17

S leeping in a drafty cabin in the middle of winter wasn’t a great experience. I’d tried to count my blessings every time I woke up, either shivering or claustrophobic because I’d burrowed my head completely under the quilt, and came up with nothing from one restless hour to the next.

I thought of the barons and their people in the tents outside Sector Five. Or maybe they didn’t trade in the dead of winter. Maybe they were warm and comfy in their compounds—or wherever they lived—until spring.

I thought of The Smoke inhabitants with their electric curfew that cut off their heating in the evenings. Or maybe they all had portable heaters, like Roman. For their sake, I truly hoped so.

Here in Capra, we’d never had to consider basic amenities. Our homes were always insulated. The lights were always on. Food was always available. We paid in other ways, of course, but still…I was spoilt. That wasn’t lost on me.

When I heard movement outside my bedroom, I flung off the oppressive weight of the quilt and hopped out of bed.

Daniel was sitting at the table, dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday plus my hoodie, the same clothes he’d probably slept in. “Morning, how did you sleep?”

“I didn’t, not really,” I grumbled as I squeezed between the two-seater couch that divided the kitchen from the living space. I grimaced at myself. “Sorry, ignore me. I slept fine. How about you?”

“Yeah, okay I guess.”

The kitchen consisted of a cabinet counter with a sink and a single-plate gas burner. Some shelves bracketed the wall, sparse with a few plates and mugs, a basket of cutlery and two banged up pots. The sink cabinet hid a bucket, a small trash can and a bar fridge.

“What are you looking for?” Daniel called out.

“It’s stupid.” I slammed the cabinet closed and joined him at the table. “I thought maybe the last guests may have left some coffee behind.”

“Wishful thinking.” He chuckled, humor sparking the blue in his eyes. “This cabin probably hasn’t seen guests in years. There’s not much demand this far from the lake.”

I studied him. “You’re in a good mood…” …considering.

“That’s a stretch, but I’m not in a bad mood.” He opened the bag of crackers on the table and pushed it closer to me. “I’m not holed up in a cell at the Guard Station and I’m not cuffed to a bed in rehab.”

Now that’s how you count your blessings.

We breakfasted on crackers and dried apple. Our supplies were running low, and my stomach cried out for something more substantial, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it other than hope Roman made it back today at some point with proper food. It’s not like we could go shopping in the square.

“I didn’t think this whole hiding out in the woods thing through very clearly,” I said.

“I got the impression it was kind of last minute.”

“It was.”

“So, what’s the plan?” he said.

“The plan was for you to be safely stashed in The Smoke,” I said pointedly. “I should never have agreed to let you stay behind.”

“You don’t own my life just because you saved me.”

My mouth opened, and shut. That was so far out of left field. What was I supposed to say?

“Hell, that came out wrong,” he said, reading my expression. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, you know that. What I meant is, you’re not responsible now for everything I do. If I get myself caught, that’s on me, not you. I’m here because I want to be here.”

“And what I meant was, you’re here because Roman asked,” I said. “You’re here to babysit me.”

“I prefer to think of it as looking out for you.” He smirked. “And that’s not the only reason I’m here. Roman said you want to shake things up with the Sisterhood. Let’s just say, I’d like to see that happen, and help in any way I can.”

“This isn’t about getting the council re-installed,” I said quickly.

He shrugged that off. “That’s not even on the table.”

I studied him. Daniel was one of the good guys, but it couldn’t be easy giving up all that power, losing all he’d lost. “What if it were an option?”

He took his time before responding. “There were things I would have wanted to change, when my turn came to take the reins.”

That was one of the reasons I’d fallen for him, back then, right at the start, before he’d broken my heart, before I’d come to realize my heart was never his to break. “You’re talking about a different version of the council?”

Daniel shook his head. “There were things my father spoke of changing, but the council was designed to make that impossible. When your turn comes up, you’re the shining new arrival, the lone squeaky wheel around the table of older, established members. My father was always outnumbered and outvoted, or, if I’m being totally honestly, talked down, persuaded that his ideas went against the principles on which the Eastern Coalition was founded.”

“That’s what Roman always says,” I murmured. “The system is greater than the man.”

“Yeah, he may have mentioned that to me once or twice.” A lopsided grin tugged at his mouth. “But anyway, no, I don’t think I could have succeeded where my father failed. Capra doesn’t need an improved version of the council, it needs a complete overhaul.”

“I feel the same about the Sisterhood. We’ve traded in one regime for another. That’s what it feels like.”

“So, what do you have in mind?” Daniel rubbed his hands like a comical villain. “Are we overthrowing them?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Nothing that wild.”

He wolfed down a handful of crackers, watching, patient while I gathered my thoughts.

“I met this guy, Axel Gomez, he’s a nurse at the rehab center. Roman calls him my number one fan.” I blushed as I spoke. It sounded like I was blowing my own horn. “Axel reckons people will listen to me, they want to hear me speak. He actually said that if I agree to speak from the bandstand on Saturday, he’ll bring a crowd that will fill the square.”

Daniel coughed and spluttered around a mouthful of cracker. “Roman is going to kill me.”

“Why?” I said, instantly worried. “What have you done?”

“Me?” He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “I’m supposed to stop you from doing anything crazy. I’m pretty sure that includes something like addressing your followers in the town square in broad daylight.”

“Addressing my followers ?” I cocked a brow at him. “You’re confusing me with the Puritans.”

“You know what I mean,” Daniel said. “It was you up on the screens, your revelations that kick-started the revolution. The people of Capra hang onto your words. Even I’ve heard about how amazing you are, how much everyone admires you, and I’ve been locked away this whole time.”

My cheeks were stinging hot now. “That’s not what I ever wanted.”

“That’s what you got,” Daniel said solemnly. “You’re like their damned pied piper, Georga. You could lead them wherever you wish right now, but the people are not the ones in power. The Sisterhood is not just going to stand back while you shout your message from the bandstand.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

“You asked me what the plan is.” My heart thudded, nervous excitement coursing through my veins. This , this was why I’d stayed behind, because the people were not the ones in power, but the power should be in their hands, in their voices. “I’ve been given a voice, and I want to use that to give everyone a voice.”

“By standing up in the town square and—”

“No!” I sliced a hand through the air. “Listen to me. I don’t know how to lead a revolution. And what the hell do I know about leading people? I don’t have the knowledge, experience or patience for any of that. But there’s one thing I’ve been good at all my life. I have an insatiable curiosity. I’ve always questioned everything. That is what I know, and what I can pass on to the people of Capra.”

Daniel quietened, finally listening.

“They’ve already started questioning some things,” I said. “I want to make sure they question everything , and when they do that, anything is possible.”

I had faith in the people of Capra. Axel had given that to me. I’d once felt like I was alone in a town that walked with their eyes closed, blind to the injustice and cruelty—cruelty I wasn’t blameless in. I wasn’t perfect but I liked to think that I was learning, evolving. I’d wanted Julian Edgar to suffer, but I shouldn’t have gotten what I wanted.

“How do you get them to question everything?” Daniel asked.

“I’m going to write Axel a letter.” I smiled at him. “And I’m pretty confident he’ll do the rest.”

A short while later, after I’d washed and changed into fresh clothes, I sat down at the table with two blank sheets of paper and pen. The first letter was to my parents, more or less a copy of the letter I’d left for Geneva to find.

The second letter took me most of the morning to craft.

Dear Friend,

By now, you’ve probably heard what has happened and why I’ve had to disappear, but I am not gone.

I won’t be standing on that bandstand in the town square on Saturday, but maybe you will hear my words and whisper them to a trusted friend or family member, and maybe they will hear your words and whisper them, and when all our whispers gather, our voices will roar.

So here are my words.

I’ve been beyond the walls of Capra.

I’ve walked The Smoke, where mothers and fathers live and work as equals, raising children born of their flesh and blood. I’ve bought produce from a woman’s stall at the crowded marketplace where traders hawk their wares. The buildings are blackened with pollution from the industrial zones and the streets are paved with concrete, there’s little greenery or beauty, but everywhere you go is packed with life.

Solar fields surround their walls and their nights are lit by candlelight. Their gates stand wide open and their energy is severely rationed, most of it feeding back to us in Capra.

I’ve seen women dressed in tailored pants suits for their day of work. I’ve seen men crowded with women in a soup restaurant to eat their hasty lunch. Young girls harvest their eggs and I’ve heard of women who give their new born babes up for fostering in exchange for credits, all to ensure a steady increase in population and production of ovarian eggs.

I’ve visited a friend who didn’t graduate, who was exiled from Capra and now lives in a dormitory or occasionally with her boyfriend, and who teaches in a local school for adults. I’ve been accosted by rough men from a gang called the Blood Throats and I’ve watched children playing on street corners and I’ve learned that the people in The Smoke are free to leave, to go into the wilds if they choose.

The Outerlands is not a wasteland. By all accounts, it is a wild, cruel place. They call it the wilds.

I’ve seen the barons and their people, those who inhabit the wilds. I didn’t dare to walk amongst them, but I’ve watched through the fence, across the river from a place called Sector Five, one of our trading posts.

These barons set up camp with their magnificent tents striped in bold blacks and reds and golds.

Men in cotton tunics, men dressed in black leather, men with weapons strapped across their chests, men who seemed desperate and savage.

Women dressed in long robes the color of gems, women carrying cauldrons to hang over open fires, women carrying their babes in their arms.

Children running and giggling as they play in the fields.

I’ve learned that much of what we consume here in Capra is not grown in The Smoke, but traded from these barons with their large plantations and cattle ranches.

I haven’t seen all there is to see. I haven’t learned all there is to learn. Isn’t that the most wonderful, beautiful thing?

Because this is what I’ve come to realize.

The citizens of Capra, all of us, are a nation of rehabilitated people. Look to your left, to the mother who was committed to rehab for the crime of speaking her mind. Look to your right, to the man who walked out from rehab with his emotions, spontaneity and personality wiped.

They are not as different from you and me as we would like to believe.

From the day we’re born, we are trained to stunt our creativity and stifle our curiosity. Because when your world is contained within walls that cannot be looked over, walls that cannot be breached or traversed, walls that reduce your world to what and who we know, what is there to question? What is there to be curious or spontaneous about?

We have forgotten how to ask questions.

We have forgotten how to demand answers.

We have forgotten that once this world was a landscape so vast, it could never fill our imagination. There were customs and religions and governments and justice systems. The people had a voice. The people shaped their world. The people decided who would rule them and who would make the rules.

Because without the people, you and me, Capra is nothing but an empty shell surrounded by high walls.

These are my words,

The Flame

(Georga West)