Page 12 of The Flame

She didn’t notice me until I stepped deeper into the room.

Her ice-blue stare locked on me. “Georga.”

“Hey.” I didn’t smile with the greeting. Neither of us would have appreciated it. “How’s your father?”

She mangled her bottom lip as she crossed the room to me. “They haven’t allowed me to see him. He had surgery last night. They had to amputate his leg, just above the knee, but I think that’s the worst. At least, that’s what they say.”

“I’m really sorry.” It wasn’t a total lie.

Lisa’s father was General Bickens, the old head of the Guard and a horrible man. The last time I’d seen him, the purple veins around his nostrils had been pulsating with his fury—all about to be unleashed on me—so no, I wasn’t absolutely gutted that Geneva had shot out his knee. But he was still Lisa’s father, and I knew how I’d feel if anything happened to mine.

She folded her arms tightly and looked like she was about to say something, then decided against it and pursed her mouth instead.

I gave her a few moments, then glanced around the room. “What’s going on here?”

“This…” She unwrapped her arms and shifted to stand beside me. “This is our news center. My mother is in charge and she’s enlisted me to be her aide. I call it the propaganda machine, but don’t quote me. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it. I’m super excited to be doing my little bit for The Sisterhood.”

Her tone was clipped, perched between amusement and frosted scorn, but you never could tell with Lisa. She could be secretly thrilled by her prestigious assignment.

There were only two ways to get important announcements out in Capra—the public screenings and newsletters. My stomach had always turned a little watery whenever that yellowish paper was slipped beneath our door. When it came to the council, the news was rarely good.

I looked to where both printers were still churning out pages, filling up their multiple trays. “We’re sending out a newsletter tomorrow?”

The reminder sent Lisa over that way to clear the trays before the pages spilled over onto the floor.

“It’s just a general statement,” Lisa said. “Geneva wants it delivered in the morning.”

“That’s a pretty big responsibility.”

She smirked as I joined her by the printer. “You know I don’t actually get a say in what’s printed, right? Geneva sent the layout straight to the computer and those guys are making sure the magic happens. They’re teaching me the ropes, but for now I merely get to stack and pack and make sure the parcels are collected at the crack of dawn for delivery.”

My neck twisted as I tried to read off the top page of a stack.

Lisa saw and laughed. “Help yourself. It’s not classified.”

I rolled my eyes at her. Obviously not, since they’d be delivered to each and every home in the morning.

I was curious, though, so I did exactly that before I left Lisa to her duties.

SISTERS OF CAPRA

BULLETIN

Dear Citizens of Capra,

For many of you, these may feel like uncertain, scary times. I wish to reassure you that the Sisterhood stands for all citizens, regardless of your age, gender or social standing.

The Eastern Coalition was founded on the sacrifice of women. We gave our rights, our equality and our bodies to Capra for the greater good.

Now the time has come to reap the rewards and celebrate all that has been accomplished.

We are healing.

Our eggs are entirely viable in our early years.

The women of Capra have returned hope to mankind.

The old regime, the council, tried to take that from you.

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