A Thousand Fires

by Shannon Price

  Mako frowns. “Other rich twenty-whatevers.”

  “Other white twenty-whatevers,” Nianna corrects pointedly. “But yeah. More people like them with their own values.”

  “Let the people think what they think. Our next phase with the Boars will change their minds,” says Jax. “Mako. Beers.”

  Mako dutifully gets the bottles. I wave mine off in favor of a glass of water. I need a clear head. Jax raises his drink. “To our comrade, Micah, who hath returned unscathed.” Micah rolls his eyes, smiling, and raises his beer.

  “And to Valentine,” Jax finishes.

  My head snaps up. “For what?”

  “For being so damn pretty.”

  Mako chuckles. “And for letting us put the pool table in her bedroom.”

  All of them laugh and I smile, too, but I can feel Jax’s gaze on me. I force a smile, focus on Micah, and raise my cup toward him.

  The Stags do what they do best. Mako pours tequila shots. Someone knocks over the salt shaker and Jax freaks out at the possible bad omen, eliciting amused laughter from the rest of us. We make our way to the living room where Mako stretches his arm over the sofa. He laughs and reaches for Micah in the papasan across from him.

  “Dude, you be Jesus, and I’ll be God.”

  Micah reaches toward him with one finger extended with his mouth gaping, just like the painting. We explode into hysterics.

  “It’s not even Jesus in the painting,” Nianna says, wiping a tear from her eye, and we laugh harder.

  “Such a nerd,” Mako retorts.

  She shrugs. “You love me.”

  Jax, Mako, and Nianna take the couch. Kate joins later and sits on the ground, letting Nianna braid her hair. Nianna’s fingers comb through the gold, working out the tangles. She turns to me. “Feeling better?”

  I nod.

  “Good.”

  “Yay,” Kate murmurs. I sit down next to her as Mako gets a movie started.

  The air is a shimmery haze. My breath is heavy and weightless at the same time. Godless heathens they may be, but they are mine. Like Matthew was mine—is mine?

  The difference is that the Stags are here.

  * * *

  A couple days later, Jax rounds us all up to let us know our next plan of attack against the Herons. Mako calls Jules so she, Kurt, and Cameron can listen in from the Mission. They’ve been ordered to lie low and observe if the Young Herons are making a move without being too obvious.

  “A propaganda campaign,” Jax announces when we’re all ready.

  “Like, flyers?” says Juliet on speaker. “That’s new.”

  “Think about it. We can’t do anything violent or that would lend credibility to the Herons’ claim that we’re a violent bunch of uncontrollable idiots who need something like TRUCE,” he says. “Instead, we’re going to be smart about it. We’re going to leverage the Boars’ numbers and cover this town with evidence that the Young Herons have got to be stopped, plus ways they can help our cause.”

  “What kind of evidence?” I ask.

  “Anything we can dig up,” he replies. “Headlines about the businesses pushed out by tech, stats on the changing demographics of the city, costs of the Heron-owned housing. Numbers on how much these tech companies are making and how little they donate to the city. Even more—names of places where people can donate money and volunteer.”

  Over by the sink, Nianna hops down from her seat on the counter. “What’s our endgame?”

  “Turn the tide without shedding blood,” Jax replies. “Anyone gets hurt, anything gets damaged—that’s adding fuel to the Herons’ fire. Instead, we’re going to get citizens talking, get people to realize that the San Francisco they know now isn’t the utopia the Young Herons have made them think it is. There’s so much more we can do, but we have to loosen the Herons’ grip first.”

  Micah clears his throat. “And the Boars are okay with this?”

  “Ty said he had a few members resist, but any change brings resistance,” Jax says. “Like I said, we’re thinking like Stags and using the Boars for numbers. We’ll hang up physical posters and run a social media campaign, since we got all those new followers after the protest.” Jax pauses, reading the room. No one stirs. “I take it you all don’t think it’ll work.”

  More silence. Finally, Nianna caves. “I like the nonviolence, obviously. I just don’t know if it’ll have the splash you’re looking for.”

  “It will when every single person going to work in FiDi and SoMa on Monday morning is swamped with these flyers. Trust me. It will work.”

  “All right,” I say. “I’m in. What should we do first?”

  Jax claps. “Thank you, Valentine. First, we all research. Put all your ideas, any headlines you find—anything that pops into your head goes into a document. Then I’ll comb through it with Ty and combine the lists that the Boars make. Then we print. On Sunday night, we’ll meet up with the Boars and divide the flyers and tape ’em up.”

  “I’ll bring the Red Bull,” Mako says, nodding approvingly.

  We waste no time digging in. First on the list is the name of the corner store where we had the protest. Sharing the same doc, we add to the list all at once—recounting communities displaced by new Heron-affiliated housing, businesses like taxi services and restaurants that shuttered when tech offered their own free versions of the same services.

  A new, ugly feeling blooms in my stomach. Dad works in the Mid-Market area, and his company is large enough that it offers its employees perks like that—perks that trickled down to me in some way, shape, or form. Am I a hypocrite for helping put these companies on blast like this? I sigh and hit enter to move myself to a new line. Even if I am a hypocrite, I do believe these companies can be doing more. And now that I know the Young Herons purposely target vulnerable communities, I am fully in favor of stopping that.

  Down the hall, Jax is on the phone. The door’s slightly ajar, and I can hear him talking slowly, purposefully. When he hangs up, I catch him saying, “Thanks, Theresa.”

  Jax comes into the living room where the group of us is stationed, doing research. He hands me a paper with a couple of company names listed.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Gift from Theresa. More companies that the Herons are working with that aren’t publicly affiliated with them yet.”

  “Got it,” I reply. “So, dig in and find out what kind of work they have planned, because that’s actually the Herons that have something planned.”

  “Bingo. More fuel for Sunday,” he says.

  “Awesome.” I type the first name into Google and hand the paper to Mako on my left. “You take the second, and so on?”

  We work until the evening. The next morning, Nianna and I weed through the document while Mako, Micah, and Kate map out the best routes for us and the Boars to take. Jax drifts in and out of his room, coordinating with Ty. The more I scroll, the more I can feel my disgust at the Herons rise. I sit back from my laptop and drain the rest of my coffee.

  “There’s so much here,” I say quietly. “I didn’t realize they were so involved in everything.”

  “The Herons are ruthless,” Nianna replies. “I wasn’t convinced this would work, but it’s at least going to get folks talking.”

  “Like,” I say, scrolling until I find the page I’m looking for, “there was a senior center that got ousted because of funding problems. They couldn’t afford their rent. That’s so sad.”

  “Yeah,” Nianna replies. “I remember when that happened. That’s why we gotta do our best to fight back now, for the ones who can’t.”

  * * *

  Sunday night rolls around, and we each pack a backpack with the flyers—thousands in all. Juliet, Cameron, and Kurt come by and grab their own backpacks.

  “What do you think of this?” I ask Juliet as I tug on a black sweatshirt over my fleece sweater.

  She shrugs. “Could go either way. Regardless, we’re going to get shit for littering.” She says the last bit with a
smile. “Who knows? It’s gonna make a hell of an impact.”

  Since we’ll all be out with a handful of Boars, Jax has told us to stay wary, but welcoming. It is a partnership, after all.

  Looping my hair into a ponytail, I tuck the length up and into a beanie. Zipping my sweatshirt all the way up, I go to the bathroom and check in the mirror that my tattoo is totally hidden. There’s no telling what cameras may be on us as we canvass the streets.

  Making sure the door is locked, I take out Matthew’s phone, gripping it tight. I know we’re going downtown. Will I have enough time to sneak away to see him? Sweat beads at the back of my neck as I open the phone and start typing. He’s been texting every couple of days, asking me if I’ve come to a decision.

  Truth is, no matter how much I seem to muddle it, I can’t get myself to go into TRUCE—I couldn’t do that to my parents, nor am I really confident I could bear being in the spotlight like that again.

  The memories of the days following Leo’s death are sharp as glass. Most people have no idea what it’s like to lose someone so publicly. They don’t know what it’s like to have reporters show up on your doorstep asking for a statement. They don’t know what it’s like to watch the news and see your brother’s face, in a photo that you’d be in too if you weren’t cropped out of it.

  My parents and I bore that both together and totally apart. They’re already trying, already tired. I can’t put them through the media circus again, not when staying with the Stags means I have the chance to make it right for all three of us. But that kind of an explanation isn’t something for texting. And if I’m already going to be downtown, I might as well try to talk to him then.

  I’ll be downtown tonight. I don’t know where yet. Can you meet me?

  I take my time washing my hands, all the while keeping my eyes on my phone. My heart leaps in my throat as he answers:

  I can try. When?

  Late, I reply. We’re leaving at midnight.

  OK, he replies. Text me when and where.

  Kate knocks at the door. “You ready, Val?”

  “Yeah!” I join her and the others in the kitchen where, true to his word, Mako got us all Red Bulls. I’m hoping the nap I took earlier will help, but Jax wants us up most of the night. Lifting my can, I take a sip. Not bad. I drink the rest slowly as we all wait for Jax. Somehow he’s always the last one ready.

  We drive downtown to rendezvous with the Boars. It’s a quiet night, with most of the city asleep and waiting to start their week. Would anyone bother to stop and read our signs at all? Or would they dismiss them as a nuisance and a waste of paper?

  One thing’s for sure, they’re going to see them. Unzipping the backpack on my lap, I smile at the neon-colored paper inside. Neon—our signature’s going to be all over downtown without one drop of paint.

  “Ty wants each of you with some of his men. I’ll be watching you guys on my phone the whole time,” Jax says as we get close. “Anything goes off, you defend yourself and send the panic alert when you can.”

  “Wait, we’re splitting up?” Micah asks.

  Jax nods. “A sign of trust between us and Ty.”

  “And you’re okay with it?”

  “We do what we have to do. It’s just for an hour, and Ty says he’s picked his most loyal guys. It’s us against the Herons. The Boars know that.”

  Micah sighs and sits back in his chair, defeated. I shoot him a look so he knows I’m not thrilled about the idea either. For good measure, I pull out my Stag phone and watch the blue light that represents me move across the screen. In the far right corner, a red bell symbol moves every few seconds. If I hit that, it sends an alert to the other Stags of where I am. Hopefully I won’t be dead in some alley by the time they come get me, I think bitterly. But if we’re splitting up, there’s a good chance I’ll be able to meet Matthew.

  Jaws drops us off at the rendezvous spot. I climb out and stand beside Jax, watching as he scans the park. At first, I think Jaws got the spot wrong—then, slowly, the Boars start to come out from the dark. Even in the dim streetlight, I recognize Ty Boreas. His second, Adam Yglesias, follows right behind him, and groups of others trail behind.

  “Right on time,” says Ty.

  Jax offers his hand. “Wouldn’t want to be late to the party.”

  Ty shakes it, then turns and waves his hand to the figures behind him. “Three of my guys with each of yours,” he says. “I’ve stationed others around the whole area, to keep watch.”

  “Roger that,” Jax responds. He turns to us. “We do this as fast as we can, as much as we can. Don’t make it perfect. One hour, then send your location to Jaws. He’ll come get you.”

  “Okay,” Nianna and I reply in unison. She gives me a look, but I ignore her. I’m thinking of the other phone in my pocket. I only have an hour, and I’m going to be with the Boars the whole time. My heart sinks. There’s no way Matthew is going to be able to find me.

  Ty turns to his men. “Go.” It’s a statement, not a question. Ty is a leader, after all.

  All too soon, we divide up. I’m trying to be brave, but going solo with the Boars has me so on edge I could throw up. My adrenaline races, fueled by fear and Red Bull, as I look at the three Boars I’m with.

  They introduce themselves one by one: Trey, TJ, and Red. I introduce myself as Valentine—why not, right? Trey shakes my hand first—though he looks like he resents the motion. TJ is next, his mess of long, stringy, dark hair falling in his face as he gives me an upward nod. Red shakes my hand last, keeping his hood up and head down the whole time.

  “Here’s our route,” I say, and I lay the map down for all of them. “We take Battery to Jackson, then wind through the side streets and eventually end up on Kearny.” The trio doesn’t interrupt, so I keep going. “Remember what Jax said. We move fast. Our goal is coverage everywhere. Whatever’s left over at the end, we’ll just toss on the sidewalks. Got it?”

  “Got it,” TJ responds. He shifts so his own backpack is in front of him. “Load us up.”

  The four of us divide the papers, and each of the other groups does the same. As we head out, I look over my shoulder at Jax—and see Ty looking back, too. Not at his men, but just at me. Our gazes meet, and he turns away, shaking his head. What was that?

  My nerves don’t lessen as Trey, TJ, Red, and I start hanging up the Herons’ “crimes.” We use precut sticky foam—just peel, stick, move on. The Boars impress me with their efficiency, and after the first street I turn back, admiring the neon wake we’re leaving. “Let’s keep going,” I say, shivering in the night’s chill. “Next street.”

  I let them go ahead, getting my bearings as best I can. There won’t be much time, and I’m not even sure if Matthew will find me, but I take out his phone anyway. Taking a deep breath, I switch it over to vibrate then go to Settings and activate Location. Then I send him where I am.

  With Boars, I text quickly. Be careful.

  “Hey, quit slacking!”

  I look up, and Trey is looking at me, eyes wide like What the fuck are you doing? and I can’t tell if he means it in jest or not.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, shoving Matthew’s phone back in my pocket. “Just giving Jax an update.”

  I double my poster speed as we go. It doesn’t take a lot of time to figure out it’s easier in pairs, so Trey and I work in unison. He holds the poster, I do the foam stickers on the back, and he sets the poster up. The stack dwindles faster than I thought it would, and I keep checking Matthew’s phone for an update. Maybe it’s too difficult for him to sneak out after all—he did say they’ve been cooping him up.…

  I send my location again.

  “Jax again,” I say apologetically as Trey tacks up another flyer on his own. “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

  I duck into an alley next to an Irish pub. I’m typing as fast as I can when—

  “Val!”

  Matthew’s in a dark hoodie and sweats—he must have jus
t rolled out of bed. We hesitate a moment, then hug. He kisses me, and for some reason I wasn’t expecting it.

  He takes my hand. “Let’s go.”

  I tighten my hand around his. “Wait, what? Go where?”

  “Back to the Herons,” he says. He’s breathless, but smiling. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “No, wait.” Shit. “I didn’t come here to join TRUCE. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  “Wait, what? Why not?”

  Quickly and quietly, I recap my entire logic about my parents—sparing them any more hurt. And, frankly, I want revenge. Matthew listens, even leans in as I whisper but his face remains unchanged. “I just can’t do that to them,” I finish.

  “Look, I get it. What you’re saying makes sense. But in TRUCE, you’ll be safe. Not out doing whatever it is you’re doing here.”

  “I know, but Matthew,” I say. “I joined the Wars for a reason, and that’s to find the guy who killed Leo. I’m not going to abandon that. Not now.”

  “Fine,” he says. “Well, if not you, then are there any other Stags that might?”

  I let go of his hand. “That was fast.”

  “I know, but look. I know you; once you make up your mind you don’t change it. I can’t force you, and either way it’ll look so much better if someone comes forward voluntarily.”

  My first thought is, of course, Kate. With the Herons’ money and resources, she could get the help she needs—that is, if she’s willing to take it. Besides, going into TRUCE would mean she’d be separated from Mako, who on most days I swear is what keeps her alive.

  “There’s one Stag I can try,” I say. “But she’s stubborn. I’ll text you once I talk to her, but right now I gotta go.”

  “What?”

  I try to hug him but since he doesn’t lift his arms in time to return it, I mostly just succeed in pinning his arms to his sides. I duck back out the alley—and right into Red, TJ, and Trey. An empty backpack hangs at Red’s side.

  “Where did you—hey, what the fuck?” Red shoves me aside, and grabs at Matt’s sweatshirt. The latter staggers back and tries to run, but soon all three of them are on him. “Who the fuck are you?”