by C. A. Gray
“Long story,” he murmured.
Suddenly it occurred to me that the group, for all its surprising size, seemed off somehow. “And where are Kenny and… wasn’t there one more hunter? Andrew or something?”
Jackson breathed in deeply, which was answer enough, especially combined with his somber stare.
“Oh no,” I murmured. Instinctively I looked back, searching for the girl with the dark plaited hair. Nick and Molly spoke with her, and she covered her face, sobbing.
I knew exactly how she felt.
What followed was a strange combination of mourning and celebration. The feast, apparently, rivaled the celebration of the 18th of May—or that’s what the other cave dwellers said. I hadn’t been hungry all day, but now I suddenly found I was ravenous. I sat beside Jackson and Brenda, who were deep in conversation. I only caught snippets of what she said, though; I wasn’t really listening. Mostly I basked in the glow of the fact that Jackson sat beside me, and she and Nelson and all these extra people found their way to us… that this was Will’s doing, in part, and also mine.
After dinner, some of the children struck up a tune on their flutes and makeshift drums. When dinner finished, a few people got up to dance. At first the rest of the cave dwellers clapped in time to the music, forming a little ring around the dancers, but pretty soon the dancers joined hands and formed two lines, with men on one side and women on the other. One couple at the very end of the line danced their way through and rejoined the queue on the opposite end to work their way back up to the front. A few of the newcomers joined the line, looking right at home—a hillbilly couple, a man in overalls and his very pregnant wife, and also Nelson Armstrong, who already seemed to be making eyes at a shy 40-something woman with graying hair. For her part, the woman reminded me a bit of a schoolgirl, blushing and giggling like she hadn’t had this much attention in years. Probably she hadn’t.
They’ve actually built a life here, I thought in amazement. There was a school, and division of labor, entertainment, their own holidays, their own government… My eyes strayed to the little clusters of people outside the dance floor, the feasting, and the musicians. There on the outskirts, mourners clung to one another and cried. I saw the girl with the dark plaited hair, whose name I’d overheard was Rachel. I made a mental note to ask her if there was anything I could do to help.
The musicians stopped playing abruptly, and I turned back to see what the trouble was. The Crone stood in the middle of the dance floor, parting the revelers with her imperial presence.
“The Council will hold a mandatory meeting in the amphitheater in ten minutes. We expect you without delay,” she announced. Then she turned smartly on her heel and marched away, flanked by the long strides of her bodyguards.
Everyone looked at each other with helpless bewilderment. The musicians struck a few more accidental notes as they packed up their instruments, and with glances of uncertainty and nervousness, the people shuffled off in the direction where the Crone had disappeared.
The amphitheater turned out to be makeshift stadium seating on logs around a central clearing some quarter mile from the caves. It took the older members of the community all ten minutes just to walk the distance.
The Crone sat waiting in the center of the arena when we arrived, flanked by the bodyguards and a semi-circle that could only be the Council.
Nick sat in the middle, facing the Council, his back to the crowd. It almost looked like he was on trial.
I glanced over at Molly, but she wasn’t looking at me. She stared at her husband, her expression stricken. Her words that morning came flooding back to me: She gives you one chance to do what she says, and that’s it. You won’t get another. She doesn’t forget, and she doesn’t forgive.
I looked up to see Jackson settle in beside me. “What’s this?” he murmured.
“I’m hoping I have no idea,” I whispered back.
The Crone stood up, and the people quieted down automatically.
“As you know,” she said, her voice low but sonorous, “the hunters, under Nick Salazar, carried out a raid today, which resulted in the death of two other hunters, Andrew Crawley and Kenny Preston. One other hunter, Jackson MacNamera, attracted public attention sufficient to land himself on a public broadcast.”
I whirled to Jackson, my eyes wide.
“Yeah. That was part of the long story,” he confessed.
“What did you do?” I hissed.
“Tell you later. Shh.”
The Crone went on, “You are all here as witnesses to Nick Salazar’s trial for second degree murder and treason—”
The crowd erupted, swallowing the Crone’s words with a universal outburst of anger. I rose to my feet with them, feeling suddenly dizzy. This can’t be happening. Jackson must’ve seen me sway, because he slipped his arm around me, and I leaned against him.
“Silence!” boomed one of the council members on stage, a barrel-chested man with a flowing black beard. I recognized him from my first night in the caves as Uruguay. He raised two meaty hands and declared, “Your leader has not finished speaking!”
“That’s Uruguay Stone,” Jackson whispered to me, reading my thoughts. “Nick told me on the way back that after the Crone, he’s the toughest nut to crack up there.”
“But Nick and the hunters saved our lives!” shouted Nelson Armstrong.
The Crone’s sharp eyes sought Nelson and she snapped, “Sacrifices must be made by the few for the good of the many. Nick Salazar has endangered our way of life, following his own moral principles, rather than the will of the Council.”
“Wait a minute!” Jackson shouted, on his feet. Startled by the sudden volume, I moved away from him while the rest of the crowd turned around. Jackson hollered down, “If this is really about endangering your way of life, I should be up there, not him! I was the one on that broadcast! Nick had nothing to do with that, he wasn’t even there!”
The Crone eyed Jackson for a long moment before she spoke. At last she replied evenly, “Leadership comes at a price, young man. The one in charge shall be held responsible for the actions of his inferiors.”
Alec shouted out across the amphitheater next, “But you yourself said sacrifices must be made by the few for the good of the many. There are hardly any of us here, compared to the citizens still in the Republic! What about them? Aren’t they ‘the many’? Kenny and Andrew knew they were risking their lives. They chose it! It wasn’t Nick’s fault they died!”
An assent of affirmation rippled through the crowd, and Uruguay Stone stood one more time, his booming voice commanding, “Silence!” He waited for his imposing figure to have the intended effect. Then he went on, “As the leader, Nick is responsible for both the actions and the lives of his hunters. Members of the council, Nick Salazar has been accused of second degree murder and of betraying our existence to the Potentate and to the Tribunal. Those who find him guilty?”
Five of nine hands went into the air, including those of the Crone and Uruguay Stone. Uruguay eyed the other four and said with a frown, “Those who find him not guilty?” The remaining four hands went up, and their owners glared at him stubbornly. A few people in the crowd began to clap.
“As you know,” Uruguay faced the crowd again, “the death penalty requires a unanimous vote. A majority vote means that Nick Salazar has been found guilty; we shall vote again for the penalty of banishment.”
I gasped, and I heard Jackson groan beside me as a cry ripped from Molly’s throat. “No, you can’t do that!” she screamed, “You can’t!”
Uruguay acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He turned back to the council. “All in favor of Nick Salazar’s banishment from the community?”
Seven hands went up. Two stared back at him, with their arms crossed firmly over their chests, and one of the two stood to his feet—a young man with honey blond hair.
“Ethan, I think,” I whispered to Jackson. I’d seen Brittany, one of the girls I’d met in the
garden earlier that day, embrace him and call him by name. I supposed he must be her husband.
“What Nick Salazar and the hunters did today should be commended, not punished!” Ethan declared. “They risked their lives to rescue those whom the Potentate otherwise would have killed. Two of them gave their lives, but they knew full well what they risked. We have ten new citizens who now know the truth, and the potential to rescue many more! How can any of you think that such an act of heroism deserves punishment?”
Most of the crowd erupted in cheers and stomping. I looked at Jackson, who stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “I like him,” he added to me in a whisper afterwards.
The Crone shouted furiously, her voice carrying over the din, “They risked their lives to save blind sheep, most of whom would turn us over to the Potentate if given the chance!”
“I resent that!” shouted a voice, and Brenda Halfpenny stood up, hands on her hips and staring the Crone down as if having a showdown with an employee. “If we were sheep, we’d never have gone with them! And if we could wake up, who’s to say everyone else can’t?”
“I ain’t no sheep,” echoed Nelson Anderson, standing, arms crossed over his barrel chest. “How dare you!”
On stage, Ethan continued, “I vote for no punishment; rather, more resources should be allocated to Nick and his hunters to find a more comprehensive list of marked citizens. Raids will need to be carefully planned out, of course. But which among us would not gladly sacrifice whatever he must if one of those citizens to be rescued were his mother or father or brother or son? I myself still have both my parents back in the Republic, starving and blind! I’d give anything to see them rescued. And I know many of you are in the same situation. Maybe next time it’ll be your relatives they bring back! Are you going to banish Nick Salazar before that can happen?”
The crowd shouted back, “No!” and “Let Nick go free!” and other incoherent things.
The Crone stepped forward again, raising her hands to signal for silence. Even in the midst of their fury, they obeyed her at once. “According to our bylaws,” she declared, “the punishment of either execution or banishment requires a unanimous vote. Even I cannot overstep our legal code, whatever my personal opinions on the matter may be. Law is what separates us from the animals. So we shall vote once more.” She turned back to the council and said, “All in favor of banishing Nick Salazar?” Now, only five council members raised their hands. The Crone pursed her lips and said, her tone dry and brittle, “Nick Salazar, you have been acquitted by the council. You may go.”
Nick rose, bowed to the Crone and the council, and fairly fled down the steps toward Molly, who met him before he even reached the stands, tears streaming down her face.
The Crone looked as if she’d swallowed something sour, and she declared, “This concludes our meeting for the trial of Nick Salazar. The council will hold a memorial service for Andrew and Kenny in the cemetery by the stream at first light tomorrow. Dismissed.”
I leaned over to Jackson, intending to ask to talk to him, but before I could, Jackson headed in Brenda’s direction. I followed him. When we approached, Brenda, Sam, Violet, and Nelson stood in a cluster.
“…Last week, on Thursday,” Brenda was saying to them. “I might have been waking up for longer, but that was the first time I really noticed something was off.”
Nelson nodded vigorously. “Last Thursday around one pm! That’s when I started to notice too!” he said.
“No, it was closer to noon for me,” Brenda shook her head, and Sam and Violet agreed.
“But the time zones will make that the same time for both of you,” Jackson pointed out. “Right?”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “You guys are saying you all started noticing something was off around the same time?” I bit my lip. “Do you think… the broadcast system went down somehow around that time?”
“That was my thought,” Jackson murmured.“I wonder if there would be a way for Jean to find out whether the system was down during that time. It’s got to be documented somewhere, right? Because if it was… and that’s why you all suddenly started waking up… that would have some very interesting implications.”
“Like what if we could interrupt the signals ourselves?” Nelson concluded, eyebrows raised.
Jackson nodded. “Exactly.”
“Which one is Jean?” Nelson asked. “I’ll talk to her.”
Jackson pointed her out. As the group’s attention shifted to her, I took the opportunity to grab Jackson by the arm and whisper, “Can I talk to you?”
For a minute I thought he was going to refuse on grounds of exhaustion—I hadn’t noticed until right then how bloodshot his eyes were. But he nodded after a moment, and said, “Sure. Follow me.”
Chapter 27: Kate
Jackson led me back to the stream where we had been the night before, and he sat down on the same rock. I decided to get right to the point.
“First, before you tell me what happened and how all those extra people happened to come and how you ended up on the broadcast, I just wanted to say something. I think Ethan was right—what you guys did today was heroic. No matter what the Crone says, I—” My voice caught, and I swallowed before I could continue. “I think there’s nothing more important than helping to set people free. Nothing at all.”
He nodded and gave me a tiny smile, but he continued to watch me, like he knew I wasn’t done yet.
“And I also wanted to apologize for last night. For—the kiss.” He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “You were right, about all of it. I do need to learn how to stand on my own two feet, before—anything else. With anyone,” I added hastily, feeling my cheeks flush. I wished he wouldn’t stare at me like that, like he could see through clear to my spine. He hardly even blinked. I rushed on, “And I think I know how to do it now. I want to be useful to you guys. In the Revolution.”
Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. “The Revolution? What Revolution?”
“The one that’s obviously coming. That’s what that trial was about, that’s the whole reason the Crone is upset, isn’t it? She knows it’s coming. Now that we have a strategy, we can set people free and amass an army. It’s not just about one at a time anymore—it can’t be. Jackson, we have the power to set the whole nation free!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jackson held up his hand, and actually laughed a little. It irked me. “You’re getting way ahead of us. I mean… if the signals did get interrupted for some reason last Thursday, then maybe we can start setting a few free at a time. But the whole nation wouldn’t accept freedom if it were offered to them! Only the ones who are already asking the right questions. Would you have believed it if someone told you the truth, before what happened to Will?”
“Maybe not, but I’d believe it if I saw it!” I shot back. “How did all those people end up coming with you who weren’t even your targets? Even if they did start waking up already, they saw something that convinced them, didn’t they?”
Jackson nodded slowly. “They saw three agents shoot me at point-blank range.”
My visions all day came flooding back to me. “They shot you?” He’d said that the last time too, but not quite so definitively.
He nodded. “Eight of the people that came with us saw it happen. The ninth extra one actually was one of the agents, that guy Roger Dunne. At first they all saw me get shot, but then when I kept coming at them, undaunted, suddenly they said they realized nothing ever happened to me at all.”
“Well,” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Well. Thank God you were right then.”
He nodded again, distracted, not really looking at me. “But there was a big crowd of people who saw it, not just those nine. They were just the only ones who figured out what really happened. On the way back to the caves, I found out that all of them had started asking the right questions already. Then I showed up at just the right time and showed them what they’d already begun to su
spect themselves.
“But, Kate, we can’t just set people free en masse—they’re not ready for it.” I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Since you’ve been freed yourself, have you had a chance to look into the eyes of the people who are still in the system? Alec calls them ‘cattle,’ like the Crone calls them ‘sheep.’” He looked away, with a short laugh. “And as derogatory as that is, I can see why—they have this look about them, so malleable and trusting… How do you propose we make people see what’s really there, when they’ve been programmed to be blind?”
“I’ll tell you how,” I burst out, “We bomb the control centers!” I actually hadn’t thought of that until right at that moment, but I went with it. “That’s where all the mind control is coming from, isn't it? Without the control centers, everyone will see the truth, whether they like it or not!”
A twig snapped behind us, and we both whirled around to see Alec approaching, his right arm bandaged.
“I was looking for Jackson,” he explained, glancing from Jackson to me. I wondered how much he’d overheard, but I could tell from his expression that he’d at least heard something—because he looked at me differently than he had before. At last, he said with grudging admiration, “That’s… not a bad idea, Kate.”
“And I want to help,” I blurted, feeling almost feverish.
“Absolutely not,” Jackson frowned at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe we can find a way to disrupt signals for brief periods of time, but bombing the control centers is out of the question. Way too dangerous.”
“Why, because of the agents?” I countered. “You said yourself that their bullets aren’t real!”
“And I’m the only one who can see that!” Jackson nearly shouted, his eyes flashing. “If you think the bullets are real, they still kill you! Look at Kenny and Andrew!”
I could feel Alec watching us like we were having a tennis match: from Jackson to me. But I ignored him.
