by Perrin Briar
Then, exhausted as she was, she actually did begin to fall asleep, her eyes drooping and heavy. She shut her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep.
It felt like just an instant later, though it could have been hours for all she knew, when she heard the heavy footsteps up the stairs, one thudding after the other. Most of the inhabitants of the accommodation building hadn’t woken up and were still fast asleep. That might have been the reason for them deciding not to search everyone’s room, she reasoned. They would wait until morning.
But those footsteps, they were not hidden, were not creeping. They were deliberate and unrestrained. Thud, thud, thud, up the stairs. A countdown to something horrible, possibly even the end of her life.
Someone pushed on her door, but it did not give under the pressure. There was a soft, gentle knock. One meant to wake no one but Siren. Could it be Greer? Had he come to her directly? Did he see her face as she ran down the stairs? Had he been faster than she thought?
There was no avoiding it now. She had to go check. She got up, mussed up her hair so it was more of a bedhead style, and then moved to the door. She put on her best groggy face impression.
She unlocked the door, but before she could pull it open, a figure on the other side pushed it open, knocking her back, almost onto her ass.
Quinn stepped into the room and shut it behind himself.
“What are you doing?” Siren said, all pretense of being half asleep now gone.
“Trying to save your neck,” Quinn said.
He pulled a picture frame off the wall and let it hit the floor.
“What are you doing?” Siren said.
Quinn moved toward the wardrobe and began dumping out the clothes.
“Are you insane?” Siren said.
“No,” Quinn said. “But I think you might be. What were you thinking? You took it, didn’t you? I never should have told you about the regular supplies. I don’t know what came over me. I blame myself.”
“Took what?” Siren said.
Quinn gave her a flat look.
“Give it to me now, or I’ll tell Greer,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Siren said, folding her arms.
“All right,” Quinn said. “On your head be it.”
He headed for the door.
“Wait,” Siren said. “I thought I was doing you a favor—all of us a favor. A secret is never good for anyone. Except the person the secret is about. The person it is protecting.”
“If you get caught with the book on you, you’ll be kicked out, banished, from this place,” Quinn said. “Give it to me and I’ll say I found it on the ground outside, that whoever took it is unknown, and we can get on with our lives.”
“I can’t give it to you,” Siren said.
“Why not?” Quinn said. “Do you honestly want to get kicked out of here?”
“No,” Siren said.
She surprised herself that she was telling the truth. She didn’t want to leave this place, at least not yet. “Look, I know how strange this is going to sound, but sometimes I know things. I suspect them, and then they come true.”
“We all get feelings like that sometimes,” Quinn said.
“But are yours always right?” Siren said. “Mine are. I’m never wrong when I sense something is about to happen. And it always does happen. It’s like something inside me can pick up on something that is going on. And sometimes it lets me know. Not always, but sometimes. I often don’t even know why I think the things I do. I just do.”
Quinn was silent a moment.
“I understand,” he said.
He said it with such clearness that for a moment Siren thought he actually did understand, but how could that be true when he had been here for so long and hadn’t picked up on the secret shenanigans that she had?
There was a knock on the door.
“Come,” Quinn said.
Two men—one of them Rafael—entered. They looked Siren and the room over. It had been acceptably tossed to their eyes. Siren looked shaken enough that they would have no doubt in their minds that she had been questioned.
Quinn shook his head, communicating he had found nothing in Siren’s room.
“The other rooms?” he said.
“Nothing,” Rafael said.
“Then we’ll move onto the next floor and search,” Quinn said. “And then the next floor and the next, until the guilty party comes forward.”
“I’m not sure they will,” Rafael said. “If you ask me, we need to be more strong armed than we have been. I might run a few ideas past Greer to that effect.”
Quinn and the others left Siren’s room and headed down the corridor toward the stairs. Quinn, to his credit, didn’t aim so much as a glance in Siren’s direction.
Chapter Twenty-Three
IN THE MORNING, the community gathered around the front steps of the council building. They were all there, gossiping and chatting to one another.
Hopefully not a public hanging, Siren thought.
“What’s going on?” she said to Bess.
“Greer’s going to say something about what happened last night,” Bess said. “Rumors are flying all over the place. No one really knows what’s going on.”
Greer came out and a hush fell over them. Rafael was on his right-hand side, Quinn on his left.
“No doubt some of you have heard what happened last night,” Greer said. “Trying to keep a secret at Whitegate is like keeping a sinking ship from taking on water.”
Muffled chuckles. People were too nervous to laugh out loud.
“Someone broke in last night and stole Peter’s account book,” Greer said. “At this stage we don’t know why or for what purpose. Whoever took it will get nothing out of it save pages and pages of numbers. There is no reason to think it is someone who resides here.
“As you all know, we have conducted searches of everyone’s home and there is no sign of the account book. It could just have easily have been someone who crept into town to take it, someone who knows our town intimately, knows their way through our defenses. At this time we simply don’t know.”
Murmurs amongst the locals. More than a few glances at Siren. As the newest resident she was most suspected.
“Ignore them,” Bess said in Siren’s ear. “They’re all small-minded fools who jump at the first suggestion that pops into their tiny little heads.”
She got a few looks for that, and suddenly the locals were eying Bess suspiciously rather than Siren.
Siren’s chief concern was Emile the chef. Would he remember the conversation they had about the account book? Would he join the dots together? They had discussed things that, if he recalled them now, would make him think.
But he had also been busy looking through his cooking utensils, gibbering half the time to himself. He wouldn’t have recalled their chat, would he?
Siren looked over at him. He looked a million miles away, lost in his own world. Then he glanced at her. Siren turned her head away quickly, though she knew she was too late. When she looked back at him again, he was looking at the ground, a thoughtful look on his face.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SIREN helped a kid with washing his hands of the paint they had used for their finger painting exercises and then excused herself to go to the toilet. She kept a close eye out to ensure no one was following her. She couldn’t creep out at night for a while, not with the extra guards that had been installed.
She made a roundabout journey toward the hiding place to the western facing wall of the accommodation building. She approached the corner, toward the removable brick she had put in place to hide the hiding space. She did not yet reach for it. She only glanced at it, and then checked around the corner to ensure no one was coming, to accidentally run into her.
She turned to look up at all the windows that peered down on her location. There were many of them. She would never be able to see anyone behind them—the sun was reflecting back into her eyes. She needed to ta
ke a risk if she wished to retrieve the book.
She reached for it, pushing it aside. She grabbed the account logbook and replaced the brick in its place so it was flush against the wall.
“What are you doing?” a voice said.
Siren spun around, shocked. She let the book fall into her empty hand as she turned, and hoped her body kept it hidden.
“Emile!” Siren said.
She was surprised by the calmness of her own voice. He was standing before her, drinking her in like she was a fine wine. He had a distant look in his eye and a friendly, if forgotten, smile on his face.
“Just doing some stretches,” Siren said. “Some exercise. Easy to be lazy in a place like this when all you do is work all the time.”
“Especially true for those who work with food I’m afraid,” Emile said, rubbing his wide stomach with his chubby hands.
“No,” Siren said. “You look great.”
“Oh, you…” Emile said, coloring slightly and turning away to kick his feet.
Siren took the opportunity to tuck the logbook into the back of her pants and pull her blouse over the top of it, concealing it. Emile’s eyes made a zigzag pattern up to her face. He couldn’t hide the thoughts concealed in his eyes. He liked her, and perhaps even fantasized about her liking him, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not in this world. He just wasn’t her type.
“Well,” Siren said. “I ought to get going.”
“Oh,” Emile said. “Yes. I wouldn’t want to get in your way. If you ever need me for anything, you just have to say. I’m all yours.”
He had the good sense to blush at his own words.
“I will,” Siren said. “Thanks.”
She turned to leave, keeping her back straight so as to keep the edges of the book concealed from anyone who might see it. Siren could feel Emile’s hungry eyes on her, but she didn’t care. She would use every advantage at her disposal. It was the only way to survive.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE AFTERNOONS were sleep time for the young kids in school. They’d had their last morning explosion in energy from breakfast and now only nodded their heads and drifted almost to sleep.
It was easy for Siren to disguise the bulge in her blouse, and tucked the account book in amongst the fiction books on the shelf. None of the kids could read to a high enough level yet, so the risk was low.
Finally, it was the end of the day. Bess was busy explaining to a boy why he shouldn’t pull on a girl’s hair. Siren took the opportunity to remove the black book from the shelf and tuck it into her pants.
“See you tomorrow, Bess,” Siren said.
“Huh?” Bess said, barely having the time to look up from her charges.
Siren pushed the door open and all but ran to the accommodation building. She went upstairs and deposited the book under her mattress. She didn’t like to leave it there by itself, but there was no other way for it. It would be riskier to keep it hidden on her person or return it to the hiding place.
It was dinner time, and she was famished again. She walked down the stairs, refraining from running. She ate as quickly as she could before realizing how oddly she was behaving. Now was not a good time to stand out. She focused on eating and took her time. As soon as she was done, she took her tray to the cleaning staff.
“Hey Siren,” Emile said, leaning over the cooking stoves. “Some of us are going to go for a few drinks tonight in the garden—some homegrown stuff Meryl managed to cook up with potatoes. If you like, you can join us.”
“Sounds great,” Siren said. “Not tonight.”
Emile’s face fell. Siren put a hand to her stomach.
“It’s my stomach,” she said. “No, don’t worry. It has nothing to do with your excellent cooking.”
Slightly relieved, Emile nodded.
“Perhaps some other time then,” he said.
“Sure,” Siren said, knowing that time would never come. “Have a nice evening.”
She turned and headed back toward the accommodation building, making sure to take her time. She didn’t need to draw attention to herself right now, not when she was so close to snuggling up to a good book. What she was expecting to find inside it, she didn’t know, only that she needed to. It never felt strange to her that she relied on her senses, an unknown feeling from an unknown source, to know that that was what she should be doing.
She didn’t know why she had these feelings, or senses, as she preferred to call them. She didn’t know how it worked, how any physiology worked, but she had relied on them to survive, and they hadn’t failed her so far.
She sensed the answer, or at least a part of it, would lie within those pages.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THROUGH the window, Siren could see the extra scouts on guard, looking out. There were too many eyes looking outward, inward. But none of them could see beyond the locked doors and windows, and Siren was safe inside her little room. She lay on her bed and opened the black leather book she had risked her safety for.
She was surprised to find it wasn’t just a list of the comings and goings of the community’s supplies, but a daily journal. The accountant had found it prudent to include a running commentary of the general health of the community, pressing concerns, as well as issues they might face in the future due to the decisions they had recently made.
The diary entries were of far more interest to Siren than the numbers and tallies that made her feel drowsy almost instantly. They detailed the very real concerns and worries about how they were going to manage, how they were going to survive. They echoed the very same concerns Siren had had with her brother Wyvern on the road.
The difference between them was Siren and her brother could pick up and leave their concerns behind. The community had to stay put and search in the local area for the answers to their problems.
But then strange strange things began to happen in and around the community, approximately three months after the community had been set up. People started disappearing, swept away in the night by both Raiders and Grayskins. The community was in trouble. The harder things got, the more scouts they had to send out, the more of their number dwindled. Things only got harder.
Then, about one year ago, the solution presented itself. It came in the form of a figure who they referred to as the ‘Merchant’, a black cowled man who promised them all the supplies and protection they required, so long as they provided a single service in return…
Yells. Shouts. From outside.
Siren started. She tucked the account book under her pillow and pulled her curtains open. In the village center, people were running with flaming torches.
Something terrible had happened.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SIREN hadn’t been the only one to have heard the cries for help, but she was one of the first to emerge out of the accommodation building.
It had been Rafael and Quinn shouting at the top of their voices for aid. Behind them they dragged a tarpaulin, heavy with weight.
Soon, the whole community had come out of their homes.
“What’s going on?” Greer said, drawing up to the two scouts.
“We were out scouting,” Rafael said. “Scouting for the scum who stole Peter’s account book. We were concerned it could have been a lone Raider, scouting for information about our town to take back to more Raiders. We ran into a gang of Raiders, and Meryl was shot. The Raiders escaped. We brought Meryl back to town. We got all the way to the foot of the hill before Meryl collapsed and… and…”
“She’s dead,” Greer said, putting all the pieces together.
Meryl’s body was covered with the tarpaulin. Greer approached it and pulled it aside.
Meryl’s husband, Richard, whimpered.
“No…” he said. “No… It can’t be… Meryl… She’s… She’s indestructible! She can’t be dead. Not like this. Not like this!”
“Richard…” Greer said.
“Greer,” Richard said, grabbing handfuls of Greer’s shirt. �
�Please. You have to do something. You have to get the Raiders back for what they’ve done. We have to strike back now, while we have the chance.”
“There are too many of them,” Greer said. “You know that. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“That’s it?” Richard said. “That’s all any of you have to say and do about his? That you’re sorry? And what is that supposed to mean to me? It means nothing! I don’t want your apologies! I want action! I want revenge! And I want it now, damn it! I want it right now!”
There was no talking to a man possessed by his emotions, no negotiating. It was like trying to deal with a madman. He wouldn’t listen. Nothing would be good enough for him. The rest of the community stood looking at their feet.
“You all knew Meryl,” Richard said, rounding on them. “She stood up for you whenever you needed her help, and here you are now, staring at her corpse without caring one whit what has been done to her!”
“All right, Richard,” Greer said. “We’re all upset. We understand you are too, but there’s no need for you to start casting wild aspersions. We all cared a great deal for Meryl and would do anything for her. Attacking the Raiders in retaliation for this will bring them down on us. They could wipe us out. We need to be careful.”
Richard looked from Greer to the others, the anger in him disappearing and taking the form of disappointment.
“If this is what we are, a bunch of cowards, then perhaps getting wiped out is the best thing,” he said.
He accompanied Meryl’s body as she was carried away.
“Show’s over,” Greer said, glaring at each community member as he turned to leave and head back toward the council building. “Rafael, Quinn, with me.”
Rafael was quick to follow. The other community members dissipated and drifted back toward their rooms and homes. It was too late for any of them to think about what had happened. Siren was certain it would provide a lot of ammunition for whatever was going to happen next. Gossip contained a great deal of power.