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

But she’s been asking for me. The Troubadours think it could be important. I’ve got to go.”

“How… How long will you be gone for?”

“I don’t know. Estrin said the journey’s long. But don’t worry. I’ll tell them about our plan. That I need to be back here. To make it happen.” She stopped walking and grabbed his arm. “Naylor, this doesn’t change anything. You said tomorrow. Tinashe is walking out with her lot in the morning. The followers I’ve spoken to are on standby. They’ll act as soon as they’re given the signal.”

“But who’ll give the signal? You don’t know when you’ll be back. We need the numbers—”

“There was another follower with Estrin – name’s Nial. He’s going to stay here and spread the word among followers about our plan – that it’s happening and that we need them on board. And he’s got to tell them something else too. Something you need to know and share with everyone you can. Clo, Chase, Quince. People at work. Anyone who’ll listen.”

“What? What is it?”

“Don’t drink the water. The bottled stuff they’re going to dish out for free. It’s drugged. The A have drugged it.”

“But—”

“That’s all I know. Tell as many people as you can.” She glared at him, tightening her grip on his arm. “You have to warn them. Before it’s too late.”

Chapter Thirty-six

A dust-free dawn had paved the way for a still, hot day. Shimmering heat haze agitated the horizon. Outside the Wall of the Missing, citizens gathered.

Numbers were low at first. However, as the morning passed and word spread, more appeared in tentative ones and twos. The atmosphere was calm, with an edge of apprehension that kept voices low. The air hummed with a shared exhilaration, borne of knowing the stakes but taking the leap regardless.

Tinashe moved through the gathering crowd, placing her hand on the shoulders of those she knew, smiling warmly at strangers-turned-comrades. She approached Naylor, who leant against the Wall, staring up at the looming Exchange. “Wella was right,” she said, tipping her head to a man and woman approaching the group. “Momentum.”

“They’ve shifted the cameras. I’ve counted four all pointing this way. And over there,” he indicated far left with his eyes, “a Watcher. Lights on.”

“Hardly surprising, though.”

“I know. Just makes me nervous.”

“Well, try not to show it. Let them see that we don’t care.” She lifted her head in full view of the eyes above and smiled.

A military truck pulled up and a Special Forces unit piled out. Troopers took up positions around the area, circling the Exchange, the precinct at its feet and the long arm of the Wall jutting from its left.

“Oh, shit…” said Naylor.

“Don’t panic. We’re not doing anything wrong. They’re just sussing us out. As long as we don’t react.” She glanced around at their growing number. “I’m going to mingle. I spy a few rattled faces. We’ve got to make sure they don’t lose their nerve.”

Tinashe slipped away, moving among the crowd. She caught fragments of conversation as she passed – a pendulum swing between faith and fear.

“…could be arrested for this. I’ve a kid to…”

“…can’t touch us. I’d like to see them try. I tell you…”

“…is a mistake. I knew it. I should’ve…”

“…our chance. Make a stand. How long have…”

She paused before a satellite group, conspicuous in their silence. She exchanged nods in greeting, sensing a tangible union among them. She hazarded a guess. “Followers?”

A young man stepped forward, his hair casting a sun-dial shadow. “There are many more of us. They are coming. First, they have an urgent task. You’ve heard about the water?”

“I have.”

“They’re due to start distribution first thing tomorrow. We have to warn as many people as we can. As soon as our friends have spread the word, they will join us.”

“How many?”

“There were several hundred of us, but many are locked up. Free, I’d say we’re about 150 strong.”

“Where do you all work?”

“All over the city. All sectors. We can reach many workers.” He held out a slim, firm hand. “I’m Nial.”

“Tinashe. Tramways,” she said, shaking his hand. “Listen. We’ve some waverers here. Can you and your friends help me ease a few minds?”

“Of course.”

They dispersed and moved among the crowd. Heads bent forward, quiet words spoken. All the while, new citizens appeared, merging with the gathered, which had spilt from the Wall to fill half of the precinct. Tension flowed in diminishing waves, its force gradually absorbed by those joining the crowd.

Two carters appeared, their goats hauling cargos of fruit, baked breads and steel barrels filled with chilled nettle tea. Trading was forbidden in front of public buildings, a fact which drew the swift attention of the sentinel troopers. The nearest two marched over to the carters, relieved to be given a reason to intervene. The carters held up their hands, faces open. “But we are not trading,” one of them said. “See?” He held out a bava fruit to one of the troopers, broke off a chunk of baked bread and handed it to the other. “We are giving.”

The troopers stared in confusion and backed away, reluctantly rejecting the refreshments. They reported back to the unit’s apparent lead, who rattled something into his radio.

The two carters paid no heed. They gestured invitation towards the gathered citizens, who welcomed the unexpected charity.

On the radio’s receiving end, a message was taken and relayed several times. Meanwhile, monitors in the Comms Control Centre were scrutinised for the slightest breach of law. Legislation on public protest was unambiguous. It would take very little to warrant swift, excessive intervention.

Had Governor Blix been at liberty to watch the bank of screens, to witness the growing throng from multiple high-angle shots and hovering bird’s-eye views, she would have found the necessary justification. As it was, she remained in her quarters, detained by lock and guard, oblivious of the developments.

“They’re not doing anything,” barked Wulfwin into his radio.

He was up at the Project Alpha site, flanked by his Deaf Squad. It had taken them all morning to ship