Black Moon

by L. A. Weatherly

Later Sephy came to the door. “He’s hurting too, you know.”

  “I know,” I said, staring out at the trees.

  But I hadn’t moved.

  I sighed, gazing at the pigeons’ dark, feathered shapes. Since coming out of the greyness, I’d apologized to Hal; tried talking to him. He’d accepted the apology but a distance remained, like a pane of glass separating us.

  It seemed the crucial moment had already passed, and now I wasn’t sure how to get him back.

  With relief, I pushed it all away as the roof door opened and Ingo appeared. He came over and sat beside me. “You’re looking grim as hell, Mac – what’s up?”

  Mac stubbed out his cigarette. He studied us levelly, his features clear in the city’s ambient glow. “Okay, you two, give it to me straight. We need that escape route. Can you do it?”

  “With luck,” I said.

  “‘With luck’ doesn’t fill me with joy, kiddo. You’ve had almost a month down there already.”

  “There are over three hundred miles of tunnels, you know,” Ingo pointed out dryly.

  “Exactly. Listen, if it’s not possible, tell me now, and we’ll figure something else out – though who knows what.”

  Ingo and I looked at each other. “From studying old maps, we think it’s possible,” I said slowly. “The northernmost tunnels are full of cave-ins – but we’ve gotten close a few times, Mac, we’re sure of it.”

  “If there even is a way out,” said Mac.

  Ingo’s dark eyes were still on mine. He glanced back at Mac. “I think there is. When I went to school here, a friend of mine said he’d found a route that went all the way under the river to the north. He wasn’t the type to make up stories to impress us.”

  “Wish you could get hold of the guy and ask for directions.”

  “Yes, that would be more convenient than scrabbling our way through cave-ins, I agree.”

  Mac sat playing with his lighter, scraping the flame into life and then snapping it closed again.

  “I don’t have anyone spare to help you,” he said finally.

  The other dozen or so core Resistance members were New Manhattan residents, like Dwight. They had jobs, lives; they needed to avoid suspicion. The tunnels we had to reach to explore further were already over a day away.

  “I won’t even have you to spare in a few weeks, kiddo,” Mac said to me. “As soon as we’re ready with those wireless broadcasts, we need to get going on them, pronto.”

  “We’ll find a route out,” I said. “We will, Mac. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. All right?” I added to Ingo, and he nodded.

  “We’re both good at maps,” he said to Mac. “We’ll figure this out if it kills us.”

  “Soon,” said Mac. “I’d say ‘no pressure’, but I’d be lying through my teeth.”

  “We understand, don’t worry,” I said softly.

  Mac nodded and stood up. He clapped Ingo on the shoulder and briefly squeezed my arm. “See you both tomorrow, before you go.”

  A pigeon trilled as he passed. The roof door closed behind him.

  I exhaled and looked at Ingo. I tried to smile. “You shouldn’t joke about figuring it out if it kills us, with all those cave-ins.”

  “Who the hell said I was joking?” Ingo swung himself wearily around so that he was lying lengthways on the deck chair, his long legs beside me. I knew he had an extra reason for wanting a route out of the city – he couldn’t get word from his family without one.

  I stayed where I was, thinking, tapping the chair’s worn wood.

  “The old Lexington Avenue line,” I said. “The part of it we found that branches off – remember?”

  “Yes, I was thinking the same.” Ingo scraped a hand over his eyes. “The northernmost route – we can try the sewers around there too. It’s a place to start, anyway.”

  “Agreed.” The journey would take several days at least and I sighed, thinking of Hal. Being away again wouldn’t help matters between us.

  “Was it all right, seeing Collis?” asked Ingo suddenly.

  I looked at him in surprise. He lay with one arm under his head, studying the stars. As I watched, he turned his face towards me.

  “Fine,” I said after a pause.

  I nudged him. Ingo shifted and I stretched out beside him. I gazed up at the pale moon, taking in its faint craters. “I was dreading it, a little,” I admitted. “But there’s just…nothing left. I don’t even hate him any more.”

  “Well, I suppose that kind of thing does kill a relationship,” said Ingo wryly. He knew about my arrest fourteen months ago, when Collie had turned me in.

  “I just wondered,” he added. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad it was all right for you. I was imagining how I’d feel if it was me, seeing Miriam again.”

  “How would you?” I turned my head towards him. The ruined side of his face was close to me, its puckered folds shadowy.

  Ingo lay still. His arm under his head moved as he shrugged.

  “Reluctant. Unhappy. But ultimately relieved, I think, to realize she didn’t have any effect on me any more.” His ex had betrayed him, too, only days before my own arrest.

  It was late; the elevated train had stopped running half an hour ago. I nodded, feeling the long warmth of Ingo beside me and listening to the silence of this city that was never totally silent – the faint drone of traffic, an ambulance siren off in the distance.

  “Yes,” I said, and smiled at the stars. “That’s exactly it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  May, 1942

  Kay Pierce lay propped on one elbow, gazing down at Collis.

  He was asleep on his stomach, one arm looped around the satin-cased pillow, his ribs moving faintly with each steady breath. His sandy hair – so immaculate during the day – was rumpled, full of dark gold shadows in the glow from her bedside lamp.

  Kay resisted the urge to stroke the silky-looking strands. She jostled his bare shoulder.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Hey,” she repeated, shaking him.

  Collis gazed up blearily.

  “You have to get out,” she said.

  He peered at the gold clock on her bedside table. Almost four a.m. He yawned and drew her close. “No, not yet,” he murmured. He kissed her hair.

  Kay pressed briefly against his firm torso, savouring the feel of him. Then she pulled away. A glass of water sat beside her lamp. She dipped her fingers in it and flicked them at his face.

  “Out,” she said.

  Collis’s eyes flew open and he sat up, swiping at his damp cheeks. He gave a rueful grin. “All right, all right,” he said. “Madame President.”

  He kissed her bare shoulder and got out of bed. Kay stayed where she was, taking in his lean athleticism as he dressed. The dimpled wound on his right bicep was his only blemish.

  Collis didn’t bother with his undershirt; his own room was just down the corridor. Trousers on, shirt hanging open, he bent over her, his lips briefly demanding on hers.

  “Sure I can’t stay?”

  “Very.”

  Collis eased her back onto the sheets and held himself poised over her. “Really sure?” he whispered against her mouth. His warm lips slid down to her neck. “You can feel what you’re doing to me, can’t you?”

  She could, and was half-amused, half-irritated to realize that she wanted him again too.

  “Out, Collis,” she said, pushing at him. He kissed her once more, gently, and then got up.

  “Are you ever going to let me stay an entire night?” he asked. His eyes were pure green tonight. Sometimes they looked blue, sometimes a mix of the two. Kay shrugged and pulled her knees to her chest.

  The fact that she wanted him to stay meant that she’d throw him out every night without fail.

  Collis gave a half-smile, as if reading her mind. He picked up the glass of water and took a sip. “You should try that water-flicking trick against Cain,” he said, toasting her with the glass. “It might startle t
he bastard enough to solve all our problems.”

  Then her speech-writer and special advisor was gone, slipping out the door and easing it shut behind him.

  Kay smiled slightly. The deal she’d offered Collis when he’d first awakened from his gunshot wound over three months ago had been accepted, as she’d guessed it would be – and was working out even better than she’d hoped. They were two of a kind. She’d known it for a long time.

  Her smile faded at the thought of Sandford Cain. “Problem”, indeed.

  The pale-eyed Cain had been Gunnison’s right-hand man, renowned for his brutality. Kay had a sudden flash of his clubbing Mrs Lloyd, her former neighbour in Topeka. His bland expression had barely changed – only from the twitch of his mouth had Kay realized how much he’d enjoyed striking the woman unconscious.

  Kay started to bite a fingernail, then caught herself. She might have enjoyed it too, come to that – she’d loathed Mrs Lloyd – but having Cain still alive, working under her, when he possibly knew too much about his own bullet wound…that was worrying.

  Very.

  Kay’s palace had once been the finest hotel in New Manhattan. Six hours later, she and Collis stood on its west balcony, smiling and waving to a cheering crowd. It was late May and glorious. People stood pressed together, filling the expanse of Centre Park – a mass of fedora hats and bright summer dresses, with Harmony flags flying above them.

  “You look gorgeous,” Collis murmured to her. The sun hit his hair, turning it flaxen.

  “Not so bad yourself,” she said, a broad smile plastered on her face.

  “Got a good night’s sleep,” he said.

  The throbbing cheers washed over Kay, lifting her spirits. They were for her, a sign of all she’d accomplished. The scene echoed the many Harmony Rallies that she’d attended under Gunnison, down to the dozens of grey-clad Guns in attendance, boots gleaming as they surveyed the crowd.

  Back then, she’d had no idea that she’d one day become John Gunnison’s Chief Astrologer – and much more. She’d just been a frightened citizen like all the rest, cheering loudly so that no one would suspect her.

  At the thought of Gunnison, something hardened within Kay. She arched her eyebrows at Collis, who handed her a sheet of typewritten paper. She lifted her chin and stepped close to the microphone. It was large and rectangular, with a Harmony symbol at its base. Her diamond scorpion brooch glinted.

  “Thank you,” she said, and heard her voice bounce back with a faint whine. She read the speech Collis had prepared, speaking of the need to remain vigilant about the Discordant menace – to keep a close eye on others and report anything suspicious.

  “We have come far, but we have not yet won,” she informed the hushed crowd. “With your help, we will.” She raised her voice and punched the air. “Harmony for ever!”

  The flags waved in the breeze. On cue, the crowd cheered again, a roar of sound that buoyed her.

  So far it was no more than what Johnny had done, maybe. But it would be. Kay thought of her secret plans and smiled.

  Johnny was dead. She was not.

  Later, she strode down a cool marble corridor, her heels tapping out a quick beat. Collis walked beside her, tall and solid. She handed him the speech without breaking stride and he put it in his briefcase.

  They turned a corner and Cain appeared.

  His reflection wavered in the marble as he headed towards them with several cronies in tow – none as bland-faced as he, but all with smiling faces, shielded eyes. Kay stopped.

  Cain nodded as he drew near and halted. “Madame President.” His tone indicated nothing but respect.

  “Sandford, good morning,” said Kay briskly. She’d never been able to bring herself to use Johnny’s nickname for him, “Ford”. She wished she could; it might lessen her fear. Why hadn’t her aim been better that day?

  She indicated Cain’s briefcase. “Did you receive my memo?”

  “Yes, I did.” Cain passed his case to an underling, who drew out the pieces of paper. Collis – immaculate in a double-breasted suit despite the day’s warmth – leaned against the wall, watching.

  “Noted Discordants,” read Cain. His pale gaze met hers. “Very interesting. I’ll check them out when I have time, of course. But I see nothing to worry about.”

  Kay stiffened. Some of the names were random, to keep people on their toes. Others were potential dangers to her regime, gleaned from various sources.

  Cain knew this.

  “They’ve already been checked out,” she said sharply. “All that needs doing are the arrests.”

  Cain gave a small smile. “With respect, Madame President, you’ve put me in charge of Special Investigations. I’d be failing in my duty if I didn’t investigate. But thank you, sincerely, for the information.”

  His bowed head stopped just short of irony. He and his group continued down the corridor.

  Their footsteps faded. It felt as if the walls had grown eyes. Kay motioned quickly to Collis. They went into an adjacent room and she closed the door and pressed her fingers against her pounding temples.

  “Do we have a copy of the list?” she asked.

  “Of course,” said Collis quietly.

  The room lay in shadow, its heavy curtains partly drawn. Kay leaned against a table. “I’ll have to bypass him and go to the Head Gun,” she murmured. A blatant move – a direct confrontation to Cain’s judgement. Her stomach chilled. She glanced at Collis.

  “Are we any closer?” she asked.

  He knew what she meant. He propped himself beside her and nodded. “I’m trying. We can’t move too fast without raising suspicion.”

  “I will get rid of him,” she said.

  Collis’s gaze was steady. His hand closed around hers. “We will.”

  Kay exhaled. Maybe Collis’s trustworthiness only extended as far as their deal…but she knew Collis down to his core and that didn’t worry her. Meanwhile, his fingers were warm – firm.

  His grip tightened. “I’ve been thinking that a new meeting room might help,” he said in an undertone.

  She frowned and looked up at him. “How?”

  “We need one that’s more secure. Down in the basement, maybe. Someplace where we’re certain no one’s watching or listening.”

  Kay considered it. “Yes, maybe.”

  The thought of the basement reminded her of something and she crossed to the window. It looked out to Can-Amer Avenue.

  She propped her hands on the sill, gazing down at the streaming traffic. A line of tall grey Shadowcars slid past. Pedestrians bustled across when the light changed, some of the men carrying their suit jackets over their arms in the heat.

  Beneath it all lay the tunnels. Kay imagined them: cool, vast, endless.

  “You said that the Resistance uses that ancient tunnel network,” she said without turning around.

  Collis’s reflection appeared beside hers as he joined her. “Yeah, that’s what Mac told me.”

  “Let’s get more Guns down there. Experts.”

  His eyebrows drew together as he glanced at her. “We can’t clamp down too hard. The Resistance can’t know that I—”

  “They won’t. We’ll do it gradually. But I want all the main sections mapped.” She couldn’t dispose of Cain – yet – but here she could flex her muscles.

  Collis nodded, playing with one of his cufflinks. Another new pair, Kay noticed, amused. Armanti and Manti, even, with the trademark AM. Collis Reed cut an impressive figure these days.

  Money and power. Just like she’d known.

  Kay turned and perched on the broad window sill. Standing in a bar of sunlight, Collis looked every inch the ex-Peacefighter hero. It amused her further: if the world only knew. She trailed a slow finger down his chest – circled his belt buckle.

  “Will you see to it?” she said sweetly.

  Collis’s smile was knowing. He caught her hand and kissed it.

  “What else is a right-hand man for?” he said.

  CH
APTER FIVE

  May, 1942

  The cave-in might have been there for almost two thousand years. It felt as if Ingo and I had too, endlessly shifting these ancient shards of concrete, while darkness pressed against our lantern’s glow.

  We were so close.

  Ingo pulled another rock free and chucked it back into the abandoned subway tunnel. A clattering echo.

  “Keep playing – this is driving me insane,” he said.

  “Whose turn is it?” I said, distracted.

  “I don’t remember. Yours.”

  I tugged at a stubborn piece of rubble and blew out a breath. How far had we gotten? Five feet? Six? I resisted the urge to take out our map and check – I’d done that over and over, until Ingo had threatened to take it away altogether.

  “I’m waiting,” he said.

  “Bossy.”

  “Pot, kettle.”

  I smiled slightly and thought before settling on a “First or Favourite” we hadn’t already done. “All right – favourite class at school.”

  Ingo paused mid-motion and looked at me.

  “It’s a perfectly valid question,” I said.

  “Which we must have already done a dozen times.”

  I wrestled with the rubble, jerking it back and forth. “I don’t think so,” I got out. “I always thought…it was too obvious…so I never asked.”

  Ingo tugged another rock loose. “Fine, I believe you,” he grunted. “History.”

  No, we hadn’t asked it yet, because that surprised me. I wiped sweat from my cheeks and looked at him. “Really? I thought you’d say literature.”

  He shook his head and lobbed the rock behind us. “Reading always felt private to me. History though…I liked learning what had happened in all those places in the atlas.”

  I finally wrenched the stone free and paused, eyeing the rockfall. It stayed stable.

  “I didn’t like history,” I admitted.

  Ingo’s good eyebrow shot up as he glanced at me. “You? I’m surprised.”

  “I’m surprised you liked it. All that memorizing of dates.”

  Ingo helped me heft a large shard aside. “Ah, so you never had a good teacher then…I didn’t like it either, until I got Frau Berger. What was yours?”