On his hands and knees in the mud and snow, Sam is coughing, spitting the blood out of his mouth. The cut on his lip stings. As the air fills his lungs, he hears it. Singing softly over his shoulder. A tiny voice, barely audible. The girl is under a tree, not far away. She lies on the ground, her hair like wet fire in the snow. Her arms around her knees, holding herself tight. She hums a tune to herself. Sam approaches carefully as he would approach a wounded animal. He stays level with her on the ground, holds his hands out where she can see, and talks in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to look at the cut on your head.” He tries to touch her head, but she flinches, never stops singing the song. So he sits next to her, close but not touching. She falls asleep on his shoulder hours later. He sleeps too, holding the knife in his hand. He wakes to a layer of snow covering him and the tracks of the girl who ran away.
Ethan found Sam on his hands and knees in the snow, taking one deep breath after another. He ran to his side, not sure what was the matter.
“Sam! Are you okay?”
Sam looked up, startled, realizing what had happened. He could never get used to the flashbacks or how quickly they took over his brain and his body. He stood up and brushed the snow off of his clothes with shaking hands.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine, boy. Nothing to worry about. I just . . . um . . . dropped something on the ground. And I was looking for it. Nothing to worry about.” Sam patted Ethan’s shoulder and looked up again at the stars in the clear sky, continuing to take deep breaths to steady his nerves.
Ethan looked at him without full belief but allowed Sam to think he’d fooled him. “Will Sophie get better?” Ethan asked quietly.
“She will in time.”
“I’ve never seen anyone cry like that.”
“Tears can be healing. People need loyalty and devotion to something or someone beyond themselves to make life bearable. For Sophie, that was her little girl. Right now she’s in pain because she’s lost her. This is the hardest thing she’s ever gone through, and she never wanted to survive it.” Sam noticed himself talking about Sophie as if she were an old friend, someone he’d always known. But then, if she were really the girl he’d saved in the woods, maybe he had always known her. Sophie obviously didn’t remember him or the incident. Maybe it hadn’t happened at all. Maybe his mind had created a mixture of several events and people. God knows he had more than his fair share of violent encounters to pull from.
The boy shuffled his feet in the snow. “It’s hard to watch.”
“Yes, son, it is. Mourning is a terrible process, but she has to go through it and learn how to survive this. Mourning and the loss and pain we feel after a death, that’s what reminds us we were able to love in the first place. It reminds us of that gift.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
“Well, we have to remember the code, don’t we? We share our fire, share our food, and stay with those who can’t take care of themselves until they can stand on their own again. Right?”
“So you want to stay too?”
“Too?”
“I was already thinking I would ask you if I could stay with her.”
Sam put his arm around Ethan, smiling to himself. “Good boy.”
* * * * *
The smell of saltwater and damp vegetation swirled in the cold air filling the tiny cave. Gemma leaned against the cave wall despite its moisture, pulling her heavy coat tight around her as she waited for her contact in the Watch. She thought she could feel actual ice crystals stinging her face. This was one of many caves used by the Watch for temporary storage, meetings, and other purposes. The tide was starting to creep into the cave, making Gemma stand in wet sand, thankful for her winter boots. She worried if Tower didn’t show himself soon, she’d have to leave without receiving the information he had to give her. But his spongy walk through the sand announced his presence minutes later.
“Though my soul may set in darkness . . .”
“It will rise in perfect light.”
“Thank you for coming, Tower. We have to speak quickly before the tide comes in. Talk to me about Credell. What do we know about him?”
“He’s worked for the government for years. Moved around between different offices. In the last year, he had been working with the Council of Doctors in Boswell. Administrative stuff. He wasn’t a doctor.”
“Why would someone want to kill him? What did he do?”
“Who knows? Especially considering . . .” Tower stopped and looked behind him, noting the tide creep up over his feet. He always seemed to hear things that would go unnoticed by others.
“Considering what? What other information do you have for me?”
“We think we know who did it, Foxglove. But are you sure you want to know?”
“I have to know. There’s no choice involved. I have my orders. Tell me.”
“It was Aishe,” he finally blurted. “She’s the one who killed Griffyth Credell.”
“What? It couldn’t have been! This isn’t like her at all. Are you sure?”
“The man who was flogged was a member of her group. He saw her leaving the G.O. late one night. He tried to talk to her, but he said she just walked past him like she hadn’t heard. Almost as if she were sleepwalking. He went inside and found Griffyth dead. Strangled. Bruises on his neck. He tried to cover her tracks, make sure no one would trace the murder back to her. When the Corsairs investigated, they had no evidence except that someone had seen this man out that night past curfew. So they whipped him to make an example and maybe scare someone into giving evidence.”
“What about Aishe? Has anyone seen her or talked to her?”
“Not since that night.”
“Well, we have to find her.” Gemma pushed her wet hair out of her face. She was struggling to put the pieces together, to try to make sense out of what she’d heard.
“You know I don’t know where she lives. None of our operatives know where the others live for our own protection.”
“You think I’m not aware of that? Have you tried to get a message to her?”
“Of course. She doesn’t answer.”
“Then I’ll just have to get a messenger to disclose where she lives.”
“That’s breaking protocol. You’ll be placing both of you in serious danger, and the messenger too.”
“What choice do I have? The commander was very clear about my objective. We have to figure out what happened. Aishe is in danger already. We have to know why she did it. She could have information we don’t.” Gemma had to believe that Aishe, the Aishe she knew and trusted with her own life, had a good reason for what she’d done. Gemma couldn’t leave her out there on her own to face the ruthless consequences of the Corsairs.
“Do what you have to do, I guess,” Tower concluded. “We have to go now. And please don’t ask me to spy on our people from the Watch anymore. It all just feels too confusing. I need a clear enemy, one I can see and know my reason for fighting.”
“I understand. And as far as we know, we still have a clear enemy. We can’t let the Corsairs continue to punish innocent people, though.”
“Go safely, Foxglove.”
“You too, Tower.”
Gemma wanted to go see Zacharias that night but knew Kyle would be suspicious if she were gone too long. There had already been too many necessary meetings lately with Watch operatives. She needed to keep a low profile for her own safety and for his. The only way she knew to protect her husband from the questions of the Corsairs was to keep him in the dark about her activities. She would have to wait to see Zacharias, but she desperately needed his advice.
She knew better. Knew better than to have any sort of emotions about the people she worked with in the Watch. Hadn’t she always preached at them not to get emotionally attached? It clouded the judgment, made people take stupid chances. It was part of the reason why they only used code names and didn’t know anything about any of their personal lives. But when you fight o
n the same side for long enough, eventually the walls break down. You hear things, you become comfortable. You get to know another person’s ways, characteristics. And when you’ve placed your life in someone else’s hands and survived, well, it was just too hard to stay disconnected and objective. She supposed it was possible to never really know what people were capable of. Now, here she was with a friend who may have betrayed the entire Watch. She needed an outside perspective to help her know what to do.
* * * * *
Gemma forced herself to wait two days before going to see Zacharias. No one would be suspicious of her visiting him, but she didn’t want it to follow too closely after her meeting with Tower. The minutes passed like hours as she thought of the situation with Aishe. It made her jumpy, anxious. She hated that she had to take all of these precautions, and she wished for a day when she didn’t have to be looking over her shoulder.
“Z, it’s me,” Gemma called as she walked through Zacharias’ front door without knocking. But she didn’t find Z in his rocking chair where she expected him to be. Instead, Sam stood at the kitchen table packing his open bag.
“He’s in the developing shed. Don’t know how long he’ll be.” Sam didn’t look up but kept on with what he was doing.
Something about seeing Sam packing again hit on Gemma’s frayed nerves. “Going away?”
“Appears that way.”
“Well, you’ve gotten pretty good at that.”
Sam stopped his preparations. The past days with Sophie had been difficult, and though he was packing to return to her and was happy to be of some help to her, he had been grateful for some time to himself. He took a deep breath before turning to look at Gemma, really look at her. He knew something was bothering her. That was always when she lashed out at the nearest person. Also, her nails were jagged where she’d been biting them, tiny scabs and dabs of red were around the cuticles. She was nervous. He didn’t want to know these things about her. He didn’t want to wonder if there was something he could do to help her. He just wanted to go back to Sophie with as little fuss as possible.
“I do what needs to be done, Gemma.”
Seeing the wounded expression in his eyes, Gemma knew she’d gone too far but somehow couldn’t stop herself from continuing to poke at his wounds.
“Oh? And what needs to be done this time, Sam, that only you can do?”
“Are you really in a position to question me?”
“I’m just worried about Z.”
“He’s got you.” Sam returned to his packing, walking through the kitchen and front room, gathering the few supplies he needed.
“It’s always hard on him when you’re gone. You don’t know how much he misses you and depends on you when you’re away from home.”
“I’ll be back from time to time to check in on him. This isn’t a permanent thing.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Sam closed his pack, tightening the straps with more force than necessary. “God, Gemma. Do we have to do this?”
“Do what?”
“I thought we already said our goodbyes. Do we have to replay it over and over again? Can’t we just say we took our own paths and be happy for each other? Don’t you remember how it was when we were kids?”
“What do you mean?”
“I always gave you a way out, a means of escape.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your bag.”
“My bag?”
“Every night when you’d go to sleep, I used to make sure your bag was packed with food and water. Didn’t you ever wonder why I did it?”
Gemma stared at Sam, trying to rewrite the story of her life she carried in her mind, changed now based on this new information. Sam had been the one to fill her bag every night, not Kyle.
“It was so you could know it was okay for you to leave any time you wanted, and you’d be taken care of for at least a couple of days. I wanted you to feel free.”
“You did that?”
“Who did you think? Kyle?”
“I guess I thought . . . it doesn’t matter. You’re right. We should just go on our own ways. Good luck with whatever it is you have to do. I have to go.”
“Don’t you want to talk to Z?”
“I’ll find him later.” Gemma started toward the door. She felt torn between wanting to hug Sam and tell him all her troubles as she always used to and wanting to run away from him. With her hand on the door, she turned back. “Sam? Do you think I made a difference in your life?”
“You are part of my existence, part of myself. You made all the difference.”
Gemma tried to get away from Zacharias’ house as quickly as possible, but she heard him call her from the shed he used as a developing room for his and Sam’s photography. She thought about walking on without stopping but knew she couldn’t.
“Gemma, what is it, honey? What’s going on?”
“I found out who killed the government man.”
“And?”
“It’s someone in the Watch. Someone I know well and have worked with often. Someone I trust.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Daisy helped me get in contact with the messenger that delivers to her so I could find out where she lives.”
“Gemma, that’s crossing a dangerous line.”
“I know that, Z. But I have to confront her. I’ve been ordered to get her out of the village, beyond the borders.”
“Exile.”
“It’s necessary for everyone’s safety.”
“Is that really what you’re going to do?”
“Those are my orders.”
“That’s not what I asked. You said she was your friend. You trust her. Are you really going to exile her without trial? Without giving her a chance at defense?”
“People aren’t innocent until they’re proven guilty anymore. Those days are over. In fact, it’s probably more the opposite.”
“That sounds like something the Triumvirate would say.”
Gemma shivered. She told herself it was the cold.
“Isn’t it the main mission of the Watch to counteract the Corsairs and the Triumvirate? How can we do that if we start to accept their ideology?”
“What do you think I should do, Z?”
“I think you already know what you should do.”
8
A RESPITE
Z acharias sat in a pocket of sun on his porch. The morning had been cool, but a southern breeze and the sun on the rise was beginning to warm the day. “Oh, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?” He softly spoke his favorite Shelley quote to himself. The damp and matted leaves now freed from the snow were beginning to dry out. A small purple flower was peeking its head from under the porch, stretching to absorb the life-giving rays.
The sound of distant thunder startled Zacharias from his reverie of renewal. Looking skyward, he saw only blue sky. He knew then it was the thunder of horses’ hooves. His heartbeat hastened in his chest. Heat rose from his neck to his ears, while a chill ran over the rest of his body. He remembered his father had suffered from high blood pressure and used to take daily medication for it when such things were commonplace. Zacharias often wondered if he’d inherited the malady. As a rule, he tried to control it by staying calm as much as possible. Nothing could raise his blood pressure and heart rate faster than the sound of thundering hooves or thunder in the sky. They conjured unwanted memories and feelings best forgotten. The endless storms of years past. Battles and gunfire. Friends dragged behind mounted soldiers. Zacharias took deep breaths and tried to calm himself as a small squad of Corsairs rode up to his house.
As the sergeant dismounted, Zacharias began singing softly to himself. “Keep smiling through the day, keep smiling through the night. The shadows fly away when I can see your light.” He stared past the sergeant into the empty fields still harboring patches of snow. The porch creaked as he rocked slowly back and forth, repeating the same couple of lines of the
song over and over.
“State your name, citizen,” the sergeant barked as he stood casting a cooling shadow over Zacharias, who didn’t answer but continued to stare and sing.
“You are required to answer.”
Zacharias rose slowly from his chair, turned, and walked into the house as if there was no one speaking. In the kitchen, he began pulling onions from a bin next to the sink, arranging them in an awkward, rolling bouquet on the table. “These are for my sweetheart. She loves wildflowers,” he spoke in a childlike voice before beginning to whistle his repetitive tune.
The other five Corsairs had filed in through the front door and stood staring at him behind their sergeant.
“Old man, tell us what your involvement is in the Watch,” he shouted as if he were speaking to someone hard of hearing.
“I like to watch the birds in the morning. If I throw seeds to them, they’ll hop on the porch.” Zacharias slouched his shoulders and shuffled around the kitchen as if he were looking for something he couldn’t find.
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