“What?” Coryn asked.
“I don’t know.” Imke slid of the bed, holding a hand out. “Now. Shower.”
Coryn followed, the hot water bracing. As Imke ran shampoo and warm water through Coryn’s hair with strong fingers, Coryn asked, “What shall I do?”
“The mayor said I’m to bring you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t ask more, just soaped Imke’s back. All too soon the shower’s triple heads shut off and Coryn’s skin prickled with sudden damp cold. A soft lavender towel fixed that. She barely had time to dress and comb her hair out before Imke’s hand tugged her toward the door. “Bring your things.”
“Oh.” Coryn grabbed her pack, zipping it as they climbed into the elevator. She contemplated how to keep her wet hair from freezing.
The elevator started hitting negative numbers. It stopped at negative ten. “This way.” Imke stepped out of the elevator into a white corridor with red metal railings and a brightly lit floor.
“Oh,” Coryn repeated.
“There’s a Seattle underground,” Imke said. “I’ve been there.”
“Not ten stories of it, except a few old parking garages and a few tunnels.” Julianna and Jake had built tunnels into the city during its heady growth days after it declared itself free of federal rule. “I don’t think we could go this far down, not even with nano walls. Seattle’s built on fill.”
Both of them wore soft flats, and they made little noise in spite of their speed. They rounded two corners and traversed the length of two long hallways, one at least half a mile, passing multicolored doors and elevators and a few people.
All of the people looked grim.
Coryn felt an urgent need to check her wristlet for news, but Imke showed no signs of even pausing, much less stopping.
An elevator with white doors opened as they approached. Imke gave it no instructions. It went down rather than up, and they got off again at negative seventeen.
Three minutes later they were in a huge and quite plush conference room filled with camera walls, which were currently off. Mayor Broadbridge stood at the head of a table of people who sat, watching him. He looked angry. They looked serious, and most wore uniforms. Coryn had the sudden wish that they’d arrived five minutes earlier. It would be nice to know what had made everyone so angry.
The mayor looked at them, nodding curtly. “Good. Welcome to one of our Emergency Operations Centers.”
“What do you know?” Imke took an empty seat at the largely full table and gestured for Coryn to sit beside them.
“Let us fill you in.” The mayor waved a hand, and one wall of images came alive. “That’s Flagstaff. Arizona. One of the largest cities in the Southwest, now. A lot of Phoenix Metro went there in the tough years.”
Phoenix was a ghost town now, hot and dry as hell. It was often held up as the greatest of the failed greed-time cities. “I read about that in school.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“This is the only city I’ve been to, except home, of course. And Portland Metro.”
He grinned. “Do you like it here?”
“Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes. “All of the cities matter.”
She sat up straight under his gaze. “I agree.”
He looked so hard at her that it kept her attention from analyzing the moving pictures of Flagstaff to the side of her. “Why?” he demanded.
“They have all the people. If they fail, the people have to go to other cities. This could be hard, especially if more than one fail at once. We grow all the time, but there are limits to the speed we can grow at. If refugees don’t go to other cities, the land has to sustain them, and wilded land is not meant for that.”
“There’s not much wilding in the seared desert,” Imke mused.
The mayor stared at Coryn. He was really quite imposing. “Why else should we care what happens to Flagstaff?”
Coryn would really like to have some coffee before being interrogated like this. And maybe something to eat. “Because we’re good people.”
The mayor smiled.
A man in a simple blue uniform and black boots, with his hair back in a ponytail brought Coryn and Imke coffee, water, and a plate of mixed breads and fruits.
Had he read her mind?
“We are good.” The mayor nodding. “Weren’t you in our meeting in Seacouver?”
“What’s happened to Flagstaff?” Imke asked.
“The mayor and deputy mayor were both murdered. Three of five councilors have disappeared. The other two have called for the right to appoint. They are known to disagree with many of the principles we just mentioned.”
“It’s a coup,” Imke breathed.
“Now?” Coryn stood, worry driving her to move; she paced behind her seat and Imke’s, up the length of the table, unable to settle.
The mayor’s lips thinned. “So what do we do? Send protection down there? Risk getting thin so it’s easier for them to target us in the spring?”
Coryn moved around the table and stopped close to him, looked up into his broad face. “What are you supposed to do?”
He sighed. “Help.”
She let that sink in and thought about the magnitude of the problem. “What are you asking me?”
“I’m not—not exactly. I needed to see if you grasped the implications. I’m sending you two back to Seacouver to see what Julianna and Jake think. Jake is one of the best tacticians I know.” He was speaking more to Imke now. “It would be suspicious for me to travel. But you two can do it.”
“When?” Imke asked.
“Now.”
“I’ll get my things.”
“No. Now.” Mayor Broadbridge glanced at Coryn. “Before any more people die.”
“Oh.” Imke glanced at Coryn. “Are you ready?”
She wasn’t really. She’d only had a few sips of her coffee and nothing to eat. She wrapped a few biscuits in a cloth napkin and said, “Sure.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Coryn spent the short loop trip back messaging Julianna. Adam met them at the station and escorted them to the conference room she used for an office. As soon as they were seated, he said, “What’s up?”
“I need more coffee,” Coryn said.
“Your robot’s outside. Ask her.”
Coryn hadn’t seen her on the way in. But when she looked out, sure enough, Namina stood against the wall outside. “Can I have coffee please?”
“Anything else?”
She hesitated. They might be here awhile. “Fruit?”
“I’ll bring breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
Namina gave her a genuine smile.
Well, that interaction had been easier than most. Maybe she and Namina were finally getting used to each other. She ducked back into the room and immediately started calling up her usual methods for watching over Lou. Sun spilled on snow around Chelan, and here and there, bare patches glistened wet. She glanced at the temperature. Almost forty degrees.
The barn wasn’t quite done, but if the weather stayed like this, maybe they’d finish it before Christmas. For Imke’s sake, she stood up and pointed out the farm and the barn and even the chicken coop, narrating a little story about the farm.
Surprisingly, Adam didn’t stop her. Were they going to keep hiding Jake’s illness from Chicago? Or did Mayor Broadbridge know?
Julianna came in looking both exhausted and stern. “This had better be as important as you think it is.”
“It will be,” Coryn said.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
While the first two-thirds of December had been all snow and ice, the week running up to Christmas itself was sunny, and warm enough that the crowd on the lawn outside of the big house wore only boots and light sweaters the morning of the holiday. Glittering hair pins and jewelry sparkled in the sun. All of the women, even Alondra, wore dresses.
Lou, on the other hand, wore her cleanest jeans, a red flannel shirt, and a knitted black beanie to keep her ears
warm. She stood just outside of the circle, more a guard than a participant in the impromptu holiday services. Pablo presided over the festivities while standing on a decent-sized tree stump.
She fidgeted as he talked, making lists in her head. Animals she should expect to see in winter. Elk and deer might have drifted lower, but there would be coyotes and rabbits and other hardy species to count and maybe sample. Birds.
Already, the service had lasted almost an hour. There had been song, talk of being brave, and prayer. Now, Pablo started them on “Silent Night,” which was incongruous at this time of the morning but beautiful with Valeria’s sultry alto. It felt hopeful, everyone standing together and singing, the couples and families almost all holding hands. She was almost sorry when the preacher said, “Thank you,” and hopped down to the yard.
Alondra came up to her and took her hand. “I have presents for the horses. Will you come with me?”
“Of course” She carried Alondra to the barn on her shoulders, both of them laughing. The girl’s legs hung down past her waist, her heels digging into the top of Lou’s thighs. “It’s a good thing you don’t weigh much,” Lou said.
Alondra merely laughed harder.
The week of good weather had allowed them to finish rebuilding, although the new barn wasn’t a work of art. They’d paint it in summer, but until then it would hold and keep the animals warm and dry.
Alondra gave each of the horses half an apple. Both Mouse and Buster let the girl kiss them on the nose.
As they walked back up toward the group breakfast in the big house, Alondra said, “I have more tea. Dad came to town yesterday, and he brought me a tin of it for Christmas. I can make you a cup for your Christmas present this afternoon.”
“I’d like that. Did your dad say why he was in town?”
“No. But he told me he might not see me again.” Her voice had a quiver in it. “He made me promise not to forget him.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Coryn took the last bite of a piece of warm cinnamon bread, savoring the flavor. They were halfway through a quiet party in Jake’s rooms, a Christmas breakfast with the best buffet Coryn had seen in some time. Julianna had declared Jake too weak to go out, so a dozen or so people lounged around the room.
She felt a strange combination of somber and excited as she prepared to read out loud. Julianna had asked them all to bring stories or poems, and it was her turn.
Eloise had started it all with a simple haiku. Day had read a poem from a famous Puerto Rican poet who had died recently. Blessing had sung a song about the moon. A man she barely knew had told a story about the great taking. And so on.
She had chosen to read a few lines from Whitman’s Song of Myself.
Jake’s cheeks had sunk into his face. Even lying down he looked smaller than just a few days before, as if he were falling into himself. She hesitated, but when she looked at Julianna, who sat by his side holding his hand, Julianna nodded.
Coryn set her coffee cup down and started in:
“I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.
One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is my-self,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.”
Jake’s smile was nearly luminescent with the life that seemed to fight the clear wasting of his flesh. He hardly ever spoke any more, but he croaked out, “Thank you.”
She wondered how much effort it had cost him to thank her. She swallowed back a sudden urge to cry and beamed at him as she sat back down, hardly listening to Adam’s story about a sheep and a sheepdog.
Most of the people in the room smiled along with Jake when the sheepdog drove the sheep home just in time for the holiday.
Someone knocked.
Evan opened the door to admit Imke. Cory had expected them for dinner, but not for this small ceremony, which was really meant to be private. They looked troubled, and came over to Coryn and bent down. “I have news.”
Coryn glanced around the room. The only person left to go was Julianna. She shook her head. “Give us ten minutes.”
“Should I leave?” Imke whispered.
Coryn curled her arm around their waist. “Of course not.”
Julianna smiled at Jake, and then held her arms up, dropped them, and Evan started the background music for Seacouver’s anthem. Julianna sang the first verse by herself. By the second chorus, others in the room had joined, and by the last chorus, even Imke sang along.
It was perfect. A tribute to Jake, to the city, and even to the season. Without him, the song would never have been written.
Silence fell. Jake nodded his thanks to Julianna, reached up for her hand, and the look between them was so sweet and deep it brought a sting to Coryn’s eyes. She hugged Imke a little closer and smiled across the room at Blessing.
Jake lay back and closed his eyes.
Julianna gave Imke a long, questioning look.
Jake tugged at her hand. “I’ll hear it.”
“Very well,” Julianna said. “Merry Christmas, Imke.”
They smiled, calm and collected, in complete control now that they had the floor. “Merry Christmas. I’ve just come from Chicago, where I had breakfast with Mayor Broadbridge. First, he wanted me to wish you all well, and ask you to have a lovely holiday morning no matter what you celebrate.”
Julianna inclined her head and spoke equally solemnly. “Tell him thank you. While we are not religious, we recognize the deep roots of ceremony and greetings, of gifts and song that is often shared at this time, and we wish all of our friends in other cities the best.”
Imke stepped a few feet away from Coryn. “I have less happy messages.” They glanced around, as if asking Julianna if it was truly okay to share with everyone here.
Julianna chose to answer the unspoken question out loud. “Everyone here is briefed. Evan’s communication capabilities are hand-coded and monitored by my staff and as safe as a technology can be.”
“All right. Our enemies in Flagstaff were confirmed in their positions in spite of the number of troops our collective cities have committed there. We’ve detected helicopters approaching many of the places we believe that fighters and arms are collected. We’ve also identified two robotic ocean tankers that came into Seacouver last night and that appear to be at least partly full of contraband cargo. The president of the United States of America has called on Seacouver, Portland Metro, Chicago, and Silicon Frisco to open their doors and borders.”
“I thought this was happening in the spring!” Coryn blurted out.
Julianna frowned at her. “We knew that false messaging was part of the campaign.” She steepled her hands and turned back to Imke. “Did you inform Mayor Arroya?”
“A message has been sent to him.”
“Did Seacouver find any of this?”
Imke shook their head. “Just us. And yes, we find that strange.”
Adam was already standing. “We’ll need to go the Emergency Operations Center.”
Julianna shook her head. “You should go, but to ours unless you are called to the main EOC. All of you. Namina can run messages. But I will stay here, with Jake and Evan.”
For a moment, Coryn thought Jake might object. But he merely nodded and kept his hold on Julianna’s hand.
Julianna stood, gave his hand a final squeeze before releasing it and crossing to Coryn. She reached up to lay a hand on Coryn’s shoulder. “Go to the EOC in this building. Namina can lead you. It’s set up to monitor our holdings. I’ll see that it does that, but I will also offer it to Mayor Arroya if he needs a secondary command post. Send Namina to get food. Contact Lou.”
Coryn tried to commit every one of the stream of commands to memory. “Okay.”
Julianna kept talking. “I need Eloise for a few minutes and then I’ll send her along to help. Just start turning the room up and do what you can in the meantime.”
Oh. Of course. They needed to keep up the fiction that Jake was well, or at least that Jake wasn’t dying.
Eloise could help. The woman was strange, but she was also always calm and always effective.
Who would start a war on Christmas Day?
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Lou and Valeria finished giving the horses holiday treats, their hands flat as wide, warm lips nuzzled carrots and dried apples from their palms.
When they arrived back in the kitchen, the scent of butter and bread and coffee and candles rolled over them, warm and sweet. Sofia and Tembi and Alondra had spent the previous night carefully decorating the tables with homemade wreaths and candles, and this morning they had set them with good woven mats and silverware. Matchiko was in the kitchen helping Ana and Tembi make pumpkin pancakes and heat up chicken-apple sausages the -o boys had made from some of this year’s culling and late harvest.
Astrid poured coffee, Cheryl poured water, Sofia ordered the children around, and Valeria hovered. The men had been sent to bring in firewood and perform other chores that got them out from underfoot. Lou leaned down to Alondra. “Go help Matchiko.”
Alondra bounded off, and Lou grabbed a cup of coffee and pulled Valeria outside. “Have you heard anything strange?”
“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “Should I have?”
“Alondra saw her father. He told her he might not come back. She thinks that means she might never see him again.”
Valeria worried at her bottom lip. “Mathew is an idiot. He could have just been trying to scare the girl. Maybe Astrid will get lucky and he’ll commit suicide tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know you liked him that much.”
Valeria sighed. “I loved him once. But he’s fallen in with the Smiths and the idiots that are driving them. He cares more about them than his family. That’s selfish.” She spat on the ground.
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