchies of the hated Authorities infiltrate his ‘group’. But he was the leader really; everyone deferred to his judgement and no decision was made without consulting him. He’d begun the fight against Longevity years ago all on his own, Mr Covey, Anna’s father, had told Peter, writing leaflets, helping the parents of Surpluses, gradually attracting supporters until the Underground stretched the length and breadth of the country. Now the Underground had a massive network of similar groups abroad and had become so powerful that the Authorities had set up a dedicated department to fight them. All because of Pip.
    But Pip would never talk about it. He didn’t look much like a powerful leader either. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to his appearance; his hair changed regularly to ensure he could blend in, to make sure he wasn’t noticed, wasn’t captured, but most of the time it was pretty unkempt. And he always insisted on meeting in shabby, run-down places – like this one: plain walls covered with peeling paint, a window greased to prevent anyone from seeing in, a solitary bulb doing its best to provide enough light, a table that wobbled every time he leant on it.
    The Authorities had put a high price on Pip’s head, published his picture on every street corner, on every news feed. But they still hadn’t caught him. People said he was far too clever, that he was too well protected, but Peter suspected it was more than that. It was just the way Pip was. You wanted to help him. You wanted him to like you, to respect you. Quite simply, he made you want to do everything you could to please him; it was why the Underground had never suffered from internal feuding, why people were joining all the time. Legend had it that a Catcher once discovered Pip in a disused warehouse, that hours later, instead of capturing him and claiming his reward, the Catcher was swearing allegiance to the Underground, that he was now one of its most valued soldiers. It didn’t surprise Peter in the slightest.
    ‘Good to see you, Peter,’ Pip said softly, without looking up.
    Peter smiled, immediately relaxing. ‘Yeah, you too.’
    Pip motioned for him to sit down, offered him a drink of water, then looked at Peter seriously. ‘Things are getting more dangerous,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We carried out an attack on a couple of Longevity shipments recently and the Authorities are upping surveillance. We’re going to have to be careful.’
    ‘I’m always careful,’ Peter said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
    ‘I know you are. I mean all of us. The whole movement. There are spies everywhere.’ He looked up briefly, and Peter was struck as always by his eyes, whirlpools of dark blue water that drew you in, inspired trust, made you want to do anything to make them shine with pride.
    ‘You can count on me,’ he said quietly.
    ‘You’re still starting on Monday?’
    ‘Yes.’ Peter nodded for added emphasis.
    ‘And your counsellor?’ The counsellor had worried Pip initially. He saw her as an agent of the Authorities, there to spy on Peter and wheedle information out of him; he worried about every word Peter uttered in her company. Until now, that was. Now she’d become a tool, a communication device.
    ‘I told her I’m bored and frustrated and that I want more money,’ Peter said, a note of pride in his voice.
    ‘She didn’t suspect anything?’
    Peter grinned. ‘Of course not. Anyway, I am bored and frustrated.’ He raised an eyebrow at Pip, but Pip didn’t smile; instead, he regarded Peter cautiously.
    ‘Peter, are you sure you want to do this? Really sure?’
    Peter rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
    ‘But you say you’re frustrated?’
    Peter sighed. He’d learnt long ago that Pip absorbed and analysed every word and gesture, intuited every emotion. Peter knew that this was how Pip held sway over people, but it was still