“What happened to them?” Sangria asked.
“I'm getting to that,” he smirked. “Keep your corset on.”
Sangria was about to say something angry, but Coronado shook his head in warning.
“I caught the carnies on the road at night and followed them to their last camp. They seemed to have settled in pretty well. Took out a big music box, set up a grand stage. I figured I had some time since it looked like they were preparing something for the festival. I made the mistake of telling my shadows this. I thought they’d want to cut loose in the city and leave me the hell alone, but those damn dedicated patriots asked to visit IHQ.”
“Marcus, you didn't take them, did you?” Will demanded angrily. “They were watching your every move! Who knows what they could have seen?”
Carver only smiled, and Will’s face darkened with rage.
“You double-crossing jackass!” he roared. “You risk the lives of thousands of patriots and the life of this very movement with the idiotic, flippant way you guard your little charade!”
Amandine saw an immediate change in Carver, like a switch had flipped and turned him vicious.
“You obviously don’t understand a goddamn thing!” He stormed up to Will, their significant difference in height making him no less intimidating. “Every choice I make is a risk! What you call ‘my fucking charade’ is a balancing act on a razor's edge! One mistake on my part can mean a swift, bloody end to the patriots and a long, drawn-out death in the darkest depths of IHQ for me.” The Inquestor’s black eyes blazed. “Never assume that I do not put this movement first! If I had to shoot that girl in the face to maintain my cover, I'd do it without hesitation because the information I provide is far more valuable than she could ever be!”
Amandine paled and pressed close to René, whose grip tightened around both her and the 1911.
Carver stood chest-to-chest with Will and exclaimed, “The only reason why I wouldn't, the reason why I went on this fool's errand in the first place, is because you asked me to! Cleo asked me to! Who's really putting the movement at risk by sending me— an inquestor, a killer, a man now famous in the NAR for capturing Cleo— half-way across the country to pick up somebody so stupid that she had no idea her own parents are it's leaders?” Fists clenched, Carver glared up at him. “You don’t have a clue what I have had to endure! You don’t understand the weight of the choices I make everyday. Have you ever had to choose between a life and the greater good of the movement? Do you think it's easy to play along while NAR agents brutalize and murder your true comrades right in front of you?”
He jerked his head in Caroline's direction. Will looked helplessly from his battered daughter to his mangled wife. He knew Carver was right.
“How could you possibly understand? You've been twenty-thousand leagues under the sea.” Carver smiled again, but this time the crazed expression made Amandine recoil in fear. “You're dead!”
“Will. Marcus.” Caroline separated them firmly. “Don't fight. We all know what’s at stake here. The survival of this cause takes priority over any of our lives, but we cannot hope to succeed if we do not trust each other.” She directed a glare at each one in turn. “Every one of us has given so much to this cause. Will and I have lost any hope of returning to our old lives—”
Carver's switch had flipped again. He regarded Caroline lovingly, holding the hand she had pressed against his shirt. “I lost any chance I might have had at you by dragging this soggy sap out of the ocean.”
“You were probably overestimating your chances.” She took back her hand and returned to her husband's side. “But thank you for your part in bringing us back together.”
Carver shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked dejected until he backed into Sangria, and then his sly smile returned.
“As I was saying, I took the officers to Inquestor Headquarters in Nieuwestad. Chief Everild absolutely loves fresh meat. He gave them tips about the exam and the academy, asked them about what I had them do, and they spilled the beans about my rebel-linked, traveling-show theory. I had to write a big report about it, and they even called in a bunch of agents from the field so I could give a briefing. I didn't get another opportunity to check on Amandine until today. Figured I'd finally get her just before the big bust went down.”
Carver rooted around in his pockets and pulled out a crushed sugar packet. He dumped out its contents and smoothed the pink paper against his leg while he continued his story. “So I pulled up into their camp and got attacked by a tiger.”
“Hang on,” Will interrupted. “You were attacked by what?”
“A tiger.” Carver pointed to long gashes on the side of his car. “You know, black and orange, long tail and whiskers?”
“A tiger,” he repeated in disbelief. “Alright. And it was— what, just running loose?”
Carver nodded. “The camp looked deserted. I wasn’t even out of the car yet when this giant cat flew out of the trees and smashed clear through the door. I got us out of there while the blues in the backseat were messing their pants. I gassed it back to the prison and made it there just in time for Pyro-Pierre to set the whole place on fire.”
“So the boy’s an arsonist?” Will glared at René. “What did he use? Petrol bombs?”
“No! That was the amazing thing. He conjured it with his bare hands!” Carver turned to René excitedly. “How did you do that, anyhow?”
“Can’t say,” Coronado cut in. “That stays between me and the boy.”
“You sure? I’d owe you a big favor if you taught me a handy trick like that.”
Coronado gripped René’s shoulder proudly. “There is an unbreakable bond— a strict pact of secrecy between an illusionist and his ingénieur.”
Disappointed, the Inquestor heaved a sigh.
“Don’t despair, Marcus,” Caroline said gently. “If you can’t play with guns, then you probably shouldn’t play with fire either. Finish telling your story.”
Carver chuckled. “Alright, then. Well, after the fire, I told my two minions that they could have my endorsement if they hurried back to IHQ and reported the bust attempt to Everild. I knew your magic truck was hiding in plain sight, and I didn’t want those two to stick around long enough to recognize it. I was planning to follow you to the ambush and try to keep you from getting shot when suddenly the warden climbs in with his nose nearly hanging off, and he wants to ride shotgun to the execution.”
“Damnation,” Will grumbled. “Nothing ever went to plan, did it?”
“No!” he exclaimed. “I was at wits end! I was praying for a miracle when out of nowhere, a black, phantasmic vision in tights put a birdcage through my window.”
He held out his hand to Sangria. Sitting in the middle of his outstretched palm was a tiny pink rose, folded from the sugar packet paper. A new type of smile, one of spontaneous delight, broke across her face, and she accepted the little token.
With a wink, Carver wrapped up his story. “Completely shattered my windshield. She spooked me so bad, I went right off the road. Lucky for me, I opted for every possible safety feature my car could carry, one of which is called ‘a seatbelt.’ I was wearing it at the time, so when the car rolled, I stayed put while the warden bounced around like a pinball and shot out the back window. When the car finally stopped, I was alright, but the warden was in really rough shape. I helped ease his passing with the spare gun in my trunk and soon one of ours came looking for me and towed me back up onto the road. Which reminds me—”
Carver abruptly turned on his heels and hurried back to his destroyed car.
Will watched the Inquestor with incredulity as he searched his pockets for keys. “I don’t understand. Of all people, why him?”
“He's the best fighter we have,” Caroline said defensively.
Hearing this, Carver shook a finger at them and shouted, “Not just the best, but the most-wanted man in the NAR that they don't even know they want!” A deep, maniacal laugh burst out of him, and he collapsed
in fits on the hood of his Interceptor.
Now that Carver was through telling his tale, Amandine took the opportunity to properly introduce her friends to her father. “Dad, I know you hoped Mr. Carver would look after me, but these are the people who did. This is Mr. Antonio Coronado, a master illusionist. This is Sangria Groviglio, a talented performer and my best friend. And this...” Amandine still held René’s arm, but she gave it a press to show her attachment to him. “This is René Personne. He is the one who saved my life at the prison.”
Will had a difficult time listening while his daughter retold her version of events. He made a face like he was getting jabbed with a fork each time he looked down and saw her holding hands with some foreign stranger. While he understood that his daughter was growing up, that particular conversation was the last one he expected to have that night and just the thought of it made him feel exhausted. When Amandine finished and looked for her father’s reaction, all Will could do was sigh.
“Let's... let's all go inside.”
“With your permission, sir,” Coronado spoke up. “We'd like to rejoin our group. Sangria and I are performing at the Freedom Festival tomorrow evening, and we've already missed a dress rehearsal.”
“Eh, I'm not sure you want to attend the Festival anymore,” Carver said from across the lot as he tried to unlock his trunk.
“Why not?” Coronado raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the rebels’ next target, is it?”
None of the three leaders answered him.
Shocked, he exclaimed, “I thought the rebels were patriots, not anarchists. Civilians will be there! Families will be there!”
“Young, talented performers at the cusp of success will also be there.” Sangria pouted and tilted her hip out to one side.
Carver chuckled. He was not oblivious to her manipulation, but he didn’t seem to be immune to it either. “That’s not what I meant, exactly… but I can’t think of a way to explain it without everybody getting mad at me again.”
“Mister Coronado, you are free to leave,” Will said sternly. “However, this is only because my daughter vouches for you. I feel I must stress the importance of discretion.”
“I was never here,” Coronado grumbled, again proving his familiarity with the routine. He offered cigarettes to the rebel leaders and lit them both with a wave. “I needed new doves and bunnies for my act, but I got lost on my way back from the pet store.”
Will didn't appreciate his sarcasm or tricks. “I’m serious. You were never here, and you were never at the prison. You have never heard of Will, Caroline, or Carver.” He studied the magic cigarette before taking a long draw. “You will forget Amandine.”
“If I am to forget Amandine if I leave...” René gathered enough courage to meet Tall-Me’s steely gaze. “Then I will forget my life with Marmi and stay.”
“I don’t know you from Adam, young man,” Will said curtly. “I don’t care if you can build a rocket from scrap metal. If you think I’m going to let you have free roam of my stronghold and my daughter, then you have another thing coming. You’ll go back to the band of tramps you came from.”
“I can build. I can burn. I can shoot,” René said, determined. “I am yours to command. All I ask is that you let me stay by Amandine’s side.”
“This isn’t a decision to be taken lightly,” Caroline put in. She had experience leading enthusiastic and sometimes misguided young people, so René’s motivations were not new to her. “If you choose to fight, then you choose to die.”
Ignoring the fingernails that dug into his arm, René squared his shoulders. “If that’s the price, then I’m willing to pay it.” He smiled sadly at Amandine. “Je suis prêt.”
Will sighed. “Fine. I suppose you can work on the trucks. They will need to be kept clean and in perfect working order at all times, in case of an emergency—”
Amandine couldn’t listen to another word. She felt sick. René had made up his mind, but she knew she could never let him come to harm for her sake. She had feared this exact scenario would happen, and now she felt completely torn between two different worlds. On the one hand she had her family, but was doomed to face a life of conflict and violence for a cause she did not understand. On the other hand, she had René, but her presence put his family in danger. The dressmaker knew that she had to make a decision, and she had to choose right now.
Amandine tried to think, but the question René posed to her that day on the riverbank resounded like a skipping record in her memory.
Will I go or will you stay?
Will I go or will you stay?
The question was so simple, so why couldn’t the decision be simple too?
Will I go or will you stay?
Neither.
Have you thought of another option?
Just then, a solution appeared so clearly that a bell could have announced it’s arrival. Determined, she gave René’s hand a squeeze and turned to face her father who was still ranting.
“—and you’ll be sleeping in the garage, too, because if I ever catch you sneaking around the barracks after dark—
“Dad? Maman?” Amandine interrupted him. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy I’m that you're both alive. I still have so much I want to tell you, but before we decide on anything else, I need to say this first: I can’t stay with you.” To tell them hurt and felt liberating all at once. “I cannot join the movement.”
Caroline studied her daughter carefully, and Will scoffed in disbelief. “You can't go back with them,” he exclaimed. “After tonight, every inquestor in the country will be after you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Carver back on your case?”
Carver grunted with effort as he tried to force his trunk open. “Pretty hard.”
“I won't go back with them either,” Amandine replied.
René searched Amandine for an explanation, but her smile told him everything he needed to know.
“I’m going to do just like you told me, dad. Starting right now, I’m going to build the life I want for myself. I won't be a fighter or a traveling costumer. I will become a nobody.”
“Personne,” Caroline murmured. Amandine didn't choose her family or her friends. Only René.
Will didn't like that at all. He had only just reunited his family, and his daughter was already leaving him. “You would choose this boy over your own family? Why?”
“Because—” Amandine beamed with a radiance she had never felt before. This new joy came effortlessly, appearing without having to gather it up, and she knew every ounce of it came from the rugged outlaw standing beside her. “Because I love him.”
René wanted to lift her up in his arms. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to put her on the horse and carry her away somewhere, anywhere, because her words made their future together and all of its potential open wide before him. Of course he couldn’t do any of those things with everyone watching, so he only closed his eyes and held her hand a little tighter.
“I don’t need to ask if you’re sure,” Caroline said before Will could refuse her. “I can see that you’re telling the truth.”
“How?” Will asked.
“Just look, mon amour.” Caroline pointed with her cigarette. “Amandine has never smiled like that before.”
He knew. Will saw it long before she made her feelings known, but the unfamiliar helplessness he felt in that moment still made his temper burn. “Where will you go?” Will demanded miserably. “What will you do?”
“I don't know yet,” Amandine said. “I just want to get far away from the NAR and the fighting. I want to go someplace neutral and maybe open a little dress shop there. René wants to be a rancher. We could head west. That seems like a good place to start.”
The tense silence that followed was interrupted by loud squeaking as Carver threw all of his weight into the trunk again and again. It finally gave, springing up and sending the Inquestor tumbling backwards.
“Not that anybody cares what I think—” He pulled Caroline’s
rifle from the trunk and rubbed his smarting backside. “But I have an idea.”
August 25, 1945
Somewhere outside of Nieuwestad (formerly New York City), New York
Amandine awoke in her bunk beneath a stiff wool blanket. Fumbling for the lamp chain, she tugged it on and glaring light illuminated her little corner of the barracks. Much like everything else in the bunker, the entire room was painted green and smelled a little musty. She saw that her parent's bunk was already empty, so she decided to get dressed and look for them.
“Would you mind switching that light off when you’re done?” came a drowsy voice from the bunk above her. Amandine jumped and noticed a bloodstained apron hanging from the ladder beside her. Doc yawned, scratched his side, and rolled over to face the wall. “Thank you kindly.”
Amandine found her parents sitting alone at the end of a long table in the busy mess hall where two cooks worked frantically to keep food coming for the gang of fighters.
“Good morning, Button.” Will kissed her head when she sat down.
“Ouch!” Amandine’s brow twinged. “That really smarts.”
“Sorry.” Will released her with a pat on the arm while Caroline waved to the cooks to fix a plate for Amandine. “How did you sleep? A little easier than the last couple of months on the road, I’ll bet.”
“Actually, I never slept better than when I was on the road,” she said. “It was beautiful. Morning light and bird songs came through the little windows. My bunk was loaded with soft quilts, and I could smell breakfast cooking on the campfire. If she didn't sleep in, Gia would lay there and pluck her violin. Sometimes... no, always, our cooks— these Russian acrobat brothers— would argue about anything and everything. It was funny.”
Her breakfast slid in front of her on a tin tray. As she took a bite of powdered eggs, Amandine fondly recalled Sasha, Piotr, and hot syrniki with jam on her mosaic dishes.
“You mean it, sweetheart?” Concern creased Will’s face. He didn’t notice that Caroline, having only eaten scraps in prison, had already devoured her food and stole his tray while he wasn’t looking. “Was it as good as you say? You're not just... looking on the bright side?”
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