by Perrin Briar
Quinn relaxed a little as he told the story. At least Quinn hadn’t run headlong into the town as he’d feared.
“The water tower would give me the best vantage point,” he said, “but as you would suspect, it was guarded.”
“That hasn’t changed,” said Greer. “There’s no water in it. But it still has strategic value.”
“Yeah, so that was out, but there is a tall ash tree on this side,” Quinn said.
“Difficult to climb,” Greer said.
“That’s why I’m exhausted,” Quinn said. “The first twenty feet are straight up with no branches. Anyway, I got up high enough to get a pretty good overview of the center of town, where I thought Siren would be.”
He shook his head.
“After a while I saw her stumbling around like she was dizzy,” he said. “Everyone was going downtown and she was wandering around like she was lost. I wanted to go down and talk to her, but I didn’t.”
Quinn looked at Greer, who shrugged.
“I couldn’t,” Quinn said. “Siren doesn’t want me to. She has some kind of plan.”
“But you don’t know what it is,” Greer said, stating a fact. “Son, every conspiracy needs communication. How was she going to contact you?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “We didn’t plan this stuff because we thought you would still be in charge.”
Quinn looked at Greer accusingly.
“But there is a plan, isn’t there,” Greer said with a grave look on his face. “You know that. So there must be a way to communicate. Think.”
“We were in your old office, with Rafael and his guards,” Quinn said. “We didn’t have a chance to speak about it directly. But she touched my mind, my emotions in a certain way, and communicated something so deep in her eyes that Rafael was oblivious to it.”
Quinn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, fingers interlaced.
“That’s why I’m sure she needs some room to work,” he said, “without my interference. But it doesn’t tell me how to get word to or from her.”
“Well, if she said anything,” Greer said, “it was in that meeting, at that time, and it would have to be in code so Rafael wouldn’t pick up on it. Think. What exactly did she say?”
“Something that made me think about what happened a few days ago,” Quinn said. “She needed a new dress, and we went shopping together.”
Quinn was just throwing out whatever came to mind, brainstorming.
“You did what?” Greer said, shocked.
“She was attacked by some Raiders,” Quinn said. “I got her out of it, then took her to an old dress shop. It doesn’t matter.”
“Right, so what else do you remember from Rafael’s office?” Greer said, trying to get Quinn back on track.
“Your office,” Quinn corrected him.
“Whatever you say,” Greer said.
“She thanked me for everything, like it was goodbye for good,” Quinn said. “But something didn’t fit in.”
Quinn thought hard.
“She said ‘everything else is junk,’” he said.
“Just like that?” Greer said.
“Yes,” Quinn said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say that.”
“But it wasn’t goodbye for good, and everything else isn’t junk,” Greer said.
Quinn was silent. Cicadas and crickets began chirping. Greer relit his pipe, watching the glow of the tobacco as he drew on it. It was mesmerizing, and drew Quinn back into the world.
Chapter Thirty-Two
RED foam formed atop the liquid as the dry leaves dissolved in a small glass of water. No party, no wine. Siren could smell the dry, numbing flavor of the rizena as she held the glass in front of her. Rafael looked over her shoulder, impatient, waiting.
Inside, Siren’s Sense was at the highest potency since she had drunk the drug twenty-four hours earlier. She could feel it getting stronger by the minute, pounding like a second heartbeat, more real and accessible to her than ever before. She felt everyone around her. She felt Rafael and almost knew she could easily sway him if she made the slightest effort. But she dared not use it.
Siren quickly drank the potion and walked away, looking for something to wash out the taste from her mouth, and a place to sit down. As before, Rafael’s guard was close behind. She found Bess’s table, who gave her some tea. The effect of the rizena was not as bad as it was the first time. Siren did not pass out or even get dizzy, but she felt her power fade away as the fog descended again in her brain.
The area outside The Corral was full of people. No one had left, even though many of the people had been there for over an hour and had finished their meals. There were even people standing around who could not find a seat at a table.
Siren had spoken to several council members and other people. She had approached them as she had approached Emile, not plotting, just observing how things were not going that well under Rafael’s leadership. One of her targets was Anne, who was once principal of the school, during the time it occupied the new building.
Anne had come into more prominence in the aftermath of the Grayskins attack at the school. She was a calming influence on the rest of the town through her speeches and personal contact, especially with the families of those who had died, though a good number of townspeople blamed her lack of security for the school massacre.
When Greer fell from power, Anne found a home in Rafael’s political camp. She helped secure his power, using her considerable influence. He relied on her for advice and information. Siren had spoken with her only minutes before she was forced to take the drug again, so her mind was clearer. But she did not perceive that Anne was Rafael’s confidant until after the meeting.
Anne would take everything Siren had told her and report it directly to Rafael. But now, at least, Siren knew which side Anne was on. More importantly, she was beginning to understand by personal contact what Bess had told her earlier. Rafael’s grip on the town was a lot less secure than he thought it was.
“Bess, why is everyone hanging around?” Siren said.
Bess was sitting across the table from her, also just hanging around.
“Something’s going on,” she said. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Emile had gone into the old dining room of The Corral and was sitting with some of his assistants. Siren could see them through the front window of the restaurant. They had finished serving. The cleanup crew had started collecting dishes and waste.
Siren didn’t remember seeing Rafael anywhere, but now he was walking up the steps to the restaurant entrance with a plate. She scanned the area and noticed a guard holding a whip, something she had not seen before.
“Bess!” Siren said, pointing at the whip.
Bess immediately got up and made a signal with her hands. Children started gathering around her. She led them away toward the school.
Siren saw Rafael get to the door and throw his plate on the ground, attracting everyone’s attention.
Emile was terrified.
“Rafael, what’s wrong?” he said.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rafael said. “You give me this swill that’s only fit for pigs?”
Rafael hit Emile in the face with the back of his hand.
“Who do you think you are?” he said. “You think I don’t know what’s going on?”
Rafael made a motion, and two guards took Emile by his arms, stood him up, and walked him outside. The other cooks stood back, speechless. Emile struggled against them, but the guards were too much for him.
“Rafael!” Emile said. “I have done nothing wrong! Let me go!”
Emile repeated his protests as he was manhandled out onto the porch.
Siren got up and walked toward the scene that was playing out before the restaurant. People around her were very tense, but their words were anti-Rafael.
“He can’t do this,” one said.
“This power trip has gone too far,” another said.
Everyone knew
there was no problem with the food. Rafael was contriving this for some other reason.
“It’s time to put you in your place so everyone knows it,” Rafael shouted.
The guards tied Emile to one of the supporting posts on the front porch. They cut his chef’s uniform open with a knife so his back was bared. The guard with the whip handed it to Rafael, who turned to face the crowd.
“This is what happens to a man who doesn’t do his job,” he said.
The population stood, eyes fixed on Rafael. Siren could see Rafael was enjoying the scene, enjoying the fear he was producing in these people. She could see the bloodlust in his eyes.
Emile jumped when the first lash hit his back. Siren could tell by the look in the others’ eyes that this was not the first time they had seen Rafael do this. Right next to her was the older lady that had approached her on the first night she was there, the one who had taken her hand and told her that Rafael’s guards were Raiders.
“How often does this happen?” Siren asked the lady.
“It’s been a while,” the old lady said. “Many weeks. He’s been trying to be nice and get everyone on his side. But I guess that’s not working.”
She looked worried that things might get worse.
Emile screamed as another lash hit his back, now starting to bleed a red stain onto his white uniform.
“This is unnecessary,” Siren said. “Emile is a fine man. He hasn’t done anything wrong. This is the first time Rafael has gone after someone like this. Always before it was someone no one liked, a drunk or a troublemaker.”
“What’s your name?” Siren asked, feeling groggy.
“Elizabeth,” the old lady said, shaking her head, looking as if she would cry if she hadn’t already seen so much trouble in her life.
“Rafael must have spies,” Siren said. “Do you know who they are?”
The lady tried desperately to avert her eyes from the torture, but could not.
“I know some,” she said. “He’s always trying to extort someone into being his tattletale, though, it’s always hard to tell who you can trust.”
Emile was on the edge of passing out from the pain. A guard cut him down. The battered man slumped to his knees. A couple of people came up after getting a nod from the guard, and helped him back inside the restaurant. Rafael handed the whip back to the guard.
“Only twenty lashes,” he said, wiping the spattered blood from his face with a kitchen towel. “Let no one say I am not a merciful man. No more than twenty lashes for anyone who defies me.”
He looked directly into Siren’s eyes. Rafael was overconfident. He had put on this disgusting display merely to show her he was in complete control of Whitegate.
But he was not.
Whatever grip he had held before was getting looser all the time. A grim smile formed on Siren’s face. Everything was coming together. The Raiders would arrive the following night. She needed Quinn to be ready.
Chapter Thirty-Three
QUINN was now pacing back and forth in front of the back porch. He tried to resist banging it against the cinder blocks of the county extension office, or Pulling a Grayskin into twisting it off his neck and end all his problems. He could not, for the life of him, figure out how to communicate with Siren.
“I don’t know,” he told Greer, who still sat calmly smoking his pipe.
“You do,” said Greer. “It’s in your brain somewhere. Think harder. Maybe you should-”
“Maybe you should shut up!” Quinn yelled. “If I don’t know, I don’t know. And who are you to say what I should do, huh?”
“I’m your father, damn it!” Greer said.
“You were so strong all those years,” Quinn said. “When Mom… and Hailey died.”
Quinn almost broke down saying the names out loud, then his anger returned.
“And now look at you,” he looked at Greer with disgust. “Now you’re weak. Standing by while all the people you’ve known are tormented by Raiders. You just gave up!”
Quinn shook his head. Greer stood and looked at Quinn with his pipe in his hand.
“It all started with that journal,” Quinn said. “If Siren hadn’t stolen it, none of this would have happened. We would still be in control and the community would be safe.”
Greer’s calmness infuriated Quinn. How weak, he thought. How different from me. How-
“What did you say?” Quinn said.
His emotions were still running hot. Quinn’s voice sounded like he was challenging Greer to a fight.
“The journal!” Greer said. “It’s all Siren’s fault, if she-”
“Ha ha!” Quinn said.
Confused, Greer stopped talking as Quinn suddenly began laughing.
“The journal!” Quinn said, turning around and walking quickly toward Whitegate.
“Where are you going now?” Greer said, still flustered.
“To get Siren’s messages, if there are any,” Quinn said over his shoulder as he walked.
Then he stopped and turned around.
“By the way, you haven’t given up on the community, or you wouldn’t still be here,” he said. “Deep down, you know you need to go back and face them. You have to. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
He turned around again and started jogging back to town. Greer stood watching, hands at his sides, for a full minute.
Then he relit his pipe, walked around the side of the house and collected several split logs. He walked inside the house and put them in the wood stove, lit it, closed the door, and sat down again to wait.
Chapter Thirty-Four
SIREN looked up at the grape-jelly-colored ceiling. She had been lying down, but not really resting. The drug was potent, but under conditions of such strong emotion in her own mind, the effects were not as powerful.
It seemed like her heart had never slowed down after what happened to Emile. She wanted to go to him just to say she was sorry, that it was all her fault. But she could not. And now she had to act, to get a message out, whatever the risk.
Siren sat up and put her feet on the floor, still wearing her blue dress. Thinking better of it, she slid out of it and pulled on a pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt, and the smock she wore in the classroom. She thought she could say she was doing something at school to prepare for tomorrow’s classes if someone caught her.
“It’s a weak excuse,” she said to herself, “but it’s better than nothing.”
She rushed downstairs and into the street. It was dark, and quiet. Almost too quiet. Siren could not see a single person anywhere. She was not sure where the nighttime guards were, but they were not patrolling the streets.
Siren strained to Sense anyone, but all she saw were faint blurry blobs in her mind, which could be regular people just sleeping. Still cautious, she walked carefully in the faint starlight, staying near the buildings as she made her way to the junkyard.
Once there, she picked up speed and went directly toward the old office. No need to waste time and stay here any longer than necessary, she thought. Counting up six slats from the bottom of the back wall of the office, Siren removed the slat and the journal. She scribbled her message, closed the book, and put it back in its place.
Just then she heard the sound of rushing air followed by a loud thunk! very close to her ear.
And she was unable to move.
She looked toward the side where the noise had come from. An arrow had caught her smock and pinned her to the wall of the shack. She heard footsteps behind her. Desperately, Siren tried to remove the arrow, but it was above her shoulder and she could not get a good grip on it.
She pulled away, but the arrow was angled and held her in place. She struggled harder and heard the smock rip, but not enough to free her. Her heart pounding, she spun round, twisting the smock so she could face whoever was coming.
She considered trying to wriggle out of the smock, but it was too late. Two men stood before her. Rafael and his head guard. Siren froze, pressing her back against the old wooden w
all boards of the shack.
“I don’t know what it is with you and your boyfriend,” Rafael said, eyebrows raised. “I always thought you were smart, and not just freaks. I keep giving you the benefit of the doubt. And then you do something stupid. Why do you keep disappointing me, Siren?”
He did not expect an answer, nor did he get one. Siren just stood there looking at him, thinking about Emile.
“Oh well,” Rafael said.
The guard glared at Siren while Rafael reached into the wall and pulled out the journal.
“Naughty girl,” he said. “You didn’t bring back your library book!”
He flipped to the back, knowing exactly where to look. Siren realized Rafael had been watching her the whole time. He had seen her come here and read everything in the journal. She wondered whether he would understand it or not. He pulled a Zippo lighter out of his pants pocket and flicked it to give him some light.
“Making a few friends…” he said.
Then he read the last entry aloud.
“The Merchant will take his pound of flesh with the help of his friends at dinner,” he read. “Hmm. Very poetic.”
Rafael chuckled softly, smiling, as if he knew exactly what the entry meant. Siren suspected that he did not. And even though she had been afraid of getting caught, she wondered if he really knew what she was doing.
If he had been able to decipher her messages, and he knew where they were, why confront her? Perhaps he was just like the Raiders. Subtlety was certainly not one of their strong points. She looked at the man before her in a checkered shirt and khaki pants.
Rafael returned the ledger to its place in the shack wall.
“Reduce the watch,” he said. “Have them watch this building and shoot whoever approaches it.”
Siren tensed, awashed with fear. She tried to Push in all directions, hoping Quinn would understand. It was all she could do, and she in a weakened state.
Stay away! she thought. Please stay away!