Tales of the Republic (The Complete Novel)

by M. G. Herron

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  Ari’s hand found hers. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed hard. “Me, too. But Po, you have to warn them. If I can’t stop them… Just find Ming. Tell Ming…just tell him that Citizen is planning something awful, and the senator is in on it.” Ari glanced around. “I have to get back now.”

  Po put her hands around Ari’s neck. Their lips met. Ari wrapped one arm around her slender waist and pulled her hips close to his.

  Po pulled away. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Ari said.

  Someone whistled softly from the shadows at the mouth of the tunnel.

  “Go up at the fourth platform,” Ari whispered, pushing Po toward the small passageway near the tunnel wall. “Find Ming and warn him. And then get out of the city.”

  CHAPTER 46

  THE ONE CONSTANT

  Fat chance, Po thought a few minutes later, when her sense of reason returned to her. She squeezed her body through the small passageway and into the tunnel, which widened beyond the blockage.

  If you think I’m going to just run away again, I’ll show you.

  Worry for Ari twisted her guts all the same. He was right about one thing—she had to find Ming and warn him, warn everyone about the attack. But how could she, one girl in a vast city, warn them about an attack she knew little about? She knew that Citizen was planning another attack, and she knew that Senator Khan was involved…

  Ming. It all came back to him.

  When the tunnel opened up, she began to run. After about a hundred yards, she came to the first subway station. She kept going at a steady jog and finally reached the fourth platform.

  She climbed onto the platform and marched up the steps that led up out of the subway, the way passengers would have come and gone when the trains were running. At the top of the stairs, a long tiled hall eventually took her through a rusted metal turnstile.

  At the lobby, she picked a random exit—but it was blocked with a wall of wooden slats holding back the same hard sealant foam that had been used in the tunnel. While it looked soft, when you touched it the foam was rough and brittle. She could have carved through it with the right tools, but she didn’t even have a bottle of water to quench her thirst, let alone something sharp. She tried clawing it away with her hands, but the flaky material just got under her fingernails and itched.

  She retraced her steps and returned to the yellow-tiled lobby to check another exit. This one had some broken boards near the left wall, and a narrow passageway leading out. Someone had done the tedious work of chipping the brittle foam away to form another narrow passage here. Po sighed in relief, some of the claustrophobic feeling fading now that she had found an exit.

  Po scraped her back along the wall to get through the passageway. She came out on what used to be a sidewalk. It dead-ended against a flat brick shaft that led straight up. A narrow, wooden ladder—not bolted to the wall, but leaning against it, like someone had set it here recently—climbed up to a line of pinprick lights in the ceiling. When she got to the top, she realized that the light was shining through grip holes in a manhole cover. Would she ever get away from these things?

  With a grunt of effort, the cover shifted as she pushed it up and aside. Po lifted herself out into the middle of a street.

  A few people stood and gawked at her as she let herself out. She hadn’t gone very far. Maybe a couple blocks in all.

  If that was the rebel hideout, or near it, Po realized, she now had their location. Po noted the street signs: 115th and Crow Street. She stored that information in the back of her mind, her ace in the hole in case she had to negotiate with Wallace or Ming again. With the confidence of this secret advantage, Po replaced the manhole cover and walked quickly away.

  After circling a bit, Po spotted the bridge sheltering the urchin kids’ fort. She went to it, and had uncovered the motorcycle and pulled it from the scrub when Nando scrambled up over the steep side of the cement culvert, his face flushed from exertion.

  “Nando!” Po said, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. “I thought…When you ran I thought you were a goner.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t run. I thought you were a goner!”

  “No, I…” She debated whether or not to tell him more. Could she trust him? Would he be useful now? She wanted to send him back down to his fort, with the rest of the kids…but they wouldn’t be safe even here, distant and secluded from the protests and the riots. They were suffering indirectly, as everyone was, from the food crisis. But if the rebels did something awful, something so awful that even Ari was terrified…

  “I found my friend,” Po said. “Ari. He’s with the rebels.”

  Nando’s mouth fell open and he gaped at her.

  “He says they’re planning something. Something that’s going to be ten times worse than anything they’ve done so far, something that makes kidnapping me and the mech attack in Telerethon Square look like a picnic in comparison. Ari’s trying to stop them, but…I don’t know if he can. I have to warn people, and I need to find my uncle and the magistrate so that they can warn more people, maybe evacuate the city…I don’t know. But I have to do something.”

  She glanced down at the fort that huddled against the far wall of the culvert, and even before she asked the next question she felt the wave of guilt wash over her. What right did she have to endanger these kids? Were she in their place, wouldn’t she just want to be left alone?

  She ignored the feeling. It was her best chance. It was the only idea that made any sense at the moment. She saw the tsunami curling up over the beach. They may not be able to avoid it, and this city, this castle made of sand, might be washed away…

  But it could be rebuilt if the people got away safe. If they worked to help each other, instead of fighting amongst themselves.

  The one constant in this city was its people. All of them. If she could get the word out…and prepare them with the knowledge of what was coming…maybe that would be enough.

  Maybe.

  “Can you and your friends help me?” Po asked.

  Nando fallowed her gaze toward the fort.

  She got down on a knee so she could look him in the face at eye level. “I’ll owe you. I’ll owe you big time.”

  Nando smirked.

  CHAPTER 47

  THE PEOPLE’S CHEF

  Po marched slowly toward the skyscrapers with three dozen urchin kids trailing her in a loose column. The crowd grew gradually thicker as they moved toward to the skyscrapers, as if everyone in the city was congregating at the same point.

  All movement flowed toward Telerethon square. The locus of the protests.

  Po glanced back every block or so to see how many kids there were, but in the dense flow of people she couldn’t be sure her counting was right. Twenty? Fifty? All she knew was that as they traveled, Nando coordinated with Mohinder and the jittery little brunette, named Ana Sofia, who had first recognized Po from TV, and sent them running off in both directions into the alleys and backways and hideouts among the urban maze of streets and torn buildings.

  “Don’t worry,” Nando reassured her after one of these side trips. “They know where to go.”

  As they walked, the air grew heavy enough to chew on. Although it did nothing to fill her belly, which was hollow with fear and still ached with hunger, the atmosphere filled with the expectation of rain.

  The weather was not normally like this in Enshi. In the valley, humid days were more common, but sometimes, in late summer, when the river was low and the clouds had greedily held their water for longer than normal, the rain would fall on the entire city in one long drench, so fast that the earth could not hold it all, and the running water would sweep down the culverts and creeks and carry any loose debris into the river.

  A storm was approaching. Po could feel it in her bones. And she felt herself envying the sudden umbrellas and plastic ponchos that appeared among the people.

  A mi
le from Telerethon square, the earth trembled and the sky roared.

  “Is that thunder?” Nando asked.

  “No,” Po said. “It’s the crowd.”

  The boy swallowed hard, and edged closer to Po.

  Here the traffic seemed to stop, and they were forced to begin pressing their way through the crowd to get into the square. A buzzing hum cut through the drone of voices, and when Po looked up, a dozen drones looped in crisscrossing circles overhead.

  The army was keeping an eye on things. But would they be able to stop it?

  Po’s heart caught in her throat. It would be unlike the rebels to attack innocent people unprovoked, but the thought of countless thousands packed into this square, like helpless lemmings in a flooding cave, took her breath away. If anything were to cause pandemonium…

  Po motioned to Nando so that he came close. “You know what to do?”

  “Spread the word.”

  She repeated her instructions anyways, just to be sure. “Only rumors. Stirrings. Citizen is on the move again. Be on the lookout for anyone acting suspiciously. Try not to frighten people or cause a stampede, just get them on the lookout.”

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  She stood on her tiptoes to see into the square. Po could just barely make out the pointed corner of a massive tarp tent that had been erected in the middle of the square.

  “I’ll see if I can find out who’s in charge. If I convince them I’m telling the truth, they can help us spread the word. Maybe even get some people out of her before it happens.”

  With a sharp nod and a motion to Mohinder and Ana Sofia, Nando turned and all three dispersed into the mob.

  Alone again, Po began to weave her way toward the tent. As she neared, the smell of baked goods and cooked meats cut through the acrid scent of sweaty, unwashed people. Her stomach gurgled as she walked along the line of protestors that snaked out from the center of the tent and seemed to wrap all the way around it until it disappeared into the crowd.

  No wonder Nando didn’t want to stand in line for food here. It would take a full day just to get a bowl. It was remarkable, really, that they were able to manage to feed anyone at all.

  Po circled around the tent, peering in for some sign of organizational leadership. She realized after a minute that she didn’t even know what to look for. In her mind, she imagined a dozen people hunched over a map. A war room of some kind, with a man with fancy brass buttons pointing importantly. But the tent was filled with bustling people, long tables stacked with water bottles, piles upon piles of coolers, electrical cables taped to the floor and gathered in thick cords.

  A kitchen, not a war room.

  “Do you know who’s in charge here?” Po asked of a bearded old man standing by himself in line.

  He raised his thin arms in an indifferent gesture. “I’m just here for a meal.” Then he paused, and cocked his head at Po.

  Po was unsettled by his gaze, so she turned and hurried away, following the line around, trying to find its point of origin. She passed a long table laden with electric cooktops at the edge of the tent, where a dozen huge metal pots each emitted a steaming vapor that smelled absolutely, painfully delightful.

  “Girl! Over here!”

  Po turned—and saw Noura, wearing a stained cooking apron, her kindly round face split by a wide smile full of crooked yellowing teeth. Steam curled up from the pots and twined through her brown curls, which were drawn back into a loose bun behind her head.

  Po ran to her, blinking her eyes to make sure Noura wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  “I thought it was you!” Noura said.

  Po edged around the table with the pots on it, and let Noura squeeze her in a one-armed hug as she stirred a pot with a wooden spoon in her other hand. A couple dish-runners brushed by them carrying tubs full of assorted pots and pans. Po stood to one side to avoid getting underfoot or run over.

  “Did you ever find your sister?” Noura asked.

  “I did. Thank you. She’s safe now.”

  “I’m glad to see you safe and sound, too, after what I saw on the news.”

  Po worked her dry mouth. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think ya do. You saved that man. That was the fellow you were with, with the face like…you know.” She waved the wooden spoon at her face.

  Po hesitated, but eventually decided there was no use hiding it if Noura had seen it with her own eyes. She nodded her reluctant affirmation.

  “I thought so. Hard to tell in the video, you never get a good look at him. But you! Oh aye, you ran in there like you were gon’ta smite them bastards, and saved his life. And then the army retreated, just like that.”

  “That’s not how it happened,” Po said.

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Po worked her mouth, but no words came out. This revelation had gobsmacked the words from her mouth with the force of a blow. And then, like a lock finally turning, a sudden clarity descended upon her.

  “Everyone saw it?” Po asked.

  “Oh, aye. They won’t stop talking about it.”

  “Did you…did you tell them my name?”

  “A’course not! My tongue’s not that unhinged. Besides, I don’t know much about you other than you seemed like a kind person who’d been through a terrible thing when I took you in for a night.” She leaned in close. “But look around you, girl. They know you all the same.”

  Po gazed out of the tent, and she could see it was true. The bearded grandfatherly man she had asked for directions was talking to a group of middle-aged women in front of him. They covered their mouths and pointed in Po’s direction. Po did her best to ignore them.

  “Why are you here, Noura? I thought you’d still be in Factory.”

  “I couldn’t stay holed up in my cozy little house any longer. After I saw you on the news and heard about those poor folk gettin’ killed, I came down here right away to lend a hand. And good thing I did, too!” She lowered her voice. “Kitchen was a disaster before I got here.”

  A large man with a noticeable limp hobbled over toward them. “Sigrid just told me she heard—you!” He stopped short when he saw Po, then glanced at Noura. “I do believe I owe you an apology. I thought you were fibbing when you said you knew the girl, Noura.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about something like that, Kellen.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t tell anyone,” Po said defensively.

  “I said I didn’t tell them your name. But I knew it was you.” She beamed proudly.

  The certainty in Noura’s voice thrummed through Po like a harmonic cord. She couldn’t help but feel a small glow of pride.

  The limping man, Kellen, lowered his voice. “There’s rumors going around the rebels are lurking in the square. Seem to be planning something. I’ve already locked the meat and rice up, you should shut off your burners for a bit. We can keep serving for a while yet, but I don’t want the whole place burning down around my ears if it goes sideways again.”

  “It’s worse than that,” Po said.

  “What?” Kellen said, his body instantly going rigid.

  Noura took her hands from the burners knobs and wiped them on her apron. She squinted at Po. “What do you mean, girl? What do you know?”

  “I know you’re not safe here. No one is.”

  Kellen scoffed. “No one is safe anymore. Not as long as we keep fighting amongst ourselves.”

  “The rebels are going to attack again,” Po said, feeling her chin lift as Noura’s confidence bled into her. “Help me. We have to warn them. We have to warn everyone.”

  Kellen mumbled a curse and began to turn away. “I should tell the magistrate. He said to let him know if the rations are in any danger.”

  Po inhaled sharply and grabbed Kellen’s sleeve. “Which magistrate?”

  “Magistrate Ming. He delivered what rations we have to the square personally after Senator Fuquan was killed. Said it was what she wanted as her last wish. Then he rush
ed out of here, pale as if he’d just looked death in the face, a few hours later.”

  “Call him,” Po said. “I know the man, and we need his help.”

  CHAPTER 48

  THE EARTH TREMBLED

  Kellen produced a satellite phone from one of the many coolers—hidden in plain sight—entered a number, and held it to his ear.

  “Magistrate Ming, please.” A pause. “Yes, sir. This is Kel Tuono, down at T Square. We’ve been hearing rumors that there’s going to be another attack, and so I wanted to let you know—no sir, I don’t know any more about it. Yes, I’ve already locked up the food and water. You’ll send who? Okay. Okay.”

  Po wiggled her fingers.

  “Excuse sir, but there’s a girl down here says she knows you. Goes by the name of Po.”

  He handed the phone to Po. “Hello, magistrate.”

  “Po! Your aunt and uncle are worried sick about you. Don’t move. I’ll send someone to get you.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Kai…I spoke to Ari.”

  Ming’s breathing stopped coming through the speaker.

  “There’s going to be another attack. You have to do something”

  “What? Why would Ari know that. He’s—”

  “I’ll explain later. Please, magistrate, people are in danger. I have to warn them, but I don’t know if it will be enough. I need you and my uncle to run it up the chain—to the president, if necessary. Don’t let me down.”

  “Wait, I’m coming to get you, I—”

  Ming spluttered some more, but Po pulled the phone from her ear, ignoring him. She disconnected the call with the press of a button, and handed it back to Kellen, who raised his eyebrows at her.

  She ignored his surprised expression, and turned to go.

  “Wait,” Noura said. “Eat first.”

  Po hesitated, but realized that Noura’s suggestion made good sense. With relief, she took a bowl of soup that Noura handed her, a thick warm broth with carrots and potatoes. And as if they had been waiting for their cue, Nando and Ana Sofia stepped out of the crowd. Noura took them all deep into the kitchen/tent, out of sight of the line of people waiting, and fed them.