Page 74 of The Flame

“You’re funny.” Daniel smirked. “The electrics haven’t been connected yet. There is piped water, but it won’t be heated.”

I didn’t care about electrics and hot showers. Neither did Daniel. Today and tonight were irrelevant. Tomorrow was all-consuming, drowning out everything else in white noise.

We ended up sitting on the floor, backs pressed to opposite walls, batting worst case scenarios between us.

Eventually Daniel bored of that and flipped it around, and we pummeled potential outcomes and theories into some vague shape of political reform until Roman arrived, out of breath, calling my name.

I jumped up to meet him, Daniel hot on my heels.

Dread swarmed me as I took in Roman’s sweat-drenched hairline and hard breathing. “What is it? You look like you’ve been running for your life.”

“I thoughtyouwere running for your life.” He pushed a slow breath out, pulling his hands through his hair, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and furious. “I came as quickly as possible, but I didn’t want to risk driving. I parked my truck at home and cut across the field. Lisa left some cryptic message about you having to get out of the nature reserve in a hurry.”

“The Guard is searching the nature reserve,” I said. “They didn’t find us.”

“Except for the one shoved into the closet below,” Daniel supplied unhelpfully.

Roman blinked, long and hard, his jaw hardening to cut glass.

I went to him, fell into his arms, alarmed at how fast and loud his heart was beating. “We’re fine. I’ll explain everything.”

As I did, the more Roman heard, the less thrilled he looked. He didn’t try to talk me out of tomorrow, though. That was his way, the way he loved me, and one of the many reasons I loved him. He wanted me safe, of course he did, but he kept me safe by supporting me, protecting me, rather than trying to bludgeon me into someone that I wasn’t.

23

As soon as it grew dark, Roman slipped back home across the field for sandwiches and a flask of hot soup. We fed the guard and Daniel spent a long time down in the basement with him, but the man wasn’t interested in the state of affairs in Capra and he didn’t believe we planned to release him alive. I wasn’t proud of torturing the poor guard—he’d only been performing his duty—but I hoped he’d forgive us.

I didn’t sleep at all.

None of us did.

We sat vigil through the night, nursing the prospect of tomorrow as if it were a sickly child with grim ailments. Lisa would change her mind, or someone would catch the imposter insert before the newsletter went out. I’d made the gathering first thing in the morning, so Geneva wouldn’t have time to put proper countermeasures in place, but that was still a probability.

But more than all of that, the idea of hundreds of citizens flocking to the town square tomorrow was too enormous for me to comprehend.

They weren’t ready.

I wasn’t ready.

I was still grappling with the notion that I wasn’t alone, that I’d never been alone. I’d only meant to sow some whispers, thenwatch from The Smoke as new generations, generations much bolder than ours, nurtured their voices over time.

Dawn arrived, and then an hour later Lisa walked in, wheeling a bulging suitcase. “In case it all goes wrong. The newsletters have been picked up, but there’s no guarantee someone won’t spot the difference before the stacks are distributed for delivery. It’s out of our hands now.”

Roman gave her directions to the tunnel’s service hatch. “If we’re separated and it goes bad, we’ll meet there. That’s our route to The Smoke.”

The tension in the air was palpable, charged with nervous energy and frissons of excitement.

“What do we do about the guard?” If we had to flee, who would find him? “Should we release him before we set out for the square?”

“I’ll scout out the square before you go anywhere,” Roman said. “It’s a numbers game. Geneva can’t throw hundreds of people into rehab, but she’ll have no problem if there’s only a handful.”

I shook my head. “I’m not Geneva. I won’t throw a handful to the wolves while I sit safe and pretty. I’m going.”

Roman came to stand in front of me, his palms cupping my cheek, the intensity of his gaze rooting me to him. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. A dozen or so people milling around the square haven’t done anything wrong. But you’ll be recognized.”

“He’s right,” Lisa said. “I have no interest in playing the martyr.”

I agreed, Roman could go scout first, but I made no promises about the rest. As the hour of gathering drew close, Jessie arrived in a fluster of activity, charging through the house, calling for us, and waving the newsletter madly. “This was slipped under my door this morning! Look!”

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