Three Days Till Dawn

by R F Hurteau

  There was still room, and she looked around, wishing she knew more about what she was preparing for. She settled on packing a few pairs of extra socks, a needle, and thread. Surveying her little emergency kit brought her a sense of immense satisfaction and she looked expectantly toward the door, as if Felix might appear at any moment now that she was ready. When nothing happened, she sat down on the bed, keeping her shoes on just in case.

  Long moments passed, and when staring at the door became too agonizing, she looked around for something to distract her.

  She picked up the book she had been reading a few days ago, before all of this began. Molly had lent it to her. A collection of poems entitled The Weaver’s Tale, the volume was old and worn. The edges of the cover were softly indented; evidence of the many times it had been thumbed open over the years. Most of the books that had once been in Sanctuary’s archives had long since been added to the computer systems, the dusty tomes of old shoved into forgotten corners of the city or sent to Reclamation to be recycled. But this, this was one of the few artistic works ever to have been produced here.

  Life in the domes left precious little time for artistic pursuits. She had seen the carefully machined bindings of the old books, produced en masse using technologies lost with the plague. No one would consider mass-producing a book in Sanctuary, not with their limited resources. This was one-of-a-kind, the binding a simple work of thick stitches through the center crease. Someone had gone to great pains to see this little book come into being. She cradled it delicately, like a fragile bird.

  It reminded her that there was still beauty in the world. That creativity could not be forced into extinction. Though the leisure time that people did have in Sanctuary was spent in ways they felt were more important than creating works of art, some people managed to make the time to add a little beauty to the world, in whatever way they could. To leave their mark in some small manner.

  Willow remembered moving things around just after Felix’s father passed away, about a year after they’d been married. This had been Felix’s family home. She had pulled a desk away from the wall to reveal a tiny figurine carved from stone. Felix had said only that his dad used to make them, and he had placed it on a small shelf by the bed. Looking at it now, she reached out for it, cupping the miniature figure in her hand before slipping it into her pocket. She didn’t have a lot of sentimental items. But if they were leaving this, the only home they’d ever had together, it seemed right to take this one, small thing.

  Willow flipped open the book to the place where she’d left off and began to read. She found herself reading the same line over and over again until, at last, she gave up. Although she had been rather enjoying the sorrowful, impassioned musings of the author, she just wasn’t capable of appreciating poetry right now. She needed something else to keep her mind off the slow passage of time.

  She felt a sudden pang of guilt. What would become of her students when she left? Would Molly and Adeline be able to take all of them on? Would someone else step up? Would they feel abandoned?

  Those children were used to abandonment. The whole city had abandoned and shunned them. But they wouldn’t expect it from her, not from Miss Willow, who had done her best to make them feel safe and loved. That, she knew, would be a true betrayal.

  Willow steeled herself. Right now, she needed to focus on her own family, her own children. She hated herself for it, but her students at least had their parents, and they had Molly and Adeline. Her own children could depend on no one else. No one was going to save them if she and Felix did not prove up to the task.

  Maybe she just needed to do something with her hands, like fixing something to eat. Anything to distract herself. If Felix came home, perhaps they’d have time for a hot meal together. If not, at least she wouldn’t be heading off on an empty stomach.

  A short while later, she was sitting down to a piping bowl of vegetable potage. It smelled good, and her stomach rumbled its approval. But no sooner had she lifted the first spoonful to her lips than there came a knock at the door.

  Dropping the spoon, she grabbed her satchel and slung it over her shoulder then ran to the door, heart pounding and all thoughts of hunger forgotten.

  “I’m ready!”

  Her hands trembled with excitement as she opened it wide, beaming.

  But the figure who loomed in the hall was not Felix.

  Willow’s tone was cold. “What are you doing here?”

  Eight

  Out of the Loop

  THE Tapestry recruits filtered into the room, individuals or groups of two or three at a time.

  Although the labyrinth of passageways in Sigil’s lower level afforded a fair amount of privacy, it had become increasingly difficult to get everyone down here without being seen.

  Meeting right under the Elder Council’s nose might seem like a risky move, but Edwin had weighed all of their options more than once.

  A private apartment would have been cramped, but that small discomfort would have been nothing compared to the possibility of curious neighbors listening in through the paper-thin walls.

  There was the Edge, which offered places where being overheard would not be an issue, but too many Sigil employees making their way out to the Edge all at once could arouse suspicion.

  No. This was the only possible meeting place that made sense.

  Edwin sat straight-backed and tense. These plans had been in the works for months.

  Every time Edwin believed he had checked off everything on his list, however, life would throw something new at him.

  Nero’s little revelation about the speeches, for example. Or Nelson’s plea to help Ben.

  Nelson was the first to arrive. He sat down next to Edwin, his eyes bursting with questions. Edwin only frowned apologetically in return.

  “It isn’t good,” he said. “I’ve heard back. He’s in Geo, all right. I wasn’t able to get any details on the charges, but that doesn’t really matter. We know why he’s there.”

  Nelson rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” His whole posture shifted as he seemed to deflate. “I was hoping to be wrong, for once.”

  “We’ll talk about it soon,” Edwin promised, turning his attention to the newcomers.

  There was Harlan, who oversaw the flow of information between Sigil and the Agridome, and Denton and Percy from Security. They sat without a word, choosing seats far from one another, the space between them speaking volumes to the fragility of Tapestry’s infrastructure.

  Brightly lit with a long table and plenty of cushioned chairs, the room had once been used for interdepartmental conferences. Now it was abandoned.

  The conferences had dwindled to a halt some time ago and Edwin had made the redistribution order for the room’s furnishings disappear. Such a small victory for the cause…but a victory none the less.

  Edwin wished that over the years the group could have established something closer to friendship, but he’d long since given up hope that it would ever happen.

  Only Nelson, who had openly admitted on more than one occasion that he hoped to take Edwin’s place someday, clung to him. Perhaps eager to glean from his experience; perhaps looking for a friend.

  Edwin assumed it was the former.

  Denton’s nostrils flared as he grumbled something unintelligible to Percy, who smirked. Both seemed more like mammoths than men: large, threatening, and a bit dull. Edwin was grateful that they were, at least in theory, on the same side.

  A slender, long-legged woman with brooding eyes came in alongside a short, middle-aged man whose remaining hair formed a pale blond ring around an ever-growing bald spot like a crown.

  This pair was Sterling and Briggs, both members of the Sanitation crew. Their department might have an inglorious reputation, but their knowledge of the ins and outs of the places most Sanctuary citizens never saw had been nothing
short of invaluable.

  This made Sterling’s acerbic attitude much easier to tolerate.

  Jackson followed. A member of Health Services, Jackson was unassuming in stature with a sly mind. People felt at ease around him, perhaps because of his easy smile and grandfatherly appearance. His hair had been grey longer than Edwin had known him, trimmed neatly around his ears in a short, wavy mass the same color as the concrete so ubiquitous here in Sanctuary. His eyes darted around the room, assessing the situation even as a broad smile flashed across his face.

  Jackson was always looking for a threat while making sure to let everyone else know that he wasn’t one.

  Molly, a teacher, arrived last.

  Diminutive and a good listener, she was the one person in Edwin’s cell that he could honestly believe had no ulterior motive. Molly exuded a quiet passion that he found impressive for a woman with her unassuming background. She would even, on occasion, butt heads with Denton—something even a much larger man might have been afraid to do.

  “Okay, that’s everyone.” Edwin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s get started.”

  Sterling sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and pursing her lips in annoyance. “I don’t know why we bother. Always just seems like more of the same, to me.”

  “I think Smalls just likes to sit around and listen to himself talk,” complained Denton. “Makes him feel important. I’m tired of talking. When we gonna see some real action?”

  “You know perfectly well that there will be plenty of action during the Anniversary!” snapped Jackson, his shifty eyes locked on Denton in an accusing glare. “Or do all those big muscles take so much effort to maintain that your brain is too shriveled to remember?”

  Denton made a move to stand, and Edwin knew he had to change the subject, fast.

  Tempers were short, nerves were frayed, and everyone was on edge. They could not afford to let their emotions dictate their actions.

  “Sit down, Denton. And listen up. Your little shenanigans haven’t gone unnoticed by the Council. Just today they gave me orders to deal with all the little skirmishes that have been breaking out.

  “I’m not an idiot. I know that you and your pals have been instigating a lot of these things. I can turn a blind eye to the trouble in the Edge, that’s nothing new. But you’re getting too bold, and you need to cool it. You’re going to draw attention to yourself. And that could draw attention to Tapestry. What were you thinking, starting a fight in the middle of the marketplace?”

  “I can’t help it.”

  The deep wrinkles that formed in Denton’s nose as he frowned were shrouded by the tufts of his thick eyebrows. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to see their ilk strutting around, acting like they own the place.”

  “They do own the place,” retorted Briggs with a snort of disdain. “They make the rules, they enforce the rules. They decide who gets paid and who gets fed.” He shrugged, clucking his tongue. “Sounds like ownership to me.”

  “This is our home!” Denton slammed a meaty fist on the table. “They have no right!”

  “Calm down!” Edwin had little patience for these antics tonight. “You aren’t telling us anything we don’t already know. The sooner we get through this the sooner you can go about doing...I don’t know. Whatever it is you do when you’re not working. Just promise me you’ll keep a lid on your vigilantism.”

  Denton glowered but made no reply, which Edwin took as acceptance.

  Or at least close enough.

  Nelson was squirming in his chair, anxious to speak. Edwin ignored him for the time being.

  “Harlan, I addressed the food issue with Nero. He didn’t budge. The feast will go on as planned.”

  He had known what to expect. Harlan had access to the numbers. His careful planning to make sure no one would die of starvation had been totally thrown out the window when the orders for the Anniversary had come down from on high. Nero might as well have spit in his face; Harlan might have taken it better. The vein in the man’s forehead was threatening to pop it was throbbing so hard.

  “I’ve been going over the numbers for weeks!” he grumbled. “If we prepare this much food, we’ll have people starving in the streets. Do they not understand how the Agridome works? Do they think we can just conjure food out of thin air?”

  “Maybe they want us to go hungry, maybe that’s what they’re hoping for.” Jackson spoke in his calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Maybe they want to fatten us up at the feast, get us nice and complacent, and then just let us all starve.”

  “There are simpler ways to get rid of Humans, if that’s what their goal is,” Edwin reasoned with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t think that’s it. I agree it doesn’t add up. But for now, Harlan, just do the best you can.”

  “I’m an administrator, not a miracle worker,” Harlan retorted. “And don’t expect extra rations for any more mercy runs, either. There’s no way I can operate under these conditions.”

  Edwin nodded, turning his attention to Nelson.

  “Okay, next order of business. I had the opportunity at this morning’s meeting to assign the rest of the speakers for tomorrow. Nelson, how is your speech coming?”

  “Fantastic!” said Nelson, sitting up straight and seeming to forget his worries for a moment. “It’s going to be really moving!”

  Sterling’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “You’re letting the kid speak? Who else?”

  “No one from this group. I had considered Denton, but apparently, he isn’t very well-liked.”

  Edwin shrugged and, unsurprisingly, got no argument from anyone. “Nelson here is a much more consumer-friendly face.”

  Nelson nodded, eager to boast. “It’s true!” he confirmed with a winning smile, “Everyone likes me!”

  “As far as timing goes,” Edwin continued, ignoring him, “these speeches will be taking the evening slots traditionally held by the Council members. They, in turn, will be speaking at the beginning of the ceremonies.”

  The room filled with a buzz of concerned voices as everyone sat up, all trying to be heard at once.

  “Will you please keep it down?” Edwin was now struggling to be heard over the sudden chatter. “It’s okay. The evening speeches are still going to be mandatory attendance. Nero has confirmed this. Now, our window of opportunity has not changed, but it is somewhat complicated by the fact that several of our members will be giving speeches during that time. If I’d known, I would have gone outside of the organization. As it stands, backing out at the eleventh hour would look suspicious. There just isn’t time to make any more changes.”

  “What does the Weaver say?”

  At Molly’s question, several of the others perked up, eager for answers.

  “I haven’t spoken to him about this yet, but I will. I wanted to settle things here first.”

  “Speaking of settling things—” began Nelson.

  “Not yet, Nelson,” Edwin said, cutting him off. “Now, we’re going to need some volunteers to keep tabs on the Councilmembers during the festivities. If they aren’t going to be speaking, we need to make sure we don’t run into them. Harlan, Briggs, you’re indisposed, obviously. Any takers?”

  Sterling raised her hand with a half-hearted lack of enthusiasm.

  “I will, I guess. I’m just a floater, anyways.”

  “Okay, great. You’ll be in charge of Mendon. I’ll see about getting you a comm. Can you meet up with your contact in D4? Find as many available recruits as possible for the other members.”

  Sterling nodded, looking pleased at having been given some personal responsibility. She sat up a little straighter and tried to hide her smile beneath a weakening pout.

  “I can take one,” offered Denton with a wicked grin, but Edwin shook his head.

  “You aren’t especially good at stealth, Denton. No, not you eit
her, Percy,” he replied, as Percy looked ready to say something. “We need someone a little less conspicuous. Molly, I’d like to take you off the transfer op, if that’s all right. I think you’d be a good choice as a tail. You’re non-threatening, and I trust you can be discreet.”

  “Whatever you need,” Molly said with a polite nod.

  Her lack of argument was like a refreshing breeze for Edwin.

  “Just tell me who to follow and who to report to. The only trouble is, I don’t work in the Sigil building. Won’t I be noticed, hanging around in there?”

  Edwin’s smile was grim. “Sigil will be like a ghost town the whole day. I’ll get you a pass, no one will think twice if they see an average citizen wandering the halls. There’s usually some sort of tour going on during the festivities. And if you’re questioned, you can just say you were looking around and got separated from your group. Once your target goes beyond where you can follow, up the lift that leads to the private chambers, you can station yourself near the main entrance. That way you’ll be able to watch for any Councilmembers leaving the building and also keep an eye on the festivities.”

  When he’d finished, he cocked his head thoughtfully. Nelson’s leg was bobbing up and down as he waited to make his request known.

  “How do we know the other cells will do their part?” inquired Jackson, his face concerned. “I mean, we’re going to be moving a lot of supplies, and a lot of people. We’ve never coordinated anything on this scale before. It’s a huge risk. There’s no way it’ll go unnoticed for long. The last thing I need is to be caught with half a dozen patients at the hospital entrance, and no one there to pick them up. The Elves will double down on security after our actions have been discovered. We won’t have another chance like this.”

  Briggs was nodding. “I agree. Up until now, little missions here and there, it’s been easy to sweep those under the rug. But this is big. They’re not stupid. They’re going to start looking for us.”