Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  'That is wise.' Pietro nodded next to me, pulling a piece of paper from under his butt, then peered at it, squinting. 'What is this? English? I can barely read it.'

  'Because you can barely speak it,' Wanda pointed out, while I plucked the paper from Pietro's fingers.

  To that, I added, 'Just some ideas I'm working out. I'd rather not run for the border the whole way. I mean, maybe you and Wanda can do it, just you two, but that'll wipe you out, Pietro, you won't be able to get much farther past the border. And with me tagging along? It won't work. Wastes too much energy. So we stick together. It'll be slower, but it'll be safer.'

  'Hmm,' Pietro looked a little displeased at that, popping open a bag of chips and stuffing a few in his mouth. 'Well, if you say so. But I prefer to run.'

  'And you'll probably be doing plenty of that,' I said, throwing him a smirk. 'Just try not to leave us in the dust, okay?'

  'What do you want me to do, then?'

  'Maybe it's a little premature to say so,' I started, flicking the end of my pencil at Wanda, who came up to sit on my other side. 'But I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that Wanda is the most powerful out of the three of us —'

  'Thank you,' she said with a smug look, taking a can of tuna from her lap and opening turning up the lid with a spark of red magic.

  'You're welcome. So I want you to keep an eye on her, Pietro.'

  'What?!' Wanda blurted, at the same time Pietro just shrugged, 'No problem. I do that all the time, anyways.'

  Wanda just huffed. 'I can take care of myself. You do not have to protect me, Pietro.'

  'It is my job. I am oldest, after all.'

  'Only by twelve minutes!' Wanda shot back, looking supremely annoyed. 'Hardly counts.'

  'Still older.' Pietro said with an impish grin.

  Wanda threw the can lid at him.

  'Wow, I'm so glad I'm an only child right now,' I said under my breath as they started to bicker with me stuck in the middle.

  Eventually, Wanda had enough with Pietro's antics and shot out of her chair again, making a beeline for the radio - probably to drown out his laughter. I jabbed him with my elbow before she decided to hex his face, but my attention was diverted as the radio announcer's voice echoed into the theatre.

  'The Cheka have now closed the city of Novi Grad and have implemented an around-the-clock curfew, ordering citizens to stay in their homes while they narrow in on their search for the American spy. It is not yet confirmed how long they have been here or the total extent of their crimes against the State, but we do know for certain that the spy is responsible for the death of nine Chekist soldiers , as well as aiding and abetting the escape of known Sokovian traitors. However, citizens have refused to obey - tensions have been high in the past few weeks thanks to various terrorist bombings, and the one that occurred yesterday seemed to have ignited a panic. Citizens, terrified of these attacks, have surged en masse to all city exits. Cheka are reinforcing these entry points to prevent any unlawful escapes. If the people of Novi Grad continue to resist and fall victim to their fears, the will face the consequences. General Serov, leader of the Cheka, has promised the citizens that the city is completely safe from further attacks, saying that he has caught the Resistance members responsible. The Citizens have nothing to fear, and should comply with the State's reasonable quarantine of seventy-two hours while the Cheka ensure the city's safety. Please, all citizens, if you are currently outside, return to your homes immediately, and all will be well.'

  'Shit,' I said, jumping out of my seat and sending the papers smattering — not that they were going to be of any use to me anymore. None of it accounted for this. 'This isn't good. This is not good at all…'

  'It's an uprising!' Pietro threw up his hands, but he sounded angry, instead of excited. 'I told you! The Underground has pushed the country too far.'

  'The State certainly did their part,' Wanda said, eyeing me as I began to pace, the announcer's voice continuing to rattle off news. 'Now one of two things will happen. The country will explode, as it should. Or it will be crushed again, under the boot heel of the State.'

  'Either way,' I said, tapping my chin as the thoughts ran through my head. All the possibilities, all the options we had now. 'We'll be having a hell of a time getting out. How long would it take, for the State to lock down the entire city? Assuming they haven't already.'

  'Two days, perhaps,' Wanda shrugged. 'Depends on how much trouble the city gives them. Longer, then, by the sound of it. Third day, those seventy-two hours, will be too late. They are lying when they say that the quarantine will be over by then. It will not be over until they've caught us.'

  'Great.' I flicked my hand, turning on my heel for another lap. 'The timeline's moved up now. Instead of a month, we've got three days, at best. I don't want to wait that long. We need to head out ASAP. Tomorrow evening at the latest.'

  'Tomorrow?' Pietro repeated, shocked. 'But we have nothing! No supplies! We will not make it a day out there!'

  'Then we take it a day at a time,' I snapped, rounding on him. Pietro jumped a little, leaning back in his seat. I took a deep breath, evened my tone. 'Sorry. But tomorrow morning, we gather all the supplies we can. Food, bags, clothes for the cold. We're not going to have a cozy theatre to sleep in every night once we get out of Novi Grad. Our biggest problem is still getting out of here alive. Everything after that, well...we'll cross that bridge when we get there.'

  'Does that sound doable?' I asked, glancing between the both of them, hands on my hips. 'Can you get us what we need by noon tomorrow? I want to be on the streets by then.'

  'But that'll make it easier for the Cheka to catch us,' Wanda pointed out. 'Or the Komitet!'

  'Not if the protests continue like they are,' I said, pointing at her. 'If the people stay angry, there'll be more on the streets. We stick to the protests, okay? We blend in with the crowd, follow them towards the gates. The Cheka won't be able to spot us among all of those people.'

  'And the Komitet, if they are there?' Pietro demanded. 'What if they decide to go all 'lava-monster' if they see us?'

  'They won't,' I said, and earned a disbelieving look. 'They won't because they know they'll cause a panic if they do that. Maybe even a riot. Protests are bad for governments like this, but what's worse is a stampede, a riot, people totally out of control. The State can't do anything if the people are too afraid to listen to them, and the Komitet won't betray that. Not for us. Honestly, I don't expect them to be there at all, anyways.'

  'But they're still looking for us!'

  'They think we'll be hiding. In places like this. They'll be spread out across the entire city, knocking down doors. So we play them, we go out where they least expect us to go. They think we're just some scared, stupid kids who don't know anything about the world,' I said, and Wanda did a double-take when she recognized her own words.

  I smiled at her. 'So we prove them wrong.'

  I barely got any sleep that night.

  I just stared at the ceiling, going over my plan in my head, trying to think of anything I might have forgotten.

  But it was vague. It had to be. A good plan never survived after first contact. I wasn't sure where I heard that, but there was logic to that statement. No matter what happened, I had to count on something going wrong tomorrow, and I had to plan for it. Somehow.

  In the end, though, I knew. When it came down to it, I'll end up thinking on my feet, guessing second to second, hoping that it was the right one.

  I could only hope — pray — that I'd survive. That we all would.

  I suppose I drifted off eventually, because next thing I knew, I was being shaken away by Wanda, who had box of warm muffins under her arm. She and Pietro had already gone out while I was asleep, gotten the first round of things we needed — food.

  The next time they came back, an hour later, Pietro returned with clothes, and a backpack for each of us. The thing that caught my eye, though, was the bright yellow raincoat on hi
s arm, which to my surprise he threw right at me. I caught it, but the billowing air scattered the papers on the floor around me.

  'This is for you,' he said, as I felt the rubbery coat in my hands. 'Wear it when we go outside again.'

  'Why?' I asked, frowning at the coat. It was thick, not exactly winter ready, but I was a little startled by the color. I was currently wearing that green utility jacket the nurse had given me. It hadn't occurred to me until now that taking random clothes (stealing, whatever), was going to make me look like a walking thrift shop.

  Not that that was a bad thing.

  'So we can find you,' Pietro said, tossing an apple to Wanda, who earlier had complained about too much junk food. He came to sit down next to me, prodding me in the shoulder. 'I've seen the crowds. You are right, they keep getting bigger. Easy to get lost in, though. Yellow will make it easier to see you.'

  'Wouldn't it also make it easy for the bad guys to see me, too?'

  'Ah...' Pietro paused, eyebrows shooting up, indicating he hadn't thought of that. Then he just made a face. 'Well, better they shoot at you than either of us.'

  I punched him in the shoulder for that one, laughing despite myself. 'Ugh, you're such a jerk!'

  'Ah, and this,' Pietro winced away from me with hands raised in surrender, before pulling a wad of wool out of his pocket. It unfolded in his hand, revealing itself to be a striped red-and-white scarf. 'Is also for you. I saw it and thought it would remind you of home.'

  'Aww,' I said, taking it and pulling it around my neck, before grinning at him. 'Thanks, Pietro, that's so sweet!'

  'Bah! Do not get gross on me. While you get that shiny new jacket and scarf,' Pietro said, kicking off his old sneakers and putting on new ones. 'I get new shoes. I wish they stop making ones that burn up so quickly.'

  'They burn up because you run faster than they're made for,' I said, throwing up my hand like it was obvious. 'I'm surprised they haven't actually caught on fire yet.'

  'Oh, they have!' Wanda called from her spot, sitting up on the stage. She was currently practicing her magic, or whatever it was. Lifting up old chairs, suspended in balls of red sparkling light. Her fingers bent and twisted in an almost macabre fashion, matching the light in her eyes. 'They should make you shoes out of car tire, Pietro. Big ugly things that suit your face.'

  'Ha-ha,' Pietro rolled his eyes, although he looked a little miffed. He flicked his head, running a hand through his hair, and I had to hide my smirk at the preening. 'You may be the most powerful, sister, but I think we can all agree I am the most attractive, yes?'

  Wanda and I stared at him, then looked at each other, before we burst out laughing.

  'In that case,' Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. 'Amelia must have the brains, because you have none!'

  'Hey!' Pietro complained, but ended up joining us in the laughter nonetheless - it was no use, after all. In the last moments of our safety, we were enjoying it as much as I could.

  We had our last meal in the theater; lunch being fruit, water, and the last of the morning's muffins. Pietro ate most of it, as was expected, but at this moment I wasn't going to complain, even if I was a little hungrier than I liked to admit. The more Pietro ate, the longer he could run, and I had a feeling we'd be relying more on that than anything else today.

  The clock turned twelve, and I stood up, shrugging on the yellow jacket. Despite what Pietro said, he had a point. The green jacket made it too easy for me to be overlooked, and I suppose if anyone could afford the proverbial spotlight, it was me. I was a Super Soldier, after all.

  Whatever that really meant.

  Together, we walked out of the theater, and into the blistery cold of late October, before coming to a stop, taking in the sight before us. Passing in front of the theater was a marching protest, already pushing at the sides of street. It was a parade unlike I'd ever seen before; I've never seen this many people even during the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. It was huge; the protest was just a massive, churning swarm of people, their stomping feet and chanting fillig the air. Even as we watched, more people joined from the adjacent buildings, flooding out of doorways and adding their signs and voices to the chorus.

  It was, in a word, awe-inspiring.

  Pietro was holding Wanda's hand as we were pushed to the side, not yet going in. Pietro, with his new shoes, and Wanda, with thick red tartan shawl wrapped around her head and torso like a cloak. Like her, I followed suit, putting up my own yellow hood, and Pietro did the same with his blue hoodie.

  Standing together on that street, we looked like we were up to no good, and it occurred to me that today was Halloween in America. Kids, looking like us, would be trick-or-treating and causing mayhem tonight.

  Sharing a nod, we stepped into the crowd, and joined the protest.

  Time to start some mayhem.The march was thick and swarming. Although I hung onto Pietro's sleeve, I kept getting pulled away, jostled back and forth until I ended up behind them.

  This was fine, however. I decided that as long as I kept the back of their hoods in sight, then I will be fine. They already know how to find me. My yellow coat really did stick out here, and I shrunk into it, as if I could somehow hide.

  But no one took much notice of me. The waving signs and beating chants were far more conspicuous. The three of us weaved our way into the middle of the parade, to hide better amongst the constantly moving people. Nothing ever stayed in one place for long. No one was really marching in line, just pushing forward, pushing, pushing, pushing. They wanted to get to the gates, they wanted to get out.

  'We! Are! Free!' They chanted. 'Open! The! Gates!'

  And forward we went, facing little resistance. The sky was overcast, heavy clouds hanging low over the sky, and I wondered if it might actually snow. I doubted it would actually do anything to dissuade anyone here.

  The people around me, the Sokovians, seemed to have come from all walks of life, although I noticed many had old, patchy clothes. A healthy number wore red armbands — Communists? I wondered to myself. They raised these arms with pride. Others waved red cloths, bandanas, hats. Men, women, and even children were here, ages ranging from nine to ninety, heads raised and voices joined as one.

  It was inspiring, in a way, speaking as someone who wasn't quite part of it. I wasn't Sokovian, but I liked this, I liked being a part of this much bigger whole, fighting for something worth fighting for.

  In the midst of the massive parade, it was surprisingly easy to get lost. I got pulled away from the twins three times, much to my discomfort, only to run into them again. Wanda and Pietro kept their eyes focused ahead, unlike me who kept looking around, trying to take everything in. The determined look in their eye made me feel young and inexperienced, the way they seemed to know what they were doing; but I had my own worries, and I'd feel stupid if I didn't take in as much of the situation as possible.

  I could feel it in the air. The march was a powder keg just waiting for the right spark to explode. Losing control would be utter disaster for the Cheka.

  We had been in the march for less than an hour before I started to sense a slowing in our pace, everyone coming in a little closer as the way forward came to a halt. One turn later and we ended up in a market square — on either side lined the war-torn buildings, storefronts darkened and closed. Either hiding or already joined the protest.

  Ahead, I could see the city gates, metal bars closed and locked together by thick chains. Between us and that, however, were two lines of Cheka, in their brown suits and weapons, aimed at the sky. They were protected by a third line of soldiers standing in front of them, all carrying ballistic shields, lined up to form an impenetrable glass wall.

  They seemed laughably small compared to the force that was the Sokovian citizens. Would the Cheka even stand a chance?

  Either way, it was enough; their weapons and armor, the authoritative force they carried, still carried enough fear or respect from the protestors. As the parade drew closer, the Che
ka stood strong, and didn't recede even as civilians came right up to them, pressing against them — shouting, clapping, stomping, even hitting the shields, but this last action was met with quick retribution, with the Cheka snapping the shields or their batons forward, striking anyone who dared get too physical. In a mostly unarmed crowd, it was enough to send the parade back a few steps.

  But there was nowhere else to go. Within minutes the square was almost completely packed; if I felt a little crowded before, I was positively squashed now. There was barely enough room to breathe, much less move.