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

at the time, not having just spent the afternoon hiding bundles around the city. Gathering a change of clothes, a canteen of water and a small amount of money, he had returned to his workshop. He spent the night there, surrounded by accidental confetti – the debris of his creation. The following day he completed the drops. By the time he had finished, he still couldn’t face his partner – couldn’t witness the disappointment and the assumption of a decision made.

All night he had stayed out, hiding on a friend’s balcony. Tempur was a curfew zone; he couldn’t risk street level. The balcony afforded him cover, as well as full view of the night sky, an infinite canvas on which to think.

By dawn, he had decided. Curfew wasn’t quite lifted, but Cole couldn’t wait. He knew Evan would be up soon, getting ready for work. He didn’t want to miss him, couldn’t wait another day before telling him. The impossible was overcome; he had made his decision.

Leaving a note for his sleeping host, he had climbed over the wall of the balcony and dropped the ten feet to the ground. Hugging the shadows, he had hurried towards home. As he crept around the final corner, opposite his block, he saw black-clad Special Forces storm the building. Flashlights blinked through the stairwell apertures. Even from where he crouched, frozen in horror, he heard the shouts, heard the thuds as they kicked down the door. He saw the shutters to their main room fly open. One of the troopers leant out and signalled to two men below, who ran into the building on his command. Cole stared in terror at their flat’s other shuttered aperture, the one to their bedroom. Banging, shouting, torches flashing. No… Oh please, no… he screamed in his head. He turned back around the corner, collapsed to his knees and vomited.

That was where the looping reel of images stopped. What happened after that was unintelligible white noise.

Eventually, he had found himself stumbling through the ruins of Aldar Point, towards a derelict building. Stepping over shattered glass and the decaying corpses of birds and rats, he had entered the building and descended a stairwell that led to the basement. Cowering in its furthest corner, his legs had buckled. Collapsing to the floor, he sobbed, giving in to the devastation that had burnt in his chest for so long.

That was fourteen hours ago.

In that time, Cole had barely moved. The sobs would come in waves, the tears never more than a moment’s thought away. He couldn’t get out of his mind the note he had left: “Thanks for letting me stay. I’ve decided. It can only be Evan. I’m going home.” Now, faced with the horror of Evan’s fate, the fact he’d taken so long to reach that decision fuelled a guilt that tore at his chest, stabbing his flesh with agonising regret.

He had no plan. No idea what to do next. He couldn’t think straight. Not yet. In time, he knew he would have to pull himself together. There were places he knew he could hide, places he would be safe. If he made it across the entire width of the city, he felt sure they would take him in underground.

But this was Evan’s time. A time to grieve the life he had loved, risked and almost certainly lost.

–

For Cole had no way of knowing.

Evan should have been there. Would have been taken.

Yet, Evan had weakened in his resolve, had accepted he loved Cole, no matter what. He could live with the fear. That was far better than living without the man. So, when Cole hadn’t returned to their flat on the second night, Evan had flouted the curfew and stole out to find him. Their friend with the balcony was his last place to look. She handed him the note Cole had left.

When he read Cole’s words, his world transformed in a rapid blossoming of hope. His soul had been caged by bars of despair. ‘It can only be Evan’ released him. He could conceive of a life absent of fear. He had to get home. To their home, which now held their future, rather than the ghost of their past.

Evan ran, impatient.

He reached the street outside their block and froze.

Special Forces vehicles barricaded the road. Cordons had been erected. Troopers stood on guard, hands on weapons, at the block’s entrance. At the apertures to their flat, other troopers postured before a gathering crowd below.

Hope collapsed into a black, fathomless hole.

Evan stifled a cry as he screamed inside, staring at the manifestation of his long-feared nightmare.

Chapter Twenty

The situation had changed; the balance of control shifted.

Early that morning, Chase had been summoned to meet with Wulfwin. That had never happened before. Chase knew to be wary, was cautiously on guard when they met in a deserted lot in Brolan. Wulfwin had informed Chase that his time was up: the Authority was assuming control. “Our little relationship has just changed,” Wulfwin had said. “You’re under orders now. My orders. Do you understand? You’ve got forty-eight hours to deliver Ursel.” Then he had elaborately described the consequence of failure.

As if the threats weren’t pressure enough, Chase was convinced he was under surveillance. Since he had left for work that morning, he had felt acutely aware of company. He hadn’t actually seen anyone; he didn’t need to. He knew too well how the Authority operated. They had the means, the men and machines, to take ‘covert’ to the letter. Chase himself was a sleeper; he’d never been under the illusion he was one of a select few. Any one of his work colleagues or Creaser neighbours could be on the Authority’s payroll. Once you were marked a target, there were abundant eyes and ears to track your every move. Public kiosks were patched, switchboards voiceware-activated, conversations recorded, WatcherCams locked on. Once triggered, surveillance was city-wide.

He knew what the trigger had been. His resistance to giving up Ursel had cost him dear.