Remote

Wren

Wren halted and gulped cool night air and silence. There'd been a voice attached to a body, but Phantoms never spoke. Their job was to kill.

That meant a New State citizen had been outside at night after curfew, but that had never happened on any of her raids.

Stomach muscles clenching with the need to flee, her feet failed to move.

Centering herself, she took a deep inhale and studied the manicured lawns and technology-lit residences. At this time of night, computers created brainless zombies out of the people attached. No one should be loitering outside and willing to engage a lone girl skulking through the shadows.

And yet?

She squinted into the unfamiliar darkness. Her sight line remained clear.

Heartbeat slowing, she surveyed the landscape before trotting onward, footfall pounding in her ears.

Stress could cause hallucinations. It had happened to other raiders. It could happen to her.

By focusing on home, Wren calmed the racing thoughts about the presence and focused on her return home. She'd never trade her noisy and chaotic world for this unnatural calm. Each part of her buried society was important, from the big market in the South Cavern where various goods were bought and sold, to the swimming hole she'd frequented, and the military wing where she trained. Thoughts of home brought composure and the vestiges of a recent lecture from her father.

"Your safety is paramount," he'd said.

"I've never encountered a New State citizen and have been trained by your commanders to avoid drones. I'm usually on time."

"You're always last to return. It irritates your commanders and scares your mother."

The next night she hadn't come back until the morning bells had tolled within New State, prompting further chastisement.

Her parents had always disliked her decision to join the raiders and were vocal about it. Raiders often died young by Phantom, and Wren had responsibilities. She was the oldest daughter of a rebel leader, and one day she'd take over his position if she lived long enough, which was exactly why she had to study New State to the best of her ability.

She couldn't lead without understanding the enemy and putting herself in danger before risking the lives of other citizens. It made sense in her mind, if not in her parents.

"Risking your life lowers community morale," her father had berated.

But Wren refused to be a good girl, sit home, and study the dusty textbooks lining her father's shelves. She couldn't be what he wanted.

Anger flushed her cheeks, their dispute the perfect motivator. She put the mystery New State voice out of her mind and eyed the sky, noting the light creeping into the horizon. Wren perused the pods along the edge of the road, scanning for those easiest to break into. One quick stop before the bells.