Cross - Mildreds Resistance

THE NETWORK SERIES
by Katie Cross

Mildreds Resistance

Miss Mabels School for Girls

The Isadora Interviews

Antebellum Awakening

The High Priests Daughter

War of the Networks

or read all six books collected in one edition as
The Network Series Complete Collection

Short Stories from Miss Mabels

Short Stories from the Network Series

Mildred's Resistance
Young Adult Fantasy

Text copyright 2015 by Katie Cross

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, or incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity or resemblance to events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Map artwork by Jason Anderson
Cover designed by Jenny Zemanek at Seedlings Design Studio
Typesetting of print editions by Chris Bell at Atthis Arts LLC
E-book production by Kella Campbell at E-books Done Right

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author. For information regarding permission, send a query to the author at .

Published by Antebellum Publishing.

KOBO EDITION ISBN 978-0-9915319-7-4 VERSION 3.0
Also available as a trade paperback ISBN 978-0-9915319-5-0

Visit the author at www.kcrosswriting.com to learn more about The Network Series .

To my Mildreds.

You know who you are. Love yer guts.

Acknowledgments

T o write a novel is to harness the power of a village.

I truly relearn this lesson every single time, but never so much as I did with Mildreds Resistance . MR is a work of many, many tears. My hearts blood went into figuring out and finalizing this story. No work of mine has required such sacrifice so far, so its with great joy that I turn it into your hands.

I have a few Mildreds in my life. Learning how she/they think was insightful, exhausting, and sometimes hysterical. So first I must thank the Mildreds for tolerating my endless questions and personality explorations. Love yer guts.

To the most incredible publishing team in the world: Catherine (and all the other fabulous editors you provide me), you make my words pretty. To the beta readers who suffered through early drafts of MR when the going wasnt easy (Kelsey, Brandi, Kirstin, Holly, Stephen, and any others I may have forgotten), I think youve earned a personal swimming pool in heaven for putting up me. To Kella, Chris, Jenny, and all those who put this beast together and made it what it is: you guys rock.

To my friends and family: Im so grateful for all the support and love.

To my fans: love yer guts too, guys. MUAH.

Husband, LM, Ryker, Bridger: I sure like your handsome faces.

D ear Reader,

This book is written by an unknown author. Thats the name Ive chosen and its the only name youll ever know. My identity is not nearly as important as yours.

Suffice it to say that you may trust me; everything in this book is true. I tell the story about the people of the Resistance and all that it meant at the time. Perhaps it means something to you now, but it will never mean anything to you like it did to us.

The Resistance wasnt an explosion. Rather, it was a slow burn that turned to flame, and then to fire. As to blame, I ask you to draw your own conclusions, for you now hold the truth in your hands.

Sincerely Yours,

The Unknown Author

The Beginning

M ildred was a young girl, but she didnt know it.

Most six-year-old girls didnt spend their evenings hiding in a closet, protecting their little brother, while trying to block out the sound of their drunk father with magical spells. Most young girls dressed dolls, went to bed with a full tummy, and had time to play.

But not Mildred.

Look at the picture of the dragon, Jorden, Mildred whispered to her little brother, wincing when shattering glass crashed outside the small closet. What color is it?

Father screamed something at Mother, but Mildred couldnt make out the words.

Gween, Jorden promptly replied, but his wide brown eyes strayed back to the door when the bellowing ceased. Mothers calm voice responded, soothing some of Mildreds worry. Mother would calm Father down; she always did. Then hed apologize and be kind for a day or two before falling back into a sullen silence.

Very good, Mildred said, turning the page. Her right cheekbone throbbed every time she spoke, but she ignored it. Jorden was watching her warily, so she acted like nothing was wrong. How about this dragon?

A candle trembled in the air next to them, held there by Mildreds weak ability to do magic. Beads of wax rolled down the candlestick, whose flame flickered eerily in the dark. A dollop of hot wax fell onto the back of her hand, but she ignored it.

This dragon is red, isnt it? She pointed to a painted scene in the book, but Jorden wasnt looking.

Milly, he whined, pressing his hands to his ears and leaning into her side. Make the yelling go away.

A slam sounded. Father had thrown a chair this time, no doubt. Theyd never have the currency to buy new furniture. Mildred pressed her hands to Jordens ears and tried to think of an incantation that would block out sounds, but her mind had gone foggy. Her hand strayed to the tender skin covering the pulse in her cheek. Father had never struck her before tonight. She hoped Mother wouldnt have to spend the next day in bed, like last time.

We cant make them stop fighting, Jorden.

I want Mother!

She slapped a hand over his mouth. Quiet! she hissed, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Father often forgot about them during his ipsum-fueled rage, but sometimes he remembered. Even Mothers protection spells couldnt stop him if he really wanted to open the closet door. She softened her voice when Jordens lower lip trembled.

Im sorry, Jorden, she said, gathering him into her lap. I didnt mean to scare you. But we cant see Mother right now. She locked us in here, remember?

He nodded. A long tear ran down his cheek from a wide brown eye.

Lets keep reading about dragons, she said, holding the book a bit higher. Want to keep reading?

He hesitated but finally nodded and ran an arm underneath his drippy nose.