Stung

“Why are you so clean? […] You’re clean. Your clothes, your skin. And you smell like… […] Plants and iodine. Are you from the right side of the wall?”

Arrin makes these comments after pulling Fo down to the relative safety of the sewer. The line drops several foreshadowing clues; first, it calls out Fo’s outsider status, having wakened with no memory of recent events nor why she is clean (and, Arrin tells her later, well-fed). Also, Arrin’s question directs reader focus the idea of the wall and Arrin’s brief reference to the environment evokes images of both a greenhouse and an experimental, laboratory-like setting with her juxtaposition “plants and iodine.

“When I uncover my ears, the music returns—Beethoven’s Seventh—the same song I heard in the dripping water as I fell asleep the night before. Only this time, instead of remembering the tune as I play it on the piano, guitar strings sing the melody.”

Fo’s senses are heightened by fear, hunger, and anticipation of whatever “favor” she must repay to Arrin when she hears the guitar music and recognizes the composition. This line of interior monologue serves to strengthen Fo’s background trait of musicianship; it also suggests a discordant dichotomy in this new, unfamiliar world Fo must navigate, with lovely music and a skilled player (which represent culture, civility, and humanity) in the midst of a violent neighborhood. Fo will soon learn the player is Bowen, hinting at their developing romance.

“And when the light touches my hand, my tattoo shines through the layers of dirt and blood and makeup like a bike reflector. The box wails a warning siren.”

This is the moment the stakes change completely for Fo: Micklemoore and the other militia members discover her Level Ten mark. In a novel like Stung, in which many rapid-fire events contribute to the conflict, noting the most important discoveries and complications in the early rising action helps the reader to follow and comprehend the later events, twists, and ironies. Fo will soon discover that others consider her the most potentially dangerous of all marked victims.

“I don’t know. ‘Cause you’re new at this job? And I don’t want to see someone as young and healthy as you dead. How ‘bout I give you eight ounces?”

Fo overhears Bowen asking an unknown male voice why he wants to take charge of a Fec, and the man replies with these lines. In a fast-paced, popular fiction such as Stung, dialogue clues help the plot to advance without slowing the tempo. Fo now knows that others will pay a hefty and valuable amount—8 ounces of honey—for her, and that this mystery man states an intention to take her to the lab on Sunday. This mention of details also reminds the reader of the yellow flyer Fo saw before meeting Arrin.

“When I was eleven, I fell in love with my neighbor.”

This line of interior monologue introduces Fo’s flashback that describes her connection to Duncan Bowen, Dreyden’s older brother. Fo first mistakes Dreyden for Duncan when she meets him in the militia camp, unable to fathom yet that Dreyden aged four years. This line shows how the content of each flashback helps to characterize Fo more intimately at this point in the narrative than the surrounding real-time action. The flashbacks represent pauses in the fast-paced plot that provide the reader with insight and indirect characterization details about the protagonist through glimpses of her earlier life she closely recalls.

“Tears fill my eyes, the first good tears that I’ve cried since waking up in my abandoned house. Thank you, Dreyden!”

An uneasy peace between Fo and Dreyden Bowen is born when he refuses to sell her to Len in the militia camp despite an offer of an overwhelming amount of honey: 24 ounces. Fo feels gratitude despite Bowen’s rough treatment of her in her first day at the camp; now that he recognizes her as his former neighbor and classmate, he is inclined to protect her. Their alliance will grow in subsequent chapters as Bowen reveals pieces of their given circumstances to Fo that she cannot yet recall.

“You played it at least a thousand times before everything changed. The tune is sort of ingrained into my head.”

Bowen’s line to Fo reveals that the guitar she heard arriving at the militia camp is Bowen’s, and that he was playing the same Beethoven composition she recalls practicing on the piano. The inference here suggests that a connection existed between Bowen and Fo that transcended their child-like teasing and name calling, one that underscores the subtle attraction they begin to feel for one another now.

“I growl and yank my arms from the men restraining them and sit up. My fingers curl into a fist and I throw all my rage into swinging it toward the person closest to me.”

This moment indicated by Fo’s interior monologue represents an important plot point when the men attempt to kidnap Fo from the militia camp for her worth as a woman. It is also a notable character development step, as Fo fights back—a juxtaposition with her previous camp days as a bound and helpless prisoner. Finally, it represents a new conflict for Fo, both internally and externally: Is she about to turn into a full-fledged beast? Her actions and strength imply that might be the case, yet she feels no physical change.

“The rifle is cold and much heavier than it looks. I pick it up, check the safety, balance it on my shoulder, rest my finger on the trigger, and point it out the alley in the direction of the stomping feet. And, side by side, we wait.”

Bowen accepts Fo’s ready alliance in this moment as a hive of beasts passes nearby after they go rogue from the militia camp. He waits with the grenade, ready to pull the pin; she waits with the rifle. Bowen does not know about her marksmanship abilities, made evident to readers in the earlier flashback with her father at the military base. It is notable that Bowen wordlessly allows Fo’s help and does not mind that she takes up the rifle when danger is imminent, but when they are alone in the factory, he insists on cuffing her legs in case she turns feral.

“They’ve opened the gate! For the first time in ever, they opened the gate on a Wednesday! And we’re here and not there.”

Bowen’s frustrated remark pointedly demonstrates how the stakes keep rising; ironically, even though Fo is now with a knowledgeable protector, the opening of the gate on the wrong day means that the given circumstances continue to change, and that Bowen does not in fact know everything. This rising action development is a complication that also foreshadows other jarring inconsistencies, such as Governor Soneschen’s upcoming appearance as a lawless authority figure.

“His lips part, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been kissed. My stomach drops, and my knees forget how to stay straight. I grip Bowen’s shirt and let my lips melt against his. But he pulls his face from mine.”

The attraction Fo and Bowen feel for one another becomes irresistible when they stand close together in the dark of the hidden factory room. This moment solidifies the subplot of romance between the two and adds to Fo’s continuingly worsening conflict; now she must admit that she has feelings for Bowen and must prevent her feelings from clouding her judgment.

“And, as if he’s the old, gentle Jonah, he pauses, the briefest release of his sculpted muscles. He blinks, looks away, and changes course, veering toward the opposite side of the street, sprinting away on one good ankle, and one ankle that is twisted painfully to the side.”

At the end of Soneschen’s meeting in the streets with the raiders, Fo peeks from her hiding place and makes eye contact with the chained beast—her twin Jonah. Though Jonah wants to lunge toward her, Fo gives a shake of her head, and Jonah changes course. This action implies that even a Level Ten beast like Jonah might be motivated by emotion, recognition, comprehension, and love. Fo does not analyze this action beyond her immediate gratitude.

“Wait! […] There’s hope. We’ve manufactured a vaccine, a sort of antivenin derived from the bees. There’s only a limited supply, so…”

Fo’s flashback to the scientists’ news conference reveals strong ironies: scientists tried to help the honeybees, but inadvertently killed them all with a bioengineered bee that became aggressive and murderous. These “GenMod” bees then caused the bee flu. Still trying to help, the scientists here reveal the vaccine that gives rise to Fo’s inciting incident (waking up marked and without a clue in her ruined bedroom). The author uses the flashbacks in Stung to slowly release exposition, keeping readers guessing and in suspense.

“Please. Don’t take me to the lab. Take me with you.”

Fo voices a plea to escape rather than face whatever enemy within the wall or outside of it must be fought in order to find resolution. In classical story structure, heroes sometimes experience a faltering of courage just before they face an ultimate test. Additionally, Fo relies on Bowen’s companionship, knowledge, preparedness, and bravery after fleeing the militia camp with him, but her words here actually foreshadow an ironic turn of events: soon Bowen will leave and Fo must act on her own.

“He rests his forehead on mine and frames my face with his hands. They smell like metal and soap and shaving cream.”

Bowen decides that he and Fo should flee together to Wyoming; here, he prepares to depart to round up supplies and weaponry for the journey. Fo drinks in every moment of tenderness in this scene, which began with the enjoyment of clean water on her skin and ends here in trepidation and dread of losing her one light in this landscape of darkness. More sensory imagery draws the reader in and forges a connection across the boundary between dystopian story and realism; despite the strangeness of Fo’s world, readers know those smells and thus, can better imagine her experiences.

“Cities Urged to Take Individual Government Control—White House Can No Longer Offer National Protection.”

A hallmark of many near-alternate-future dystopian stories is a setting in which the centralized, federalized democracy that Americans know well disappears, often replaced with some basic authoritarian control or even a lawless anarchical society. The extent to which the transition from democracy to dystopia is explained varies from story to story; in Stung, only minor clues are offered, and readers are left to fill in holes with their imaginations. This magazine headline Fo finds in the Marriott serves as evidence for readers’ suspicions that formal national governing ended sometime while Fo was comatose.

“Something flickers inside my brain. A familiarity I can’t explain, the feeling that I’ve been in there, seen the skyline framed by stars. A fleeting image of blue eyes and hushed words fills my mind.”

The author plants some information in Fo’s linear plot now so that a revelation will be more logical and fulfilling later. Like many parts of Fo’s experience since waking in her bedroom, her memory stubbornly refuses to offer up the whole picture. The consequence of her patchy memory is readers’ continued suspense.

“Take these to her and tell her some bad men are coming and you guys need to hide.”

Fo runs back to Room 1513 of the Marriott after inadvertently shooting Bowen and discovers a small boy eating the Spam from their backpacks. Fo’s actions and demeanor after realizing she shot Bowen and that he is close to death leave her shocked and emotionlessness. Lest the reader feel distanced by Fo’s numb, pragmatic thinking, the author provides a quick glimpse of Fo’s kindness and humanity when she attempts to protect the child from approaching danger.

“They need her back so they can figure out how to cure the others.”

The conflict of the novel grows more complex as the story enters its final stages: Fiona woke from her coma, and despite a Level Ten dose of the vaccine, she shows no signs of turning into the violent beast everyone expects. So as Arrin points out in this line, the lab could certainly use her as a study toward a cure. What Arrin does not know, however, is that the governor wants Fo erased. A larger conspiracy is at play, one that Fo must continue to work to expose.

“Jonah leaped to his feet and tried to tear me off the metal table, his nails raking along my back, my neck.”

One of the many mysteries—why Fo has scars from fingernail scratches on her back—is solved as Fo flashes back to her last memories before her long sleep. Under the effects of the bee flu vaccine, Jonah cannot think rationally: He injures the doctor and tries to help Fo by clawing her back to get her off the table and prevent her coma. Jonah’s struggle to help Fo despite his beast-like tendencies foreshadows his sense of tenderness and protection toward her in the pits.

“I will not die without fighting for a life I am not yet done living.”

Fo makes a stand in this moment, revealed through her interior monologue just before the electromagnetic cuffs release all the fighters in the pits. Fo experiences many moments of almost-surrender in her figurative and literal journey in the story; in the hands of the black market, for example, she offers no resistance and seems resigned to perish in the horrific hand-to-hand violence of the pits. The memory of her father’s words on fighting tactics, however, rallies her spirit. This turn of objective in Fo is an important step in her character development.

“The other side of the wall is the safest place.”

As Fo finally begins to remember the recent events just before she awakened in her ruined bedroom, a strong irony comes to light in this line of dialogue from Lissa. Unexpectedly, after the many dangers Fo faced since waking up, she discovers in her recollection that thanks to the governor’s criminal and immoral desire to retain power, inside the wall is more dangerous than outside.

“My gaze moves to her neck, to a golden treble clef hanging on a gold chain. I know this necklace. My father gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday.”

Fo sees Lissa wearing her necklace, and they joyfully reunite. The necklace is a symbol of humanity; it directly represents music as a human art form. Just as importantly, it serves as a symbol of family unity and the connection between siblings: The necklace helps Lissa to remember Fiona for who she was before the vaccine, and on waking in the medical center, it helps Fo to recognize her sister.