BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

“So, what’s the score then? Why the urgency?”

“I don’t know. I was given a message at lunchtime. I think Tinashe had tried calling us both at work, but no one put her through. She managed to persuade the switchboard at my place to message me instead.” Chase looked up, the tension in Naylor’s voice piquing his interest. “She didn’t say what it’s about. Just that she had to see us. She should be here any minute.”

They both fell silent, feeling a rare awkwardness that rendered small talk an unpalatable pretence. Around them, the mood of the tavern was more jovial than it had been of late. Although far from busy, many of the more frequent patrons had returned, seeking solace in a chilled Kitson and bar-side banter after a gruelling shift in the furnaces, processing plants and factories of Coxen Lyme. Chase and Naylor idly looked around the room, inviting the ambience to fill the space between them.

Tinashe arrived. She was flustered, breathless, her eyes wide and shifting.

Naylor stood up as she approached. “Tinashe. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Weldon. Something’s wrong. I know it.”

Naylor took her arm and led her to a seat at their table. “Okay, okay. Try not to get yourself worked up.” He looked squarely at Chase and tipped his head towards the bar. “Chase is going to get you a drink. Now, catch your breath, take your time. Then tell us what you know.”

Chase got up and went to the bar, leaving Tinashe sitting rigid. Her braids fell about her face, which was ribbed by deep lines in her skin. “I’ve been worried about him,” she said. “Since he stormed out on us at Su-Lin’s. The way he’s been talking recently. Getting himself all worked up.” She took a deep breath and rubbed at tear-wet eyes. “I saw him briefly on Saturday. He said he was going to see Chase. Wouldn’t say what it was about.”

Naylor raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Chase at the bar.

Tinashe missed the reaction. “I asked him if we could meet. Explained I was worried. He was fine with hooking up. It was him who suggested getting together for supper yesterday. Invited me over, said he’d cook. When I arrived, he wasn’t there. I waited outside for over an hour. He didn’t show. I went back, late, then again, this morning. His neighbour said he never came home last night.”

Chase returned to his seat and placed a double Pyncher in front of Tinashe. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

Naylor turned to Chase and filled him in, then asked, “Did you see Weldon on Saturday?”

“Yes. He’d asked to meet me.”

“How was he?”

Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. Pissed off?”

“Why? What did you talk about?”

“He tried his own approach at discussing my intention to go back to the Scene. ‘Straight talking’, was how he put it.”

“And did it work?”

“What, as in persuading me not to go? He told me he didn’t give a damn whether I went or not. Instead, he tried to get me to give Ursel up to the A. I didn’t take kindly to that.”

“That doesn’t sound like Weldon,” said Tinashe, shaking her head.

“So, what happened?” said Naylor.

“Stalemate. I said I wasn’t going to betray a friend. He said that, if the event is raided, it’ll be my fault for not going to the A. I didn’t bow to his petulant demands, so he stormed out. End of story.”

“This is why I’m worried,” said Tinashe. “Asking you to do that to Ursel. That’s not like him. And the anger, the bitterness. I know he’s sensitive, takes things too seriously. But this feels different.”

“What he said to us,” Naylor said to Tinashe, “before he stormed out. The way he’s talking about Users. The language is all from the A. You can’t escape the posters, the radio messages. But it’s like he’s absorbed it all. He believes it.”

“I know. It’s changed him. But that doesn’t help… I mean, it doesn’t explain.”

Chase choked. He recalled Wulfwin’s words: “A friend of yours…” Truth collided, headlong and crushing.

Naylor stared at Chase, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“I, er…” Chase held his hand to his throat, his face a creeping crimson. “Excuse me.” He got up and staggered towards the bar. Holding on to the edge, he struggled to pull himself together. “Water. Please,” he croaked as a serving boy approached. He downed the glass handed to him.

Conscious of the others behind him, Chase took deep breaths and closed his eyes. He knew it, without question. It was Weldon who had given Ursel’s name – who had also betrayed him. The bastard, he thought, fury welling. What else does he know about her? What else did he tell them? The realisation he’d felt before, so subtle in its dawning, became iron-strong and undeniable. Panic seized him.

He considered Weldon with contempt. Without a trace of doubt, he knew what would have become of him. Wulfwin’s words said it all: “Your friend was of limited value…” There was only one way to interpret that, Chase knew. Weldon’s disappearance confirmed it. But he couldn’t say anything to the others. He gritted his teeth and forced back the fury.

“Sorry about that,” he said, returning to the table and sitting down. “Sand in my throat. This cursed cloud. Water helped.” He coughed, hand to chest.

“Tinashe was just saying she’s tried the sports centre and his work. He’s not staying with family. I can’t think of anywhere else he’d sleep. Can you?”

“Not off the top of my head.” He heard the tone of his own voice. He tried harder to sound like he cared. “If he’s got himself wound up, maybe he’s just laying low to let off steam.” He laid a hand on Tinashe’s arm.

“Maybe. Hopefully…” she said.

There was a clatter at the entrance, apologies as a fallen chair was righted. The low sun made the apertures glow bright against the dark silhouette that stood in the doorway. It approached their table, swift with intent. Chase stood up as the shadow