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.

After a moment, the screen goes dark again.

Slowly, careful not to bump my wrist, I sit up and get out of bed. I tiptoe out of the sleeping area and towards the front windows. I find a seat bathed in the silver light of the moon and sit down against the wall.

"Yes, I am awake," I whisper at the com-device, which I hold up to my mouth.

Nothing happens.

Brows furrowed, I try pressing one of the buttons. The screen lights back up. The message is still there. I tap on the screen. The message icon bounces. Does that mean something?

I tap the icon and the screen changes. A text box suddenly appears with a keyboard beneath it.

I type my response, my fingers slow and awkward: yes i am awake

After I press send, a loading bar pops up. The message is transmitting.

It takes a moment, but then a reply comes. Are you some place where I can call you?

The building where we are is one large room, but I think I am far enough away from the sleeping area that I won't disturb anyone. For a moment I consider going outside, but I'm only wearing a t-shirt and it's always chilly at night.

I enter my reply: yes but i will have to whisper

A moment later, the screen lights up again. Incoming Transmission. Accept? Yes or No.

I click on, "yes," and suddenly Marcy's face shows up on the screen. The picture is small and pixilated, but it is definitely her.

"You made it," she says, her voice coming out too loud.

"I did, but, shit, how do I turn down the volume on this thing?" I say, slightly panicked.

"The buttons on the side," she whispers. "And try to adjust the signal. Use the dial on the back."

"The back?" I reexamine the device. She must be talking about the smooth circle. I lower the volume and then run my finger over the dial. Immediately, her image becomes clearer. More defined. Seeing her, I get a flutter in my stomach. "Wow, it's really you."

"Where are you? I can barely see you."

She misses me. Maybe there is hope for us after all.

I swivel the device around, panning the camera, showing her. "I'm just sitting by a window. There isn't really any private place for me to sit."

She nods. "Is it really bad there?"

"No," I say, more defensive than I intend. "It's not like the compound, but we're re-building."

"I–I know you will. What I meant was, is everyone okay?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I start. And I am about to say more, but I'm suddenly startled by a loud knocking.

My head jerks up.

There are half a dozen strangers at the door. One is knocking. Another is cupping their eyes to the large windows, trying to see in.

"Um, I have to go," I say to Marcy.

"Okay," she answers, her voice tinged with concern. "I'll call you tomorrow. But you can always text me."

After I say goodbye, I stand and slip the device back into my pocket, knowing that I can talk to her later. Learn everything from her soon. Keep her in my life.

Looking around, no one else is up. Christopher and Sequoia have each set up private quarters in a back office, but there isn't any light under the door.

"Hey, you!" someone yells from outside.

They've spotted me.

For a moment, I'm frozen. I don't know what to do.

"We saw your protest. We want to join you," the voice yells.

My first instinct is that this is a trap. That a group of officers are trying to infiltrate our compound.

But that's not the city's style. Not how they do things.

Maybe our march really worked.

Started the ripple of change.

I walk to the door and click open the lock. I smile, knowing it's not as magical as Sequoia's, but hoping it still hits the right tone.

Then I spread my arms wide. "Welcome to the Queer Rebels."

The group pauses for a moment at the door's threshold.

I step back, looking them over. They're young, maybe years away from their Choosing Day. But we've inspired them to leave the city. To escape.

Will anyone else come?

"I'm Charlie," I say.

But before they respond, there is movement behind me. I turn my head and see that the door to Christopher's and Sequoia's quarters is open. They're walking over to see what the commotion is.

"We're here to join," says the one who spoke before. A smooth-cheeked boy with a light-brown faux-hawk.

"We're glad you made it," Sequoia says.

"Was it tough getting out?" Christopher asks. "Did someone help you find the place?"

The kids exchange glances. Maybe deciding who should speak. Then the same boy answers again. He is their chosen spokesperson.

"Definitely an increase in guards, yeah," he says, shrugging one shoulder. "A boy with red hair told us how to get here from the beach."

Christopher nods.

I think he's going to say more, but there is a sudden crackling sound that comes from his pants pocket.

"Chis, you there?"

The voice is staticky and hard to recognize.

"Babe, I don't have much time. Please. Are you there?"

In the moonlight, Christopher goes white as a ghost. Then he frantically grabs a com-device out of his pocket. It's like the one Marcy gave me, but shorter and flatter.

"Harry?" Christopher says, turning his back to us. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it's me. Babe, listen, listen carefully. I've discovered something, something big."

"What is it?" Christopher takes a step forward, away from us.

"On Choosing Day, what they do... the brain–"

"Hey!" a loud voice interrupts the transmission.

Everyone around me seems frozen. We all are straining to hear, even the newcomers.

"Harry, Harry, are you safe?" Christopher yells into the receiver, taking another step away from us.

"Keep your hands off me!" Harry yells. Feet run. Harry breathes heavily. "Choosing Day is worse than–" he pants.

There is a loud clunk. The com device he was holding must have dropped from his hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a gruff voice says, followed by a sickening thud and a loud crack.

And then nothing.

Christopher leans forward and slowly drops to his knees. "Harry, baby? Harry? Are you okay?" His voice breaks.

Sequoia is the first to walk over to him, placing a hand on his back. "He's alive. And he was clever enough to contact you."

"We need to rescue him," Christopher says, standing, turning back to face us.

I glance over at the newcomers. They've just escaped from the city. I'm sure this isn't how they were planning on being greeted.

Then Christopher's tear-filled eyes land on me, steely and gray in the moonlight. "Charlie, you heard him."

I nod.

"You left him behind. We need to get him back."

My mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. I barely escaped the city with my life today, and the dorms are on the city outskirts.

If Harry is being held in downtown, rescuing him will be a suicide mission.

But the way Christopher's eyes are boring into me, I'm not sure I'll have a choice.