“Okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“I don’t know. This is a ridiculous conversation. Can we please move on?”
He chuckles, the warm, familiar sound of it wafting over me. “Yes, ma’am.”
5
The following afternoon,I’m in a hastily constructed outlook perch in the tallest tree near the road from the Capitol, waiting for the first set of troops to arrive.
As expected, this morning they sent out a couple of scouts to investigate. The guys I have posted on the route radioed early to alert us, so we trapped the scouts easily with a simple damsel-in-distress ruse. (Nineteen-year-old Nicky loves playing the damsel.) The scouts ended up joining the rest of our captured troops from the outpost in the prison cell behind the main building, and then all we needed to do was wait for the next response from the Capitol.
Vella collected bets for whether they’d send more scouts, one unit in a truck, two units in two trucks, or alarger contingent. The wagers were evenly split between the options.
Physical currency stopped being used in this part of central North America after the asteroid hit Europe forty-six years ago and governments and infrastructure collapsed around the globe. Soon after the Central Cities organized under the first dictatorial president, he implemented an oppressive credit system, but those who live on the fringes of society have no access to government credits.
Barter is the only way to obtain our provisions. The smaller villages are always open to trading on their market days with strangers and travelers. So our bets are never backed by money.
They’re mostly for bragging rights.
I didn’t participate—I never do—but Ben went for one unit in a truck.
I know he’s right even before one of our lookouts radios in to let us know that one truck with six guards and a driver is on its way toward us.
As soon as we got news of its approach, I called everyone into their planned positions. The explosives were placed last night, but Ben goes out to activate the ones we’ll need right now.
Then he climbs up into the outlook with me. “Mood is good.”
“Yeah. I think everyone is happy to be taking realaction. It’s been a long stretch of individual rescues and sneaking around.”
“Be stupid to take action too soon.”
“I know. We did it right, even though it’s taken years. Even now, we wouldn’t be doing much else if we hadn’t lucked out with Gabriel and the Arsenal plans.”
Last year, someone approached us for help across the border. He was a high-level administrator for the president, but he’d turned on him and wanted to defect with his palace partner but couldn’t do it on his own. In exchange, he gave us the architectural plans and security details for the Arsenal.
“Not only luck. He came to you for help and gave you the plans ’cause of your reputation.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“No guess about it. He came to you ’cause of everythin’ you’ve done up till now.” He gives me one of those quick, sidelong glares I always get from him when I minimize my accomplishments.
I’ve done better than anyone else at leading an organized rebellion in the Central Cities, but it’s been year after year of small, tedious steps. I’m not a particularly patient person, so it’s led to a lot of frustration.
Honestly, I’m every bit as excited as the rest of us that we’re finally making a definite step.
“Here we go,” Ben says, scanning where the road disappears into the horizon. It’s a long stretch of overgrown grass and weeds on one side and some scrabblywoods on the other. The approaching truck is easily visible in the distance.
“Five minutes,” I say into the radio, taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders. My folks are dependable and well trained, but the temptation to give last-minute instructions is strong.
This is important.
It’s essential.
If we fail at this, we’ll be forced to fall back to where we were three years ago, causing occasional disruption and helping people cross the border under the radar.
I’m about to lift my radio back to my mouth when Ben puts a light hand on my forearm.
