Holiday Resistance

By Roxy Matthews

A Dystopian Colonization Revolt Romance Novella

 

Nothing's worse than a pissed off woman. Except one who's been told 'no', one too many times. C.C. wants her God-given right—to bear children. The government, however, disagrees.

C.C. Spring wanted nothing more than to be a mother, not only for herself but her dying family line. When she's rejected for the Partnering Project in her final year of eligibility, she does something she would never have—trusting in a stranger.

Toby Moon knows more than he has ever let be said, for his own safety. But when he witnesses an injustice on the only heir of a past revolutionary, he steps up against a tyranist government and aides her in rebellion.

With an antidote made from C.C.'s DNA in hand, and a government determined to silence them, C.C. and Toby must find a way to free the masses, or watch the end of humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxy Matthews
• Release date: Jun 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9781775287483

Roxy Matthews

R.M.Sackville is a self-published author of novellas, novelettes, and short story collections that delve into the dark and twisted, testing the boundaries of taboo with Dark Fantasy, Sci/Fi, and Thriller pieces. Her work has been featured in Suspense Magazine and LitFest Magazine.     R.M.Sackville's softer side can be found under her alternate pen name; Roxy Matthews, where she writes Romantic/Suspense and Fantasy. In 2018 she was named one of Canada's Best Writers of the Year by Polar Expressions Publishing. Her work has been featured in several anthologies under this pen name, including ‘The Way Through’ by Polar Expressions Publishing, The Charmed Writers Flash Fiction Anthology 2019, and Naughty Night's Press' Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology.  Subscribe to her newsletter for updates on new releases and promotions at https://bluebaloo79.wixsite.com/roxymatthewsauthor/newsletter

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE LOUD BEEPING of rejection filled the room, stilled C.C.’s breath as she met the eyes of the man who would not be paired with her.

Of course, this wasn’t how she wanted to find her true mate, the man to give her a child, but it was the way of the new world. A world their ancestors left to future generations, nearly stripped of all its resources. The answer to preservation and regrowth of their infrastructure was drastic, the sterilization of every female baby born and the creation of the Partnering Project.

I’m sorry, her rejected mate whispered.

His nurse began to remove the electrodes from his temples, IV from his vein.

In the sterile ‘Partner’ room surrounded by glass, C.C. shuddered. Not at the look of pity in those gorgeous blue eyes, or sadness in his deep voice, but at the emptiness in her heart.

She didn’t agree with the government’s way of controlling who was chosen to bear children, yet she understood. But that didn’t make it hurt less each time she was rejected, forced to wait another calendar cycle.

C.C. shook her head, coerced a smile through her unshed tears.

Don’t be. My time will come.

He nodded, stood as the last of the wires attached to him were released.

If it’s any consolation, he started, but she cut him off with a cocked head and narrowed gaze.

Oh, I know. ‘One day, when your partner is found, you will be a wonderful mother’, she finished.

She fought the bite of anger that rose inside her at the rehearsed words she heard time and time again over the years. Nine to be exact. The thought of all the other women who heard those words over and over swelled her hatred for the way the world was.

How many women, every cycle for hundreds of years, listened to the same words? Some hearing nothing but, until their final breath of air?

It sickened her to know that the words Mister Blue Eyes planned to spew to her was a product of a sick government, their propaganda spread with every man who spoke the words.

Miss Spring.

The sound of the nurse’s gentle voice pulled her from the retreating back side of yet another failed attempt at motherhood.

She met the portly woman’s soft gaze, the only part of her body that was not donned in white garb, including booties, surgical mask, and cap.

I’m sorry again. But we were much closer to a match. He was ninety-six percent, she said

Her plump cheeks rose with the forced smile.

"Next year will be yours, my girl.

C.C. bit back tears of frustration and anger. Year after year since she turned twenty, she sat in one of these chairs, inside glass walls, awaiting her fate. And every time she was turned away. The numbers not within government standards. Her match never found.

Without a word to the woman, C.C. turned from her, allowed her to release the reins of the forced civilization she lived in.

It wasn’t fair, none of it was.

She lowered her head in defeat once more.

Who were they to say when she was fit to be a mother? That her spawn, her family would drain their world of its resources if not restrained, controlled?

CHAPTER TWO

ONE YEAR LATER

C.C. LAY IN her cot , her attention on the world outside the window. Bright stars sparkled in the dark sky. The moon beyond, she knew without seeing, basked the world below, flashed off the snow-covered ground.

Tomorrow was the day.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around herself.

This would be her tenth year of going through the government imposed ‘partner’ screening. The year she would be given a mate. She could feel it, could smell it in the crisp March air.

Every year, she read the announcements and watched coverage of the new lives born into the world. Fingers clenched in her lap, knuckles white as her eyes rounded on the television screen. Each little face gave her goosebumps, skittered her heart, and brought tears to her eyes.

But something changed in her when the last grouping of lives were brought out in the open for all to see.

A smile formed on her lips as she pulled her arms from her chest, plopped them beside her on the cot. She sighed, inhaled a deep breath, the smile now tattooed on her face as it had been in her heart for months.

This was her year.

*.*.*.*.*

THE FOLLOWING MORNING C.C. woke before dawn, jumped from her cot, and raced to the shower. As she crossed the small bungalow provided by the government, she caught sight of the bright rays of the sun splicing into the room.

A new day. New beginnings, she sang.

Bent her naked body over the faucet, shimmied her thighs to the tune as she set the shower temperature.

Another room away, the sound of the television turning on, voices spewing from it had her pause, hand in midair.

A message from the government, she knew. It was the only time televisions across the new world came to life without touch of another.

Late breaking news, a male voice bellowed from the set.

C.C. turned the taps off, stood, moved to the bathroom door, and peered into the wide open living space beyond.

On the rectangular screen, a news broadcast complete with red ‘Breaking News’ banner slid across the bottom. Center point, a chiseled