by Jenn Lees
A crack, like a pencil slamming on a tabletop, echoed out the door. Siobhan stood further back.
“They’ve only ever shown that the Government comes first,” Mary McKenzie, the probable slammer of the pencil, continued. “They’ll take from us, call us allies and the next thing we ken, we’ll be swallowed up in them. They’ll monitor oor way of life, our self-sufficiency, our egalitarian governing—”
“They already have,” Christine interrupted the older woman.
“What do you mean?” Mary asked. “When?”
“Christine!” Rory spoke at last, his voice holding an edge.
“Tell us, Rory Campbell,” Martin said.
“Och.” Resignation filled Rory’s tone. “When I brought Siobhan back, they’d bugged her gear and followed us.” A chair creaked. “Micah dealt with it. The men—recovered—and we sent them back to the Government with a please explain.”
“Did they?” Bec asked.
No sound came from the room.
Rory must have shaken his head, for the Government had yet to respond to that one, and it was nearly two years ago.
Well, the Community did beat up their men.
Siobhan grimaced, aware she was eaves dropping but her feet stayed in place, nor could she move forward and make her presence known.
“Rory,” George spoke. “You know the Government better than anyone. What do you think? Should we align ourselves with them?”
“We should.” Rory’s reply was quick. “Because we need them,” Rory continued. “We require their resources for what will eventuate. Having said that, I truly believe we’ll lose our autonomy. That’s the price we’ll pay. The Community System, much to my deep regret, will never be the same if we do.”
“Bottom line, brother,” Callum asked. “If we didn’t have to, would you?”
“No,” Rory said, and for a few moments no one spoke; no papers shuffled. “We’ll become a Government outpost...And, because of our ties to the Government—through my marriage to Siobhan—it would be difficult to resist them.”
Cold clenched Siobhan’s shoulders.
Rory was proclaiming to all that deep down, he wasn’t happy with their connection to the New Scottish Government. The connection he’d made because of her.
Her throat burned. She blinked and clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp that threatened to give away her position just outside the door. A band ran around her chest and pressed in, tighter and tighter. She turned with care and trod with a light step away and along the corridor.
Once back on the main walkway, she scurried through the compound, avoiding others busy at their assigned tasks. She never eased her pace and ran the last short distance to their rooms. She flung open the door, slammed it behind her and then exhaled. She leaned against the door, her legs wobbling and her arms trembling.
“He’s betrayed me!” she shouted into their hallway. “My own husband had discredited the Government to his Chief Council.” She continued into the stillness of their accommodation. “Virtually stated the New Scottish Government is tyrannical and only wants to have power over us.” She noted her voice had risen. “That, only from necessity, would he even consider joining, and the cost would be significant. Why has he never shared this?” she vented as she strode to the kitchen.
Siobhan grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.
“Why tell his inner thoughts to the Chief Council before sharing them with me?” She asked after taking a sip from the glass shaking in her hand. “I could refute and correct and advise. Speak for the Government. Speak to the Government on the Community’s behalf.” She took another sip; the clear Scottish water went down the wrong way and she choked.
“But, no,” she said once her throat had cleared. “No one wants my input.”
Bile rose. She clunked the half-full glass into the sink and leaned against the bench, breathing in deeply until the nauseating hurt passed and the shaking settled.
Siobhan strode to the bedroom, dragged her few clothes from the wardrobe and stuffed them into her duffle bag.
Fumes, white and hot, began to rise deep within her.
Rory had walked away often enough. It’s my turn now!
She ran into Jake’s room, found another bag suitable for strapping on a saddle, and shoved it full of clothes and baby things she’d need for her little boy.
She would not leave without him.
Chapter 31
Invercharing Community, 2063
Siobhan snuck the long way around to the stables, avoiding most people. The percussive clang of the smithy’s mallet rang out from his forge and reverberated across the yard between the stables and the other animal shelters. He pounded out horseshoes, his attention focused on his task. Horses thundered out of the stable and Siobhan tucked herself against a wall and hid behind a post.
Damn. Rory and the other militia members on the Chief Council had found out about the bandits without her passing on Kendra’s message.
“Micah,” Rory shouted. Siobhan’s heart hammered at the sound of her husband’s voice. “Ask someone to let Siobhan know where I’ve gone. We’ll meet you and your men there, aye?”
Boy cantered past with Rory astride, his rifle hanging over his shoulder and magazines of ammunition protruding from the top of his saddlebags. Xian followed close, Katana in its sheath strung across his back, as always.
Siobhan stepped from behind the post. Micah, now alone in the deserted yard, marched across to the stables, his hand shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunlight.
“Siobhan.” He stopped dead. “I guess you heard...What’re you doing?”
Siobhan didn’t answer.
“Why the bags?” Micah strode forward, his loose dreads hung over his shoulders, and his suntanned forehead was a mass of crinkles. “Where’re you goin’?”
Siobhan stood. Decision time. She required an ally and Micah always seemed keen to please.
“I need your help, Micah.” Siobhan walked the few paces across the empty yard to where the ex-bandit stood.
“Oh, no, no, no.” He held up his hands, palms outward. “I know you guys aren’t happy, but don’t get me involved.”
“Please, take me to the Bunker.”
“No, ma’am.” Micah’s dreads vibrated with the tremor of his head shake. “I’ll no’ do that to a man who has given me a chance.”
“Escort me to the Bunker and I will ensure your father gets a private interview with the Prime Minister.” Her old authoritative tone returned.
The trembling dreads ceased their motion. Micah’s ribcage rose and fell.
“Okay. You be ready in five. I’ve gotta organise my men for this bandit chase Rory’s on.” His glare bore into her. “What about your son?”
“Jake’s coming too.”
“You’re gonna kill him, ya ken that?”
“I can take care of my child.”
Micah’s dreads vibrated again. “No, ma’am, I mean Rory.”
“You will be my escort, not my counsellor!” Siobhan ground out, as the white heat flashed again within her.
“Okay, okay. Five minutes, back here,” he said, pointing to the ground at his feet with his index finger.
“If you tell anyone—”
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Take these while I get Jake.” Siobhan thrust the duffle bags at Micah and strode to the building that housed the nursery.
Taking deep breaths, trusting it would assist a calm appearance, she stepped to the nursery, paused before entering and smoothed down her jumper and cargo pants. Jake was inside, bashing a toy xylophone, its tuneless metallic clang resounding with every thump of the mallet her baby held. A smile filled his face and pure delight oozed from him.
“Just getting Jake,” she said to the women on duty. She picked up her little boy and dressed him in his jacket then grabbed his bag. “Say bye-bye.”
Jake waved at the women as she whisked him out the door.
Micah waited by two saddled horses, one loaded with her duffle bags.
“The guards will wonder what’s goin’ on if you ride outta here all kitted up.” Micah raised his brows briefly.
“Oh.” Siobhan chewed her lower lip.
“You go out the back. I’ll ride out the front.” Micah tilted his head down, his dreads now secured in a tie. “The guards’ll think I’m taking supplies to Rory, or somethin’,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you round by the hills at the rear of the compound, and we’ll cut across and down. Long way around, but if you want out, that’s the way, yeah?”
She lifted her chin in assent then grabbed her jacket from her saddlebags and put it on. Micah mounted and left trailing her loaded horse.
Siobhan informed the single guard at the small back gate of the compound that she was taking a stroll up the hill behind the glen. Siobhan rested Jake on her hip, and he looked around at the trees and sky. He was so bright. Her eyes pricked with forming tears. Whatever had gone wrong with her and Rory, at least she’d have this beautiful blond, curly-haired boy. Her throat tightened for, apart from hair colour, he was so much like his father.
Siobhan climbed the steep incline and puffed; her arms were tight from holding Jake, and her leg muscles burned. The cool breeze brought a moisture with it. She turned for the last glance at the narrow glen, home to the Invercharing Community. White mist crept over the hills and hugged the surrounding mountains. She pulled up Jake’s hood and clutched him tighter. She continued along the lower edge of the hill and followed an overgrown track that circuited the very edge of the Community’s boundary. Micah sat waiting on his horse by a copse of rowan nestled in a dip between the hills.
Micah slipped off his mount and led her horse forward. He held Jake while she mounted, then passed him up to her.
“You know we’ll be camping tonight.” He remounted and nudged his horse to a walk ahead of hers. “I don’t see any bedroll or cooking gear in your stuff.”
Siobhan’s shoulders drooped. In her feverish desire to leave, she hadn’t suitably prepared for their journey.
“Just as well I grabbed some things, hey?”
“Thank you, Micah,” she said to Micah’s back.
Relief rippled over her and she brushed away tears that threatened.
“Not a lot, mind you. You made me hurry, like.”
The late afternoon wore on and the autumn mists thickened as the evening neared. Siobhan wrapped her coat around Jake who was sitting in front of her in the saddle, and he was soon lulled to a rocking sleep. That wonderful little-boy scent of his wafted up amongst the heat escaping from the coat tucked around him. She held him close and placed a kiss on his curly head, her soul welling with her love for him.
Micah took them on a path that hugged the mountain on the farther side. There were more trees here, as the sides of the mountains were not as steep, and the wind lessened. At times the route seemed circuitous, but every clump of trees and gorse looked the same, and the mist shrouded the hillside in an obscuring cloak.
“We gotta find a place to camp soon, with the night drawing in, and all,” Micah said over his shoulder while he rode ahead of her on the narrow track.
Yes, she’d picked the wrong time of the year to be travelling, with autumn here and winter just around the corner. Then a thought struck her.
“What will Cèilidh say?”
“She’ll think I’m off sortin’ bandits with Rory.”
Siobhan sunk in her saddle. “How long before you’re missed?”
“That depends on how long your man’s away dealin’ with the bandits I’m helping him with, ken?”
They came to a copse of gorse and rode through a narrowing of growth. They brushed past the prickly branches of the natural entrance. It opened up to a clearing hedged by gorse bushes the height of a man. Micah halted his horse and jumped down to the grassy space.
“We’ll make camp here. There’s plenty of shelter.” He stood with his hands set on his hips. “Did you think of a tent?”
“No.” Again. She groaned to herself at her lack of preparation.
“I’ve got a tarp we can string up somewhere. We’ll get soaked by the mist without it, ken?”
Soon Micah had a warm fire blazing and when it burned down to coals, he cooked bannocks over them. Jake had woken when they’d dismounted and cried when he saw the unfamiliar surroundings but settled after some food. Siobhan wrapped him in all her clothing for warmth and padding from the hard ground. He now slept on her coat, bundled under the tarp.
The mist thinned for a gap and the full moon stared down at Siobhan. She grimaced at the connection between romance and a full moon. At present, she and Rory were barely a sliver of a crescent moon. She ground her teeth on her grimace. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father had never remarried. A married relationship wasn’t on-hand for her to observe until she lived in the Bunker.
Siobhan sighed. Aunty Rajna compared marriage to the moon. Siobhan scraped at her memory to recall Aunty’s words. Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so does the intimacy of married love. It isn’t always a full moon, she said. Siobhan let a smile tweak at the corner of her mouth for a second as she heard Aunty’s voice in her head. Life changes shape like the moon and our love does with it. It is what it is at any given point. Crescent or new or full. It is still the moon, is it not?
If Siobhan kept on her current path, their moon would wane into nothingness.
But if she stayed...
Micah held a long stick wrapped with bannock dough over the coals. “You want this last bannock, Siobhan?” He glanced at the tight gap in the gorse through which they’d made their way.
“Yes, please.” Siobhan took the offered toasted bannock dough. Her stomach had settled, and her earlier adrenaline-fuelled trembles and wooziness had eased the further away they rode from the compound. With her stomach almost full, she anticipated sleeping well after her emotionally and physically exhausting day.
Micah looked up and stared at the gap in the gorse again. The thump of a horse’s hooves vibrated under her.
“Someone’s coming!” A flare of alarm ran through Siobhan. She glanced at her toddler sleeping soundly in a bundle of clothes. Were there bandits out this way? Surely Micah had contacts, and they’d be okay?
“Sorry, Siobhan.” Micah’s gaze remained on the break in the gorse hedge.
Siobhan spun and faced the entrance to their secluded campsite, staring at the gap.
Then Rory rode in.
Chapter 32
The Gorse Covered Mountainside
Siobhan stood taller, her nails digging into her palms. Rory slipped off Boy while Micah, without a word, grabbed Boy’s reins and led the stallion out of the gorse enclosure.
Siobhan fixed her feet to the ground, and a tremble shook her entire body as Rory strode unflinchingly toward her. He had dark circles under his eyes, his face was grimy, and his jaw set. He stopped two paces away, flicked his gaze to Jake sleeping bundled in her coat, then bore his stare into her.
“I won’t beg, Siobhan.” He spoke low, firm and determined.
Sweat moistened her palms while she willed herself to calmness.
“What do you want?” Firm tones again from her husband. “Would you go? Leave me and take our son with you?”
Heat flushed through her body and she acknowledged it for what it was. Anger at Rory for letting her down. And at herself for irrationally grabbing Jake and running—determined to leave the Community behind, but aching at the thought of being without Rory.
“I want you to make Jake and myself a priority.”
“But you are!” His quick, heated words flew out.
“It doesn’t seem like it.” Her voice strangled as she blinked back the tears.
Rory’s mouth tensed and he looked away, gulping. “Do you realise the pressure you put me under making demands like this?”
“Demands? They’re not demands. They’re what I expected from a husband.” Her voice broke,
so she dragged in air. “I know there’s a lot about to happen, but we need to see you.”
He turned back to her, a question in his eyes.
“I need you, Rory,” she answered it.
“And I you, Siobhan.” His expression remained hard. “I can’t do it without you.”
“Can’t do what, Rory? Because you seem not to need us at all.”
“All of it.” He waved his hands around him. “Lead. Be a father. Love you. Live this life.” Rory’s voice broke.
“I need something else from you.” She pushed aside the hurt that the emotion in his voice had conjured.
He tilted his head.
“I need you to not undermine my efforts at Community-Government co-operation.”
“What?”
“Will you trust the Government for my sake, as well as the future’s, and not bad-mouth the New Scottish Government to the whole Chief Council?”
“What, you heard—?”
“Yes, and that was the last straw.”
“Och!” Rory rubbed the back of his neck.
Night birds called, and an owl hooted in the distance. Rory dropped his hand to his side and took a step toward her.
“I ken you’re disappointed in me, Siobhan.” His voice strained with each word. “I dinnae really ken what you were expecting when you married me.”
Siobhan didn’t reply. Tears pricked her eyes while emotions, far too intense for her to feel individually, bubbled up and choked her throat so barely a breath came out.
“The perfect man, or woman for that matter, is boring.” He gave a tiny shake to his head. “You’re not faultless.”
“Neither are you.” She broke her resolve to keep silent.
“You kenned full well I was nae!” She flinched at Rory’s loud response.
He stepped closer, closing the space between them. His warmth radiated from him and reached her face.
“I’m just a man. Not your knight in shining armor, even though I do ride a horse.” He attempted a smile.