Once

by Anna Carey

Page 49

  Harper had reached me through the paper only once more, to confirm the plan was in effect. Now I stood in the suite, staring out the window for the last time at the crowded City below. The morning sun reflected off the metal barricades lining the sidewalks, showing the extensive route that wound around the City center. People were already assembling on the main road. The streets were packed all the way to the Outlands.

  The door opened behind me. Beatrice was in a cerulean blue dress, squeezing her hands together nervously. I stepped forward and pressed her fingers between my own. “I told you, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to help me. It could be dangerous. ”

  “I want to,” she said. “You have to leave today—it’s not a question. I just hid the ring. ” I wrapped my arms around her, not wanting to let go. In just an hour, the King would come to my suite, ready to escort me downstairs to the car, its engine running, waiting to start the long procession. He’d find the room empty, that silly white dress laid out on the bed. He’d move through the Palace, scouring the dining room, the parlor, his office. On one of the floors he’d find Beatrice, in a search of her own, frantic to find my ring before the procession started. She’d tell him that she’d just left me in my room, that I’d insisted she look for the missing piece of jewelry, afraid that it had slipped off somewhere outside the suite.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, the words feeling inadequate. “For everything. ” I looked around the room, remembering how she had washed my scarred wrists when I’d first arrived, how she’d sat on the bed with me, her hand on my back as I fell asleep. “As soon as I reach the Trail I’ll look for Sarah,” I whispered. “We’ll get her out in time. ”

  “I hope so,” she said, her face darkening at the mention of her daughter.

  “She’ll come back to you,” I insisted. “I promise. ”

  Beatrice smiled, then pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Clara’s just down the hall—wait for her signal before you leave. I’ll stay here for another forty minutes,” she said. “All the entrances should be clear now. I won’t let anyone come in. ” She fell back into the room, gesturing for me to go.

  I crept toward the door. The lock had been plugged the same way the one in the stairwell had, a wad of paper lodged in its depths, preventing it from latching. I listened for the soldier. He stood right beside the door, his heavy breathing filling the air. My hand was on the knob, waiting to hear Clara’s voice.

  After a few minutes the sound of footsteps echoed against the wood floors. “I need help!” Clara called down the corridor. “You there—someone has broken into my suite. ”

  I heard the soldier’s muffled reply and the argument that followed, Clara insisting he go with her right then, that her very life was in jeopardy. As they started down the hall I opened the door a crack. Clara was walking quickly, holding up the hem of her dress, going on about the broken lock on her safe, how someone must’ve come into her suite during breakfast. The soldier listened intently, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Before they rounded the corner Clara glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.

  I darted toward the east stairwell. I wore the sweater and jeans I’d worn the first night I’d left the Palace, my hair secured in a low bun. I missed the cap I had pulled down over my eyes, feeling more exposed now, more recognizable as I started down the stairwell. I kept my eyes on my feet, careful to duck below the tiny windows that faced onto each floor.

  Far below, the Palace mall was crowded with people. Workers were closing up their stores for the morning, pulling down large metal grates to cover their front windows. Shoppers emptied into the streets. Soldiers directed everyone out the various exits, clearing the main floor for the procession. I kept my head down as I started toward the same door I’d gone out of that first night, feeling the soldiers’ eyes on me. “Keep moving!” one called out, his words tensing my entire body. “Go to the right when you reach the main road. ”

  I followed the crowd, squeezed into the space between the Palace fountain and the metal barricades. The man next to me had his son with him, his arm around his shoulders as they took small steps, filing outside. I brought my hand to my face, trying to avoid being noticed by the two older women to my left, red-and-blue scarves tied festively around their necks. “Paradise Road will be the best view,” one of them said. “If we’re on the right-hand side, opposite the Wynn Tower, we can avoid the congestion. I’m not getting stuck behind the crowds like we were for the parade. ”

  Finally we were down the Palace’s marble steps, moving faster as we filed along the main strip and across the overpass. I broke off, relieved when I was away from the women, lost in the shifting current of the crowd. It would take time to get to the Outlands. I’d anticipated this, but it was even more apparent now, with everyone packed inside the barricades, shuffling along the sidewalks. Some streets were closed. The procession route was dotted with soldiers, many standing in the narrow road, scanning the roofs of the buildings, their rifles in hand.

  I squeezed between people, ducking around a man who’d stopped to tie his shoe. When I passed a restaurant I checked the time against the clock inside. It was nine fifteen. Caleb had been led out of the prison by Harper’s contact there. The dissidents should’ve met him in the Outlands by now. They were probably already at the hangar. With the soldiers concentrated inside the City center, there’d be less security near the wall. No one would come by the construction sites. It could be an hour or more before the handful of soldiers at the prison realized Caleb was missing and got word to the tower patrol.

  The day was oppressively hot. I pulled at the neck of my sweater, wishing for an escape from the sun. All around me, people spoke excitedly about the wedding procession and the Princess’s dress, and the ceremony that would be broadcast on billboards throughout the City. Their voices seemed far away, a chorus fading into the background, as my thoughts returned to Caleb. Harper had told me he hadn’t been hurt. He’d said they would get him out. He had promised that Jo was securing places for us on the Trail, that they’d be waiting in the hangar for me when I arrived. As I crept closer to the Outlands, the minutes passed more quickly. I let myself imagine it, seeing him there, inside the open room. Our fingers laced together as we started through the dark tunnel, putting the City behind us.

  I hurried my steps, weaving in and out of the crowd as I moved closer to the old airport. I didn’t look at anyone. Instead I fixed my gaze on that spot in the south, just off the main road, where the buildings opened up to cracked pavement.

  The Outlands were quiet. Across the gravel, two men sat on overturned buckets, passing a cigarette back and forth. Someone was hanging wet sheets out an upstairs window. I started across the airport parking lot, unable to keep from smiling. The King was probably at my suite. He had just realized I was gone. It was too late now. Here I was, minutes from the hangar, with Caleb so close. He was just inside that door, our packs filled, waiting for me.

  I slipped into the old hangar, the planes towering above me. When I reached the back room the boxes had been moved aside, the tunnel exposed, but Jo was not there. I scanned the other end of the hangar, but there was no sign of Harper or Caleb. No maps were set out on the table. No lanterns were scattered about the floor. The light streamed in from a broken window, casting strange patterns on the concrete.