Henry’s throat tightened. He’d known when he’d accepted to fly the rebels’ balloon, but the enormity of their task only now began to sink in. How could they reach thousands of souls and make them believe their story while escaping an ever-growing search from the Union? Sooner or later, the Clarins’ men would catch up to them and destroy what work they’d accomplished. Henry wondered what lies would cover the Reverence Herald’s front page––what crimes they’d pin on them—to justify an execution.
“We won’t have a chance if we’re caught here,” he said.
“We can outrun them. I’ve done it once, and I’ve got my secret weapons.” Treysh patted the leather sack at her side with a confident grin. When they’d left her house, she’d called it her infiltration pack and refused to say more because ‘it was a surprise and she’d hate to ruin it for them’. “Now let’s go or we’ll be late.”
Andeal went ahead and peeked through the door. “All clear.”
They crept into the empty corridor. Neons buzzed overhead, casting a bleak light over the dark gray floor. No paintings or photographs decorated the walls to alleviate the monotony—only the occasional black door. The military music had given way to weeping violins. No wonder their announcer had the energy of a zombie. The tower’s grayness would drain the will to live from anyone.
Anyone but Treysh, Henry judged by the skip in her steps. Andeal’s old friend seemed to find this whole escapade amusing.
Henry wished he had her confidence. He mistook every wild thump of his heart for incoming footsteps. When neons flickered he’d swear they’d been spotted and the power had been turned off. Every shadow became a guard slinking toward them. The transmitter’s sides dug into Henry’s arms, its weight shifting with every step. They couldn’t be out of here fast enough.
As they arrived at the top of their first flight of stairs, returning to the ground floor, Henry demanded a stop. He breathed hard enough to cover his heartbeat and the climb’s effort had turned him into a sweaty pile of nerves. He’d never climb to the sixth floor at this rate. He set the transmitter down.
“I’m not going up there,” he said. “Not with that thing.”
“Let’s leave it in the employee’s toilet by the exit,” Treysh suggested. “The ladies’ restroom ought to be empty.”
“How do you even know they’re there?”
“I’ve used them, of course.” His questions seemed to confuse her, as if her deep knowledge of the Radio Tower’s layout and security schedule was the most natural thing in the world. Treysh gave him a sweet, mysterious smile and added: “Both to hide and relieve myself.”
He was dying to ask why she’d needed to sneak into the Radio Tower before. Chances were Treysh would tell him everything here and now, however, and he had no desire to stay longer than necessary. Whatever wild storytelling she was taunting him into would have to wait.
“Let’s move.”
They dropped the transmitter in the women’s restroom and made their way back to the stairs. Andeal cast a nervous glance at his watch again.
“We’ll be a bit late for midnight, but I doubt anyone will complain.”
They hurried up, shunning the blessed elevator for the safer but more painful stairs. The violins playing out of speakers echoed down the stairwell, sometimes in synch with their steps. The hollowed sound gave Henry chills despite his physical effort.
The sixth floor turned out to be a whole new world. Large windows offered a splendid view of Reverence’s skyscrapers and the lower green roofs crawling up the mountain slope. A lush red carpet muffled their steps and the smooth lamps replacing the harsh neons gave deep undertones to the creamy brown walls. The doors they encountered were made of rich wood instead of metal and sometimes flanked by large glass panes. Behind the protective blinds, he glimpsed posh meeting rooms. Although the Tower still had marks of a workplace—numbers on the doors, fire extinguishers in evidence, signs indicating the restrooms—it reminded Henry of a comfy house and erased a few knots at the bottom of his stomach.
Treysh ignored the luxurious decor, turned left, and rushed to the doors in the middle. Her trench and hat matched the rug’s color, almost camouflaging her. She pulled on the handle and her eyebrows shot up when it refused to budge.
“That’s new.”
She knelt in front of the door and rummaged through her pack. Neither Andeal nor she seemed worried about this delay. Henry bit his lower lip and glanced back toward the stairs. What if the security rounds had also changed and were more frequent up here?
“Still good at lockpicking?” Andeal asked.
“Sure am. I changed technique, though.”
That grin again. That large I just had a terrible idea and I’m thrilled about it smile Henry had learned to identify and fear. He should look away, run, do something to remove himself from whatever dangerous plan she’d conceived to open locked doors. He couldn’t. Threysh captivated him as few others had before. He watchedas she put leather gloves on and removed an airtight box and an enveloped butter knife from her bag. Her instrument at the ready, she unscrewed the container’s lid, dipped her knife in a grayish paste, and snapped the box shut again. She wasted no time applying the paste to the small crack between door and wall, all around the lock. Then she removed a tiny flask from her pocket. Water? The liquid inside was transparent, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Treysh carried potent acids with her.
“Step back, everyone.”
Henry had already put two meters between himself and the door but he promptly added more. Andeal, a step behind his friend, leaned forward instead. Treysh opened her flask, poured it through the crack, and backpedalled. The paste sizzled on contact then exploded, flinging the door open and almost giving Henry a heart attack. White smoke rose from the half-melted lock and Treysh whistled.
“That was a bit stronger than expected.”
“A bit?” Henry repeated, a hand over his heart.
Andeal laughed at his discomfiture. “Don’t push it, Henry. We’re lucky she didn’t blow a hole in the wall.”
He strode through the smoke and studied the electronic devices within. The recording room was split in two halves. The first contained transmitters, disc readers, and other sound devices Henry couldn’t identify. The other half was behind a closed door and soundproof glass, with the microphone and a large desk. Only the six-disc reader and transmitter worked at the moment, spreading weepy violin music to households everywhere across Ferrys, Mikken, and Regaria. A clock on the wall ticked. Three minutes past midnight.
“Ready, everyone?” Andeal whispered. They nodded. No going back now. “When I signal, Treysh, pull that red cable and plug it there instead. Henry, I need you to turn this machine on.”
He motioned to a large, table-like apparatus with dozens of tiny levers, dials, and slides. Henry swallowed hard and wiped his palms. After a short examination, he found the power switch. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to focus on that simple task. To forget that the moment he pushed the button was the moment hundreds would learn of their presence here, including the security guards downstairs.
Andeal entered the second room. Though they saw him through the glass, they stopped hearing him as soon as the door closed behind him. The engineer adjusted the mic to his height, closed his eyes. His lips moved as he prepared his speech, then he raised his hand. His gaze met Henry’s. He smiled and signaled.
They moved in sync, switching audio from the disc reader to the mic. Andeal set his palms on the desk.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!”
His greeting burst from the speakers in their room and, without any doubt, from every radio receiver across the country.
Treysh let out a pleased exclamation and clapped her hands. It’d worked!
They were so dead.
“We interrupt your regular so-boring-it’ll-kill-you program for a little announcement. My name is Andeal, member of the White Renegade’s rebels, broadcasting from the National Radio Tower.”
He glanced their way and Treysh gave him a thumbs up. Henry remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by their brazenness. Only his stomach moved, lurching about and threatening to make him sick.
“I’m afraid I cannot keep you entertained for long. Should you wish to listen to another tune than the one dictated by the Clarin empire, however, keep your eyes and ears open for more of us. We’ll soon broadcast our radio—The Noodle Show—on another wave of a higher frequency and wow, don’t we have a lot of information some people would rather keep hidden. Time to change your news diet, folks. So spread the word, pass the signal, and until next time!”
Andeal pushed the mic away and hurried out of the room. Henry couldn’t believe he’d just named the radio after him. He felt exposed. Honored but exposed. Treysh hug-attacked her engineer friend the moment he stepped out. “That was fantastic! Why the name?”
He pushed her away, breathless. “It’s for Henry. I don’t have time to explain. Let’s run.”
Run, yes. Before guards surrounded them, electric pistols and batons in hand. Henry snapped out of his daze and was the first to reach the busted door.
“You two go ahead,” Treysh winked at Andeal. “I’ll take a small detour.”
Andeal thankfully didn’t argue and joined Henry in the corridor. No point in trying to stop her. They sprinted toward the stairs, leaving the recording rooms wide open, while Treysh took the other direction. A loud alarm burst through the speakers as they reached the stairs. Henry covered his ears to block the shrill ring while Andeal pulled the handle.
“Shouldn’t we wait for her?” Henry had to yell to be heard.
His question was answered as Treysh burst around a corner, a hand on her head to hold her hat in place.
“Go!” She called and, as she reached them, “They’ll think we used the fire exit.”
They took the stairs two at a time and Henry kept one hand on the railing to stop himself from falling. The loud clattering of feet against metal would wake the dead and covered even the horrible alarm. Treysh’s latest trick wouldn’t fool them for long. Henry’s lungs burned and his throat was parched. How long did they have? They reached a level and he glanced at the wall. Third floor. Halfway there.
As he zipped past, the door flew open. Guards ordered them to stop, brandishing weapons. Was that a real gun? Panic gave new strength to Henry’s legs and he sped downward, cursing with every step. He yelped as the first bang pierced his ears and he closed his eyes in a silent prayer. The bullet buried itself in the second floor sign. The two guards clambered down the spinning stairs after them.
“Almost there!” Treysh called.
They ducked three more gunshots, each of them drilling new fear in Henry’s heart. He forgot his burning lungs, weary calves, cold sweat, and swimming vision. Nothing mattered but the wild run, the desperate escape. One foot in front of another, down the stairs as fast as he could carry himself. Out of bullet range.
Treysh reached the ground floor first and pushed its door open without slowing her strides. Their sudden appearance drew exclamations from another pair of guards. Which meant four potential guns fired at them. How many more before they reached the exit? As he hurried down the bleak corridor, he noticed Treysh held a tiny ball of metal in one hand and a book of matches in the other.
Andeal turned the last corner. Stopped in his tracks. Henry bumped into him, unable to stop his course, then he saw what had frozen his friend.
A fifth guard stood in front of the exit, weapon raised. Four others would be at their back in a minute. Henry’s heart sank.
“We’re dead.”
Treysh ignored his statement and strode forward.
“Stay right there!” the guard called.
He aimed at her. Henry felt lightheaded and wondered if he’d faint. She raised her hands, showing both metal and matches, but took another step.
“I said stay—”
Before he finished, Treysh ducked to the left, shouldering her way into the ladies’ room. A loud bang filled the corridor. Henry grabbed Andeal and plunged to his right. His friend cried out from sudden pain and held his leg as they fell. Henry didn’t dare try to stand, or move, or twitch. They were done for. The fake fire alarm died, as if confirming their failure. Henry squeezed Andeal’s forearm, giving him the reassurance he needed for himself.
Manic laughter rose from the restrooms. A shiver ran up Henry’s spine but he found himself smiling. Another ruse? Treysh pushed the door open an inch and kicked her tiny ball of metal out. One end stretched out, on fire, and shone white.
“Magnesium, Andeal!” she called.
His friend’s eyes widened, then snapped shut. “Don’t look, Henry!”
Henry obeyed just in time. Even behind closed eyelids he saw the bright flash of light. The guard at the door and those following them cried out. Blinded. Andeal pulled on his arm and they scrambled to their feet, sprinting forward. Treysh’s footsteps joined theirs. A volley of shots rang out and one ricocheted into something big and metallic right next to Henry. The others hit walls and neons, harmless. The trio barreled into the last guard, knocking him down, and crossed the exit.
Fresh air and cold wind whipped at Henry’s face and he risked a glance. Both friends trailed behind: Treysh carried the transmitter, which had acquired a bullet hole in the front, and Andeal limped with every step. The engineer couldn’t outrun the guards. Henry was about to stop and turn to help his friend when a loud explosion rocked the tower. Water splashed out the door, followed by white smoke. The latter came out of the restrooms’ window, too. Treysh whooped and they dove into a side alley, out of sight.
They’d done it. Somehow, they’d snuck into the Radio Tower, stolen a transmitter, hijacked the national broadcast, and escaped in one piece.
Henry bent forward, panting. Andeal leaned on a stone wall with a pained expression. It seemed like the bullet had only grazed his leg but before Henry could ask, Treysh skidded to a stop next to them and set her burden down, a wild grin plastered on her face.
“That was fantastic!”
His definition of fantastic didn’t include chases and gunshots, but a strange elation built from his unsettled stomach, the slow realization of how much they’d accomplished right under the Union’s nose, and despite his crazed heart and exhausted limbs, Henry felt powerful. Unstoppable. And that was fantastic.
He smiled at her, nodded, and wiped sweat from his eyes.
“I can’t wait to hear the news tomorrow.” Henry picked up the transmitter. They still needed to move before the guards followed. “Let’s head back. I feel like I deserve the biggest pot of noodles ever created.”
Treysh’s clear laughter echoed in the night. She kissed his cheek with a loud smack then half-walked, half-danced to Andeal and slid under his shoulder, providing support. Despite the still-present danger, Henry grinned like a fool as they made their way home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The bright sign hung above a double glass door, its bold letters bringing attention to an otherwise unnoticeable grocery. Nestled between a fashion boutique and a hardware store, in a street on which shops succeeded one another, Kinsi’s new business had a lot of competition. Henry had glimpsed his old friend through the windows twice, however, chatting with clients as he served them. Here he had a solid line of customers, at last, not a single patron too poor to buy more than handful of instant noodles.
He shouldn’t have come. Ferrea was a ghost town, no longer part of his life. It mattered little how much he longed for a tranquil beer in Paul’s pub. His daily lot consisted of scheming the downfall of the Clarin twins with a mad chemist and a blue engineer. Nothing ordinary there, and he was dying for a pause from all of this clandestine-broadcast and government-overturning nonsense. Seeking out Kinsi might be a mistake, but it was also an opportunity he couldn’t resist.
Henry took a deep breath, crossed the busy street, and pushed through the door. The bell rang but with the constant stream of people going in and out, nobody loo
ked his way. He slipped into the first row, out of the cashiers’ view, and in his haste he bumped into a tall, gaunt man. As he apologized he noticed the pockmarked face. A Plague survivor. Henry wondered if the stranger had heard the broadcast, if he’d follow their radio one day, join them. The other man smiled and wished him a good day in a whispery voice. As he left, Henry allowed himself to slow down and appreciate his surroundings.
This grocery was twice the size of Kinsi’s old one, with a high ceiling and an airy feel to it. Fruits were piled in large baskets, their bright colors dazzling him. No doubt they were fresher than anything Ferrea had offered in the last year. As heartwarming as the stall of glistening cucumbers, carrots, and lettuce was, however, Henry did not linger. He moved to the aisle with instant food and canned soups, where he knew he’d find his trademark meal. Buying anything else wouldn’t feel right. He grabbed an armful and made for the tills. Nervousness had turned his hands into sweaty messes. What if Kinsi wanted nothing to do with him after their fight?
Customers kept Kinsi so busy he didn’t look up until Henry dropped all the noodle packs in a heap on his counter. The grocer’s jaw dropped but no words came out. A flush crept up Henry’s cheeks. He forced a greeting out to break the bizarre tension.
“Hey.”
“Henry!” Kinsi strode around the counter and gave him a tight embrace. Everyone else had their eyes on him now, including Kinsi’s unknown coworkers. Not good. “I’m so glad to see you here, my boy! Tia’s been worried to death since—”
“I know, I’m sorry!” Henry interrupted. The less the grocer spoke of his suspicious disappearance, the better. “Someone visited about my father.”
The smile vanished from Kinsi’s lips and he returned behind his counter without answering. His nose twitched, as it always did when he wrestled strong emotions under control. He grabbed the first pack of noodles and began Henry’s bill.
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