Chapter Two
Alf frowned at the newspaper on the floor and shoved it away with his foot. Nail scraped mud off of his boots and shook them, “What’s the matter, Alf?”
“Even after I got the good luck, the big chance, she still outdoes me.”
“Who?”
“Her!” Alf pointed to Celene’s mug shot grinning up from the floor.
“Ah, the invisible girl,” Nail continued scraping.
“Yeah,” Alf pouted, “She’s even got a nickname!”
“She probably had a bad life. Most criminals do.”
Alf shook his head. “She was my friend. From Greensville.”
Nail scratched his wiry hair, “Your point?”
Alf stood so suddenly that the bin he was sitting on rocked. “I’m so ordinary. I try so hard, where she doesn’t try at all, and I’m not great.”
“You mean famous,” Nail said.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s like some are born to be noticed and some are just side characters.”
“I don’t see what you’re stressing over. What does it matter?” Nail was met with silence and looked up. Alf’s shadow disappeared behind the warehouse door. Nail smiled and put his boots on. Unbeknownst to Alf, every newcomer was assigned a follower to keep the party healthy, and Nail wasn’t letting him out of his sight.
It took Alf five minutes to climb the tree. He had tore out the strip of newspaper where that little party of snotty kids called the Ring party had last been seen and tonight he planned to find them. He had to make it in the papers, he had to be front page. Celene had to see it. He put the slip between his teeth and faced upward to continue climbing. The branches rocked and creaked and Alf decided that one third of the way up was plenty high. The party came alive every night, that much was certain, but where they struck was another matter. Alf looked out over the streets until he found the only watch shop, their previous exploit. Expensive place, it was. Alf tripped down and jogged off down the dirt road. The place was glowing cheerily through the windows and Alf dared not to set foot through the doors. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced around a bit, pretending he was on patrol.
Alf suddenly thought about why a party would strike near the same place they struck last time, especially after it had failed bad enough to make front page. This kind of thought was not comfortable in his mind as he never had too many, but Alf felt a little surge of power. He had never thought through someone else’s logic. Maybe that’s what the rest of the party did and that’s why they were so confident and witty. He wondered if he should be embarrassed at his actions tonight but he decided against it as that also felt uncomfortable. At least he knew what to do next time and no one had seen him.
Nail stood in the bushes and watched Alf stand silently with his arm on his head. He wondered what he was thinking. When he finally left, Nail saw him slip a strip of newspaper in his pocket. “The invisible girl,” he whispered and chuckled a bit. Oh to be young.
Though Alf got back late, he was only met with a distracted nod from the night watch and a groan and a roll over from the sleeping. He felt strange and alone not to be instantly interrogated on where he had been. It was as if he could always sneak out and come back late and no one cared what he was doing or wanted to go with him. The next day, he did some reconnaissance on the Ring from amongst his fellow party members during the morning scout of the city, being sure to only ask about 9 questions per member so as to avoid suspicion.
It seemed to come together that the Ring had some members arrested most every attack, but then the convicts from last week would be released and they never lost numbers. Alf also learned where their evening meetup was and he wondered why he hadn’t asked about that before. Several said Hagen knew much about his rivals yet never fully exploited his resources. But again, no one could complain.
When night fell, Nail curled up in the corner and pulled his hood over his eyes. Alf pretended to sleep by curling up on the bin by the door in the same warehouse, but 20 minutes later he couldn’t stand it any longer and skipped out the door. Nail removed the hood, stretched and followed him. This time Nail had to step lively as Alf traveled with determination and purpose. He didn’t appear to have a map, so Nail wondered what landmarks he looked for as he weaved the alley ways and backtracked several times. Behind the bakery on 12th street, Alf came upon the abandoned school and wished he had brought a light. Nail could sense fear in his hesitating steps and he hoped the Ring gang wouldn’t find him. Though they were measelly and unorganized, they made their youngness clear and didn’t always take kindly to the outnumbered.
There wasn’t much left of the school yard. It showed evidence of one of the many attempts for kindly missionaries to civilize Gale, and yet nothing could survive long without a vision for maintenence. Alf jumped over the rusting metal in the grass and began to whistle softly. Nail wanted to slap him. Just behind the ruins of the main building, the grass was wet and Alf moved slower to avoid tripping. This gave him time to notice a huddle of people before he made any more noise. He dropped on his stomach. There they sat, tearing at the grass and re-fueling their lanterns. Oh, it felt good to be right.
“Where’s Celene?” Someone asked.
“I guess she’s not coming tonight.” Drawled a voice.
“We need her! How else is this supposed to work?”
“She never agreed to it, so she doesn’t have to do it.”
“Gah!” The first exclaimed, “If she wasn’t making us popular I would strangle her right now.”
“Remember the rule book, Rat.”
“I know the rule book better than anyone here!” Rat bit back. “We’ll have to change plans. How are sales?”
“We’ve had a dip in alcohol,” another spoke up, “Bread’s not too good either.”
“Well what are we supposed to sell then,” Rat sat back. “Medicine? Candy?”
“How about wood,” drawled the voice again.
“What?”
“Old lady who lives by the wall. She’s got her own forest.”
“I don’t steal from old people,” Rat said as if that made him an angel.
“They’re trees, Rat. Not important.”
Rat chewed on his shirt and tried to come up with another excuse.
“That’s such hard work,” someone finally admitted, “We’ll be there all night. My back hurts.”
“Mine too,” Rat mumbled.
“Mine also,” they all chimed in, “Yeah, mine hurts.”
“Come up with a better idea or we’re cutting trees tonight,” Rat commanded, hoping desperately they would. The boys sat in silent terror. Rat glared at the one who suggested it. “I suppose you have saws?”
“Our hatchets will do.” And another tense silence began.
“Very well.” Rat jumped up and chanted loudly. “If that’s what you all want!”
Alf chuckled and scampered after them on his hands and knees, Nail growled. The grass was cold and slimy with who knows what, and Nail was sure there was a squished slug on his hand. It took nearly half an hour to reach the edge of the city but after the junkyard and a couple old buildings, the landmarks faded out until there was only one homely little house framed by a display of big, green trees and behind that, the stone and cement wall separating all three cities that soared high into the night sky and curved slightly back until darkness overtook it.
Alf crouched breathlessly, absorbing the tenderness and confidence of real, living trees, how healthy they looked. Then his eyes caught the wall. As his gaze lifted, his expression changed altogether to absorb something so relentless and god-like. The sound of hacking brought him back to the moment and he almost shouted as a young tree trunk twisted and groaned toward the ground. In the side window of the house a small figure darkened the glow from the hearth inside, watching quietly. Alf was infuriated, he lept from the ground and chugged toward the boys like a bear, elbowing the closest unsuspected out of his way and then slammed the full force of his run into the tall fellow who had felled the tree. After a good swipe to his face, Alf was loaded down with a few who had jumped on top him, but with a roar he rose up and they slid off scampering.
“What are you doing?” Rat scowled holding a hatchet near his face, “You an idiot?”
Alf whacked the hatchet to the ground and with one look at Rat’s skinny form took a swing at his gut. Rat wasn’t in charge for being vulnerable, however. He ducked out of the way and karate chopped Alf across the bridge of his nose and irritated his eye. Rat grinned widely. Despite the brawn, one can not proceed when the eye protests. Alf dropped to his knees, his biggest mistake. The boys swarmed in to beat him with the handles of their hatchets while Rat massaged his hand and walked away.
“Hey!” Came a voice from the shadows and everyone froze.
“Nail?” A boy chirped.
Nail stepped into the light and brushed the worms off his pants. “Would you boys rather take this up with Hagen’s party? I can arrange a meeting.”
“This kid is from Hagen’s party?” Rat asked from a safe distance.
“Recruitment must have gone badly this year,” a younger one had the courage to say.
“Yes, a member of Hagen’s party,” Nail jibed, “So far.”
Rat chuckled. “And what stops us from beating you up as well, Nail? Drill bit?”
The boys oohed in unison. Nail folded his arms, “Your intellect.”
Rat didn’t know what that “intellect” meant but he laughed dryly. A comeback didn’t come to him. He called a muffled order and the mob moved away from Alf’s prostrate body. “Alf, get up,” Nail sighed and waited with the most intense wait Alf had ever seen, and it made his bruises burn even more.
“Don’t tell Hagen,” Alf moaned.
“Of course I’ll tell Hagen,” Nail said, “But he doesn’t care, if that’s what you’re worried about. As long as you don’t jeopardize anyone else, he doesn’t mind if you wanna get yourself beat up.”
“But I didn’t want to get beat up,” Alf grumbled.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“You followed me?”
Nail rolled his eyes. “It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”
Alf trudged behind Nail quietly back into town, waiting for him to remark on how he found the Ring party in the first place, and was slightly insulted that all that work didn’t impress anyone. How would he ever get in the paper? So what exactly went wrong? he thought. After learning to predict the other’s actions, it had never occurred to him to plan out his own. Back in Greensville he just chose something and went with it. Alf had a longer way to go to get to cool confidence than he thought.

***

Hagen pulled a raw potato out of the barrel and peeled it with his knife, “You’ve kept your eye on him, right?”
“As best I can, Hagen. He can be sporadic.”
“It’d be better for you to lose track of him then for him to find out you’re watching him. He’s a free spirit and he needs to be.”
“Funny, you’ve really taken to him.”
After an unsavory bite, Hagen began to carve shapes, “Yes, Ben I have. I trust Nail entirely, I just need to know more about his real self. He’s incredible at putting up a front. So much that I’ve got him distracted watching that new boy... Alf, right? Just to free you up, you know.”
Ben bit slowly into his potato, he didn’t want Hagen to know that raw potatoes made him want to vomit. “He saved Alf from that little party Celene hangs around. Alf’s not too bright.”
“Of course he’s not, but this is the healthiest thing that’s ever happened to him.” Hagen reassured him, “He’ll do fine.” They quieted as a soft footstep sounded around the corner, and breathed in relief. It wasn’t Nail.
“Hagen, you wanted to see me?” A fair haired boy timidly touched the door frame, willing to come again later at Hagen’s first word.
“Yes, sit right down. That’ll be all, Ben, thanks.” Hagen stood cheerily, “It’s about these damned potatoes…” he eyed Ben round the corner and waited until his footsteps faded.
The boy sputtered, “I’m sorry, Hagen, the prices were rough and this is all I could…”
“Shh…” Hagen put his finger on his mouth to silence him, “I don’t care about the potatoes. Tell me how Ben is doing. Have you been watching him like I said?”
“Yes, I have. And the strangest thing is, he seems to be following Nail around, secretly you know, who is also following that stupid fellow.”
Hagen picked the rest of the potato out of his back teeth, “Clever boy.”
The boy smiled as he realized what was going on. “Have… have you got someone watching me, sir?”
Hagen shrugged. “What does it matter, these potatoes are terrible.”
The boy waited expectantly to let Hagen know not to change the subject.
“No really, get some radishes or something, if Greensville can stand them they must be king’s food compared to these.”
“Very well, sir,” the boy stood and looked suspiciously suspiciously around him. Then locking his eyes on Hagen, he backed slowly out the door

***

Alf changed a lot in the following weeks, beginning to repair some long lost reputation by simply not saying anything at all. Never before had pain been such a teacher, and though he was slightly less content over all, it was a new and refreshing feeling to have purpose and a project, and he was happy. He waited for Nail to make him swear never to wander off again, but Nail went on as if nothing had happened. Alf wondered if he could get away with it again. If anything, his bruises were like a trophy. “Yikes, you really had a fight didn’t you?” They would say, and story time would begin. Hagen hadn’t said a word directly to him for some time now, and as Nail kept reporting every insignificant action, Alf boiled to know what they were thinking.
The Ring party had begun a tax campaign, and because of their ever-growing numbers it was successful enough to garner the attention of the newspaper. While it was the undercurrent of conversation at Hagen’s party and there was a murmur of devised plans and worrying, Alf himself went around whistling and skipping. Celene wasn’t front page, and that was good enough for him. It was like she had set forth her bait, and then waited silently, off in some dark and brooding patch of woods somewhere, daring him to do better. He could picture her inhuman, piercing eyes glowing through the leaves like a wolf, a predator.
Balsy. Maybe she never thought of him at all. Alf collapsed on his now favorite bin by the warehouse door. Maybe she really had a better time off than him, mysterious and bad and popular. Alf frowned. There was only one way to find out.
“I have to take a leak,” he announced one night as everyone wriggled amongst the storage to get comfortable. Nail rolled his eyes and turned, he had no intention of following him. Alf felt like a new being. Every inch of his body itched to get out there. Maybe all the sleep he had been losing gallivanting around had given his mind more hours to catch up on the lack of brain development, who knows. Alf trotted down the street and slid behind a building. He pulled out a sheet of paper, creased about every square inch and went over his drawings, or scribbles, more like. Not that he didn’t know his way around, the city was like a home to him, and he had tread every alley and every corner. On his map he had faint little squares blocking off the area into “districts,” as he called them, and he kept track by blessing each with a name of a food.
He took out his charcoal stick and stuck it between his teeth, “So monday it was the Banana district, then on and on to Smoked Rabbit…” he mused, checking his little marks. He had been following them every night without incident and they seemed to be demanding taxes in an orderly and predictable fashion. “That means they’ve done the first two sometime ago. Radish.” He jerked up, “They’re striking Radish tonight.” Hopfully he still had enough time before their usual departure, and he backed out into the lamp light alley to see where the moon was. He liked to pretend he could tell time from the moon’s position, but he could never figure it out. “Celene probably knows how,” he grumbled and ran to the next block.
The clock shop was the only building that cast a glow this late, as usual, and he pressed his face against the window, smudging the flawless glass. There were so many clocks on the wall, each one a shade of gold or brown and Alf couldn’t decide which one to read the time from. He chose the large ornate one up in the shadowy corner, which, or course, was the hardest of all to see.
Just as had he had counted the small hand a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Alf flailed backwards. The man jumped at the window with a broom. “Get away from my shop, you little worm!” He banged on the glass with each word and frantically tried to wipe the smudges off, but when he realized they were on the other side of the window with Alf, he threw the broom down and waved his hands in the air.
Alf’s mouth began to form many replies but he only tottered away with hesitant and nervous leaps, “Sheesh, you old man!” He finally screeched and disappeared down the street. Lucky for Alf, he had an hour and a half yet, and the radish district was not that far. He approached the first house slowly, suddenly discouraged about his people skills. He tapped on the door. The night was so still he could imagine everyone in the district hearing it. No one came. He knocked louder, “Um, excuse me?” his voice cracked. The window curtains rustled until an eye peered out of the corner. The door unlatched slowly and made its way open at an excruciatingly slow and loud speed. “A gun,” Alf greeted, eyes wide.
The woman raised a long and shiny gun from her side and cocked it, “That’s right, son.”
Alf realized she was awaiting a response, “Uh, you’re… you’re going to be robbed.”
“I can see that,” she said and begin to pull the door shut.
“No, not by me,” Alf tried to stick his foot in the door but she slammed it shut. “The ring gang is going to try and get taxes from…” he banged the door a bit as she twisted a latch and stomped away. “...From the whole area. You have to listen to me.” There was silence. “Sheesh.” His energy had plummeted as he pushed on to three more houses, same response, with a few variations on the weapon pointed at him. Alf trudged back to the first house and kicked it. The Ring party would be here in about an hour now, he didn’t have the patience to wait. He would have to cancel the newspaper crew he had alerted to the night of his heroic deed. They would come to anything desperate for a show.
Voices laughed down the street, echoing off the stone buildings. Alf dove into bushes by the front porch. A loud and angry voice silenced the laughter and a few restrained giggles followed. Rat silenced them again, but wasn’t very silent himself. He called out something nasty as the gang jumped up the steps of the house and hung on the railing. Alf crouched lower. Rat knocked a cute rhythm on the door. “Tax time!” he sang. Alf watched every expression on the woman’s face as she shakily dished out coins as Rat demanded them and he had just enough spite to do nothing about it. Rat frowned and fingered through his loot, “Ten, Eleven… Oh, you gave me too much. Here.” He handed back one coin and tenderly closed her hand around it. “Have a good night ma’am,” he said with a flourish and the group met in the yard to organize into teams and get more done. When they split and swarmed down the streets, Alf stood slowly from the bushes and brushed himself off. The woman stared at him from the doorway.
“You coward,” she said.
Alf jumped at her voice, “Hey, it’s not my fault! No one else will listen to me either.” He stepped over her little garden and stretched his arms. “Man, I hate Gale.”
“Son,” her voice was closer, “We’d better go tell them.”
“Who?”
“The rest of the town! What, are you ill?”
“Well… no… But why do you think they’d listen to you any more than me?”
Her nose crinkled up, “I’m not a scrubby boy.”
“Oh.”
Alf trotted ahead and they skirted the town together by some side roads. They soon passed up the Ring gang but kept on going to catch the houses who still had time. Alf slowed down to jog beside her, “So, why haven’t you guys set up like… a chain system of sorts where when one person gets robbed they can ring a bell, or something, and then the houses who hear ring their bells and it gets passed down so everyone knows?”
“Well it’d be hard when this is the first time they’ve ever collected taxes, I’d say.” She replied and Alf was discouraged from asking more questions. “Plus these people are stubborn wood heads.” She said in a softer tone, “They wouldn’t work together even if their underwear was on fire.” They alerted the houses quickly, and Alf would sulk quietly in the back while the lady would simply state her concern and the people would nod, gather their stealable valuables and leave. In the same amount of time it took the gang to collect taxes, the two would alert the houses and the inhabitants would dart across the yard and into the bushes. By the time the Ring collectors got to the second half of the village, it was a ghost town and they didn’t know what had hit them. Several suggested a supernatural element while the younger ones agreed it had been a mass genocide.
Something caught their eye and they all ran over to interrogate whoever was stupid enough to be passing by. It was the woman. She let them wait to hear what she had to say. “Half the town is sitting here ready to spring on you, I suggest you skidaddle and never bother us again.”
“I don’t see half a town,” Rat mused, “I think they’re scared. Are you scared?”
The woman shrugged, “That depends.”
“What if we were to burn all these houses down? Would that scare half a town?”
“You don’t have any lighter fluid.” The woman pointed out dryly.
Rat scowled and pretended not to agree. “What gives! You’re wasting our time.” He pulled out a knife. The woman clenched her jaw and looked pleadingly at where everyone hid.
“C’mon, half a town?” Alf popped above the bushes, “That’s a freakin’ lot of people. Don’t be wusses, guys, c’mon, go save your neighbor.” Silence. Alf sauntered down the edge of the yard, bending slightly to see where the people were hiding, then he would kick them firmly. One by one he provoked them out of the bushes and the rest heard the commotion and came out unsuspecting.
Rat quickly looked back and forth to either side and saw a small army of people trailing along yard. He was also the first to see the newspaper crew who had stopped at a safe distance and were clutching their cameras like weapons. Then he saw what no one was expecting, and that was a considerable portion of Hagen’s crew rushing in and stopping dead in the big stare down. They were all looking at him. He slid his knife back in his pocket. “What gives,” He said with considerably less enthusiasm and mumbled something else about time. “Let’s go,” he told his party and they walked simply away, no laughter, no pushing, no jogging. Cameras flashed.
Alf debated whether to run up and greet Hagen and his men or flee and never come back. “Alf!” Nail called and he jogged over. “What the blazes is going on?”
Camera men surrounded them, flashing pictures at each interaction, each twitch of the face. Alf couldn’t submerge a grin. “Well I was following the Ring gang around and..”
“Okay, already a bad story. Go on.”
“And they were about to rob the radish section and I met this woman who didn’t listen until she got robbed and then she helped me tell everyone else and they went and hid together but before the Ring party left the woman got out and challenged them and then I kicked everyone out and we scared them away!”
“Radishes?” Nail held held his palms up.
Alf had turned to talk to a news reporter. “Got all the pictures you need?” He asked earnestly. The reporter nodded persuasively and Alf fidgeted. “Just so you know I was the guy who… oh okay.” The reported had jumped to his next appointment over by the frowning woman who stood like a stone fortress against the hurl of questions. Alf looked back and was surprised by Nail’s edgy face. “What? I did something good!”
“You should’ve known we would hear the racket and come rushing in, you should’ve told us not come.”
“I thought you didn’t care where I went.”
“Not until it’s important.”
Alf frowned. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a waste of time,” Nail offered, but Alf wasn’t buying it. “Okay It’s bad for our reputation.” He nodded subtly at a camera and let a curse fly when it flashed him in the face.
The group erected when Hagens voice sent a string of commands and Alf, in his scatterbrained state missed them all. The party went rushing after the Ring, probably to give them a piece of their mind and Alf chugged his way toward the front, not because he cared so much about the justice but he felt he should get more attention for his contribution.
The party was considerably taller than the young boys of the Ring and they caught up with ease. “Nail, count them,” Hagen said behind his shoulder and Nail nodded. The deflated party knew when they had lost and they came to a hesitant halt in a dirt trodden yard stretching in front of some makeshift huts.
“Hagen,” Rat sang out in a slow dip and extended his lanky hand.
Hagen scrutinized him from his bare feet to his shoulder length hair and said nothing.
“You’ve stepped down a bit, don’t you think?” Rat chewed on his shirt, “You must of thought the chancellor of Moncho was in town, I couldn’t figure out why you showed up tonight.”
Hagen lulled his head to the other side, “There were 24 of you, now there are 23. Get me the other.”
Rat stepped back defensively and looked around him, “23 is all the boys I brought, Hagen, what’s your problem?”
Ben stepped up softly behind Hagen, “He’s telling the truth.”
Nail uncrossed his arms, “They came with 23, a 24th arrived while you were running and now he’s gone.”
“Where did he go?” Hagen frowned.
“He didn’t know about that,” Ben said just as Rat said so.
“Oh!” Rat clapped his hands, “I get it. She wouldn’t come with us but she met us on the way back. Now she outran you. Heh! That’s good.”
“Who?” Hagen’s voice dropped.
“Celene, Doof.” Rat laughed nervously, “She comes and goes when she wants and you can’t catch her.”
Hagen sighed. “She’s in the woods.” He ordered one of his men to go find her. “Ben you go too. Leave your weapons and don’t force her to come back.”
“Then why would she come?” Rat asked.
“She will,” Ben affirmed and Hagen was proud to have him by his side. Meanwhile, the men searched the Ring and took anything relatively sharp. The Ring boys pretended to give up their loot willingly to save face but afterwards they clumped together and consoled one another with terrible language.
“Rat, I’m turning you in.” Hagen mentioned.
“What?” He dropped his arms and Hagen dared him to make him repeat it all in one look. “Whatever you want, fancy man. You know they’ll just let me out again.”
“Either way it wouldn’t solve your problem, would it?” Hagen asked him without any scorn. Rat was about to rebut when Celene arrived sided by Ben and the other. Her hair was a long mess and hid most of her eyes and she looked thin and ragged, but ever so alive. Her face was placid and hard and even thick-headed Alf could tell she liked it. Hagen ordered Rat and a few others away to the lock house with two of his strongest and one of his fastest and the rest ran and disappeared until there was only the sound of crickets.
“Hello,” Celene said quietly.
“I don’t need to lecture you on the very, very poor choice of party, I’m sure.” Hagen said.
“There wasn’t much of a choice, was there?” she replied again calmly.
Ben pointed out, “She joined it just to spite you, she knew you wouldn’t like it,” and Celene hated him and his talent.
“Did you?” Hagen was surprised.
Celene eyed him with those cold, glinting eyes.
“Yep.” Ben said.
Hagen launched into a delicate discourse about honor versus privilege, but Ben wasn’t sure that Celene was listening. Alf watched all of this as close to Hagen’s elbow as he had the guts to muster and his ego writhed. The news crew had long gone, but Alf’s mind went with them, running through every possible scenario of the review of tonight’s happenings.
Hagen paused to collect his thoughts. “Celene, there’s a war coming. The countries of Moncho and Crete won’t unite with us, and they still want the wall that divides us all. We develop separately. We’re a perfect target for the Zons from the North Sea, a perfect target for very understandable revenge. Our history was not kind to them, and they don’t forget.”
Celene wondered why he was sharing this, she didn’t care. Die soon, die later, the first only slightly more convenient.
Hagen searched her face for understanding and found none. “You’re a Zons.” He said. Celene’s hand reached up instinctively but she forced it down. “Yes, your ears,” Hagen stepped forward, “That’s how I knew. That and your funny, funny mannerisms.” Celene held his arm at bay as he swiped her hair to one side to get a better look at the delicate pear shaped ear. But his expression turned. “What happened there?” The top corner of her ear seemed to be missing, and a strange scar ended it with a chopped look. “Were you born with that?”
“I did it,” she pulled his hand away, “I was young.”
Celene the self conscious, Hagen stroked his chin, that was a first. “You’re in danger, unfortunately. The Zons will come a few months from now, I’m guessing, and, well,  you’ll be going back with them.” Celene blinked. “They won’t let anyone of their out of their country, for some unknown reason, and they’ll most definitely find you in Greensville. I’ve arranged for you to stay with two friends of mine, a young couple, they used to be diplomats from Moncho and Crete but they will elope in Gale so as to avoid the government. They have connections and can fly you out at any instant.”
“Fly?” Celene looked doubtful.
“Yes, something they do in Moncho.”
Alf giggled and Hagen gave him a distracted side glance.
“Will you stay with them?” Hagen asked.
“That wasn’t much of a persuasion.”
“Look,” his voice raised unexpectedly and he breathed deeply, “I don’t have time to give you more time. You go, or you risk it, I’m not going to father you into a decision.”
“I’ll risk it.” She answered.
Hagen responded by pulling a scrap of paper out of his jacket and scribbling on it with a stick of charcoal. “Their address.” He handed it to her and she waited a second before she took it. “Can you read?”
“No, but I know my numbers.”
“That’s good enough. It’s a ways from here, so you probably couldn’t make it without help anyways.”
“Is that all?” Celene asked with a slight dip in tone for stale interest.
Hagen’s eyes hardened. “Right. One more thing. We were in the middle of disarming the entire Ring gang. Standard protocol.” Celene for once looked exasperated as if Hagen should know that she was above this. “But since I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you do it yourself.” He extended his hand. Celene’s eyes never left his as she pulled a small knife out of her belt and placed it in his hand. “And the others.”
“I have no others.”
Ben and the other tightened their position like a wall and a few fanned out to block her exit. “Come on,” she sighed and pulled a knife out of both boots. They clanked as Hagen threw them in a pile by his feet.
“One more,” Hagen fought a smile. Celene pulled one out of the inside of her jacket. “There,” Hagen said, “Someone’s a little paranoid.”
Celene felt fire on her skin. That collection had taken her years. Alf noticed one of his old knives among her pile and exclaimed. He thought he had merely lost it. Celene grinned and Alf knew it was meant for him. “Wait,” Ben’s voice sounded, “One more yet.” Celene cursed suddenly and Hagen jerked in surprise at her outburst. Celene dead gaze stared at a fixed point for a time before she slid a long dagger out of her pant leg.
Hagen looked up at Ben in amusement. “No more,” Ben said.
Hagen couldn’t help from laughing. “Go on,” he said when he was done, “Go get yourself some more, I know you will.” The wall his party had made relaxed and Celene adjusted her jacket in dignity and slowly sauntered away and into the woods.
Alf felt a little better that night. He hadn’t made a complete fool of himself for once and Celene had been put in her place. He rose early that morning and paced outside the news house. He had brought a few snacks along and he didn’t mind waiting till early afternoon when it usually let out. Back at the warehouse, Nail was trying to remember whether Alf had been at the morning city run when Alf jumped through the door. “I made it!” He shouted, and held a newspaper up, facing every direction to be sure all three people in the room saw it. “I made it! I’m in the paper!”
“Where?” A boy asked, squinting.
“Here,” Alf skipped over to him and pointed out his patch of yellow hair amongst the crowd, the only thing not swallowed by the darkness. The boy looked at him strange and turned away.
“What’s the title?” Nail asked and Alf jumped on his interest and showed it to him. He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t read. Having gotten little schooling himself, Nail rubbed his eyes to read aloud, “Boy Humiliates Hagen’s Party, Leading Them Out To Scare Away Little Children Party Called The Ring.” Nail looked for shame in Alf’s face and found none. “Congratulations,” he said doubtfully and continued sharpening a dart. Alf beamed. “And I bet you are front page with that winning picture.”
“Second page,” Alf corrected.
“What’s on the front?”
Alf looked confused, he had forgotten to look in all his excitement. He flipped the paper over and groaned. “God! No!” The three crowded around to see what it was. “Aw!” He dropped the paper like he would a spider and stroked his forehead, pacing the room.
Nail took one glance and grinned. Celene’s clouded and defiant face was blown to powerful proportions under the title, “The Invisible Girl Evades Fastest in Hagen’s Party. Where Is She Now?”

Chapter Three
Will and Teagan sat on the couch of their new home and stared at where their TV would have been if they hadn’t chosen to live in Gale. Silently, they stirred their steamy noodles and munched crackers and listened to the rain. “There’s nothing to do,” Will said, not as a complaint but as a marvel.
“And I can slurp noodles without it being on the tabloids,” Teagan added and Will responded with a long and juicy slurp. There was a knock at the door. “They’ve found us,” Teagan stood, spilling broth, “Get the gun.” Will disappeared into the kitchen. Teagan gripped her chopsticks behind her back and cracked the door open.
“No gun, please,” Celene said deadpan, Teagan processed this silently as she wasn’t expecting any humor. “Believe me,” she continued. “I’m unarmed.”
“You’re the invisible girl,” Teagan faltered, “How long have you been standing here?” Celene didn’t want to say. “God, our walls are thin. Will, come on out, it’s the invisible girl.”
“Who’s the invisible girl?” Celene asked.
Teagan smiled in a way Celene didn’t like. “You don’t read the papers?”
Celene wanted to say she didn’t have enough money to buy the papers but she only said, “No.” Teagan kept smiling at her. “Me?”
Teagan looked at her husband with an adoring look, then she stopped. “Oh, God, Celene, you’re soaking wet, come inside. What were you doing out in the rain?”
“Besides coming to your house?”
Will took over, “You’re safe here, Celene, make yourself at home.”
“I’m not worried about safety,” she said, “Hagen took all my stuff and I’m hungry.”
“Hungry?” Teagan suddenly remembered the new broth stain on the floor.
“Welcome to Gale.” Celene said in a very unwelcoming tone and Will looked at Teagan. Suddenly they remembered how formal dinners worked and they pulled out the table from the wall and got an extra bowl. Celene didn’t say a word the entire time when finally Teagan made an attempt to break the silence, “So, why did Hagen take your... stuff?” Celene opened her mouth to say that it was because Hagen was a jerk but she thought that might jeopardize her chance at future meals and took another large mouth full. She scoffed at herself, how primitive had she become?
That next afternoon she had to get out of the house. She could have sworn that she had never been indoors that long in her life, and the walls laughed at her. Will offered her enough money to bribe herself out of any scandal but she refused and snuck a meat knife from the kitchen instead. This area of Gale was a little better off, existing closer to the wall holding back the goodness of Crete. Celene strolled through the marketplace right in the aisles where she brushed shoulders with everyone. She had never seen this much organization before and the food brimming over the lines of buckets were so colorful that she stole a few even though she had all she wanted back at Will and Teagan’s.
Soon the swarming and constant din grated on her nerves. She found a barrel and perched upon it, munching on fruit she had never seen before and watched the crying children and other dirty little beggars with interest. Someone was staring at her. She noticed it subconsciously first and then she couldn’t think of anything else. It was a girl, younger than Celene, 12, perhaps. She also had sleek black hair down to her shoulderblades and the same delicate features. It was like they were siblings. Celene stared back at her with the same unblinking gaze and finally, the girl came over.
“Hi,” she said. Celene just stared at her and continued to munch. The girl knew this game also, and stared back. Neither seemed uncomfortable in the least bit, and finally Celene looked away. No one had stayed calm under that before. “What’s your name?” The girl asked, her voice high but pleasant.
“Why?” Celene asked. It seemed like a primitive and manipulative way to start a conversation.
“You look like me and I want to be friends.” She replied.
Celene eyed her with fresh interest. Is this the Zons Hagen was rambling about? “Celene,” she said.
“Did you steal those grapes?” She asked, eyes wide.
Celene nodded.
“I love grapes.” Here eyes were even wider.
Celene ignored the cue. “They’re rubbish.”
“Do you want to trade?” The girl continued, “I have some crackers.” Celene stopped chewing and exchanged the grapes. The new package now bulged out of her pocket and she felt richer than she ever had. The girl climbed up on a barrel beside her and they sat in mutual silence, watching people together. An hour or so later, they were much fonder of one another than they had been. They exchanged goodbyes and went their separate ways.
The next afternoon Celene went out to the market again. She wasn’t sure if she was looking for the girl, but there wasn’t anything else to do. She didn’t like this whole “safe” business Teagan was so obsessed over. it was so boring. No one made you do anything back in Greensville, you looked out for yourself. The girl was balancing on the same barrel waiting for her, and Celene fought the crowd to come sit beside her. The dust was heavy that day and her throat burned. “Water?” she asked. The girl shrugged. The market had thinned out because of the heat and it had been impossible to snatch anything to trade for crackers either. Of course, she could have brought something from the house to exchange, but that wouldn’t have been fair. The girl could tell in one glance. “Crackers?”
Celene shrugged and offered her the meat knife, handle first. The girl touched it gingerly and smiled. As she curled her small fingers around it, she twisted it at just the wrong angle and slid it off too fast. A thin line of blood beaded on Celene’s hand and she recoiled to nurse it.
“Here, let me see,” the girl offered, but Celene wouldn’t let her touch it. The girl snatched her hand out and yanked it out with surprising aggressiveness. Instead of cleaning the wound, she pulled out a little clear box with a small, blank screen and touched the paper part to her blood. Then, not seeming to care about Celene’s pain after all, she turned to study the screen and Celene craned to see over her shoulder. The screen flashed a word in red. Celene couldn’t read, but it looked like an error. The girl tucked it away in her coat. “You said you were thirsty?” She said.
“What did you just do?”
“Nothing. And are you thirsty or not?”
“I have nothing else to trade,” Celene said.
She shrugged. “The people from Crete come through the gate sometimes and they have water, but I can never snatch any off. I’ll show you where it is and you get us both some.”
“Deal,” Celene said. Oh what fun, a new thief buddy. They slid off their buckets and threaded through the streets. The girl had traversed these lands before, it was obvious by her quick and specific route. Celene absorbed her choices silently, well aware of the importance of terrain knowledge and very definitely planning to come here again. Another while of silence later, the buildings opened up into a small square and behind the speckles of people the bars of a gate leaned open against the large wall lining the city. Those few who came in were not questioned in the least bit but the droves heading out had several checkpoints to pass and only a small percentage did not return disheartened.
Celene snuck a bottle here and a canteen there, but her interest would not leave the gate. It seemed as if the sky extended below the horizon to the left of crete, as if earth suddenly ended. “It’s the sea,” the girl said. Celene wouldn’t admit she didn’t know what that was.
“It’s beautiful,” Celene admitted then nervously looked at the girl. She hadn’t meant to appear so sensitive. The girl smiled and Celene let the awe return to her face. Before she knew it, she drew in closer and closer, her sight filled with sparkling blue, so pure and unclouded. She touched the edge of the gate and her heart burned like never before with a taste of the new. “I want to go there,” she whispered, “I want to leave.”
“You will.” The girl said. Her voice was almost unrecognizable, it was dry and forced and Celene snapped out of her reverie. Her muscles hardened like ice. Three men and a woman had encircled her from behind. All had sleek black hair. All had delicate features and pear shaped ears. Celene’s breath escaped her and she ran. The four pursued her into a more remote area when Celene realized her mistake. A call was made and a rendezvous group appeared in front, so that she stood frozen, feet spread and tense. She looked frantically from either side and though they didn’t look malicious, she knew what they were about.
Celene racked her mind for any persuasive words Alf had perfected before but all she had learned to do was stand there and stare. “Ya blood betrays you. You’re a Zons,” A large man spoke in a thick and strange accent, “What are you t’oing here?” The girl’s mouth opened but she only breathed hoarsely and continued to distance herself from those that advanced. He reached for her arm but Celene whacked it away. “No or’ters were sent ta be in Gale except my group here. You’re a deserter, you broke ta oath.”
No one in Greensville had ever challenged her so seriously. The woman’s clasped her hands calmly in front of her and Celene whirled to face her when she spoke. “What do you say for yourself? Did you not think we would find you?”
“I don’t know,” Celene answered quietly, she had never heard her voice waver so. “I don’t know you guys, I’ve never seen you.”
“You don’t think we have jurisdiction?” The woman pulled out a small gun and pointed it at her face. “Maybe this will clarify.”

***

Hagen tapped his fingers on the table to a tune he had heard in Crete. It was light and intricate, and made him feel more refined than he could ever feel with his work in Gale. He wondered if he should retire from being a party leader and instead take up the flute. Maybe he would be happier.
Will and his wife entered the tavern and Hagen immediately noticed that they looked considerably older in the face and gait, but their eyes were ever so much refreshed. Teagan still had a new color of bioframe, it helped to ease the cost of their run-away. They kept one foot in their countries, though Hagen could not comprehend this working. It was hard to maintain their jobs at diplomats but they seemed to be managing well. They sat across from him and ordered a light salad with fried salmon. It was as if everyone was secure enough not to have to greet, as they all knew what they were about and serious matters were at hand. As they waited their gazes met and they considered how to begin. Teagan had not lost the dignity of a diplomat, “Crete has agreed to station troops by the North Sea if Moncho and Gale agree to do the same.”
“And Gale?” Hagen repeated doubtfully. “You can’t expect me to summon an army, Gale does not work under one system of authority. I had to assume Crete and Moncho had the responsibility to set up the front as they are well equipped.”
Teagan did not quell, “Crete’s decision stands.”
“If you will only equip my men we might send some to be stationed alongside yours.” Hagen offered.
“Under no circumstance will the council allow unlicensed immigrants from Gale over the limit. We only ask for official soldiers.”
Hagen dropped his hands on the table, “I guess it’s to hell we go, then. Moncho?”
Will swallowed. “I, as a man, would offer the funds in a second. It’s not that I don’t want to help you guys, but Moncho, well, we believe we are at a very, very, delicate economic balance. With the stocks the way they are, we rely on the people’s support. In fact, any nudge to sway sympathies could send us flying in the wrong direction. Moncho has much more to look after than any country, it’s harder than you think.”
Hagen’s face was set in a stern and distant thought, “If only the council would allow me in to state my claim.”
“I’m sorry,” Teagan said, and the mood softened.
“Most countries work together,” Will noted in a pitiful tone.
“I can’t summon an army out of all of Gale,” Hagen replied.
“Crete can’t accept any more immigrants,” Teagan added and sighed. “Hagen, the Zons are as quiet as ever, their population has dwindled considerably. Judging by statistics they will be obsolete.”
“Something’s up.” Hagen muttered.
“Or they’re just dying.”
“They’re going somewhere. Where are they going? No one’s closer to them than we are. Where would they start to launch an attack?” Teagan and Will waited patiently for him to be done. “Anyways” Hagen exhaled, “I couldn’t get that girl to stay with you, she’s a little thicker than I thought.”
“What do you mean?” Teagan said, “She came!”
“How did she get there? Was anyone with her?” Hagen asked and they shook their heads. “Oh…” he said with realization and slid his hand down his face. “That little worm, she walked… all the way there… how did she find you? Why is she so unpredictable?” Hagen regained himself and took a swig of ale. The burn went down to his stomach and his tone was more relaxed. “How is she?”
“Fine, or was fine, really.” Will stuttered and Hagen looked up quickly. “She stayed for a few days, hung out a lot at the market, then one day she left.”
“Left?” Hagen said, “Or was taken?”
Teagan exhaled audibly, “Of course we didn’t see, but she couldn’t have been taken.”
“Why not?” Hagen’s voice was dark and Teagan was annoyed. “Why did she come to your house?”
“For food, she said.” Will answered.
“And she got food?”
“Of course,” Teagan frowned.
“Was she discontented at all? Or was there tension between you?”
Will smiled an amused smiled, “Nope, basically the same dynamic from day one. Quiet and creepy,” he looked for a laugh from Teagan but she gave no gratification.
Hagen stroked his stubble, “So it couldn’t have been discontent. Judging that she didn’t come back to our area of Gale, or Greensville, she must have been taken. Taken by the Zons. The Zons must have been in Gale.” He straightened, “Holy Jupiter, the Zons were in Gale!” The bartender came with their food but Hagen paid him no mind, “That’s where they went, Teagan, statistically. They’re in Gale. Which means they came through Crete first. What stops them from being in Moncho also? It’s an internal invasion. Good Lord,” Hagen straddled his head between his arms.
Will and Teagan quietly enjoyed their fish. Thankfully social convention would allow them to leave soon. “Hagen,” Teagan’s smooth voice sounded, “No one enters Crete without checkup.”
“Have you had a surge in checkup?” Hagen asked through the muffling of his arms.
Teagan was afraid to admit it. “A surge of simple farmers, looking only for agricultural gain or those qualified in energy conservation.”
“And did you not find it strange that a considerable percentage met your criteria?” His muffled and monotone questioning continued.
“We found it advantageous.”
“And what of you, oh Will of Moncho,” Hagen lifted his head, “Your checkup immigration?”
“Um, same as ever,” Will said and fidgeted.
“And your population.”
Will froze. “Booming.” Teagan gave him a look, tired of leading Hagen on.
“There we go. Legally in Crete, and illegally in Moncho where anyone can be lost in the crowd.”
“I’m sorry, Hagen,” Teagans voice was sympathetic, more at his apparent distress than any potential threat.
“Sorry. Sorry doesn’t fit you well.” Hagen eyed her, “You’re a fighter, you’re a leader, not a romantic to be hiding away in Gale.”
Silence. Hagen wished to retract his words. Will and Teagan rose with incredible calmness, paid a tip to the waiter and left. Hagen watched them disappear in the crowd out the grimy, rain streaked window and ordered another beer. Then another. Evening fell and Hagen’s heavy head rested helplessly on the table, his turmoiled mind muted only by a drunken stupor.

***

Celene’s eyes opened to the deep blue sky, grass against her back. The last thing she could remember was staring down the black hole of a gun barrel. She had never seen a gun before, but if she was waking up right now she was pretty sure they hadn’t used it. She also began to get the hunch that this was the same place she had conked out. What kind of kidnapping was this? She could think of tens, no, hundreds of ways this could have been done better. She sat up and rubbed her neck, her skin was tender and blood surged through her head. A figure approached and leaned down but the light hurt her eyes and she could only hear murmuring. They seemed surprisingly kind after having threatened her and all. Celene finally cleared her throat and looked up, “What?”
“T’ere you are,” the man said, “Sorry about t’at.”
Celene waited patiently for him to continue but he didn’t. “Sorry for what?” She dared.
“Slight misunderstanding. You’ff never been to Zons, ‘ave you?”
Celene could tell it was a loaded question, and by the man’s eyes she could tell it would be more advantageous to tell the truth. “No.”
“T’ere we ‘ave it, if you’re not a liar. If you were born ‘ere, you ‘ave no idea what the oath is or anyt’ing. We almost killed you.” He laughed but his eyes suddenly narrowed, “You’re not lying, are you?”
“You’re not one to encourage honesty, but no, I don’t lie.”
“Not about other t’ings, no, but ya do about yourself.”
“No I don’t.”
“And t’at makes lie number two.”
Celene glared at him.
“W’at? Ya lied to our little missy here, leadin’ her on about hanging out toget’er when all ye wanted were crackers. Ooh, don’t look at me t’at way, I was t’ere.”
“You claims are bigger than your brain, I’m afraid.” Celene said. “And how does that scale against my apparent betrayal?”
“In our eyes, you ‘ad broken the Zons swear, so in that knowledge we ‘ad every right to get you however we could.”
“Nonsense. Where is she?”
“Why? You wanna kill her?”
Celene frowned, “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
The man and his company began to gather their packs, enough for a journey across the country, or more. “You should probably come with us anyways.”
“I’m guessing that’s not a suggestion?”
The man secured his luggage on his back with a strap across his chest. “If we’da wanted to force you to come, you would’ve been t’ere by now.”
Such power. Such restraint. Celene felt right at home. “And what of the war?”
“War...” the man repeated, as if he was remembering. “No, no war. We ‘ad some long ago hostilities, maybe, but we came and everyone’s so lazy and unobtrusive. We don’t ‘ave time for war anyways.”
Celene stood cautiously, “Pity, I thought the inside invasion was excellent set up for an attack.”
“Really?” the man paused. “You got some ‘hatred for your own country now?”
Celene shook her head, “I don’t side with anyone, not even myself. If it’s intelligent or actually surprising, I don’t mind.”
“You wouldn’t ‘ave minded us, say, blowin’ ya up?”
Celene did not look up from the ground, “I don’t understand the strange fascination with staying alive.”
The man looked around at his company and they smiled into their bags. “I wasn’t lying when I said we don’t have time for war,” he spoke softly. “But I said not’ing about no time for an attack.” He said no more, and Celene asked no more, but she followed them back to the gate. The man didn’t expect her to leave and she didn’t either. Celene knew very well that leaving so soon would be considered idiotic, but she didn’t see how the downsides meant so much. Friends were nothing, love was nothing. Food would be nice, but she could manage. Maybe she would be sold as a kitchen maid, but then again, there’s something to work out of. Any new challenge was always accepted. When they got to the checkup booth the woman turned, “Don’t tell me yer cold ‘earted enough to come after the events of today?” They both grinned.
“I don’t have to tell you.”
“Homeward, t’en,” said the man, ordering another ticket, “My name is Azim, this lady ‘ere is Avery. I believe you’ll feel right at ‘ome.” The guard stopped him and babbled something while pointing at Celene, but Azim shoved a few coins into his hands and he pushed a button on his wrist device.
Celene had certainly never been on water before, but she didn’t understand the seasickness of the other passengers. The ship had two decks and was made of a plastic like metal. The scrapped and molding frame had one been nice before, but in it’s last years had been generously donated to use by the poorer budgets. The Zons crowd often found one another sitting quietly on deck, gazing out at the sea, and though no conversation started. Celene began to feel the mutual security of similar minds. No one greeted each other, and no lies were told. Joking was reserved for stressful occasions and only then it was dry and had a little sting. She could feel the energy level remain constant between them, unlike the fickle and unrecognized chaos of just about everyone she knew. They shared the same longing for un-sentience and ritual existence as they envied the mist fading the lines between pale sky and deep, soft water. As the days passed, she eyed the constant babble of the fair haired passengers about weather or relationships with disgust and more and more began to feel a gap between her and the world.
. This was it. She was forever a Zons, and this was where she was meant to be. As the sky grew darker and the seas unrestful, Celene longed even more to be near the waves and to taste the salt, but the passengers were forced inside quarters. Every now and then Celene would sneak out onto the rigging and perch dangerously amongst the ropes, breathing the storm through her lungs and rocking to and fro with the creak of the ship. The other hours were not so kindly to the spirit, however, and many hours she spent staring out the warped round ship window. She would pull and pry at the bolts holding the window in, but soon understood the security as the ship would tilt so that the water would engulfed the view for several bubbling seconds and then emerged with sputtering froth for one breath to look at the brilliant sky, then plunged under again into darkness.
Azim offered to teach her to read better, and he patiently took her through the history books of their people. Celene read story after story, more intricate than any fairy tale and darker than the stiff paint of story tellers. Her thoughts developed and she began to understand the world from more than one angle. Though she wouldn’t show anything past her dark and sullen exterior, she thrived off of every layer of history, every peel deeper into human nature and power.
Nearer to the end of the trip, Azim and the woman, Avery, spent more and more time in secret discussion. “Avery,” he asked one night, “Do you t’ink she’ll take the oath?”
Avery was a stocky woman, though not fat, and she breathed heavily, “She’s too much like us. She’s growing independent, we should have got to her when she was young.”
“You’re makin’ it sound like it woul’t be wrong of us, wishin’ to do it while she’s too young, ta know.”
“It’s manipulative, but the greater worth justifies us.”
“Well, I can’t t’ink of any other way. But I’m a different man when I’m on Zons soil, I wouldn’t take kindly if she wouldn’t swear on it. Ya only met me when we were assigned ta’gether. She, nor you, wouldn’t recognize me as the face ya see now.”
Avery suddenly questioned her knowledge of Azim and adjusted her position to a more confident one.
“Here I go, ‘arping over ‘er on how she isn’t who she says she is and how not ta lie about yourself, but I myself might just be lying. I’m not who ya think I am, Avery. Ya see, you are a nice woman. With me, I just can be a nice man.”
“Nice isn’t everything,” Avery’s rich voice was meant to soothe, but they both knew what Azim really meant.
“Quality is t’e better word.” Azim’s shoulders hunched and he pressed his mouth shut.
The woman scooted her chair closer to the table and eyed the small room before she spoke. “You were a little rash to be telling her a national secret. She could be a spy, ya know.”
“She’s not a spy. She’s a girl. An ordinary girl, except for t’e Zons part, and t’at she is all the way. No need to question me, Avery, human nature is a game I play well.”
Avery shifted as if her seat was suddenly uncomfortable.
“It’s an illusion, I be honest about t’e dangers and she assumes I’m honest with t’e minor t’ings. I told you I’m not a quality man. If I knew an entirely honest way to get her back I would do it, but I got ta do what I can. It’s a game to you too, I know it. It’s a game ta her ‘xcept she doesn’t try.”
Avery looked to the door suddenly, and Azim wondered if she had heard a tap. She launched off her chair and turned the latch slowly. Celene looked up at her face and then glanced over Avery’s broad shoulder at Azim.
“I’ll come another time,” Celene said, putting her hands behind her back.
“How long have ya been standing here?” Avery scowled.
“I haven’t.”
“I said how long have ya been standing here?”
“I haven’t!”
“Celene, how long have ya been standing here?”
“I haven’t been standing here.” Celene dared her silently to ask again.
Avery nodded, “Very well. I’ll be out in a while.”
Celene in fact hadn’t been standing there, and only now was she curious as to their conversation. Avery sat down as Azim began to speak again but she silenced him and went to the door again. “You’d best be leaving, Celene, some matters belong with us.” She listened as Celene’s footsteps faded and nodded to Azim. “Did ya see what she had with her?” She asked.
Azim folded his hands, “I don’t see well.”
“She had a bottle of fruit juice. Yesterday it was a pastry.”
Azim’s deeply lined face contorted, “She’s bribing you? Or maybe she’s building a relationship. Yes, t’at is it.” The woman looked disgusted, and Azim continued, “It’s t’e history I’ve been teaching ‘er, the lack of relationships and friends leadin’ to future desolation. She’s trying ta win friends like you do a puzzle. Ooh, she’s funny. What do ya like, Avery?”
“What?”
“What gifts do ya like?”
“I don’t know,” Avery said carefully.
“Then Celene’s gettin’ it wrong with t’a gifts. She’s tryin’ ta win you over like countries win allies. It’s a diplomatic move, not a friendly one. Maybe you should be lettin’ her know how ta build trust. I’m not ta one ta be doing t’at.”
“But when we land in Gale, how will we tell Celene that…”
Celene removed her ear from the slit in the ceiling above. A footstep had sounded in the hall and she pushed herself up, terrified of being caught in a stranger’s room. She dove into the closet behind some neatly hung dresses and her blood boiled as she immediately recapped the conversation. She wondered how anyone start something new without always being analyzed. It wasn’t worth it. Not while there was a jury.
Azim and Avery were the slightest bit suspicious when she didn’t arrive to supper that evening. But just so she either turned soon or wound up dead, they weren’t going to worry. Celene finally find her chance while the lady passenger was sleeping to remove her shoes and steal out. Being cramped up in a dark corner for an hour was a small price to pay for a look into Azim and Avery and she was a bit disappointed. Of course, there was that killer transition to the rest of their conversation at which she was so rudely interrupted. Maybe there would be a brilliant plot twist after all.
The next day Celene sat on a shelf beside some tall sacks of sand, right at the door down to the kitchen, the intersection of most activity. Celene had found this the best way to keep track of the going ons. An elegant young man passing through offered a greeting but she gave him such a stare that the word must have spread, because no one ever tried it again. After a while, Avery sauntered through and with her powerful gait and thumped down the steps. Celene’s fingers twitched and she half slid off the bench in desperate agony to follow. A warning shout sounded, and Celene flew off her seat and skidded around the doorway and over the railing of the steps leading down. The commotion was in the hallway adjacent, and Celene climbed atop the woven hampers and and slid down into the dark interior. Of course it had to be filled with slimy egg shells, and Celene had no idea how she would hide the putrid evidence.
This wasn’t even a good spot to watch, let alone ever have to experience, but Celene could hear Avery getting robbed of her pocket change. Of course she wasn’t going to help, though her heart skipped with joy at the thought of some adrenaline. No, she couldn’t embarrass herself in front of Avery or let it get back to Azim. She would be pulp by the time she thought to kick. Celene could hear a familiar voice, demanding jewelry. It was that gentleman who greeted her. Of course, that bastard. Then the fighting started, a few terrible head bangs and splintering wood. Avery should be unrecognizable at this point, and for once Celene felt queasy about it. She gripped the basket to keep herself from joining in and strained to see out the slits in the rough weave.
A shadow appeared on the wall and Celene stopped breathing as the victor emerged from the hallway. It was a woman. Strange, she hadn’t heard anyone else. Suddenly the light was blocked as the figure strode in front of her and kicked the basket across the room, Celene felt sick as it rolled to a stop and crawled out of the slime. It was Avery. She looked Celene over from the eggshells in her hair to those wedged in her long coat. Both straightened to intimidate the other and anger burned between them.
“So you’re fond of hiding in barrels while someone gets robbed?” Avery’s voice was deep and smouldering.
“There was nothing I could do.”
“If you're too weak to help you could have gotten Azim.”
“I can fight fine.”
“So you’re a coward?”
Celene opened her mouth to spit a protest but she could feel Avery guessing her every move. “I didn’t want to take responsibility for losing.”
“That wouldn’t have been responsibility, that would have just been failure, and that’s not half as bad.”
Celene fought off the feeling of weight on her shoulders. Avery could make you feel anyway she wanted you to and Celene wanted to know how. She prodded her on, “So you define the good and bad?”
“No, I teach the skulkers.”
Celene’s forced curiosity came out sharp, “Really? How?” Avery took a swing to cuff her ears but Celene ducked clear of it and scrambled backwards, “Hey, calm down, I’m sorry,” Avery let her stand up and opened her mouth to speak, then suddenly pushed her foot into Celene’s stomach, with more force than pain, but sending Celene flying arms spread into a wall full of precariously stacked egg shell barrels. A harmless avalanche rolled and tumbled over itself as the kitchen garbage made a little mound around Celene.
Celene coughed dramatically and removed her hair from her face. Her eyes were wide. “What was that?”
Avery huffed with fire.
“No, no, please, stop kicking,” Celene held her arms up defensively, “What was that and how did you do it? That was amazing.”
Avery reached out a hand. Celene had no interest in taking it, but was pulled up anyways. “It’s not in the muscles, or in the back. The whole of you is the spring and fluidity is your trigger. Launch from beneath you.”
“Like this?” Celene sprung a kick.
“No, like this,” Avery’s last word was accented as her body burst into motion.
“Please, you don’t have to demonstrate… on me...” Celene said from the safety of the stair.
Avery laughed. “Come here, let me help you.”
In the hallway adjacent, Azim listened with a smile and drug the gentlemen into a side room. “Hey, wake up. Wake up, you’re fine. Get up.” He helped him to his feet and handed him a bag of coins. “Very convincing, you should be pleased.”
The gentleman dropped the bag amidst his staggering and held his side. His words were slurred, “You didn’t tell me I’d get beaten up.”
“Ya did fine. Now take yer money and get outta here. I’ll clean everyt’ing up.” Azim led the man to his room and left him with a strong drink. He may not have been charming, but he could bend people like he was weaving a tapestry. Celene may not have thought she needed a friend, but Azim needed a tie. Actually, there was more of Azim’s hand in the government of Zons than anyone had ever dreamed, but Azim was used to keeping secrets, and no one ever fathomed that there was any more to him than his funny remarks and his distant social life.
As they neared the coast, the buzz of the passengers grew ever louder and brighter, but Celene rarely saw Azim apart from meal times and awkward passes in the halls. Avery was strange and sad and a little too quiet, and stayed mostly by Celene’s side, but Celene almost liked it. Celene couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she needed to know, but the agony was tantalizing and much more fun than the terrible alternative of not having rashly went on journey with a group she had just met. Celene thought and thought about her last minute decision and though she felt there should be regret, she felt none. She felt nothing much at all. How bad could it possibly be if there were ships of this kind filled with mere ‘other’ passengers pouring into the harbor. Nothing can be too bad if it’s not a secret. That part was a little disappointing.
“What’s the matter, Celene?” Avery came up beside Celene as she stood with her little satchel of collected things, no one knew quite where she got them.
“It’s so ordinary,” Celene swayed as the boat ground to a halt. “It looks like I thought normal countries would look, and that’s not what I expected at all.”
“Oh, this isn’t our destination, dear.”
Celene gave her a dark glance and distanced herself, training Avery to call her by her name only.
“Zons is on a ways from here. Why would you think we would let so many people freely come and go on a boat like this?”
Celene clenched her jaw and vowed to be smarter. “So we’re sneaking out.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Avery was suddenly lost in the stream of the movers unloading to the dock. Celene ducked and darted through the crowd, avoiding the heavy dollies and carts by a hair’s width. Avery didn’t even look at her when she appeared by her side. “Tonight. We leave tonight.”

Chapter Four
Will louged back in the scarred seat of the subway train and smiled under his hat. He could still feel Teagan’s soft kiss on his lips. Picturing her cropped blond hair and bright lips made the train ride back to Moncho much more bearable. He felt the train slow gently to a stop and the hydraulics hissed a long sigh. It was the fact that he actually heard the hydraulics, rather than the babble of a crowd that broke him out of his reverie, and he moved his hat from his face to his head and sat up. The car was empty. He tiptoed to the door and let them slide open, letting in a trail of smog that collected at the ceiling. He poked his head out cautiously to look either way. An occasional clank echoed down the dark train tunnel, and a computer voice sounded against the cold, metal walls informing absolutely no one about the next departure.
Will coughed a manly cough and straightened into a manly posture. The booth accepted his metrocard by sucking it into the thin slot but wouldn’t spit it back out again. Will didn’t want to miss his ambassador debriefing so he jumped over the restraining bar with his lanky legs and skipped up the long steps into the sunlight. A terribly foul waft of air hit him and he choked, it was thick and smelled like death. Slowly, and with terrible realization, he lifted his head to the horizon. This wasn’t Moncho. Black forms jutted into the sky and were twisted on the ground in all the wrong directions. It was like the pictures in the war museum, except a great percentage more disturbing. The smoke pooled out of several patches of glowing embers, and danced unaware of their doings into the sky.
Will’s face looked as if he had just stepped into the wrong business meeting and was about to rush off to check his calendar. He touched the railing of the steps behind him just when a shout sounded.
“Hey!” it was a man, “Is t’at all?”
Will hoped that if he stayed still long enough that wouldn’t have been addressed to him.
“I ‘aven’t ‘eard from the coast, but I t’ink the job is done.” Another man climbed out from behind the rubble and answered. “Our rendezvous still stands. There’s no wrong in ‘eading back now. The others can fend fer themselves.”
A guttural roar sounded, the first sign of mechanical life, and from above the fallen roof of a building came a crunch and a long spindly arm out over the rubble. Will thought at first it was a strange mechanical arm, but it was the wrong texture and much too unevenly built. He crouched behind his briefcase as more spindly legs appeared, but from between the spider like legs a tank roared out, diminished in comparison. There was distinctly only one engine sound, and that was most definitely the tank, it was clearly of Moncho build, too. Suddenly the legs lifted off the ground, belonging to an insect like body under blurred wing flaps. Hagen would love to see this. The tank climbed up over a pile and then crashed back down onto now level ground. A little hatch opened and the first man popped his head up and signed to the second, who unfurled a little rope down the side of the beetle and slid down it. He then began climbing up the tread, not in the path normal Moncho soldiers were trained to do.
“Wait!” A thin voice rang out and Will realized it was his own. The man stopped his climbing and looked back in a terrible way. Will stared right into the glinting black eyes amongst the delicate features and stringy black hair and realized he was unable to hide any longer, Will stood, and could feel the passage of time as his long frame straightened to it’s full height. “Where am I?”
The man couldn’t hear him so the other turned the engine off. The world quieted suddenly and Will gingerly picked his way through the rubble. “Wh-Where am I, I said.” He tried again.
The men looked at each other. “I don’t know w’at it is now, but it used to be called Moncho last I checked.”
“No, sirs, you are, or must be, mistaken. Isn’t this Gale?” Will asked, squinting up into the sunlight. The man gave him a distracted glance and then swung his leg up over his head to lunge ungracefully into the cockpit. They were just going to ignore him. A sign caught Will’s eye at that moment. A bright, LED sign with thick red letters jutted out of the dust. Will remembered the immense reward it was to see that sign coming out of the subway after a long train ride. It offered better hot calzones than any of the high end diners “fit for diplomats.” It was where no one looked for him and he didn’t have to mind his manners, he could just eat that third course of sausage and be happy.
A cold wave chilled over Will and his heart had lost it’s vigor. “What happened here?” He asked in a sort of dull acceptance.
The man threw his head back as if he felt guilty or was just annoyed. He motioned to the carnage and the grotesque bug as if that was explanation enough.
“I’m dreaming,” Will thought, and this numbed his nerves a bit. But as he looked out at what had once been so beautiful and glorious as a world power now lay in deadly silence and utter defeat. Dreaming or no, a burn began in his feet and seared it’s way to his mouth where he opened it and dropped his briefcase. “I’ve been warned of this, and maybe I didn’t listen,” He said hotly, “But you underestimate the power of purpose. People will rise, people will unite, and you will be stopped!”
The two men settled down in their seats and adjusted their luggage. “I’m gonna shoot you if ya don’t shut up.”
“I will never shut up! We will never be silent! You think you’re invincible and that you deserve your domination, but you will find that…” The man was pointing a gun at him. Will wondered if he really could aim from that distance but he didn’t ask.
“Give me a reason ta keep ya alive right now, or I swear to God I will shoot.” The man said.
Will opened his mouth but his breath drained out and he lost control of his thoughts. It was as if his muscles were encased in the snare laid before him, the snare he had set by blabbing, something he normally wasn’t known for. But he wasn’t sorry. He stood defeated and defenceless and felt like a 40 foot dragon. A soon-to-be-dead 40 foot dragon.
The man began to start the engine, as he was growing impatient. “Any last words, is what I said,” he growled. “Why should I keep you alive?” Suddenly all Will could see was a pretty face, and those bright, oh so bright lips bursting with a smile. And the word came.
“Teagan.”
The bullet shot was muffled by the crank of the tank engine, and they slammed the hatch shut and skidded out of sight, bug in tow.

***

“What is that mark on your hand,” Celene asked Azim as they marched through the small forest.
“Ya first notice it now t’at it’s dark?” Azim growled, in no mood to explain.
“Avery has it too.”
“I know.”
They stepped into a breathtaking clearing, and the grass faded into large rocks and beyond that lapped the moonlit bay. “Is it a cult thing?”
Azim couldn’t decide how to answer and let out a whistle. Celene waited until she saw a small boat being paddled down the shoreline, in it were more Zons and they docked and loaded with the experience of several years.
“Is it a cult thing?”
“No, Celene. We don’t believe in magic.”
Celene knew that was also a warning that she’d better stop asking. She didn’t care. “But it must be part of your oath. Which you’re hiding so well.”
Avery appeared and stepped over the rocks. “Get in ta boat Celene.”
“No,” said Celene, trying desperately to make their true colors fly.
Azim gave Avery a look, ordering her to cash in her friend tie but when she opened her mouth, Azim changed his mind. “T’at is disgraceful, Celene,” he said, “Ya gave your word ta come and Heaven judge you if ya break it.”
“I never gave my word. If you gave me such a choice about coming you shouldn’t mind if I stayed. And that’s what I’m planning to do. You hide too much and that’s not very convincing.”
Avery saw a different look come over Azim and she tried to speak but was cut off by his restrained challenge. “Are you really t’inking you can change yer mind t’at quicky or are ya just bein’ an arse?”
Celene slowly turned her attention to him, stance hardened and eyes twinkling. “I toy with both.”
“I t’on’t got time for t’is,” He jerked the boat ties off the shore and kicked the boat until it slid off the shore. Celene stood still in the first gusts of fall, watching every move as they started the motor but stalled in any real progress. She opened her mouth to admit she was kidding and just wanted to see if they really didn’t care or if something was up when Azim flipped the motor off.
“Celene, I’ll kill ya if you don’t come.”
“I don’t think so,” said Celene, not recoiling in the least bit, “It must be in your oath, otherwise you should have done it a long time ago.”
“Very smart, sure, ya must think yer the best. There’s nothin’ about carving a chunk out of yer arm, though. Or bashin’ your head in.”
Celene shook her head as if she was weighing the offer. “What if I run?”
“We’re faster than you.”
“True. So I must be pretty important, and just as myself too, otherwise you would’ve got someone else less obstinate.”
“Don’t get yer ‘opes up, child. There are t’ousands of Zons who we don’t let out of ta country till they take the oath. It’s dangerous, you don’t understand.”
Celene backed up step by step, “Oh no, no. Don’t worry, I get it. The more I make you nervous, the more you let slip what’s going on.” In a clear silhouette Azim handed Avery a knife and she stood up.
“Alright, I’ll come!” Celene said like a rebellious child. She had fought with Avery before and there was no thrill in that defeat. She took her time carefully crawling over the rocks and found a comfortable spot in the boat beside Avery, just so she could read her face. Her eyes were clouded, with just a hint of torment. Ah, the perfect drama.

***

Hagen watched his yellow tinted ale slosh against the sides of his mug as he swirled it. He felt hesitation at seeing Will and Teagan again, but friendship aside, they were diplomats at heart. Business should be held over feelings, he reminded himself. The tavern was darker than usual, and candles pooled the walls with circles of light. They even had a drummer tapping delicately on his metal canister and singing softly the local ballads of Gale that had been passed down and recycled enough to drive anyone mad. The tavern had begun to predict when they were graced with the presence of the three diplomats, and they couldn’t have been more proud. That was why, when Teagan entered the tavern with no one on her arm, the room quieted a bit.
Hagen rose cautiously and met her before she reached the table. “Teagan,” he said and she returned with a flickering and lifeless smile. Hagen’s face drained of color and he offered her a seat, his voice dry as a whisper. Without an order, the waiter came by the table and slid the usual favorite on to the table. Teagan looked at it and her stomach revolted. “Will loved fish,” she said and her eyes were watery.
“No, no, don’t talk like that.” Hagen paused to muster his fake courage, “We don’t know until he comes back.”
“No,” Teagan said quietly, “He’s dead. Moncho is gone.”
Hagen’s brow furrowed, “Internal invasion…”
Teagan nodded.
“Any word of large animals?” He asked.
Teagan threw him what was meant to be a fiery look, but resembled wet wood. “Of course there have been rumors, but most everyone who saw, died.”
“But there was a big hole in the wall, remember? Like something had crashed through it…” Hagen began, but suddenly realized now was not the time. “How, how are you doing?” He tried, knowing it was a dumb question.
“Fine,” Teagan lifted the tone of her voice, knowing it was a dumb answer. “Though I might kill myself.”
“No, please, no.” Hagen leaned forward, as if she would try right then and there. “Don’t leave us all behind. We’re all going to die anyways if we can’t do something about it, and we need you.”
Teagan folded her hands, “Crete is in lock down. They won’t let you in, you know.”
“I know, I know.” Hagen said, even though he was terribly surprised. “I was just hoping that Crete could call for help, that would summon soldiers. No one would listen to just me, and I’d probably get assassinated in the end.”
“Our countries just weren’t built to work together, Hagen, I’m sorry.”
Hagen had a boatload of replies for this but he kept having to remind himself she was in grief. “How are you going to stop this from happening to Crete?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her mind on other things.
“Does the council at least believe that it was the Zons who did it?”
“The survivors vanished before we could identify.”
“Well obviously,” Hagen began, then stopped. “You have to believe me.”
“And drive a whole race of people out of Crete without surety? There are children there… and husbands and wives.”
“At least investigate.”
“We are,” Teagan said, “We have the best agricultural scientists in the world, of course they will look around.”
“So the Zons were all suicide bombers, or something, then?”
“There was no evidence of bombs, and no Zons among the bodies,” said Teagan, repeating information like a parrot, her inner mind hardening to live separate from her outer appearance like Hagen had seen happen before.
“So there was a mass exodus…” Hagen said and waited, though he wasn’t looking for a reply. “That’s our cue.”
“Cue for what?” Tegan asked, and her first question jarred Hagen out of his pummeling.
“Cue for us to know where they’re about to attack next.”
“Of course I got that,” her eyes flashed, “But what good is there in knowing?”
“No… you’re not losing hope are you? No, you can’t, please.”
Teagan looked mournfully at her food.
“Teagan,” Hagen’s voice softened, and he focused his mind on what was really going on. “Will doesn’t want to see you die this way. You must be fair to him.”
“Will won’t see me anything. He’s dead. I don’t believe in the after-life.”
“Oh,” Hagen said, suddenly out of traction. “Vengeance?” He said, and then was shocked at himself and wished he hadn’t.
“That is an option,” Teagan said.
“No, that’s not the best way, I don’t know why I said it.”
“But I could do it.”
“You could do it for vengeance?”
“Yes,” her purpose formed her tall posture, and with distant eyes burning into the thoughts of her next step, she took a bite of salad. “I will avenge Will.”

***

The land of Zons hadn’t had any missionaries to boost the quality of material, but it seemed as if they were managing quite fine. Celene had never seen such order in any place. The land was full of trees, big sweeping trees that muted the light and played a creaking and rustling rhythm wherever you went. Some rooms were even built up in the long, thick arms of the branches, allowing for an incredibly compact living quarters. During the day, the whole island would fill out with people and there was enough space for anyone to be alone, but the nights were like a refugee camp as they would pack together and have meetings and head counts. Oh, so many head counts.
Once she had stepped foot on the island, Azim never spoke to her in any tone except a tense one, and Avery had again been assigned to her side. Their relationship had staled somewhat, as could be expected and they quietly insulted each other all throughout the day. “Do friendships always turn out this way?” Celene asked one evening.
“Not always,” Avery replied. “Why?”
“Well it’s the first one I tried, and I’m not too keen on trying it again.”
“You can’t judge from that,” Avery lowered her voice and turned her face away.
“Do you feel bad?” Celene asked, poking at a tender spot.
“No.” Avery answered, “Feel bad for what?”
“For letting Azim bully you around.”
“He’s not a bully,” she spat out and Celene distanced herself. “He’s under orders too.”
“Well, he seems to me to be the kind of guy who governs himself.”
“It’s the oath,” Avery said and then looked around. There was no one present, but it was about time for it anyways. “You have to take the oath before you leave the island.”
“Oh, alright.” Celene said, “Then where do I take it?”
“In the house the chancellor.”
“Ah, I knew it. So when? Now?”
“No, not until tomorrow morning. I’m glad you feel better about it.”
Celene grinned, “What do I swear?”
“Not to leave the island unless directed to.”
“Well, you could have told me that.”
“So you’ll do it?” Avery asked, relief flooding her face.
“Oh, no, I was just curious,” Celene said and walked into camp.
The structures were very woodland made with naturally knotted and twisted slabs. At first glance it looked like a giant playground extending up upon itself into the trees with rope ladders and high platforms, all dimly lit in select areas with torches. Celene was disappointed that they didn’t have the modern electric assets of Moncho or Crete, but not much could be expected in a reclusive and isolated country. It was as if everything was temporary, and could be pulled down, or burned. Celene especially noticed the lack of stuff, it was as if at one call everyone could get up and leave with what they had on their backs. And it was ever so quiet. No generators or motorized vehicles, all the white noise one thought as silence at Teagan’s house near the market had now dropped out into a bottomless sort of empty.
Avery took Celene’s elbow and pulled her through the dirt paths into the center of that settlement and into a large, dark tent. Celene could hear the heavy breaths of several people. “This is where we women sleep,” Avery guided her through the bodies on the floor in the pitch black and sat her down at the back of the tent.
Celene noticed a glint of metal every few feet or so. “So everyone has a weapon.”
Avery whispered, “Everyone except you. Thank the heavens. Now get some rest.”
“Well it hasn’t been the most exhausting day,” Celene argued.
“It doesn’t matter about your day, and until you take the oath we can’t trust you with anything.”
Celene sat cross legged against the tight tent fabric and waited for Avery to fall asleep. Avery was on watch, apparently, and she sat a foot away from Celene where she could keep an eye on her. “You’re still on guard duty?” Celene asked.
“Night is no rest for the criminal.”
“What, you think I’m going to steal a thatched roof?” She replied in her low and quiet tone.
“I think you get my point.”
Celene leaned back a bit and rested her hands on the floor. She could imagine how sheer and bright the moon would look tonight, and how the unscented air would waft in and rock her to sleep. Every now and then she would glance at Avery, only to be met by her ever staring eyes. “So do you ever sleep?” She asked.
“I’ll switch shifts in a hour,” Avery said with as much edge as you can put in a whisper.
“Good.”
Avery was probably frowning, “Do you ever talk this much?”
“No,” Celene said, “I’m just excited.”
Avery didn’t want to ask. She felt Celene’s resortment to kidlike annoyance was less of a personality glitch and more of an intentional punishment for being betrayed. Technically they never lied about anything, any remorse for her change of behavior was dwindling by the hour. The pigheadedness was probably all a front to cover Celene’s cowardice and would be torn down in the morning. That would be a sight to see.
In an hour, Avery didn’t want to breathe, lest Celene might really be asleep. She hadn’t moved from her position, but there was a deep shadow over her face. The shift watch slid in beside her with as much grace as ever seen in a Zons and silently they exchanged places. As Avery stepped over a sleeping body in the room she caught a glint off Celene’s iris and she cringed. Celene was watching her. Celene would most likely watch her sleep. The replacement was slim, similar to the girl, but with a softer face and more pleasant eyes. Of course Celene couldn’t tell much from the thin highlights of pale light through the tent flap, but she had some anonymity of her own, and it all felt so ritual and secret. The replacement didn’t even look at her, but as far as could be seen from the fast fingers, she braided and unbraided intricate patterns in her shoulder length, shiny hair.
“So tell me about the oath tomorrow,” Celene began.
“No talking, Celene.” Avery hissed from the floor and the replacement shot Celene a interested glance.
Celene waited a few more minutes. “So why is leaving the island such a big deal?”
“We risk being taken in.”
“Why? I’ve been taken in a few times. It’s not too bad.” Celene replied.
The woman erected and her face was horrified. “Oh, you mean prison. No, the Zons have evolved quite independently over the years and we don’t want our ability to use the weapon getting out. Our ancestors passed down a weapon that only we can use, so we don’t want any traitors. The chancellor's all hyper about it.”
“Were you supposed to tell me that?” Celene smiled smugly.
“Was I not?”
“You have skilled fingerwork,” Celene changed the subject quickly and studied the woman’s work on her hair.
“Thank you,” she answered sweetly. Perfect, Celene thought. Maybe I could get out tonight. “I weave fabric from the grass all day and I can’t keep my fingers still. I just wish my hair were longer.”
“My hair is long,” Celene said with cruel fake interest.
“I know,” the woman smiled, “It’s beautiful.” Celene listened for Avery’s keen acknowledgement of the setup but her breathing was sleep heavy like the others. “Can I braid it?”
Celene flinched with the success. No, NO! Her instinct screamed. So frivolous and humiliating. But she had gotten herself into this just for the sake of getting out again, and the more drama the more interesting. She almost loved seeing herself writhe in conflict.
All this while the woman waited through the silence until she heard a quiet “Yes.” Celene situated herself in front of the woman and felt her long delicate fingers running through the tangles. She felt self conscious and vulnerable, and kept imagining a knife through her back. “So,” Celene said and listened to the quiet, hating to play conversation. First approach. “Can you get me out of this oath thing tomorrow?”
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” the woman replied in a sorry sort of way. “It won’t take long, though, there won’t be much audience and there’s nothing to be nervous about. The chancellor is a very nice man.” Of course she thought Celene was nervous like a child is before a test. Such an interesting and insulting twist of conversation.
“So does this mysterious and god-like man have a name? Or is it a disgrace to say it?”
“His name is Max.”
“Oh.” Second approach. “Well, I don’t believe in oaths, that’s all. I’ve always learned, back home, well my mother taught me…” Celene’s voice suddenly caught at sudden awkwardness. She didn’t know what mothers were like. “My mother taught me that oaths were a sign of dishonor.” Dishonor, yes a Zons should like that word. “As if your everyday word should be taken just as seriously.”
Of course this was all a big lie, but the woman sighed, “I’m sure your mother was a very lovely person.” Celene frowned. “I can’t change the rules, though, dear. And you can keep your own honor and just say the oath for the chancellor’s purposes.” Celene tensed all her muscles in an effort not to strangle her, since of course she would be armed.
Armed... of course. There came approach number three. Celene fingered the braid curving around her head and down her shoulder, “You’re very good. Can I feel what you’ve done to your hair? It’s too dark.”
“Don’t you think you should be sleeping?” The woman’s tone changed but she let Celene lean close to her head. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Celene pulled away.
“You were trying to get to my scythe.”
Celene turned her face away so her eyes could not be read. “No, I tripped on it.”
“Your hand reached for it, I was sure I saw…”
“No, I don’t even know how to use a scythe.”
“Avery said you fight very well…”
“So what do you use it for?” Celene watched the interest in her own occupation draw her attention away from the matter at hand.
“Cutting grass,” she said. “It gets pretty tall around here, the taller the better for weaving, though.”
“What type of metal?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” The woman whispered shyly.
“Pull it out a bit and let me look.” The woman slid it out of it’s sheath an inch or too, her eyes fixed on Celene, but soon she averted her eyes to the beautiful shine. “Nice metal,” Celene said, not even able to name two different types of metal, “You must be very respected to have this.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Look at those engravings,” Celene reached one hand toward the handle, “I used to carve some but never had anything thin enough to…”
Avery awoke suddenly but the room was silent. The tent flap was rustling contentedly and was flashing moon beams around the peaked ceiling. She knew better and sat up. She could see the dark humps of the women lining the floor, and could hear their breathing. It crept upon her that she was feeling a breeze from the wrong direction, not the direction of the tent’s only opening. She stood slowly so her sleep wouldn’t upset her balance, and let her eyes adjust to the dark. There was a slashed slit near the floor of the tent where Celene should have been. That bastard.
She stumbled over to where the shift replacement lay face down. She was fine, but her nose was bleeding. She didn’t have a weapon. Avery jumped through the new opening and crawled out into the wet grass. She looked up high first, where Celene’s tendencies usually led her, but the camp faded into the dark and then lit up again with the line of light from the beacon. If she was smart she was probably a mile away by now, but how amusing it would be to watch her try to man a boat.
Avery slid back in the tent and awoke a fair portion of the room, and they spread silently into the night like ants out of an anthill. She then stomped over to the men’s tent and threw a rock in since it was forbidden that she set foot inside. She rolled her eyes as the sound of metal unsheathed, but when they saw her they mumbled to one another and came out. “Celene’s loose,” she told them and they delayed, insisting on being debriefed on who “Celene” was and why Avery chose the word “loose.” A small number of them went to scan the coast, though Avery argued for more. She, herself, ran with the group heading to the boats.
The shore was peaceful and was still stationed with the night watch. They swore they hadn’t seen any movement that night and that no boats had left the harbor. “How on earth did she pull this off,” Avery asked them, not expecting an answer. Celene was getting more and more fantastical by the second and she began to hate her. Avery swiped through the bushes since it was quicker than taking the path and emerged flustered and dirty into the clearing and huffed all the way back to the tent. The replacement night watch had just recovered from her knock out and was gingerly wiping her nose.
“What happened?” She said, stumbling through the flap toward Avery.
Avery wanted to bite back about her being so gullible to Celene but she reached out her hand and tightly grabbed her shoulder in a mixed effort to not lose control of herself and to keep her attention. “What did you tell Celene? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, we talked about hair mostly,” she said, more concerned at the hand on her shoulder and wishing it to be off.
“Did you tell her about…” her voice softened, “About the weapon?”
“I mentioned it. She only wanted to know why she couldn’t leave the island, poor girl.”
“Poor girl? Look at your nose!”
“What? I would have done the same! And really, it doesn’t hurt too bad.”
Avery bit her tongue. “If you would have done the same, then where would you be hiding right now?”
“I wouldn’t be hiding,” the woman corrected sternly while gingerly lifting Avery’s hand off. “I would explore the island.”
“Where would you go?”
“Oh, probably to see the animals. That is the biggest attraction.” By animals she meant their large insect hybrids. They had an assortment of enormous cages spanning several trees where they kept their best breeds.
Avery waited till the woman saw her unsatisfied expression and then turned quickly to go. In all her steam she ran full body into Celene. They stared at one another for a moment, and Avery snapped first. “You!” She said and grabbed her arm even though Celene had had several seconds to have gotten away if she wanted. “You little skulker!”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Celene replied simply and Avery felt the shift’s eyes burning politely into the back of her head. “I’ve been sitting right here outside the tent for the past hour.”
“You weren’t escaping?”
“Well I went to the coast, but it was too heavily guarded so I just explored the island a bit and then came back here.”
The woman’s voice came unobtrusively from behind, “She went to see the…”
“I went to see the animals,” Celene finished. “I thought they were just folk lore but I have to commend you.”
“Well, good. I would have thought you to try something as absurd as trying to fly one out of here.” Avery saw the thought register subtly in Celene’s eyes and she opened her mouth to devalue the idea but a majority of the search party had already gathered in a safe distance from this conversation. They weren’t sure what to conclude from it. Celene tiptoed to see over Avery’s broad shoulder and the crowd saw her glinting eyes peep up at them and then disappear behind Avery again.
Avery was losing hope fast. Even if they could break Celene into taking the oath, there was no guarantee she would give it any mind. The people of Zons had grown up under a concentrated mindset of honor and the severity of the oath, so much so that those who had small outbursts and broke it usually killed themselves shortly after from guilt. Avery’s shoulders felt heavy with responsibility and she wished all these rules would go away. She felt cheated of ever being a kind and respectable person again, but it was too late. She was too far in.
She look at Azim in the group behind, but all eyes were fixed upon her. Azim nodded, it was time. Avery’s nails dug into Celene’s arm as she drug her into the crowd, though Celene didn’t fight back. Before she could make sense out of the funneling and pushing of the crowd,  she was full face in front of a small hut, and staring down at her was a short and very old man. At first all the man saw was her smallness and her averted eyes nervously looking at his feet, and his own weathery face was soft and amused. Then she lifted her gaze and they silently reintroduced themselves through the first locking of eyes and the man’s face hardened.
“My name is Max,” He said, “And you will take the oath tonight.”

Chapter Five
Hagen kept behind Teagan as she swept the door to the tavern open and went out. Her walk was single minded and powerful, and Hagen didn’t know what else to do but exactly whatever she told him. He followed her all the way back to her house, where she stopped before entering her front door and for the first time acknowledged he was there. “Get your trusted men, Hagen. I can bring a few of you into Crete on my own pass. We leave tonight.”
“Teagan, please,” Hagen said, “I have a lot of networks to keep up, I’m in charge of keeping half of Gale together. A week minimum will have to do.”
“Very well,” she said while undoing the lock. “We meet here at my house in a week, ready to leave.” As the door latched behind her, Hagen paused for a moment wondering what he had agreed to. Whatever was to be proven in Crete, it had to be better than sitting around. Things had to get moving, the problem had to be stirred. And boy, did it sure feel great to not be the leader for once. He wondered if his men felt this great when he ordered them around, it must feel so liberating.
He whistled quietly and a lean boy appeared out of the market behind him. Hagen, of course, couldn’t travel alone with such publicity. In this area he had a small chance of being attacked but back at the old warehouse he always had to watch his back. Killing Hagen was the highest form of challenge and there would have been a price on his head had not everyone just wanted to kill him themselves. “They bite the hand that saves their rears,” Hagen used to say, but such is the fate of leadership.
The day’s walk back to the warehouse through the chilly fall air was lightened by the exchange of stories and jokes. It was the most refreshing change of atmosphere Hagen had felt in the past few days, and he wished he were young like the boy again, and could go on being pleasant forever.
Back with the men, Alf stood outside in the dirt path and threw stones with intimidating agility at the nearest tree. “It’s so pleasant and boring,” he kept saying, “There’s nothing to do.”
“I like it,” said Ben, enjoying the sun on his face amidst the sharp breeze. “It gives me time to think.”
“Yeah, time to think about how bored I am. It wouldn’t be so bad if there wasn’t so much trouble going on out there beyond the ‘great wall’ where interesting things happen. It’s worse when you just have to sit here and lounge around when you could be dead any second.”
“You really believe in Hagen’s war?” Nail mused from the corner, chewing on a stem of grass and looking very relaxed.
“It’ll be everyone's war soon enough. And there’s not even anything I can do. It’s not that type of war. I can’t just punch it in the face…”
“Like your other problems,” Nail inserted.
“I just have to let it happen, and be the victim.”
“That’s our destiny, I’m afraid,” Nail spoke loudly, hoping his tone would cue him to stop ranting. “Those blessed with authority will do what they can and we just hold down the fort with what we’re given.”
“Well that sounds terrible.”
“Destiny,” Nail reminded. “Just like your lady friend there is all up in the heat of it and not because of anything she did.”
“She’s not my lady friend. Though she is a lady. And sort of my friend, maybe… Darn her. What is she up to now? Fighting a hundred off with a wizard staff?”
“Not quite.” Said Ben. “Last I heard she was taken back to Zons country. Apparently those poor people aren’t supposed to be outside the country unless they’re told so. I don’t know what they’ve got to hide.”
Alf held something bitter in his mouth and sat down slowly on his bin. “If only Hagen would stop leaving us behind.”
“If only Hagen would what?” Said Hagen, entering the warehouse with a backdrop of eager and question-filled boys. He knew exactly what had been said.
Alf looked up into his face with fear in his eyes. Hagen was placid and stately as usual. It seemed every time Alf opened his mouth he ruined any chances of respect from Hagen. However Hagen knew him a bit better than he thought, and was especially curious how he would react tonight. “I’m going into Crete next week to assist a young diplomat to get some answers out of the Zons there about the fall of Moncho, and hopefully save the continent. Who would like to come?”
“Oh, I would!” Alf said and jumped to his feet.
Nail rolled his eyes, “Well that’s a sure way to get yourself left behind.”
“Why?” Alf asked and his shoulders hunched, he felt too big for his body, “I mean, he asked…”
“He’s right,” Hagen set his pack down, “I did ask. And I’ve gotten only one reply yet, and he’s ranking a bit higher on my list than all of you right now.” Several stood, not wanting to be left behind but not wanting to seem childish in front of their peers. “So, Alf,” Hagen gave him his full attention, “Convince me why you should come.” Alf swallowed. Why was he clamming up now, the moment things were looking up?
“I’m bored,” he said. He could imagine Nail’s sarcastic expression now. “I’m bored,” he said again, “Of being a nobody, or just the guy who watches the crates. And I’m not very talented, and don’t know that I have much destiny, but I gotta do something to live for. I want to be happy, you know, when I lay dying, that I helped a young diplomat try to save a country. Not many people even get to do that, or even know a guy who gets to do that.” Alf stopped when he thought this might all be falling on a smirking face, but Hagen was listening, and Alf felt an awkward and vulnerable sort of comfort.
“Whether you do get to do something heroic or not, it makes no difference who you are.” Hagen said, “Unless of course you chose out of cowardice.” Hagen stopped but looked at Alf as if it was obvious there was more to say.
“And Celene,” Alf blurted, afraid to turn around and see Nail’s face. “Celene is my friend, sort of, and I’d feel better if I could help her out a bit. Or at least try to solve the problem she’s in. It’s almost my job, you know. I kept her out of too much trouble in Greensville, she was always getting into a mess.”
A funny glimmer came over Hagen’s eyes, as if he wanted to cry and laugh all at the same time. “Interesting. Although Celene’s going to have to fight her own right now. There isn’t much we can do about that.”
“Please, can I go Hagen?” Alf said and made himself look him in the face though he didn’t think he looked very honest or confident.
“Sure, Alf, you can go.” Hagen added as if he had forgotten to mention it. “And as for the rest of you guys, I’ll just pick you out if you’re too scared to say so.”
Exactly a week and one extra but very unavoidable day later, Hagen and a band of 5 traveled up to Teagan’s. When they arrived, they were exhausted from the hurry and their throats were burning with the dry cold. Hagen of course expected Teagan to scold and rush them on the second they arrived, but it seemed she had cooled a bit from her last vow in the tavern. Hagen felt a little better about this mission, for if Teagan made him nervous when she was passionate and enraged, he couldn’t wait to see her cunning when she was passionate and cooly collected.
She invited them inside for some western tea to cool their tongues, though Hagen was eager to discuss their travels, the rest declined, having been entirely unprepared for this young diplomat to be a beautiful woman. They all stood politely and nervously outside, wishing Hagen had told them so. Teagan and Hagen sat at the dining table and exchanged formalities, clinging to something decent and proper before they dove into what could possibly be madmen. “There’s no way of knowing what will happen once we cross these borders.” Teagan began, “I’m sorry to admit I don’t really have a plan, but we need a new asset to the situation. You. What’s left of the council is, well, borish. I don’t know how much you know me, Hagen, but I might shake things up a bit.”
“Whatever you judge,” Hagen gulped, “Just try to keep my head on.”
“I’ll do my best, but Hagen,” and for the first time hesitation hinted in her eyes, “I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just jumping in. We need something tangible to launch us, a lead, or evidence, or...”
At this moment the door flung open with a cold gust of dust and leaves. Hagen and Teagan stood speechless from the table. “No gun, please,” Came a faint voice.
“Celene?” Teagan gasped and rushed to the door, though she recoiled from shutting it or embracing her. “What happened to you?”
“I’m not sure, really, I’m pretty tired.” Celene’s knees were already bending, and Hagen caught her just as she toppled. He removed the large satchel from her shoulder, too heavy for a normal adult to travel with, and Teagan cleared off the couch and they lay her on it. She made a face as if they had hurt her. Then she sighed, the cushions daring to melt her into relaxation and she struggled to keep her eyes open.
“Don’t sleep now, Celene, we need you,” Hagen demanded and Teagan gave him an exasperated look, “Keep alert. Tell us what happened.”
Celene tried to sit up, but was incredibly stiff. “I was hiding in a cargo crate.”
“Before that,” Hagen said.
“As if that’s not of interest,” Celene argued, “But before that, I found the crate and got into it.”
Hagen clenched his teeth and stood.
“And before that I was running, I think, probably for my life. I’ve done a bit of running this week. But that was after I took the weapon. Yeah, that’s why I was running.”
Hagen felt a surge of adrenaline and lunged to her pack.
“But before that, if you must know,” Celene continued as if she were remembering a news story, “I met this old chancellor named Max, and after I wouldn’t take an oath, Avery helped me escaped. She didn’t say that they were going to kill me but it was pretty obvious.”
Hagen madly unbuttoned the flaps of the pack. “Chancellor, huh?”
“Yes,” Celene replied as if his tone had not at all been sarcastic. “I don’t know who is in charge, but he seemed pretty important. And the only thing worth mentioning before that are the lunches there, even before and after they started hating me. It was terrible. Also I brought a lizard.”
Teagan for the first time opened her mouth about the large, ivory colored lizard on the carpet, slowly blinking it’s big black eyes. “That explains a lot.”
“He won’t stop following me, he just kind of clings to my jacket with his little claws and I don’t even notice him. Just one cracker and he was hooked.”
“What the blazes,” Hagen’s distracted voice held certain urgency as he scrunched the sides of the bag down so that Teagan could see. “Are you sure this isn’t some bomb and you’re on a suicide mission? Golly…”
Celene glanced at it and then squinted and averted her eyes as if it were too bright. “Not that I am aware of. It just seemed pretty important so I took it and didn’t tell Avery.”
Hagen eyed the complex device, it was tubular and very flexible with a strange tangle of leather and metal and little empty glass vials all lined up on either side. “Is this a joke to you?” His voice was slightly overwhelmed.
“No, I don’t find much humor in it at all.” Celene replied, avoiding his meaning with complete intention.
Hagen stood warily, as if he had aged a few years. “I don’t care if you care, Celene, but I’m busy with the matters at hand and I’m not in a particularly favorable mood right now. I’m sure you’ve had it rough and think of yourself as a veteran, but I don’t have the patience to stay reasonable, okay? I’ve got something to do, and I think we’d all leave a little happier if you would just shut your blabbering mouth and do something practical for once.”
Celene continued looking at the ceiling. What Hagen couldn’t see was that she didn’t know how to express that she had no idea how to be practical or genuine to anyone. It seemed like a mode she had forgotten to learn, and she debated whether a jibe or an apology would be in order.
All this while Hagen’s heart died a little. He didn’t want to offer protection or a hot supper. He wanted to leave her behind in the cold because that was what she would choose anyways, no matter how much anyone reached out to her. Meanwhile, Teagan appeared with a bowl of steaming rice and gave it to Celene.
“We leave tonight,” Hagen said softly, intimidated just as much by Teagan’s kindness as her vengeance.
“And what of Celene?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then she goes with us.” Teagan set her gaze firmly on hagen, “She could be of use.”
“Well I don’t see how,” Hagen said, very much deflated.
“Shh,” Teagan glanced nervously at Celene, “You’re so rude. And right in front of her!”
“What?” Hagen fingered the strange weapon again, “She doesn’t care.”
Celene shook her head in affirmation.
“So what of this weapon, Celene?” Teagan asked when no one seemed to make the next move, “What does it do?”
Celene shrugged. “Typical blasting stuff I would assume.”
Hagen closed the draw string and tested the weight of the bag by lifting it a few times, “Do you think it was one of the type used in destroying Moncho?”
“Or the one.” Celene said.
Teagan’s countenance lost all openness and her eyes were distant again. Hagen didn’t like this look. He felt bad for keeping it in the house, the weapon that had replaced Will. “Celene, get up,” he said and then went outside to his men while Teagan packed a few extra things.
All this while Alf had been muddying the house siding whilst trying to climb up high enough to see in the window. They had all watched Celene stumble in the door and not come back out again, and she had not even acknowledged Alf. When Hagen set his first step out the door the air crowded with questions. “Is she that newspaper girl?” “Was she really in Gale this whole time?” “Are we postponing the trip?”
Hagen smiled reassuringly but didn’t feel like answering. “She brought us a useful device from Zons. We’re going to drop it by a private scientist on the edge of Gale, right beside Crete, and he’ll have a look.” Alf immediately spurred a chain of discussion involving all the destruction theories that can be made up with virtually no knowledge of physics and chemistry.
Teagan urged Celene to catch some sleep but she wouldn’t have it, and they finally settled on the bargain that if Teagan was making Celene leave her lizard behind, she shouldn’t make her sleep, since it would obviously make no difference on their progress. Hagen quickly took her up on it, and in an hour they breezed dumb stricken through border check-up on Teagan’s tab and were pushed with the flow of the economic crowd into the clean and lush country of Crete. As they rushed from train station to train station, the group could hardly walk in a straight line for all the sights to see. There were less open markets, so much was neatly categorized in clean little buildings with light shades and minimal style design. Large and flat solar panels topped most every roof and glistened in the sun, and large flags rippled their intricate patterns in the sharp air, occasionally thrust wildly to one side with the air from the whizzing streaks of white electric cars. The thin tracks threaded under the ground and on the ground and high over their heads in such a tangle that it was overwhelming to look at.
For the first time since their sign-on with Hagen the party felt very small and insignificant and they kept close to Teagan as if she were a beacon on a dark sea. Celene would have enjoyed this much more had she not battled nausea and sharp leg pains. Her face was very pale and she often lagged behind the group, but never once did she ask to stop or say anything at all.
Teagan soon forgot about Celene and lightened up as she passed the familiar streets and shops and stopped a little too often for a specialty drink. Hagen kept his hands in his pockets, his rough corduroy jacket suddenly looked too bulky and his badly shaven face cast him in with the hobos. He began to realize he knew less about the world as he had imagined and was suddenly second guessing Teagan’s choice to bring him. What could he do that no one else here couldn’t?
“I think the question is what would you do that no one else wouldn’t.” Teagan answered one evening as they sat in a restaurant, too embarrassed to admit they didn’t know what was on their plates. “We will try our hardest to prove if the Zons are responsible or not.”
“They are,” Celene said into her plate.
Teagan and Hagen looked at her distractedly as if they had forgotten she was there, “Yes but you need to prove it. The council needs something a little more than one person’s story.”
“I brought you a weapon,” Celene replied.
“Yes,” Hagen said, “We will drop that off at the house of that scientist, what was his name? Maybe he can find some correlations.”
“You’re welcome,” Celene mumbled, but no one heard her.
“Meanwhile all we can do is find some Zons residences. Search some homes. Maybe interrogate…”
“This isn’t Gale, Hagen,” Teagan frowned, “We can’t do much without a warrant.”
“How do we get a warrant?”
“With evidence. Footage, documents, scientific leads...”
“Or a study on the weapon,” Celene added sullenly.
“Good God, this is hard.” Hagen said with passion, “We need to think outside the box then.”
Alf finally found the courage to pipe up, “Like we trick them into telling us?”
“Good luck with that. They’re not idiots.” Hagen said. “Man, I wish I could just bust the door down, I could get them to talk.”
“We’re not in Gale,” Teagan warned, growing nervous of the direction of this conversation.
Hagen looked her in the eye, “We may have to break some rules, Teagan, it could be the fate of the country.”
“Yes, and if not I’ll loose my job.” Teagan heightened.
“You’ve lost your husband, good God, why are you concerned about your job?” Hagen said and then retreated to the back of his seat. Teagan shut her mouth and her cheeks flamed. She wished she could cry, but Hagen wouldn’t understand. She wished he didn’t live in a no-rules slum, because he wouldn’t understand how complicated being respectable, nice, and a hero was and how much her inner soul tortured her and how she could always hear the sick cracking of her protective cover of smiles and morals holding back an ugly monster raging to be let loose.
Oblivious Alf brought them all back to the matters at hand. “But all the Zons know the plan, and they’d tell other Zons.”
Teagan and Hagen slowly turned to look at Celene.
“No,” she forewarned, instinctively sliding her chair back.
“And they don’t know she’s working for us!” Alf said.
“No,” Celene said again. “No.”
Hagen’s eyes came alive, “Good, Alf! I suppose Celene is useful after all,” He smiled jokingly at her but Celene made it obvious that she rejected the compliment. “We will send you into the houses, and they will assume you are in with the plan, and you could get them to let it out.”
“But I already heard them say it,” Celene tried.
“Back in Zons, of course, but we don’t have proof. We’ll send you in this time with that gadget that see stuff and replay it for the televisions.”
“A video camera,” Teagan sighed.
“Yes, that. Brilliant. Well done, Alf.”
“No,” Celene said.
“Oh, come on!” Hagen scanned the eyes of the party for help. “You’ve already made the title ‘The Invisible Girl.’ It’s just some more reconnaissance.”
“It’s acting,” Celene said, sitting straight. Hagen half wondered if she would bolt.
“Nonsense, just be yourself.”
“You don’t want that.”
Hagen scooted his chair around, “Okay. Say you just knocked at my door and I’m a Zons. What do you say?” Teagan looked nervously around at the other dinner tables but everyone seemed occupied or was too polite to pretend to notice the excitement. “Well,” Hagen continued, “What would you say? What would you do?”
“I’m doing it,” Celene said and stared at him.
“No, no, I mean as if you wanted to help us.”
“But that’s acting.”
Hagen lost his smile and turned back to face the table. He muttered something under his breath and Teagan glared at him.
“You gotta do it, Celene,” Alf said quietly across the table.
“Shut up, Alf.” She replied and Alf smiled, as if previously unsure she would remember his name.
She then realized Hagen was speaking and there was an unsettling tone to his voice. “Do you not care about anything?” She heard. “Are you so self centered that you go through the day deciding which sandwich cheese to steal next? Is that what you live for?”
Celene wanted to say that she didn’t like cheese on her sandwich, but this time she didn’t. But then she asked herself if she really did care about anything and was just as curious as Hagen was. The closest she could get was that her agreeing to help would permit an element of failing, and some strong code within her wouldn’t allow her to fail at anything she had agreed to do. Hagen himself knew that there had to be more than childish rebellion behind Celene’s strange antics, but he couldn’t think of anything.
Later that evening in the hostel, Alf set to work on Celene, and within minutes had her word to do it. Hagen of course was speechless at first and hope shined in his eyes, “Alf, you wonder-worker! How did you do it?”
Alf didn’t want to look him in the eye. “Teagan and I agreed to pay her a fair sum of money.”
Hagen breathed in and out audibly. He opened his mouth, but then shut it again and rubbed the back of his neck. “Very well,” he said in a dry sort of voice, “We’ll begin tomorrow.” And he quietly shut the door to his room. Alf retired to his quarters, but Celene had not moved from the hallway adjacent where she had overheard the conversation. The usual thrill of playing someone’s expectations felt dull this night, and instead of feeling like a score it felt foolish and distasteful.
Of course there was an element of awe amongst the naive in the party who couldn’t wrap their minds around the rule-breaking and seemingly superior actions of Celene, and though many lost sleep regaling her unbreakable will and secretly admiring her freedom, Alf was no longer that type of person. As for Celene, this was of little reward to her. She went to bed wishing she had a headache to distract her from the unsettling feeling in her stomach.
The next morning, excitement jittered in every slight move of the small group. They said little and their eyes kept meeting to share a knowing smile. Celene looked as if she hadn’t slept at all, her uneven hair tangled around the dark below her eyes and anyone would have thought she had a disagreeable supper. They met Teagan in the lobby who was looking as sharp and confident as ever in a light blue suit, and she closed the lid to a little computer and slid it into her large bag. “It’s done,” she said. “Strangely a significant number of Zons are evacuating the country. I have over 12 addresses that should still be in residence.” What she didn’t tell them was that she had pulled a few strings to get those address and though it wasn’t a serious offence, Teagan hoped they wouldn’t talk about it. Last of all did she want to let on how much she could really do, being a higher class citizen. Hagen didn’t understand these things, and the last thing he needed was power.
They checked out of the hostel and stood on the street corner, letting the crowd shoulder around them and preparing themselves. “There are cameras all down the street,” Teagan said, “And though they have no audio, any action we make could be easily reviewed. It’d be best if it didn’t look like we were behind Celene, you know, in case of any trouble.”
Alf was stuffing the last of the lobby chocolates in his face, “But it’s all of our mission, right? We can’t abandon her.”
“It would advance us in no way to all be taken in. We want to keep open the possibility of further action and not devastate our cause.” Teagan replied whilst double checking the street names, “As for Celene, I could get her out of anything she can get herself into.”
“How?” Alf asked.
“I just can.” Teagan started off through the intersectionand they all had to jolt to keep up. Celene wished she could disappear into the crowd and make her way back to Gale, everything was much too monitored and organized, but she had already given her word. If only they would somehow let down their end of the bargain and not be able to pay her, then she would be free. Alf kept his eye on her anyways, and though he wasn’t fast, would most likely alert the others. Part of her wished she had agreed to it whether there was money involved or not, but she couldn’t see much advantage in that.
Less than an hour later, they arrived much dazed to a quiet town with grid lines of identical, spotless black streets and little grey sidewalks and rows of identical houses with their shining white roofs. “The first house is right down this street, three or four houses down.” Teagan said quietly, “I’m pretty sure it’s four. I’m not going to point or look because that could be recorded on camera, but we will keep walking as if we are in route to the park up ahead and then Celene will depart alone and come back.” Celene was almost glad they never asked her opinion or whether she was okay with thei0r risk, she felt a little better having kept her mouth shut for this long. They neared the park and Teagan paused before entering through the ornate gates. “You will tell them that you’ve been called back to Zons but have lost your money and need a place to stay for the night. Or at least get them to refer you to another. If you need to you can take a look around while they’re asleep. If you don’t return this evening we will know you have succeeded.”
“Though that would be the same scenario if I were murdered,” Celene replied.
“You won’t be murdered,” Teagan answered, though she hadn’t thought of that before. “I put the camera on your dresser this morning, I hope you brought it.”
Celene pulled it out of her deep pocket, she had originally been intending to sell it for a ticket back to Gale, not knowing what it was. The camera itself was tiny enough to be disguised and looked very much like a badly fashioned necklace, so she slipped it over her head. “It will record live, so we will watch it from our apartment, so take care not to embarrass yourself. As for now, we will be pretending to take a walk around the park,” Teagan said, “But after a few hours we will leave and come back tomorrow morning, and you can meet us here.” Celene didn’t nod but turned to go. “Wait,” Teagan called and Celene cringed, “Walk with us for a minute or two and then seem to head over there to the restrooms, then sneak out the back toward the houses. That way it’ll look like we didn’t know.”
All through the walk, Hagen had straightened and looked like a whole new man, but Celene slouched behind. She kept her eye on everyone they passed, garnering an uncomfortable stream of eye contact as she went. In a few minutes Teagan nodded and Celene turned to head right back toward the gates, in no way in the direction of the restrooms. She had never agreed to that bit.
Third or fourth house? Teagan hadn’t been too confident on that. Celene hated the idea of picking the wrong house and then having to knock on another door. That made a total of two houses, and that was more than she was ever comfortable with. She stepped slowly down the street, turning in circles to see every corner and glaring at a man when he turned on his mower. The third house looked pretty dead, but it was closer than the fourth and if it was correct she wouldn’t have to walk those few extra meters. She kicked at the grass as she went up the driveway and took the steps one at a time. Then she knocked at the tall, polished door.
The wait was terrifying. She eyed the porch railing, it would be easy enough to jump over, but running into the street was like running through a valley between mountains of death, they could come out of the houses on all sides. Of course she realized this might be an exaggerated notion, but she had never been in a city before, after all.
The door latch unclicked and Celene stepped back but then pinched herself so she wouldn’t run. A chubby hand held tight to the knob and Celene looked straight into the face of a pale, yellow haired little boy. She put her hands back down by her sides, like she should have done in the first place. “Wrong house,” She said and turned stiffly, suddenly forgetting how to naturally walk down a flight of stairs. When she heard the door shut behind her, she bobbed her head and sighed.
Then, suddenly more concerned about the time she was wasting, she threw her head back and marched up the steps to the fourth house. The porch floor had less spots on it and the railing had been better maintained. Celene supposed this would mean it was fixed up for sale more recently, making it the more likely of the two to be lived in by a Zons, who had moved into the country only a year or so ago. This gave her something to scowl about, so that she hardly noticed the long wait after the knock until the door opened.
“Well, what do you want?” Came the well worn voice of an old woman.
“Uh,” Celene greeted and then introduced with a “Gah…”
“What? Not who you were expecting?” She demanded in a way that made you feel obligated to answer. Her long thin hair came down black around her wrinkled face, and her eyes glinted with the Zons glint. Celene looked past her hunched figure to the warmth of a room beyond and saw a young girl approaching.
“Grandmother, who is it?” The girl said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she looked at them both, “Not much of a tongue.”
“Grandmother!” The girl scolded. She was short, but probably in her early twenties and she apologized to Celene, but when she gave a slow look up and down Celene’s tattered appearance and wild eyes she looked a little nervous herself.
Hagen ran full speed to the hostel, his long legs stretching grandly and narrowly dodging pedestrians and electric cars and making it hard for even the tallest in the small group to keep pace. They piled in the lobby and dove onto the couch and behind the couch and Teagan opened her computer and pulled up the show. “She’s found a Zons, alright,” Hagen growled.
“The woman doesn’t look too happy,” said Alf.
Hagen didn’t seem surprised. “Not uncommon when Celene is present.”
Teagan breathed in tightly, “If only she’d keep the camera a little more still...”
Back at the house, Celene had let a little more silence slip by, and was grateful for the groan of the lawnmower and the whoosh of cars to help fill the space. The woman didn’t seem too grateful, or maybe her hearing aids were out. “Ah,” She cracked, “I don’t got time for this.” She slammed the door shut but Celene’s foot was too quick and wedged in just in time.
Except never before had she realized how crushing this would be between the door and frame and made the first understandable word, “Ow!” The spell was broken. She adjusted her jacket and tenderly removed her foot. “Hi, I need a place to stay the night.”
“No, no, no!” Teagan groaned into the computer screen and she leaned closer in anxious helplessness. “She’ll never get anywhere with that bluntness.” Hagen opened his mouth with another remark but Teagan saw it and said, “Let’s be quiet now, I want to listen.”
The old woman suddenly chose to look less frightening than before, noticed at least by the lobby party, but Celene really couldn’t tell at that fragile moment between kindly and malicious. “Well, why?” Asked the woman and the granddaughter looked at her eagerly.
“I’m a Zons,” Celene said.
“Yes?” Said the woman and Celene’s insides turned cold. She had been expecting this to be reason enough, but the woman didn’t seem to expect her to be in on any secret plans.
“I lost my job,” Celene tried again.
“I would say so,” said the woman.
“But with this Zons plan and all, I need to get back to the island.”
“What plan?” Her face contorted with all it’s wrinkles, and then she nodded slowly, “Oh, right, right, you young things and your revolutions. I just came here for the nice house and food. I’m not the one to see about that.” She stepped back inside the house and then gave Celene a grandmotherly look. “Aw, you’re so cute. I remember when I was that age. Everything was so exciting!”
Celene swallowed and was so sharply focused on being pleasant that she forgot where she was. “But isn’t it dangerous for you to stay here? With the… you know… bombing?”
“Bombing?”
“I thought they were going to bomb Crete.”
“We don’t have any bombs, dear.” The woman said as if that was the most important correction. “And I don’t think they’re going to. They just came here to check things out, you know. All those hostilities between our countries in the past, they were going to strike revenge but first wanted to check if places were just as vile as in the past.”
“Apparently Moncho was,” Celene said cooly.
“Was it? Did we destroy it? I was wondering.” She replied, equally unmoved. “I should really watch the Television more. But no, Crete doesn’t seem the kind of place to me that they would recognize as the beast it all was before. But what do I know?” Celene was almost disappointed in the peaceful turn of events.
In the lobby Teagan leaned back wearily and looked at the ceiling. Hagen thought she heard her thank a deity of some kind which was strange for a professed atheist. “Ask about Gale,” Hagen mumbled and Teagan’s face suddenly froze. Her eyes fixed to the screen.
Celene didn’t ask about Gale. Instead she thought about whether or not to move back to Zons. The country was pretty nice, and though the people were kind of mean sometimes she didn’t mind too much. “What do I know?” The woman repeated, and Celene didn’t notice the strange look in her eyes or the lowering of tone. “Say, would you like to come in for some tea?”
It didn’t sound like a question. Hagen caught it and shouted, “No, don’t!” but the well dressed register attendant was looking too much his way and he shrunk back.
Celene thought Teagan would think it the right thing for her to accept. After all, Teagan was always offering drinks and food. It got kind of annoying, but she guessed that’s how being polite worked. All the woman saw was a shrug and Celene followed her inside. Celene stood comfortably in the center of the carpet with her hands behind her back, looking at all the trinkets on the mantelpiece. She didn’t see the woman gesture for her to sit down, and when the woman realized she was perfectly content to just stand there, she said, “I’ll go get your tea,” and pulled her granddaughter into the kitchen.
Hagen frowned as Celene’s little camera caught blurrily her exploring the room to great extents and it almost seemed at one time that she took something and stuck it in her jacket. The woman entered not too long later with a sheet of paper in her hand. She didn’t have any tea. Just as she was about to start she stopped again. “Give me back my gold pin.”
Celene didn’t even argue. She pulled it out of her pocket and put it back over the cold fireplace. Hagen rolled his eyes, he had hoped she had stolen something of relative usefulness.
“I’m not the one to ask about this revolution business,” the woman repeated, “But a friend of mine is. He lives a few blocks down. Here’s the address.” She then rambled off a string of numbers and letters and though Celene was sharp and remembered it, she didn’t know what they meant. “You should go talk with him.”
Celene could get out of about any situation, but she wasn’t always good at staying out of them in the first place. She wouldn’t have suspect a thing as she left the house if she had not paused customarily to eavesdrop on that last bit of conversation that happens right after anyone leaves.
“She’s definitely that girl!” a muffled voice came, “Her picture matches the one in that evacuation letter from Zons.” The granddaughter replied with something quieter and the old woman answered impatiently, “Why do you not read the mail? Azim, was the man, I think. She’s the beggar they found lost in Gale since birth who wouldn’t take the oath and stole the weapon. You should read the mail, dear.”
Celene suddenly tripped on the steps and landed on her hands, she skidded in place as she scrambled to her feet and then ran down the road like a little black dart. She could still hear the woman who had begun to yell, “Get the phone! She’s heading away! He can catch her!”
Teagan and the boys back at the hostel were very confused, the camera not being able to pick up the faint yells. Celene’s focused breathing could be heard, “There was a notice sent out… I’m not safe anywhere… Get a cab thing and get me quick…”
Hagen forgot for a second that the camera did not transmit sound to Celene and he asked, “Are you sure that’s what happened? You didn’t just spook?”
Teagan had a little more faith, “She has a level head, it had to be something. We need to call the police.”
“No, they’ll investigate and find the passport you got her is illegal.”
“You caught that?” Teagan pressed her lips tightly together.
Hagen smiled faintly. “We’ll have to get her ourselves.”

Chapter Six
“I can’t go get her,” Teagan looked down, “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“She’ll get caught, Teagan!” Hagen replied with a little fire, “ She was caught before. And I thought you were the one who really cared about her.”
Teagan stiffened unnaturally. “I don’t care much for anything anymore Hagen, I will avenge Will and then I will have no reason to live. You don’t understand,” her voice cracked, not in a tearful way but in a frustrated and confused way. “I have to restrain myself, keep it distant. You don’t… I don’t know what would rise within me if I got too close to those people. I’m… I’m scared.” And then she wished she hadn’t said it. With much anxiety she looked into Hagen’s eyes but beneath his uneducated and simple exterior, he understood.
“Alf, Nail, and Chris,” Hagen spouted sharply, “You come with me. We’ll have to go on foot. You can’t chase people with trains.” He put a quick and comforting hand on Teagan’s shoulder before they filed out the door. Hagen had no idea which direction Celene would go from the house they left her at, but it would be dangerous to split up. The sight of four raggedy men elbowing through the traffic caused many heads to turn, and they flew up and down the streets, but it was nearly five minutes later when they reached the house.
They nearly fell on top of one another as they skidded to a stop and looked dumbly down the blank street. Just then an engine revved from behind and with a giant wave of air a silver car whizzed by with open windows and they barely caught a glimpse of Teagan’s cropped blonde hair whipping in the wind. They called after her but there was no stopping. Hagen and his men took off down the sidewalk, following the trail of smoke.
Teagan’s teeth were clenched and her foot stayed tightly on the gas pedal. She hadn’t spent too much time exploring the streets of this area but she was headsmart enough to remember the basics. If she were Celene, she would head into plain sight, crimes are harder that way, but it was Celene she was thinking of, after all, and that was hard to tell. Where could you be isolated in a city? Where could you go where there weren’t a stream of shoppers? If it was Celene in consideration, where would be the best place to run and be a big show off, just a bit?
Teagan jerked the steering wheel and curved across the lanes to soar down the exit, ever nearing the bridge arching the bay over to the green and pink lit party island in sight. There, on the edge of the bridge, silhouetted against the sky was a little figure running with long hair streaming behind her. Cars honked but faded as they passed, though she really wasn’t in anyone’s way. The bridge was much too crowded to do anything but drive on, and Teagan tried to get Celene’s attention as she whizzed past. Of course, no one was chasing after her, but they might not have been as prone to showing off as Celene was. Teagan guessed they had phoned down to the little island and would have a little ‘greeting party’ arranged. She dug into the steering wheel and pulled off in a little tourist parking lot right off the bridge.
Her eyes could barely be seen over the steering wheel as she hunched in her seat, wildly scanning the cars merging on and off the highway. Celene was not too far behind and Teagan forced herself to inhale. With a trembling hand she put the car in park and put her leg out the car door. Celene saw her and picked up her pace, but then her expression changed and she stopped. Teagan turned. A car advanced straight toward her full of serious dark haired people, both men and women. The car stopped a few feet from Teagan. Celene was confused as to why Teagan seemed to be frozen, it seemed out of character for her to be immobilized by fear. Celene turned to run but something compelled her to watch.
But Teagan wasn’t afraid. She was terrified. Not of them, what nonsense that would be, but of herself. She stepped sideways toward the car and reached through the door slowly. Just as the people began pouring out of their car and slamming the doors, they stopped at the sight of a metal flash, for Teagan had pulled out a gun. Her arms were locked in front of her and her teeth clenched so tightly that she could barely speak. “Get in the car,” She said with trembling control, “And drive away.”
One man raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth but Teagan cut him off with a louder tone. “Get in the car... and drive away... Now. Or so help me, I will shoot all of you.” The man opened his mouth again. “Do it!” Teagan shouted. They got no closer to the car, instead they looked at one another and walked slowly toward her. Teagan closed her eyes for a second, as if she didn’t want to see what she was about to do. Celene caught her arm just as a shot sounded and ripped off into the sky. The Zons suddenly stuck a more cautious pose and at one word between them they piled back into the car. But they didn’t drive away. The car started with attitude and they revved the engine. Celene ripped the gun out of Teagan’s hand and threw it into the water, then she took off running for the bridge.
“No, Celene!” Teagan screamed after her, “Get in my car!” But it was too late, Celene was a surprising distance down the side of the road and the Zons’ car was just beginning to pass her. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed and in a second her car was roaring after. She took the wrong entrance to the bridge going the wrong way but it afforded her the inches needed to zoom in the lead, and some say a few sparks flew. She edged her way into the far lane with more skill than the Zons driver seemed to posses, not having cars in Zons after all, and she looked behind her to check that her back window was down. As she neared Celene her brakes squealed and she shouted to her, “Get in! Get in!” Teagan was barely going slow enough for anyone to jump in a car even if the whole door was open, but Celene seemed to have forgotten this rule and looped an arm and leg in the window so that she had a good hold. Half of her still scrambled on the outside of the car, but Teagan pumped the gas and swerved ahead. Celene finally tumbled into the backseat and popped her head above the back to look out the back window.
The Zons were more terrible at driving than Teagan had realized, for they seemed to have tail-ended a little truck and they were climbing outside their smashed car yelling at each other. Celene turned around in her seat and gave Teagan a funny face. Teagan’s breath shook, but then she laughed. Celene didn’t need to say thank you, though she still wouldn’t have even if it was needed. Teagan picked up her cellphone and dialed the phone she had left with Hagen, who of course had never been told how to answer one. She pulled into the spacious hostel parking lot and returned the car to the confused owner, still waiting under the streetlamp. She handed him another wad of bills and he couldn’t complain.
Celene entered the lobby like a hero, but this time, Alf wasn’t frowning. “You have an enormous amount of bad luck,” Teagan kept saying while Alf kept poking for every detail of the car chase.
“You didn’t get sufficient evidence, did you?” Hagen’s brow furrowed as he emerged late from down the hall.
Teagan sighed, “I think an apology would be in order…”
But Celene’s dark smile hushed everyone in the room. Silently she pulled out a little letter from inside her jacket and placed it in Hagen’s hand. “It was laying beside the gold pin,” He said distractedly. Celene nodded. Hagen stepped back and opened the letter, a new wave of urgency came over the group and their eyes were serious. “This will do,” He spoke with authority and slipped the letter in his coat. “Did the Zons see you, Teagan?”
Teagan swallowed.
“You made the right choice, Teagan, but you’re high up there and easy to track. We can’t stay here. In fact,” his face fell, “I need desperately to get back to Gale, who knows what wars have started while I was gone.” He meant this to be a joke but the party found it all too true and gave Teagan a sober look.
“I can take it from here,” said Teagan quietly and no one could imagine otherwise. “I’ll head off to the council, and hopefully we can get the Zons out of their homes.”
“Don’t make them mad.” Celene inserted.
“Celene, please,” Hagen sighed, not in the mood to argue but she continued.
“They’re convinced that what they did to Moncho is fair revenge for the wars in the past, and that they are both even now. Any jab from Crete would upset that balance and they would want to repay fire with fire.”
“We’re avenging Moncho, Celene,” Hagen said gravely, not really getting the point of Celene’s talk.
Teagan gave Celene a pitied look, “Big choices are hard. War is hard. We’ll do the best we can. In the meantime, you’ll have to take the weapon to the scientist along with Celene. I’ll write you the directions.”
Celene turned to retreat to another side of the room and Hagen slid the little phone out of his pocket, “I’ll text you if I succeed.”
“No, they can track us both from that.”
“They can?” Asked Hagen.
Teagan frowned, “We’ll meet in that Tavern a month from today and I’ll catch you up. You don’t need to be associated with me on record.”
“Will something go wrong?”
“No, no, I just… to be safe.” Teagan took the phone from Hagen.
Hagen suddenly felt there was something he had underestimated about Teagan’s choice today. “Do… do you want me to leave one of my men with you?”
Teagan smiled weakly, “That’s not how it works in Crete, Hagen.”
Hagen fidgeted with the straps on his shoulders and without a goodbye they all filed out the door into the sunlight. Rather than being perky and refreshing it blinded their eyes and they felt entirely out of place. They took the more obscure train routes at Teagan’s suggestion, and after the men’s growing fascination for the electronic cigarettes everyone kept offering them, they arrived in Gale that evening in a much better mood than they should have.
It seemed fitting for an old scientist’s house to be at the back of town hiding away by the wall that separated it from Crete. The area was barren with dirt, like one would imagine the moon. With the old fences and remains of tents Hagen thought it must have once been a military base. There was an uninviting looking square structure over to the side and a little jeep parked outside. Behind that, however, up on a little barren hill sat a very ordinary looking house.
Hagen nodded in that direction and they all seemed to want to fall behind him. The door opened at their knock and a small and thin old man answered, looking very much like a scientist and standing in front of a dark kitchen. Celene expected to see vials and tubes and hear bubbling but all that filled that silence was the dripping of the faucet over a stack of dirty dishes.
“Are you… Mr. Min?” Hagen squinted at his sheet from Teagan
“No, Mr. Min,” the man corrected, though he had said the exact same thing.
“Min?”
“No, Min.”
Hagen looked about him, but no one wanted to help him out. “Well, sir, I was sent here by… well, I probably shouldn’t say, but I hear you’re a scientist and I’d like to ask for your assistance?”
“A scientist?” The man repeated as if Hagen hadn’t been speaking loudly and clearly. “Teagan sent you, didn’t she?”
“I can’t say, sir.” Hagen replied and the man rolled his eyes.
“I used to be a scientist, worked in the military some. Couldn’t bear to leave the place,” He smiled as he looked thoughtfully at the heaps of rubbish and dirt.
“We heard you worked in the Detrux Project? Or something?”
The man shrunk a little, “Oh, I got caught up in a lot of crazy things. Youth kind of does that to you. I don’t know if I’m worth much any more with all this new tech flying around.”
Hagen slid the pack off his shoulder and dropped it in front of the man. “How about some old tech?”
The bag was old and the edge wrinkled down around the hunk of the weapon. “What’s that?” Asked the man in disgust.
“I thought you might know, sir.” Hagen replied.
“I dont know what that is.”
“Can you take a look?”
Celene couldn’t see much from behind the tall backs of the eager group but she didn’t try for a better position. Her voice barely carried, but the group hushed when she spoke. “It’s a weapon passed down through the generations in Zons. It can only be used by people from there, so they don’t want it in the hands of any Zons who haven’t taken the oath to stay loyal to their country.”
“And who would that be?” The man’s face scrunched up around his bird-like eyes.
“Me, sir.”
“Well isn’t that convenient.” He was weak, but he drug the bag inside by the unravelling strings. Hagen cringed when the weapon creaked loudly. “I haven’t set up shop in years, half the stuff is likely to combust when I unpack it, but I’ll get it out.”
“Can we help, sir?” Hagen asked nervously.
“No, nothing for you to do. Unless you want to get in the way. You’ll have to leave the Zons, though.”
“No,” said Celene.
Hagen bit his lip, “Alf, you stay also. And yes, Celene, if the weapon was built for a Zons you’d better stay.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Celene could’ve argued on but she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure why.
“Can we trust you with this? You won’t betray us?” Hagen swayed hesitantly to go.
“I don’t know why I’d tell you if you if I was going to betray you, but no, no, I’m not interested in taking sides.”
“Except for ours, right?”
“Whatever. It’s an interesting project.”
Hagen and the three others trotted down the hill, leaving Alf and Celene standing forlornly at the now vacant doorway. “You gonna keep out of fights, Celene?” Alf tried in a cheery tone, and he thought he saw Celene smile. He followed her into the house.
Teagan barreled through the next weeks in a daze, if the scientist would have had television, Alf and Celene would have known more of her exploits and learned quickly the nastiness of the media. Celene assumed that Teagan would not deal gently with her husband’s murders, and she was the most right of anyone. Something changed in Teagan once the calm leadership of Hagen was gone, and she fought for justice alone. Even when the evidence was sufficient and the council stood at her back, her eyes did not look like they once did and her cheeks were drawn. All the Zons were taken from their homes and thrown in a camp once used for refugees, where many were interrogated and some killed. Strangely, they didn’t fight back. Of course they were upset, but something else hid in their eyes, as if their lives existed for another reason, and this was a minor setback. Teagan was glad when she thought Celene was safe in Gale, it would be all too easy for her to get swept up in the midst of it.
Celene spent many hours sitting on the workbench of the scientist while he drew blood again and again and again with Alf digging in the fridge nearby. She had insisted they stop by the house to get her lizard, and his large serious eyes convinced both Celene and Alf that he must be quite a bit smarter than they. They often played with him on the table poking him and feeding him crumbs until Mr. Min, the scientist, would yell at Celene to hold still. He wasn’t interested in giving any hint of his findings away, but his excitement couldn’t be hidden, and this gave Celene something to think about. It was bad enough being in the midst of it, but the worst was fighting the gnawing feeling that she hadn’t the faintest idea how things were going. Maybe they had won, and the Zons had all scurried away with their heads down, or maybe Teagan wasn’t being believed. Maybe war was swarming to Crete on big black ships and they needed aid desperately. At least she was doing her part, as Hagen seemed so convinced of, and was more than most from Greensville accomplished, regardless of whether it amounted to anything at all.
“Alright,” The scientist spoke for the first time in days, “Come with me outside. Well, come on!” Alf and Celene trudged out of the dark house. They squinted like a bat in daytime, having been in darkness for so long, and the dirt and metal reflected a glare that made them want to go inside again. Celene was feeling lightheaded from all the blood loss anyway, but the scientist didn’t seem to care. “Come here, girl, that’s it.” He motioned to Alf to lift one end of the weapon and together with much angry correction from Mr. Min, it fitted across her shoulders and back and down each arm. Celene swayed from the weight but shook Alf off when he tried to hold her up. The scientist clamped gridded bars down around her arm, and the little needles lining them poked into her skin, it was very jarring, but bearable. She wondered if that had to do with “activation.” He tightened the thick straps looping down her front.
“So you wear it,” Alf said. and
The scientist glared at him. “Some school you went to, boy.” Celene grew a headache as Alf tried to make up his experience at school and dropping himself lower and lower into his complex lie. If he had indeed gone to school he might notice more often when no one believed him.
“So we shouldn’t worry about them?” Celene nodded to a few bored men in old military uniform, hiding against the wall of the facility next door. There were so skinny and pitiful Celene wondered if they had been rejected from the army.
Mr. Min didn’t seem to worry, but pulled Alf behind Celene and kept her still when she tried to turn around. He fingered the dusty hinges delicately and pulled here and pushed there and when his finger brushed against a switch he flipped it.
A high pitched whine arose, and continued to rise until only Celene’s sensitive Zons ears could hear it, and it coughed a little as if it had awoken from a deep sleep. Alf steadied Celene’s shoulders as it began to vibrate and she didn’t have enough mobility to resist. “Your arms! Your arms!” The man shouted and held Celene’s arm in front of her when she didn’t understand. “Aim for the rubble, not the house, good God!”
“Aim?” Celene said but then a big spitting sound silenced them all. The weapon lurched against her and she fell backwards onto her elbows. In surprising silence, the rubble heap before them glowed red and then disintegrated into ash. Mr. Min stroked his chin thoughtfully and didn’t notice Celene as she struggled to get up.
“Wow,” Alf shouted, “Like a dragon!”
“More science and less myth, boy. It’s a standard idea. I would be disappointed if Crete didn’t have a few of their own, but then again, it’s probably outlawed.” The facility men had suddenly disappeared in the safe walls of their office.
“Well that wasn’t too bad,” Celene said like she had just come to, “But it would take a while to destroy a city.”
“Yes, it’s tiny. Turns out you’re only part Zons, so I’ll have to calibrate it.” He replied.
“Part Zons?” Celene repeated.
“That’s what I said. Looks like you’re an illegitamate. You’re dad must have…”
“No, I get it.” Celene interrupted.
Alf pulled Celene up and helped her take the “Dragon” off while Mr. Min wasn’t looking. “But you mentioned their animals had grown really big, and I thought they used those.”
“Why not use both,” The scientist’s voice faded as he hobbled toward the house.
Alf helped Celene drag the weapon back across the field. “The large insects could be considered an accident.” Celene explained, “They experimented a lot with just about everything, but large animals just couldn’t do much against modern countries of Crete.”
“So it’s like a cover up, to hide their weapon.”
“Sure, Alf.”
“Groovy. Hey, didn’t Teagan say something about all the Zons evacuating lately?”
“So? They just don’t want us to figure out the weapon.”
“I think that means they’re about to attack Crete.” Alf stopped helping with the weapon so he could stand tall for seriousness sake. “Hagen says so.”
“Hagen’s wrong about a lot of things.” Celene wasn’t getting the weapon anywhere on her own and her back ached.
“Like what?” Alf demanded and Celene laughed at his face and left for the house. Alf threw the long weapon body over his shoulder in a way that would have made the scientist furious had he been watching out the window. Alf sure hoped Celene would never have to use it, that would garner a little too much fame. Maybe it was unethical, too. He wanted to punch someone’s face right now, but he was on too good of terms with everyone to get very far.
Celene could still feel the weapon on her arms, and there were little red pricks below her shoulder. Even though it was an entirely disturbing and foreign feeling, it seemed now like a piece of her was missing. A piece that Hagen would say was terrible and would take away, but the power was addicting. A part of her she had never felt.
Further into winter, Teagan came to stay in the house with Alf and Celene and Mr. Min. After further prodding, she confessed to being on a private sort of wanted list. Surprisingly it was not the Zons who had set it up, but the young activists who were fresh out of college and couldn’t think of anything better to do with one another than get enraged over something. Teagan had to divert precious time to quelling the masses rather than getting information out of the Zons. Celene’s evidence had been enough to spur on a load of newsletters and late night searches and public arrests. At this time, Teagan said, the Zons who refused to leave themselves were being shipped away to the only country that would accept them. A sort of buffer country that loaned money here and took prisoners there and all around was mostly known for its export of sharp cheeses.
Overall, she just needed to stay in Gale for a little while. “Not for too long,” she would say, “I’ll be going back soon. Just when the storm clears a bit.” No one could get much else out of her. Celene and Alf could only leave to their imaginations the ruthlessness of Teagan when she was alone in Crete. Alf especially took up the pastime of illustrating glorious battles and gut wrenching scenarios to Celene every evening as she was needed on the scientist’s bench. Though Celene wouldn’t speak much to Teagan for having not heeded her advice to leave the Zons alone, she couldn’t help but be slightly envious of her notoriety.
Alf liked her in the house. Without losing her swift fire, she took on a more motherly role, always making sure they had enough blankets and water to drink. All for the kids, at least, she appeared to care less for Mr. Min than he ever cared for human life and they often got into mind-bending, snappy arguments about agriculture, each fighting to talk circles around the other.
Celene, however, felt even more uncomfortable under Teagan’s umbrella. She often lay awake in bed, tucked in nicely with crackers and water by her bed and terribly mad. One particular night, she had been thinking a little too much and had a come to a good idea of what was to become of her in the days to come. It seemed unlikely for the Zons conflict to end in sensibility. Hagen and his brazen humility would probably egg on war whilst Teagan, if ever given an axe, would be on the front line slaughtering them left and right. Celene hadn’t much use, she could steal trinkets and make people terribly annoyed, but she wasn’t knowledgeable or peopled or strong at all. Most likely she would be asked to don that strange and beautiful dragon weapon sooner or later and would be directed around like any ordinary soldier to fire here and run there.
She didn’t concern herself too much with the ethics of this, but a twisting feeling in her gut told her that when the request was made, she couldn’t just say the usual quirky something and stare silently from under her hair. Something told her she would care. It would matter. Though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.
Of course people would say that she was killing her own race, and that would be hard on the nerves, but Celene never quite knew what they meant by ‘nerves.’ The only nerves she could recall was when Alf was being a mushroom head or at least wouldn’t stop talking. Perhaps they meant caring, but Celene hoped that fate would never fall on her. She ran through a short list in her head to see if any of her acquaintances’ deaths would affect her choice somehow. Alf? Not really, more of a strategic disadvantage. Mr. Min, no. Hagen, hell no. Teagan… Well, this one made her sit up and stare hard into the cold dark. Teagan was pretty annoying, and a terrible listener. But she had nice hair… also she was always giving her food when Hagen wouldn’t. And she was fearless. Yes, thought Celene as she fell back on the mat and let her arms spread out on either side, Teagan’s death would give me a funny feeling. Strange. But whatever that meant, she wouldn’t be killing Teagan anyways, she would be killing Zons.
At that moment a rustling sound made her jerk and she listened with a growing frown. The crackers. She leapt from the bed and snatched them off the small table. Ivory’s little white lizard body streaked down the table leg, across the moonlight floor and out the window, a little trail of crumbs behind him. She sighed and stuffed the last cracker into her knitted jacket, which she wore pretty much all the time now. Ivory could do whatever he wanted and he knew it. He was too fast to catch and too cute to discipline. Celene was envious.
Maybe that was the answer to her strange dilemma. With Ivory, there were no repercussions to what he did, only because he chose to do minor and unimportant things. That must be so refreshing, to have complete freedom without ever failing in an agreement or not living up to one’s promises or being demanded of your talents till they’re stale in the mouth. Celene, by now, was crawling out the window and up the siding, following the path of the lizard at her own pace until she reached the roof. Ivory was standing rigid on all fours, his elbows bent out in that funny lizard way but his head very smooth and keen, staring at something nonexistent in the sky.
Celene curled her legs under her and followed his gaze. The wind was very cold but when Celene stopped thinking about it, it stopped hurting and she was more relaxed than she had ever been in the hot gas heating of the house. The sky was endless and dark and beautiful, like Celene had imagined it always was every night yet only now had she come out to see it. Then she spoke in a soft, comfortable voice, one that no one except the lizard had heard, “It was better back in Greensville,” she said, “When there was nothing that ‘had to be done.’ That way nothing could be done wrong.” The lizard didn’t seem the least interested in her so she broke a little crumb off the precious cracker in her pocket and tossed it at him.
“But now Hagen is sure to ask me this stupid question, of whether or not I help them with the weapon, and now whatever I do is a deliberate choice. It’s his fault, really.” Ivory crouched lower, upsetting the crumb and sending it bouncing off the edge. “The choice should just be opinion, but Hagen is sure to make it all tied in with morals,” Celene said, “And I just…”
Ivory jumped and scuttled off the opposite end of the roof in a flash and Celene clutched her knees tighter.
“Hello?” came a voice from the ground. Celene looked down at Teagan in her pale blue bathrobe. “It’s cold, Celene. What are you doing?”
Celene studied her curiously, just then remembering the cold.
“Who were you talking to?” Teagan asked, then she blushed, not wanting to embarrass her. “Is your rodent up there with you?” Celene’s answer was lost in the breeze so Teagan had to step closer, “What?”
“I think he’s a lizard.” Celene replied, hardly any louder.
Teagan sighed and pulled her bathrobe tighter around her. This wasn’t any easier than when Celene had been staying at her house. “Is - is there anything I can get you?”
“More crackers please,” came the reply.
Teagan rubbed her eyes, “Well don’t stay up too late. Mr. Min said he needs you early this morning and Hagen wrote today and said he’s coming in a few weeks. He has something to ask you. Of course, I’ll be gone by then.”
Celene had been staring at her this whole time and continued to do so, not at all thinking about early mornings or Hagen’s letter, but mostly about the question and a little about crackers.
“Well, good night Celene,” Teagan finally said.
Celene dropped her head on her knees. “Good night.”
In the days after, Celene often escaped into the encampment beyond, limiting the scientist’s work and making him slightly more irritable than Alf liked. He grew tired of running cords here and turning up the burner to a certain temperature there, and he began trying to follow Celene when she left.
It was easy enough to tell when she had left, the house was too small to disappear in, but she never left the same way twice, so he couldn’t establish a pattern. Of course Celene did it only to spite him, and soon it became a little unspoken game between them in which Celene always won and would come back in the evening with a little smirk on her face. Alf’s mistake was that she really came alive at night, her exploits in the day were usually burying herself under some old roofing and taking a nap. One night, when the scientist was snoring especially loud, Alf threw the blanket off his bed on the couch and tripped out the door. Unfortunately this was less of an urge for adventure, and more of an urge to relieve himself in the woods, but before he came inside again he noticed the exceptional beauty of the night and thought to look up.
Up high enough to make him sick loomed the great stone wall, and at first he thought he notice a strange bump on top of the smooth edge, but realized it was a person. Night watch, most likely. But then there were no stairs. And what did they have to watch? Wouldn’t they just be shot down? He thought the figure turned and looked at him, but it was hard to tell. He made a strange motion between staying and running, but the figure was now gone, replaced only by flawless glass sky. Keeping his eyes on the wall, he reached for the door and missed the handle several times. By the time he grabbed it it made a terrible squeak and at the same moment a voice came, “Come here.”
“Celene?”
“Yes of course, come on.”
“Where?”
No sound came from the darkness and Alf could imagine her face as she waited for him to answer himself. “The wall?” He said quietly but he only heard retreating steps. “Wait,” he called but didn’t have any trouble catching up. He breathed in to ask how she got up there in the first place, but thought better.
There was a huge crack in the wall, enough for one to stand in, widening and narrowing up to the top. “You can’t climb that,” Alf observed.
“That’s why I hung a rope.”
“But how did you get the rope up there?”
“It was hard, took me a few hours…”
“Yes?”
“I kind of wedged sticks up above me to make a sort of ladder. They didn’t always hold, it was tiring. And painful.”
“Groovy.” Alf said.
“Please let that word stay in Crete.” Celene’s voice came from above as she had already begun the climb. Alf was quicker and bumped into her foot several times to which she bit her tongue. Ten minutes later his arms began to hurt and his sides were tender with scrapes. Celene only laughed, though she was in more pain than he. Once Alf nearly let go in fright when a little white streak pattered past his head. Ivory, always liked to show off and he disappeared up into the darkness. The climbing had gone on for about a half an hour and without any warning at all, Alf felt a breeze on his sweaty head from all sides.
“Are we there?” He began, then shouted, “Ah!”
“Shh!” Celene demanded. “Yes, it’s high up. But look around.” Alf first squinted out over the muddle of Gale but realized a light on Celene’s face who looking the other way. “Wow,” he breathed and crouched so as to not lose his footing. Crete was like a dark sea filled with little lights, some were darting here and there and Alf could almost hear the soft swish of the trains. The mottled clouds above looked stained with a deep purple and gave a fairy tale sort of aura.
“What?” Said Celene when she thought he had something to say.
“I just… didn’t think you like beautiful things. Or could even see them.”
“Why?” Celene’s brow was furrowed but she kept her eyes on the city.
“You’re always so gloomy, you seem to like situations that no one would like. You run away all the time.”
“This is the sort of thing I run away to.” She said. “It’s just a sight, I can enjoy it without having to interact or keep my ground. It’s a pleasure that all I have to do is exist to enjoy.”
“And climb.”
“And climb,” she repeated.
“Celene?” Alf began in a different sort of voice. Celene didn’t answer, terribly afraid that he was going to go all sentimental. “You look nice tonight.”
“No,” she warned.
“And I was wondering about our friendship...”
“No.”
Alf wilted and sat down so his legs dangled over the wall and little bits of stone crumbled down to the little checkup building in Crete. How terribly immature he was. He couldn’t even enjoy a landscape without being awkward. So in silence she stood and he sat, studying the horizon and listening to the wind and their relationship slowly repaired.
“What’s that?” Alf spoke suddenly in a way that shattered the trance and he looked at Celene, wishing he hadn’t said anything. Her eyes had already been fixed to the sight. “Celene?” he said, and then looked himself. There was a little blemish growing over the north sea, and it wasn’t a cloud. “It’s a cloud,” Alf said anyways, unable to bear the feeling. “It’s going to storm tonight.”
“And a storm it shall be,” Celene said quietly. Her eyes were piercing and she didn’t flinch.
Alf nodded, though he wasn’t sure that’s what she meant. He rubbed his sweaty palms against the crumbled edge of the wall and waited. The cloud grew and grew, finally separating into little clumps, and then dots, and then specs. And then instead of being on the sea, they stretched up into the sky all the while expanding into more and more surface area, until Alf wondered that it wasn’t alive and reproducing.
Celene, however began to feel tense under the silent battle between the lights of Crete and the black mass. Both seemed to have a life and will, but neither seemed to comprehend the other, which is the most terrifying feeling. When looking from such a distant angle, it had been easy to feel that the essence of Crete were the glory and the tangle of lights and sounds, but in the face of danger it did nothing. It saw nothing.
“It’s not a cloud,” Alf said, and Celene glanced at him distractedly. “It’s probably an army or something.” But this time no one chided him for being dramatic, and his words hung in the air. “Is it?”
“Just watch,” said Celene, for the fungus had crossed the sea and had touched the shore, but it was under a fog and nothing to do but wait. As much as her habit wished her to shock someone with her love of drama and coldness to pain, her throat was dry and she couldn’t say it. She just only watched.
A great smoke arose through the fog and one could hear a deep but quiet booming but since they were so high up they did not feel the tremble from the earth. Alf kicked his feet against the wall. As if swept away by a giant hand, the fog moved and most of the boats were gone, or partially sticking above the water. The Zons must be having trouble without the weapon; they hadn’t thought through the Crete sea defense. If only they had planes.
As if in reply another cloud formed out of the sea in a flutter of transparent wings that filled the air with static. Iridescent creatures, purple and black in the dim light rose and fell into the lights, adding to the static a deep and chest rumbling disturbance and sickening cracks. Some rose to great heights, only to slant downwards and plow into the city, creating deep furrows in the pavement. From their height they couldn’t hear the sounds of life or terror, only the lifeless crumbling, and it didn’t stimulate a distinct feeling in either of the two, until Alf stood and whispered, “Teagan.”
Celene brushed past him and skidded down the crack. Alf called after her but could not pull his eyes away from the smoke. Slowly the great height of the city took up less and less of the horizon and the lights were darkened so that it was all a great jumble and there wasn’t anything to look at. Only to hear. Alf couldn’t comprehend what time had passed, but it seemed like hours before Celene reappeared from the crack and stood with her hair whipping in the wind. She was different, she was holding something. No, she was wearing something. Something across her arms and shoulders.
“No, Celene!” Alf stood, “It’s over, it’s done.” Celene felt along the tangle of metal and adjusted the weapon with rough jerks. Alf wished she would say something. “There are still people there, you can’t.”
“Hundreds have evacuated into Gale, I saw them run. It doesn’t matter about the rest.”
“But Teagan!”
“It doesn’t matter about the rest!” She said in a cutting cold that made Alf stare, then she shook her head, “I’m sure Teagan is safe in Gale. This is why I brought the weapon, so let me use it. Stop it, stop it, Alf.” Alf pulled against her but with the momentum of the enormous weight she swung at him and he almost fell off the wall. With a serene but abnormal gleam in her eyes she flipped the switch and no sooner than it had whined to a high pitch had it fired. Alf reached out and caught Celene by the arm as she fell backwards and turned to watch. A sort of red crept into the ground and glowing, it grew faster and faster, enveloping the ground until it reached the shore and there it’s stark outline was steamed by the tide.
“Celene, you doof, he recalibrated it.” Alf said a little too late.
Celene was on her knees, quickly unstrapping the weapon. “It seems to deserve the name Dragon now.” She looked a bit surprised but not at all sorry.
“We’d better just throw that weapon over the wall,” Alf started sliding it away from her, “Who knows how much you just destroyed.”
“No, they could just re-configure the parts,” she said, aware that the possibilities of that were actually in front of the decimal point, but Alf looked concerned. “We’d best keep it with the scientist. He could shut it down properly.” Of course there was no traction that Mr. Min would have any such thought, but technically it wasn’t a lie. Alf stepped over Celene, not having the willpower to help her up. He picked up the Dragon and slung it over his shoulder, then disappeared into the crack.
Several miles away, the only light to be seen was the dim mood lighting through the windows of a tavern, and a lone figure slouching inside. He had no taste for beer and his hands lay folded in his lap. It was Hagen, who had been there since the evening, waiting and waiting for Teagan to show up as she promised. Instead he was rewarded with deep booms and the faint sound of an evacuating crowd. In fear even more irrational than the situation, they swarmed around the tavern on foot, distancing themselves as much as they could from Crete. Hagen didn’t watch them. His gaze was low on the table. He knew better than Celene of where Teagan was. She had warned the council and in turn the people so that the moment there was darkness on the horizon they knew to flee. Forever he would remember her as the savior of Crete, though her name would most likely never be mentioned in a textbook.
Teagan died. She had done her job, and she had no more to want. Hagen wanted to be angry but he couldn’t. “And thus the fall of two,” he whispered to himself, his eyes distant. “One remains.”

Chapter Seven
         Azim crossed his arms in the back of the meeting tent. The first snow was falling cheerily outside and the Zons morale was high, but he only frowned. He wished it didn’t have to be this way. Crete and Moncho had only asked it upon themselves, if they would only negotiate it would be very clearly written in their oath that they did not have to shed any more blood. Frivolous other-landers and their petty attempts to resolve conflict with violence never got them anywhere. Moncho and Crete earned what was given to them, and he hoped Gale would not make the same mistake. If they would only realize that the Zons could play the violence way so much better, but that had nothing to do with who was right in the end.
         Whatever the case, he had long stopped speaking in such meetings in the tent. They wouldn’t listen to him anyways. A fight was inevitable.

***

         “You won’t win.”
         “Well we have to be strategic,” Hagen replied, “We can’t just rope in all of Gale and form an army.” They were all shivering around Mr. Min’s dinner table and the scientist himself had locked himself in his room.
         “I never said anything about an army.”
         Hagen’s face turned slightly red. Teagan had thought it was the right thing to do and it hadn’t left his mind since she died. “War is delicate, Celene, and I have a different philosophy about life. I don’t want citizens to die.”
         “I still never said anything about an army. Just don’t make the same mistake Crete did by irritating them.”
         “Crete didn’t make a mistake!” Hagen said loudly and rubbed his head, “They did what was expected, they punished the Zons for what they did to Moncho. They did the right thing.”
         Celene let the silence sink in. “Not if there was a better way.”
         “You want us to negotiate? That’s not how savages work.”
         Celene wanted to say they should treat the Zons like humans. That they only wanted to see that Gale had good people who honestly meant to make peace, not this sneaky work of a select few without any understanding of their skewed but honored morals. But she couldn’t word it in a way that wouldn’t make her look soft, so she only scowled a know-it-all scowl that she knew Hagen didn’t like.
         Hagen didn’t seem to think that living with the enemy for a while was enough to give you credibility. Or maybe he was just scared. “We can prepare for an attack, but we won’t start it,” Hagen finally agreed, “We will wait so long that everyone knows that the first shot fired will be theirs.”
         Alf fingered the woodwork on the table. “Celene, what makes you want to talk it out rather than fight all of a sudden?”
         “I didn’t say I wanted to talk it out, just prove Gale is a good country that works together. For peace. You don’t understand. We... I mean they think differently. I meant they.” She sort of wished this issue mattered to her but… she would only be as flaky as the rest of them. It gave her such a terrible feeling that she wanted to run away again.
         Nail pulled himself up from a slouch on the raggedy couch and everyone seemed to just then notice he was there. “What I’m wondering is what really happened when the whole shore and all the Zon’s ships were turned to ash. Ah, don’t look at me that way. You have to have seen it on the news. The big glow of the embers? It spread so quickly like a wave.” He made a mimicking motion with his hands. Celene’s gaze darted to everyone’s eyes. A big conspiracy theory debate was rising in most, but of them all, Hagen’s face was the most unreadable and Celene didn’t breath. At least the scientist wasn’t out here to give it all away.
         “Celene did it.” Spewed Alf. He stiffened in surprise when everyone stared at him. “What? She used the Dragon!”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Celene said, but Alf had already started explaining. Celene could have made them believe otherwise and made Alf look like a complete idiot, but she knew Hagen still had his favoritism streak and wasn’t for her.
         Celene’s voice was buried as she took a long sip from her cup. “Just trying it out.” She could imagine Hagen’s fierce eyes. “And it worked.”
         But Hagen’s eyes were not fierce. His mouth was set in a funny line, like he was thinking. “That was strangely heroic. No one ever told me the weapon, or Dragon, was working.”
         Alf laughed nervously, “Mr. Min wouldn’t tell anyone till he knew everything about it.”
         “Well,” shrugged Hagen. “It seemed to work fine to me. And it might just solve our problem.”
         “No.” Said Celene with scared eyes.
         “Hear me out,” said Hagen, though Celene didn’t need to hear, “We’ll make this as clean as possible. Celene can use the Dragon and then only a handful of us will be needed to keep them at bay.”
         “No.”
         Mr. Min hobbled around the corner, apparently having been listening the entire time. “They’d have an easy time setting up a barricade sooner or later.”
         “Not if she’s on the wall,” Alf said, “That’s where we were that night she used it.”
         Hagen wasn’t used to brainstorming and tried to regain control of the conversation, “They’d shoot her down.”
         “They wouldn’t want the weapon to fall off the wall, so no.” Replied the scientist, smiling in a sort of grimace.
         “Even when the weapon’s being used against them? Shouldn’t they just want it gone for both sides at the expense of one life?” Hagen said. A tense silent spell ensued, which was broken by Ivory munching loudly on Celene’s carrots. At this point Celene was frowning. “No, Celene, I’m arguing for your life, don’t look at me like that. But really, Min. That makes no sense.”
         “Well, girl,” Mr. Min pulled a jar of stale coffee out from under the cupboards, “You seem to be the expert here. Would they?”
         Celene couldn’t lie. But Hagen didn’t seem in the mood to let her stay silent. In the end her boredom spared them all, and she just wanted to see their reaction. “They wouldn’t shoot.”
The reaction was a room full of hard mouths and dull eyes until Alf said, “But they were willing to hurt you when they thought you had gone against them.”
          “The rules are different for treason. Which is what you’re asking me to do, you know. Kill my family, basically. But whatever. They don’t have many long range weapons anyways, so it would be hard to get at me without harming the Dragon. I sort of took their pride and joy.”
           “Are you agreeing to fire at your own people?” Hagen’s eyes were clouded but strangely intense.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” He said, his face looked relieved but his voice betrayed him. “So how else will we be prepared? The people of Gale need a hero, something to symbolize, you know. I’m too human, they know me, and mostly hate me, but Celene… I know, it’s irrational. But only if we could test whether or not they’d fire at her. Like it we had a dummy, or a look alike.”
            Celene’s seat was suddenly empty and a breeze drifted lazily through the open door. Alf looked strangely uncomfortable and looked up at Hagen. “Well it is kind of our fight. Not that Gale asked for it, but it is all of our problem. You can’t ask a little girl to do all the fighting.”
“She old enough. And I shouldn’t ask old men and women to clean up their grandchildren’s bodies in the wreckage after the war. We wouldn’t survive as an army, Gale isn’t prepared.”
“Just so Celene doesn’t die.”
“I don’t think she will, but I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do,” Hagen’s and Alf’s eyes met as they both knew that they couldn’t force her if they tried. Hagen shook out of his reverie and looked a little more soft, “She wouldn’t even have to fire, I’m sure, they’d just see that big whirring weapon and stay out of sight. It’s kind of like the negotiation you guys were talking about.”
         Alf joined Hagen in his optimism and stood cheerily, “Well good luck talking her into it. Gosh, if I had a chance to do something great for once I’d take it, but I guess people with all the fame just can’t always see it straight.”
         Hagen opened his mouth to say a profound word of wisdom on greatness being who you are and not what situations you fall into, but the moment was gone and before he knew it he was alone in the house. The thought struck him that he should indeed have retired to be a flutist, and began to feel sorry for himself.
         No one thought to find the thin rope draped through the crack on the wall. Instead the sector was evacuated and filled with cranky and naive businessmen who had once been carpenters and slowly a ladder was built and unbuilt and then built again until they all agreed it was stable enough to use. Hagen didn’t hesitate to climb it, for he was never very particular about anything. Behind him, he toted a megaphone and as he reached high enough to hear wind beneath him, a little crowd of carpenters and soldiers and the strange and serious facility men gathered in little black dots below. When Hagen saw the expanse of Crete tumbled out before him and the utter silence and weight that hung in the air, he wished there was no crowd. He wished they could see and share in the intense gravity and not chant or laugh or whatever they were doing to egg him on.
         He lifted the megaphone up to his lips and breathed in the cold and tasteless air. What words would suffice? He was going for a blend of the lowest grief and hatred with a sprinkling of insuppressible ecstasy but instead his eyes smarted with tears and he said, “Damn.” The word was very loud and seemed to spread in all directions at once. “I don’t know where you are,” he continued, taking the liberty of a long pause, “But I’m declaring war.”
         The people down below the ladder stopped smiling and looked at one another. “We’ve seen enough bloodshed,” Hagen said, “And before now we were willing to forget our past. But you’ve gone too far. Stop sulking in the shadows and we will accept your surrender.”
         Mr. Min had just realized the commotion and came out of his house bleary eyed and barely dressed from sleep into the middle of a bright day and a crowd. Celene had not turned up since the conversation around the table a week before, but Alf wistfully touched the ladder as Hagen started the long climb down. The morale of the people had died significantly and they began to scatter aimlessly.
         This isn’t how you prepare for war, Alf thought. Where was the thrill? If they were going to die it might as well be exciting. “Hagen, Hagen,” he said the moment Hagen touched the ground, “We’re going to need more cigarettes.”
         “What, why?”
         “Your people are all down, they aren’t excited in the least bit and they’re not going to last long.”
         “War was never very fun, Alf…”
         “We need more of a community spirit if you want to get anywhere. This is more like music, you know, and less like sums and science and all that rubbish. It’s complicated.”
         Hagen swallowed and rubbed his neck, “I don’t know much of what you’re saying Alf, but if you think you’re so good at it why don’t you take that over.”
         “Oh, thank you sir. But… you mean like, captain of the staying-together? Or the go-to man?”
         “You really want me to give you a title?”
         Alf looked into the sky, thinking too hard to hear him.
         “Sir Alf, captain of the lesser details,” Hagen sang out but immediately hands tapped his shoulder and technical questions were asked and Alf squeezed his way out of the crowd that had formed.
         That night was awkward. The crowd separated into little clumps across the poorly lit yard and cumulatively there rose a soft mumbling of complaints and politics. Alf ran from group to group wringing his hands as he was very sensitive to group energy, or the lack thereof, and he thought he better think of something soon or never talk to Hagen again. It turned out Hagen couldn’t care less about Alf’s title, he was never one to care about pomp and pizazz and didn’t see why anyone else would. Someone suggested a fire and Alf jumped up in delight, but only after they had built a large brush pile had everyone realized they didn’t have a light. When twenty or so people produced little cigarette lighters and crouched around the pile, little trails of smoke began to rise above the heads, but the wood was too wet anyways and they all got bored and went to bed.
         In the morning Alf pleaded to Hagen for music, or cake, or anything, but Hagen continued to sit on his bed with his hands folded under his chin and most definitely not amending his reputation with the hirelings outside. The easy thing to do would be to put on a proud face and go up and rally the men with talks of glory and death, but Hagen honestly didn’t know what he was doing and didn’t like pretending he did. His past leadership success spurned from choosing his own loyal men and he had no comprehension of the art of strangers. Thankfully for everyone else, tomorrow was very near.
         The morning dawned pale and wispy with snow, and people were stiff from the lack of beds and very unhappy. The main gate between Gale and Crete had been boarded up and smeared with cement, and there wasn’t much of a safe way to get a look at the other side. Every few hours a group of Hagen’s men would return from the city with sacks of cooking knives and a few rifles and Hagen’s spirit would lift, but then presently a trail of people would disappear from the base by the wall and would be reported to be sneaking home through the woods.
         It was when Mr. Min produced a thin and scraggly looking periscope that no one had known he was working on. Before Hagen even caught wind of it, a young rebel with stiff, upright hair got his moment of fame by taking it in one hand and scaling the long ladder with the other. The wind made the ladder frame bellow and creak, and if anyone had any sense, no one would be allowed on it. The boy tripped a few times by getting the long tubular edge wedged in a wrung of the ladder, but this only warranted him more of a crowd. He kept climbing and kept climbing, as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t looking over the wall himself and then finally curled his leg around the ladder edge and hoisted the periscope against the side of the wall and slowly scraped it up till it barely cleared the top. From the ground, his frame grew smaller and everyone supposed he was looking in the view hole, so they fell silent. The boy did not give a reaction, but stayed there for quite some time. The periscope was lifted higher, and then higher. “What do you see?” An old farmer called up, but of course not even the outskirts of the crowd could hear him over the muffling wind.
If one was watching from the side, they would have seen the crowd squinting silently up at the wall then all gasp and put their hands to their face. The boy had put his foot on the top rung and put both hands on the edge of the wall. He then found footholds for his feet in the stone cracks, for no one was brave enough to build the ladder all the way up, and scrambled to the top. Hagen had just slammed out the front door of Mr. Min’s house and was shouting incoherently. The crowd respectfully made a way and, red faced, he jumped up the ladder with impressive speed. Right then a painful crack sounded deep from the other side of the wall and vibrations reverberated impressively through the ladder. Hagen froze, and gripped the sides, debating whether or not it was about to collapse and send him to his doom, but all the crowd saw were arrows shooting all around the boy and twanging into the ground like knives into butter. A few seconds later bullets too rained down but no one was hit. Hagen had started yelling again and climbed faster until he caught the boy by the leg and yanked him off the wall and onto the ladder which looked very painful even from the ground.
No one questioned the fact that Hagen knew what he was doing, but instead all at once had an astonishingly bad idea. Hagen turned around to began his descent with the unconscious boy over his shoulder, and as he did so his face drained. Twenty people climbed up toward him a few inches behind one another. The ladder bobbed and creaked under the weight and from the ground it bowed so drastically that hardly anyone could look. Hagen was tired of yelling and instead resigned himself to being dropped 200 feet. The rung beneath him suddenly jumped from his grasp and for a sickening moment his stomach leapt up against his ribcage and he grabbed the rung above just in time.
The entire ladder had snapped near the bottom and, being bolted at the top, was quickly swinging back toward the great wall. It didn’t have too far to fall, but the smack was enough to shake some of the lower people off like ants from a shoe. The remaining 10 or so rubbed their stubbed fingertips and quickly shimmied and skidded down the sides until they could jump to the ground. Hagen had to yell at them a bit, which his vocabulary had been reduced to, before they helped him get the wounded boy down. The boy was promptly put into the care of Mr. Min mostly because of the title “doctor” in his past. Again, this would have seemed like a bad idea had neglection and an undisturbed rest not been the exact remedy for his wounds.
If Hagen was a boy he would have cried. Not because he was scared, but because he had failed. The carpenters, which made up a large percentage of the useful part of the group, decided quickly that they had no intention of building another ladder that was inevitably going to break again and kill them all. “It would be a freak of nature,” one told him as he packed his bags, “Why don’t you hire a wizard instead?”
“Because I don’t have a wizard,” Hagen spat back, very uncreatively. “I’ve got a kid, who could really help in saving our hides, and she’s gone.”
He would have quickly changed the subject had not a few people stopped and looked at him. “Well, where is she?” A woman asked.
The mere simplicity of the question caught Hagen by surprise. “How should I know? She’s just an insolent and selfish...” No one was interested in the rest of the sentence and they instead demanded the details of the story.
The question then arose, “And what does she look like?”
Nail, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, took his cue. “About the same height as the boy Alf, but with less substance. Hair is blackish so that it’s almost blue and long to the waist, so that you don’t even think to notice her face. Foreign looking features, piercing eyes. Not necessarily pretty, but full of intrigue.”
“Yeah,” Hagen glanced approvingly at him, “Just try saying hello and if you don’t have her nail marks across your face you’ve got the wrong kid.” Nail turned his head so he could frown without directly defying Hagen. “Oh, I see,” Hagen filled the silence, “You all think you can drag her back, do you?” Hagen said. “I won’t allow it. Don’t force her, I’d rather…”
“Rather we start a war?” A boy suggested.
Hagen cocked his head, “Oh, you were paying attention, then. Yes, I suppose.”
“Well that doesn’t make sense,” came the reply.
“You have an alternative?”
“I don’t know, last I checked wars have armies.” It was the woman again.
“Well, step right on up then and be the first to enlist!” Hagen’s eyes were dark but with an intimidating spark of hope.
“I can’t, I’m a mother.” She said. Hagen looked expectantly at the boy from earlier.
“And I’m a carpenter,” he replied, “I just build things.”
“And I suppose everyone else is too busy being slumbags and thieves?” Hagen called after them, but they had begun to disperse and, as often happens in a crowd, no one thought it his responsibility to answer.
But in his despair, Hagen solemnly picked up the tools trodden and left in the yard and moved some of the heavier shards of ladder off into a pile. Then he washed his face in the cold pump by the large, dark facility. The sky turned to gold as the sun hid behind the great wall and the last sound on the banks of the military base was the slow creak of Mr. Min’s old door and the pulling of the latch. With this sinking hope came the night and with the night came the dawn and more important than the dawn came a small mob of people darkening the hill beyond. Soon they passed through the gates of the base, and then there came a series of knocks on Mr. Min’s door at an unearthly hour of the morning.
Despite his tired state, Hagen was aware that this could very well be the notice of his execution. In the rough standards of Gale, he had almost murdered 20 people the day before by just being in charge, but nevertheless he pulled on a shirt, raked his shaggy hair back, and opened the door.
“‘Ello,” the guest squeaked and then stared at him. It was another young boy, there seemed to be plenty of them, and he had a strange greedy look in his eyes.
“What do you want?” Hagen asked.
“Money,” the boy replied.
“Wrong country, kid,” Hagen replied but then noticed the mob down the hill all facing the house. “Those with you?”
The boy nodded.
“Is this a robbery or something?”
“No, we have her.”
“Celene?”
“Is that her name? Now someone finally tells us. Yes, I suppose we do.”
Hagen rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “You expect me to pay you for finding Celene?”
The boy stepped back a bit with widened eyes, “But… they told me… I thought you’d…”
“They lied to get you to come up here and talk to me face to face, didn’t they?”
The boy bit his lip and turned on his heel. Hagen took his time finding a coat and exiting the house then more carelessly tromping down the soggy hill. “I’m not a monster,” he addressed the crowd. In response the mass began churning until the inside became the outside and Celene emerged. She had a suspiciously better coat and Nail’s sharp eyes noticed she had replenished her collection of knives they had trashed a few months earlier.
“Well, you’re looking well,” Hagen growled and stepped toward her since she didn’t advance. “Can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?”
She shrugged, playing with something in her mouth and more interested in something across the yard. All the hope and interest she had developed in her time at the base was submerged again under something plastic and babyish.
“I told you not to force her.” Hagen straightened as he faced the group and a few remembered why they had been afraid to walk up to his door.
“But we didn’t,” the reply came, “She agreed to come.”
Hagen glanced downward at Celene who nodded her agreement because she was busy chewing. Then Hagen asked slowly, with slight humor, “How... did you manage that?”
“We bribed her, sir,” someone answered, and then another corrected, “We made a deal.” Celene herself merely pointed at the food in her mouth. The first interpreted, “Taffy, sir. She agreed to come for caramel taffy.”
Hagen didn’t react at first, then shook his head as if clearing his mind. His hands went from his pockets to folded on his chest, to his pockets again. “Well,” he began softly, “That seems like a downgrade, doesn’t it?”
“You’re complaining?” Celene spoke, proving she could indeed talk with candy in her mouth and was only silent earlier to annoy him. What Hagen again didn’t know was that she was embarrassed for her disappearance and was coping for it with a child’s level of irritability
“Well, an army’s an army. Are you going to get up on that wall then?”
“I believe the deal was to come,” Celene said. “We didn’t cover the fighting.”
“So your answer to my request is to come back to merely eat our food rations and take up another bed without any return effort or… blast it all, just come inside.” Celene gave one last look back at the crowd and in their shining eyes they pleaded with her to get something out of Hagen for their trouble. Hagen was already stomping through the house to the guest bedroom where he kicked Alf awake and then back to the kitchen to pop open a can of tuna and some pineapple juice.
“Celene, you came back!” Alf smiled and hugged her, though Celene didn’t seem to notice. She refused the food, of course, which was all the better for Hagen who hadn’t been eating enough anyways. Alf was the only one who seemed completely unaffected by the last weeks, if not significantly improved. Besides gaining a few pounds, which he didn’t need, he had managed to ship in several pleasures ranging from pastries to cocktails, and a few torches and flags had been carefully placed around base to make it look more military and serious. No one knew where he got the funding for this, but one couldn’t help but notice the frequent reports of a stolen watch or missing belt buckle, and the canned goods were suspiciously reduced.
If anyone could manage to make such a drastic difference without ever doing much, it would be Celene. The mere rumor of her being in camp had increased population once more and even though Hagen pretended to be gruff, his eyes burned with hope. A large chunk of the upper wall was still missing from the skirmish the day before and in crumbles across the grass. A crude bellows was erected to begin the makings of wall patches. Stories spread around the campfires each night of furry animals the size of trees or even cyborgs with razor hands. Whenever Celene was asked to confirm the tales she would only say, “Well, they eat grub everyday just like us and don’t like to shower.”
Then after the disappointed silence someone would chime in, “Yes, but they’re bio-genetically engineered to only need half a meal of grub a day!” And they would forget about Celene and merge her story into a more interesting one, and she would sulk off into the night away from the fires and climb up the rope she had hidden in the slit in the great wall. Quietly, she would slide on her stomach up to the edge and peer down at the twinkling camps below and consider jumping off. Responsibility was noble and all, but so sickening. Celene had never felt it before except when she had agreed to pay someone and then lost the money. Then they would just threaten to cut her fingers off and so it was easy to decide what to do: go find some money. She missed everything being that simple.
The change came the morning Alf and Hagen were slurping cold noodles at breakfast together in a sort of mutual competition way. Celene was sitting in the adjacent room on the couch without much appetite. “You eat like a princess,” Alf said to Hagen with food in his cheeks, “You from the city or something?”
“You kidding?” Hagen replied making sure his noodles splashed broth before he noisily ate them. “I’m just as much of a country boy as you.”
“Nowhere is more country than Greensville, city boy.” Alf grinned. “Got you there.”
“Ah, you don’t know where I grew up, so you feel free to pretend to eat messy all you want.”
“No really, where did you grow up?”
Hagen swallowed with effort, “Around,” he gestured vaguely. “Not anyplace you would know.”
“You live in a town?”
“No, I told you I’m country.”
“But nowhere is country except Greensville.”
“I told you, you wouldn’t know it,” Hagen ate more slowly.
Celene’s voice came from the other room. “Greensville is the only place we’d call country here.”
Alf fidgeted excitedly in his seat. “You live in the woods? Cause that doesn’t count.”
“No. Nevermind.”
“You lived in Greensville.”
“Well, no,” Hagen said, “At least maybe a long time ago.”
“You’re not that old,” Alf replied. “So you lived in Greensville, wow! You should’ve told us. I don’t remember any Hagens.”
“I went by a different name, you know, a lot of people did.”
“And what was that?”
“I’m not telling.”
“No really, I might remember, I know a lot of people. Try me. Please Hagen, what was your name?”
At the perfect moment Nail appeared in the doorway, oil smudged from trying to set up the bellows with the crew. “Nemelin, wasn’t it?”
“What?” Alf put his fork down.
“It’s his last name, Hagen Nemelin. He lived in Greensville. But left after he got famous.”
“Nail,” Hagen growled softly and began to eat his soup again hoping everything would be brushed over.
“You’re the town hero!” Alf shouted. “Celene, he’s the town hero! The name we chant, you know.”
“I know,” said Celene, who was frowning strangely in the doorway.
“Why did you leave?”
“Wasn’t safe,” Hagen gave in, “My story was too exaggerated and I didn’t have enough backup to be famous and stay alive. It really wasn’t a big deal.”
“You fought, like, sixty people!”
“Nine.”
“Yeah, like, Nine people!”
Hagen looked for support from Nail who had conveniently disappeared. “Something everyone in Greensville now aspires to, eh? Sounds shallow enough.”
Celene continued to stand in the doorway and listen. This struck a different chord. The only chord of this kind that she had to be struck. As much as she prided herself on being a cold logician with no friends, she had one weakness. It was grounded in her from childhood, stories and aspirations she had immersed herself in and a character she had pretended to be. And uncharacteristically, she trusted him. A little unwisely, perhaps, but her whole childhood had convinced her to do so and it felt right. She shook her head, someone had said her name. “What?”
“I was asking if you were okay, you look ill.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” She said and turned absently mindedly toward the door. Her fingers brushed against the wall and over the coat hanger until she had wandered outside.

Chapter Eight
The sky was grey and the flurries came down small but tangled so that you couldn’t see very far for the white. Celene wore only a loose tunic and baggy pants and this time she noticed the cold. She just didn’t care.
“She’s running again, isn’t she?” Hagen sighed to Alf.
“I’m not so sure,” Alf said. He slid on Hagen’s boots and bulky coat but Celene was just a few feet from the doorstep, just staring into the wind. “Hey, you can’t back down on your agreement.”
“What agreement?” The reply came back sharp.
Alf was smarter now, and he knew if Celene could be convinced she had agreed to something she would make herself do it. “You came back, so you technically agreed to help us.”
“No, I made it clear that I had just came back and haven’t decided on anything else. I don’t agree with anything much going on here.”
“Oh?” Alf said with a change in voice. He had worked very hard on what had been going on.
“Hagen won’t listen to me. To the Zons. It sickens me when two groups have a completely different mindset but all they can translate from one another is evil and kill. The Zons are very old fashioned.”
“Your siding with them?” Alf stepped back, feeling prepared to fight to the death.
“No. They’re too old fashioned. The labels they place on countries, like Gale, are a little too permanent.”
“But it’s Nemelin. He’s in charge.” Alf tried.
“That’s why I’m still here.”
“Really? I thought you’d be disappointed that Nemelin was just Hagen.”
“I’d rather it’d be him than some people I know.”
“You don’t know very many people.”
“Then narrow it down.”
Alf smiled back through the open door. “I’m gonna tell Hagen you complimented him.”
“Tell him what you want. He hates me anyways.”
“So you’ll help? Because of Hagen, er, Nemelin? Because he’s about to save the world?”
“Save Gale, maybe, and not much chance at that. Something’s got to be done so I suppose…” Then Celene stopped because she had never spoken like this and it felt wrong in her mouth.
“Yes! I did it! You agreed!” Alf turned quickly, “Hagen! Hey, Hagen!”
Celene’s first instinct rose so sharply in her she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from running all the way back to Greensville. It was too late, she couldn’t let on that she wasn’t confident. Her hands tensed so hard into fists that her shoulders hurt. No. It was a good decision. She had meant to make it. She wasn’t sorry. Ashamed, perhaps, but not sorry.

***

Now that the Dragon was ready for use, everything changed. The moment the sun arose the work began. Back-breaking labor consisting mostly of mixing an ancient form of lime mortar and heating it in the rough furnaces. It made the sweat freeze on the face but it was all worth it when they would convene in the afternoon to pour it on the wall. It was nearly double in thickness now. This made up for the mindless grueling of the day, making them all feel so important, but the real living started at night. Fires would blaze up higher than the facility and make intricate shadows move wildly around the crevices of the wall. Surprisingly, most managed to stay sober enough because they enjoyed feeling the full gravity of unity and purpose. Then later, arms would link around shoulders till everyone was connected throughout the yard and the singing would rise in such a clamour you couldn’t tell what language it was in. Gradually everyone forgot what life was beyond the gates and never concerned themselves with events preceding their arrival. It was as if they had lived in the base their whole lives and were very content to do so.
“You’ll get your chance, Celene,” They would say as she would leave early for bed, “You’ll get your chance to blow some heads off. Any day now, any day now.”
Time passed like fog. It could have been a day, or maybe a month, but the chance came. Celene opened her eyes slowly in the dark. The house was still, but something was there. A sound perhaps. A sound so deep she wasn’t sure to call it a sound. There it came again, a sound she could feel vibrating the couch making her skin prick. She sat up and looked out the window. Darkness. Feeling an alertness as if she had been up for hours, she crept to the door and silently pushed it open. The snow muffled the yard like a big white blanket and it gave the worst feeling of helplessness because you couldn’t see anything but white crowding in all around, and then above, the ever-staring, lifeless grey of the sky.
Lying comfortably on his back, Hagen woke to a light tap on the door. “No visitors until dawn,” he mumbled and pulled a sheet over his face.
Celene’s voice came from the other side, so soft that he wouldn’t have understood had he not been waiting so long for three words. “It has begun.”
Hagen didn’t have to wake Alf. He was gone from his bed, with the blankets trailing the floor in haste. Thanks to that, a solemn audience had gathered outside the house, forming lines either side as if they were afraid she would try to run. Celene was ready to go immediately, but Hagen forced her to eat a bite of cold beans. He then put his mud stiffened coat on her shoulders which came down past her hands and she went to face the crowd. The wind blew her hair wildly, a dark stringy contrast to the pale grey right before the morning.
Her eyes lingered on a section of the crowd until her gaze was met. “Rat,” She said.
“Hey, there hireling,” He replied, and all the Ring gang gave their full attention. “I see you’ve found a new boss?” Celene gave him the look, knowing he had no power here. “It’s all cool, Celene. We were just waiting around till things got serious. Do your thing. We’re cool.” And then Celene was speechless, because he proceeded to remove his padded gloves and hand them to her. She let him hold them out as she looked for the joke in his eyes. Maybe he was just being nice because she was famous. Maybe he was just nice. Nah, famous people never have real friends. She took the gloves, they were much too big, but so was the coat. Then the woman, who Hagen remembered with disgust to be the mother from earlier, provided a satchel with food and drink that had been packed with strange motherly swiftness.
Mr. Min glared through a slit in the curtains inside the safety house as the Dragon was produced and carried behind Celene in a solemn procession. A boom sounded again and everyone shivered. A shower of dust popped off the stone center several meters above and rained grey down on the snow. Everyone stopped except Celene, who had not slackened her pace like the rest and had reached the rope inside the small wall crack. She rubbed her hands through her hair until most of the dust had been shaken out and sensing the obvious cues that no one wanted to go up the crude rope themselves, she took the weapon and began to climb.
“Wait!” Alf called out. Celene stopped and looked at him. “Here, a pulley. You know, so we can hoist supplies up to you.”
“That seems strangely thoughtful.”
“You’re still human, you’re still one of us.”
“Something like that.” She replied. Alf’s face grew distant, so Celene smiled. “I know. Um, good call. I mean... nice pulley. Well…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Huh.” Alf’s corner of his mouth lifted a bit. “Need me to carry the… weapon thingy?”
“No, but you can if you want.”
Celene stepped back down to the the ground. Alf took the Dragon like he was picking up a towel and jumped up the rope before her which dampened her mood a little more. The climb was silent and made her hands red and numb, and before Alf’s head popped above the top, he stopped and looked around him. “I’d better stop here. Not that I’m being more scared than you.” He secured the pulley high above his head and let Celene slip past him. “Good luck.” Celene put her back against the crack edge and her feet on the ledge across and waited for Alf to climb all the way back down.
“What is she doing?” Hagen murmured to Nail.
He shrugged. “Just sittin’ there.”
“Ben?” Hagen asked.
“She knows once she shows her face things could get rough on the wall.” Ben said, “She’s waiting for Alf to get out of the way.”
Alf slid the last few feet and skipped over to them. “Pretty high. Makes me feel all shaky inside.”
Hagen looked up again. “Well, she’s still waiting, Ben.”
“Fear,” he said in a musing way.
“Nah, not Celene.” Hagen grinned and nudged Alf.
“No, I think it is.” Ben replied.
Hagen fumbled with his lip. It felt funny that the moment Celene showed weakness he suddenly felt very differently himself. Too late now, he supposed. Maybe he was just sick from getting up so early.
Celene’s legs were stiff. She was afraid if she moved from her precarious position they would give out and she would fall. She wrapped the rope around and around her wrist, it’s weight was more than she imagined and it took her some time. Her balanced shifted to right above the crack and she widened her stance. She was stable. She released the rope to one loop around her wrist so that it could slide easily as she pulled herself up. Light flooded her vision as she surfaced and a wave of wind flooded full in her face so that it got in her mouth and eyes and threatened to pushed her back down. Right as she set the Dragon down behind her and crouched to touch the ground, another vibration rattled the air and she got a good look at the enemy camp.
The first thing she saw appeared to be a chunk of tan and silver, like a fungus sprawling partway up the wall and the ground. Then ants running up it and pulling large squares behind them. Wheelbarrows, probably. And they weren’t ants, they were people. The Zons. Behind them there was clearing of sand and pavement. They had hidden their camp back in the woods, no doubt. She imagined the fires and the fortresses and the air filled with the sharpening of knives. They had probably built an empire already, and the secretiveness didn’t help a bit. This all took just a few seconds, and following it she noticed a blotch of smouldering red. It was the end of a thick, black tubular thing, like a tree trunk, or a bunch of tree trunks. It had legs, too, like a centipede… no, those were also Zons. They lined either side of it and managed to pick it up. All at once they started running it toward the wall as fast as they could, which, from above, didn’t look too fast.
“How barbaric,” Celene began to say but before she could finish it hit the wall and the same booming from that morning reoccured. She looked over the other side of the wall. A significant chunk of stone had crashed down amongst the crew near Min’s house. They were all clumped around, maybe someone had gotten hit. Celene stood up. The battering ram stopped. The ants stopped. She raised her hands shakily in the air but on second thought put them back down and picked up the Dragon.
Hagen put his hand on his forehead. “Stupid. That was stupid. She’s going to die.”
“Don’t say that,” Alf said, but he didn’t look any more relieved.
“She should have stayed hidden, she hasn’t surveyed the situation yet. She…”
“Hush,” said Nail. “Let it play out.”
She imagined all their faces staring keenly in the air and wondered if they could recognize her from that distance. Imagining took a lot of faith and was hard to keep a positive face on since one can put any expression and any motive on a bunch of blurry figures down below. Maybe this was what it felt like to stand in front of a firing squad. It must not be to bad, if so. It gave a better rush than anything else she’d tried. She adjusted the weapon along her shoulders and arms but didn’t bother with the straps. The switch flicked on smoothly. The whirring noise startled her, she had grown so accustomed to the lack of sound in the constant wind.
From the Zons side they saw her silhouette bulken and two, blue little light flares that moved with her arms. They weren’t dumb. They ran hard.
Mesmerized, Celene almost forgot to switch the Dragon off before it fired. It jolted to a stop in confusion. Away the Zons fled into the forest like ants into bark and the tops of the trees rustled. The battering ram rolled slowly against the wall in desertion and the clearing was empty. A low wind sounded from below her but when she turned around she realized it was the people cheering. All they knew was that the battering ram had stopped and the weapon was still intact. The morning light was just now breaking over the wall and had touched some of them with a rosy glow. She thought she saw it hit the fiery hair of Alf over by the scientist’s house. He was probably grinning stupidly.
The dragon slid off her back with a clunk. She looped the rope around the metal spine and after adjusting the pulley, peered over the wall edge to see if anyone was going to hoist it down. They were quite busy moving around and waving their arms, but finally she felt a tug and she pushed the hunk of metal off into the crack where it was slowly let down. The rope edge didn’t come back up again, so she began the descent by herself.
The events of that morning had only taken about 10 minutes and they didn’t feel a second longer. There was a whole day ahead of them with unorganized celebration, and Celene hoped they would at least have a decent breakfast.
The moment she touched the ground Hagen and Alf rushed to her. “Celene you were great!”
Celene couldn’t imagine why, since she had just stood there and flicked switches, but not once did regret enter her mind. Greensville seemed millions of miles away and life was happening here.
“You look so happy,” Alf said, “Look Hagen, she’s smiling.”
“No I’m not,” Celene frowned at them but when little Ivory suddenly emerged from his pocket and scuttled up on her, Hagen thought he saw her scowl break. By now an audience had formed and Hagen motioned with his eyes from her to the crowd. Celene understood. “The sound this morning was a battering ram.”
“And?” Hagen asked.
“It was real big.”
“Tell us about the people. How many?”
“30 or so, the others were trying to build a dirt ramp up the side of the wall, but I can’t imagine why they didn’t just all focus on the ram.”
“You think you could do it better?” One of many crowd questions caught her attention. It was Rat. “Yeah, you got their dirty blood in you, you think you could break down the wall faster?”
“I have my theories.” She retorted. So much for all that niceness that morning. “Though if I really had my way, there would be no wall breaking at all.”
Rat smiled widely and looked about him. “Just scaling the wall like lizards and silently killing everyone in their sleep?”
Celene touched her lizard protectively. “No, that’s a terrible idea. If Hagen would listen to me we’d be making a deal with the Zons and they would leave. Hagen doesn’t...”
“Woah, woah…” Hagen stepped between them, not having heard much but his name. “Enough of that. Celene isn’t going to betray us, Rat.” Then he looked at her. “Not like we’d let her if she tried.”
Hot shame threaten to flush her face and she wanted to say they couldn’t stop her even if they tried, but that would only strengthen his point. In fact, nothing she thought of seemed good to say at all so she stood there with her mouth slightly open.
Alf broke the tense silence. “Drinks all around!”
Not many were aware that Alf had drinks, and this changed the mood of the next few weeks. They dispersed and with no eyes on Celene, she relaxed her tight shoulders. Hagen eyed her sadly but when he remembered what Alf had said, he perked up and followed the men to the fires.
The girl remembered the idea breakfast and went inside to scour the cupboards by herself. She found Alf’s half-eaten pastry in the back of the fridge and finished eating it before she had shut the door. This would have usually violated her strict code of honor, but her completion of Hagen’s request without receiving anything in return had a strange liberating feeling and she almost liked it.
That evening she gave a fuller account of the situation to Hagen. He had managed to escape the party outside before it had gotten too rowdy, and though he kept rubbing his head, he seemed sober enough. Celene described the forest the Zons had disappeared in and how the clouds had been too low to see much beyond.
“They’ve probably got ships…” Hagen said, slightly out of breath. “And war machines.”
“Then why didn’t they use them?”
Hagen raised his eyebrows high and then rubbed his head again. “They’re wily.”
Celene slouched back on the couch. “Or maybe they don’t have any.”
“I don’t pick my fights with people who…”
“Hagen.”
“Who don’t have stuff to fight back with…”
“Hagen, listen to me.”
“There’s a whole country of war machines!”
SMACK. Hagen remarked and rubbed his face. He almost looked like he was about to smack back but Celene snatched his glass of water and dumped it in his face. Hagen opened his eyes and looked down to see it seeping down his shirt. His irises cleared a bit from the alcohol and he slowly rose from his chair to get a towel.
Celene wasn’t going to continue until Hagen gave his full attention, and he had to prod the subject a bit to get her to speak again.
“I’m the one who saw them attack Crete. The wall cameras that they put on the news didn’t show everything.”
“What didn’t they show?”
“All the ships. Destroyed. The shore in ashes. Nothing they touched was standing.”
“They brought more stuff.” Hagen said, then wilted a bit, “Couldn’t they have brought more stuff?”
“Has there been enough time?”
Hagen paused to fill his cheeks with air and then exhale loudly. “No, no I suppose not. But we can’t be too sure. Man… I’m not used to you going all military strategist on us like this.”
“Strategy? It’s simple sense.”
“War is never simple.” He replied and left the house.
The people went to bed with smiles on their faces all expecting to go home the next day. They might have felt disappointed in their lack of involvement in the drama, but they were thinking too much about the celebration the night before and they put it out of their minds.
Outside the gates of the old military base, there had spread a panic. The refugees from Crete had set up cameras and newsstands and Gale felt more informed than it ever had. All this knowledge of the going ons outside the great wall had come from the stories of terrified escapees and then exaggerated as they passed from mouth to mouth.
A messenger boy had went out and spread the news of their accomplishment the very hour Celene had come back down from the wall. Some had decided a long time ago to only believe the most terrible news and sided with the doomsayers, and some patted each other on their backs and went back to their houses. The others packed their pockets and scurried over to the base by the wall, so that the next morning Hagen again had to get up before the sun and keep everything in order.
He had awoken to people banging on the house door again and after throwing his pillow against the wall had bumped his head on the bedframe and was in the most terrible of moods. The muffled voice of Mr. Min came from the front room. “The leader, you say? Yeah, he’s in the back bedroom. I’ll go get him. Tall fellow, big hair. No, please don’t touch that.”
Hagen pulled his coat flaps up around his ears and channeled his overflowing hair over his face. Then he wrenched his bedroom window open from the layer of grime and after tumbling out it, ran hard down the frosty slope. If he could get to the gates in time, he could quell the inflow. Maybe he could pull a Celene act and disappear beyond the gates for a day until everyone left. If only he could also pull off no conscience and no responsibility, wouldn’t that be nice.
Celene’s excitement had wilted into a queasy feeling from the conversation the night before. She had never been that adamant about anything. What if she was wrong? Probably, Hagen and Alf would think she was sleeping too long and come in to find her corpse in the bed because she could most definitely not live with herself. A shudder shook her fully awake and she got up to dress herself. The second her feet touched the floor she remembered that she had been sleeping in full coat and boots for weeks now, and her hair was shiny with grease. It was too cold too worry about being clean.
A shadow passed across the floor for just a flash, something had passed by the window. She struggled with the window but resided to rubbing the dirt off with her gloved hands. Hagen was trotting down the hill. Some leader he had turned out to be. But still, he was Nemelin. There was a cloud beyond him, in the clearing. No… it was trees. No, people. She stopped breathing for a few seconds. Fun.
The crowd in the front room was being held back only by every 2 ounces of Mr. Min’s charm, but they were new to the base and didn’t recognize Celene as she slipped past. As the morning light greeted her eyes with a sting, she slid to a halt and tried to comprehend the sight before her. Instead of a writing murmuring mob, the people stood in clumps, like a patchwork quilt. Their expressions were generally calm as well. There was movement between them, a boy running from group to group and shouting something in a megaphone. Then he would go back to the stream from the gates and shout a succession of commands. “If you’re here to enlist, group number one. If you have questions, group number two. If you have no idea what’s going on, group number three.” And so on. The newcomers would then pick a clump and stand with their group. Of course the boy was Alf, now a master of crowds apparently, and Celene grimaced. Not with jealousy, though. Definitely not jealousy.
When he saw her he immediately ran toward her. This seemed to be common with their meetings recently. “Where’s Hagen?” He huffed.
“Playing leader are you?”
Alf’s voice was grounded and focused. “Where’s Hagen?”
Celene fumbled with words in her mouth, she wasn’t used to not being able to push him around. “I-I don’t know. Running down a hill, last I checked. Not that he needs you to go and…”
“Thank you Celene,” he nodded politely and ran toward the gates.
His sudden maturity made her feel extremely uncomfortable and she slunk back the shadows outside the house. As she curled up glaring over her knees she noticed a rippling above parts of the crowd. Some people were holding up flags, like the banners she had seen outside the fancy tourist markets in Gale. She waited until the person holding had turned and there at the top were painted in stark white letters. “Destroy the Dark Bloods.”
Well, that was racist.
“Don’t uncage the cougar to get rid of lions,” Read another. What was that supposed to mean? There was something painted under it, it might be a face. She stood and traveled closer for the bearer had turned again. She found herself bumping into more and more people as she neared the thick of the crowd, but she kept her eyes up. The face was round, babyish looking, but the hair was long. And black. “Is that…” she whispered, “Is that supposed to be me?” Rising up from her back on the painting was a monstrous looking gun with coils and lights. Well, that wasn’t so bad. Celene turned and scooted back to the safety of the shadows. But not in time for Alf to spot her. He and Hagen were heading her way and Hagen didn’t look happy to be heading anywhere other than the gates. Alf stood behind him as if he would run at any moment.
“Stay, Celene. No, come back. Yes, just stand right there.” He raised a megaphone to his lips. “Attention people of Gale, the leader, Hagen, would now like to have a word with you.”
A voice screamed across the lawn to be heard, “How about you bring out that traitor first so we can shoot her!”
“Who?” He looked behind him. “Her?” Celene started to run but Hagen had caught her sleeve and pulled her back to where Alf was stationed. He took the megaphone from his hands. “I am Hagen Nemelin, head of the party…” suddenly he wondered why they never had an official name. “Head of the second biggest party in all of Gale. I keep order in a world of chaos and I wouldn’t let a dark blood help us out here had I not full faith in her. Just yesterday she…”
Two of the groups had started yelling at one another and Alf’s organization looked more and more muddled. Hagen feared that if they wanted to kill anyone he couldn’t really stop them. He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot it three times in the air. Silence fell. No one knew he had a pistol.
“Three good bullets wasted,” he murmured and it made it into the megaphone. “Now,” He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, just yesterday she sent them scurrying into the forest like scared little children. She has no sentimental connection, she’s just as cold a killer as any good soldier and…”
Celene interrupted him whispering, “Can I leave now?” Hagen realized he was still holding onto her coat and he let go. A series of question were screamed on top of one another and Hagen dropped the megaphone in exasperation. This system was terrible. “Remind me to set up some security once this is over,” he whispered to Alf. This also made it into the megaphone.
“We believe the worst of it is over,” He continued. “They shouldn’t be back, so those who would like to stay for security reasons, you may, but no promises. The rest of you feel free to go home and we’ll be sending updates.”
“How do we know she’s not fighting against her will?” The question came, “How do you know she didn’t lie about what she saw?”
“Everything is under control, we heard the battering ram stop,” Hagen said. He found he had caught hold of Celene’s collar again to keep her from leaving. Up roared the questions again and Hagen was tempted to send everyone away when the megaphone was taken from his hands. Celene gripped it with white hands, and, as soon as she was able, distanced herself a few feet from Hagen. The second she had it up, glinting in the sun, she had as much attention as if she were the only light in a dark room.
“What Nemelin says is true,” She said. After an awkward pause, she was about to hand the conversation back to Hagen but thought better. “You have every right to be suspicious, just as I have every right to be suspicious of you. How do I know you’ve come to better the situation? How do we know you’re not just choosing what information you want to believe? Give me a camera and I will go up the wall right now and photograph the other side.”
A few refugees from Gale offered their news cameras, but since there were no batteries in Gale, they all needed chords, and none could reach to the top of the wall. Celene frowned. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know how a camera worked. At Alf’s better suggestion, five random representatives were chosen by the most antagonistic person in the group.. to prove authenticity, he claimed. They were then led to the heavily guarded rope in the crack in the wall. Celene had insisted they bring the Dragon and it took a while for them to consent. Of course it all looked pretty fishy, but all should be cleared soon and hopefully everyone would go home. 12 workers who had stayed at the base from the beginning were chosen for each group to answer questions and do interviews for the press, though most were too interested in the climb.
They decided to ride the pulley up, limiting it to one person at a time. Celene went first, of course, and only two men were needed to pull the other end of the rope and hoist her up. Alf thanked himself for drilling the pulley in so securely and he mentioned it to several people. Contrary to the rest of his past life, they listened with respect, having remembered how he was the first person they met who knew what to do. It went too far, however, when one camerawoman with a big microphone asked if he was the real leader behind it all and if he had more credibility than Hagen. At this, his face turned pink and he didn’t know what to do except to silently vow to himself to never let her near Celene’s honesty.
Celene laid on her stomach and curled her fingers around the edge of the wall. The day was grey and fog clung to the ground of Crete like wisps of cotton. As the second woman was being lifted up the crack, a slight drizzle began. Celene was happy to see that it was at least too warm to be snow. It poked holes in the fog below and began to reveal dark patches of ground. The woman had a big camera on her shoulder. Apparently during the debriefing earlier, she had been too busy filming the grounds to speak up. “I have a little battery, just half a minute at best,” she said with serious eyes. Celene motioned for her to stay low to the ground, and the woman elbowed to Celene with great difficulty. Her red dress had once been professional, but it was obvious she had been wearing it for weeks.
The woman looked back over her shoulder at the seam in the wall she had just come out of. “My name is Lisa, and I want to ask you one question,” She said, “Celene, is it?” Celene bit her lip. “What’s really going on here? I know there’s a lot of hype, and leaders have to taint the story a bit for simple minds.”
“You have the camera on.” Celene said darkly.
“No, no I don’t. Oh, God, you think I’m trying to blackmail you?” The woman popped the battery out of the camera. “Here. I’ll put it down, here.” Her well brushed hair began to fall limp as the rain continued. “I know I’m knew to all this, but don’t you think it isn’t fair? War isn’t for one person to fight, not blindly, not like this. I don’t know if this is a scam or not but I know two things. My country was destroyed, Celene, and you’re being abused. You need to get out of this. Get out, as fast as you can.”
Celene forgot for a second she wasn’t talking to Teagan and her head surged. “B-but if I leave, what will become of everyone?”
“Oh, oh God. You think you’re the only hope? Is that what they said? History proves that people make solutions. People made you a solution and they’ll make another one if you aren’t in reach. I swear they’d make a better one if you weren’t in reach. This is abuse.”
“I-I...” Celene began, but the sound of voices came from near the surface.
“Listen to me,” the woman whispered urgently in her ear, “This is the only time I’ll ever get to speak with you without having to be a camerawoman, alright? Don’t be the bandaid to their fear. Expose the wound. You know more than anyone.”
“How do you know?” Celene’s eyes were wide and confused. A man’s head had appeared above the wall, and he called out to them.
The camerawoman whispered one last time, “Expose the wound,” then, rolling around, she snapped the battery back in her camera. “Goodness, look at the height we’re at! There, the fog is clearing and I just pressed record. Say hi, everyone!”

Chapter Nine
Celene hid her face from the camera. They all peered over the wall. There was one gap in the fog that everyone on the Zons side had crammed into to be able to see up at the wall. Of course, those were all the people they could see, but it appeared that there would be just as many people all across the ground, under the fog too. The man began hyperventilating.
Celene wondered how the Zons were doing, being in one sense stranded on Crete. Their major ships had been destroyed and they had laid waste to any contact with the outside world. At least no one would know to bring reinforcements, unless that was originally in the plan. “They’ve spotted us,” she finally said, becoming aware of their compromised position.
“Wait,” the woman said from behind her camera, “My lense hasn’t focused yet.” Celene didn’t know what this meant, and she began to inch toward the ladder. At that moment the woman shrieked “Holy Jupiter!” and before Celene could look, a gust of wind tore at her hair and a shadow flew over them. She turned toward Gale just in time to see a crude cannonball fall, just beyond the gates of the base. When it hit the ground, it fell apart into dirt.
Celene looked questioningly at the two others, but they were already half way inside the wall opening. “No more up! Get down! We’re coming down!” The man yelled again and again.
“But did you see how they’re reduced to using dirt?” Celene mused.
“What?” The man said before disappearing down the hole, “Get down here, get down off this wall!”
Celene did not move, and the two were too busy to notice, getting down the crack when not many wanted to stay that close to the wall to help them. Celene’s throat suddenly felt burned, and she wished she could drink the rain. Without another thought, she lugged the weapon on her back and arms, and turned it on. The drizzle didn’t stop the Zons from seeing the harsh blue lights, and they quickly dissipated in every direction. The one hole in the fog had morphed into a waffle of holes, and she could see the catapult they had just used. It was obvious it had been put together very fast. Celene was impressed, none-the-less, and wished Gale had such ingenuity. In the past she had always chose the winning side, and if that wasn’t determinable, the smartest side. Smart losers could have just as much fun as dumb winners, similar to a mosquito irritating a soldier. Gale was the stupid one, most definitely, and perhaps even the loser.
“So why am I here?” She asked the wind. But she wasn’t “there”, she was in between, on the wall, in the no-man’s land. Down below she was a puppet, but up here she was the powerful third party. Trust was the only tie they had to her. The old feelings of freedom coursed through her head and arms, and she felt strange and larger than life. She didn’t want to come down. Instead she dialed down the Dragon to a low radius and aimed it as best she could at the catapult. For a second she wondered if the setting was indeed too low, but after a few seconds the wood fell in on itself, just enough to cripple it.
Suddenly, she became aware of a sound behind, her, like a pulsing drum... no, maybe voices. Voices all in unison chanting the same thing over and over again. Celene walked the few steps to the edge of the wall to look back at the base, when they saw her as a smudge on the wall, they got increasingly louder. “Ill ‘Em ‘Ah!” Is all Celene could hear, all the harder sounds were too soft to be carried. She tried to piece some together, “Fill Them Off?” “Kill Them All?” Oh, crud, that was it. She hadn’t signed up for that. Scaring people away was easy enough, but she wasn’t ready for mass genocide. She backed away from the edge and clenched her hands, she wished the crowd would leave. They didn’t understand. They were messing everything up.
And so she ran, and oh, it felt so good. Her steps pounded against the rough path of the wall, leaping over bird’s nests and large gaps, away from the sound and the prying eyes. However, guilt didn’t dampen the feeling because she was headed for the gate, the main entrance to the Gale. What many had failed to comprehend is why the Zons were so focused on the little section of wall the base huddled behind. Surely it hadn’t been only because that’s where Hagen declared that they fight one another, or only because that’s where they perceived everyone to have congregated. It was a distraction for sure. A simple concept, but if the Zons knew the layout of the wall surrounding Gale, they wouldn’t have any fear of Gale exiting the wall a mile away and then ambushing them from the sides. They knew exactly where everyone was, and it wasn’t at the city gate.
Of course it was rash, running a distance blindly when she had no idea the length traveling by wall, and she wasn’t even entirely sure she had chosen the right direction. She instead directed her mind to the feeling of the wind wrapping around her body and flooding her ears and the thrill of risk drowned out her thirst and her fear and the sores she was getting on her arms from the Dragon. There was no place she would rather be.
After what she had assumed to be a half hour, the rocks were getting slippery and she had tripped quite a few times. She crouched down on her knees and put the Dragon down to massage her shoulders. The rain showed no interest in letting up, and Celene couldn’t see more than a few meters of her path in either direction. She could have gone all the way around Gale and back again and she wouldn’t have noticed. As her eye caught a puddle of water forming in a recess of rock, thirst overtook her and she drank. It was musty and foul, but she never minded health that much anyway, and she felt so much better. She laid her back against the pointy ground and let the rain hit her eyelids and trickle around her face.
A few minutes and she was up again and trudging forward, too weak to run any more. Having nothing else to ponder, she counted the seconds. If she couldn't count distance, she could count time, and that would help a lot on the return trip, as distasteful as returning sounded. About another half hour passed when the wall suddenly cut off, and below that were the big black gates. They had once been lined with the steel security of Crete, but now were covered in tar and boards and whatever else the refugees could plaster.
Celene was at first too brain numb to register what exactly she should do, and she stood with her toes right at the edge of the drop. As she lowered herself to a sitting position, she dangled her legs over the gates and rubbed her eyes. There was a light below, and she didn't feel like looking at it, but it flickered yellow and orange. There were catapults below, as she had expected, but what was the light? There were no lanterns, no spotlights. It was when she felt an unnatural warmth on the wind that she noticed the air above the Zons encampment a dark grey. Smoke. She couldn't see well from her angle, but it was clear there was a fire. It had to be right by the gates... right on the gates, and down below they were continually throwing branches of trees or road signs onto it.
They weren't expecting the weapon though, and all were too occupied to pay attention to the walls beside the gates. Celene waited till a gust of smoke came her way and after a deep breath, she flicked the weapon on. Hopefully the lights wouldn't be so noticable then. Although she knew what Hagen would do and how he would go on and on about the weightyness of the sitation, Celene felt nothing but annoyance. She didn't bother to look closely at the dial nor to steady her arm when it fired. The boom was louder than she felt comfortable with. Her shoulder's had a tingly, funny vibration still lingering on down her spine. Dust rose up from the ground to meet the smoke and together they swirled in black and brown pillars.
Celene didn't want to see under the smoke. A strange orange seeped between it's cover, an orange where there hadn't been orange before. Much to her dismay, the sound of rain hardened, and it pressed down upon the clouds below, settling them back to the ground so that chips of debree fell like rain. The finer bits had still made their way up to Celene and made breathing difficult. What she saw was cinders everywhere. She remembered Alf's obsession with fireworks, and anything that combusted. He always ground down bits of clothing to their finest powder or threads, that's when the fire caught it and disentegrated it in mere seconds. The fire meant to weaken the gates had eaten up the fine tinder left from the weapon and the rest was now burning steadily. Celene wasn't worried about that, the rain would do it's job, but she did worry about the people. Where were they?
It was hard to see now that most everything was one color, but slowly stuff started moving and people began climbing out of the grass and fallen catapult parts. Others who hadn't been on site swarmed in and pulled more out who weren't moving. Only now did they look up at the wall and pray to whatever they worshipped that whoever was up there had nothing else to throw down on them. Nothing did come down, though, except a hurl of vomit from Celene. She hadn't eaten since the previous day, so she fell into a dry heaving that did terrible numbers to the back of her mouth.
Then came the tears. Never before had she been free from sight and sound and so, masked by the roar of rain, she cried loud and hard. Years and years of pent up anger and confusion didn't help either, and everything horrible she had ever done streamed through her mind. Should she kill herself? One step off the wall would be the easiest, but they would find the body, and trace it back to the weapon. Gale will find a solution, she told herself. Kathi was right. Expose the wound. That was easily accomplished by removing the bandaid. She would have to die right up here, where she would be out of sight and out of mind.
She left the Dragon where it lay as a sort of symbollic offering to nature and ran a ways back down the direction she had come. Then she dropped to her knees and took off her coat, then she tied it around her neck and pulled. The strain was unexplainable agony, but she did not struggle, and soon came those few intoxicating seconds of fade, and then she fell limp.
The sun was warm that evening. Cold steam rose off the wall and glistened yellow. The people at the base discussed whether Celene had abandoned them or not, and their fear of betrayal had more of a calming effect than a vicious one. "What do we do now?" Was the question in the air, and Hagen began to speak with them freely. Many guards from the gates of Crete had escaped into Gale quickly at the time of it's destruction and they surfaced to help Hagen maintain some security. The quarters around the facility and Mr. Min's house were set up to be guarded day and night, and those at the base gates quelled the inflow. Food was scarce, but with the feeling of helpless waiting came a sense of comroderie and people emptied their cellars and brought all the food they had.
Celene opened her eyes. Her neck burned and her whole body was stiff and cold. Having passed out, she had loosened her hold on the coat knot and it sat tightly but not dangerously around her throat. She pulled it off and put it back on as a coat should be worn. Her legs had not been stretched since the marathon run that morning and she wobbled when she stood. Her head was clearer now and as she felt tears crusting her face she remembered the events of that morning without feeling. Yes, it was all foolish, but sentimentality was no way to go about it.
Now that the Zons would be aware of her access to the Crete gates, she crawled the distance back to where the Dragon lay and drug it back toward the base. She didn't bother with running any more, but set a steady pace. She would have fallen back into a daze had hunger pains not kept her so alert. The news of the Crete gate encampment being destroyed would surely cheer Hagen up and set a better tone with the mob. Then she would get a hot meal and be able to sleep as long as she liked. She didn't have to tell them everything, not that people were hurt. Maybe killed. Some would say she had infuriated the monster. Some would say she was weak not to finish the job. She pulled her coat closer around her.
Alf had been waiting by the wall all day and his neck had almost frozen in the position of holing his head up to the wall. He was the first to spot Celene as night fell and he ordered lanterns and torches to be found. Security was increased as everyone wanted to see Celene again but Alf didn't let anyone in. He had five men hold the rope as she climbed down it and the second she was close enough he climbed up to retrieve the Dragon from her aching shoulders. "Where did you go?" He asked as he extended her hand to help her with the last step. Celene was too tired to be herself and she took it. Alf was shocked.
"I went to the gates," She said. "The gates of Crete."
"What? That has to be really far."
"It would seem so, wouldn't it?" she replied.
"The Zons, they were there. You knew it, didn't you?"
"Yes. They were trying to get through. I took care of it."
"How?"
Celene brushed past him and her voice was harsh. "I took care of it."
"I'm sorry, what did I say wrong? Hey, don't leave!"
Celene tried to take a step forward, but she could see people’s shadows forming around her, questioning, fearful faces, flapping hands and hard breathing. “We demand to know!” They cried. “Treason!”
“Security!” Hagen’s voice rang out, but people didn’t care. The recruited guards looked at one another and shrugged. Some started firing guns into the air, but Hagen had to put a stop to this as people thought it was a massacre. “Get her inside the house,” He yelled to Alf. Celene clung to the Dragon as Alf grabbed her coat sleeve and drug her toward across the yard, kicking people’s stomachs as they got too near. Celene thought she saw Lisa’s smooth, professional hair from behind the crowd, but no, just the face of a camera. She had a job to do after all. So do you, Celene thought, And you’re so emotional about it.
Alf suddenly felt Celene being pulled from him and for a second he couldn’t see her and he groped madly in front of him. Lights suddenly appeared, keychain flashlights and sticks from the fire, all congregating around Rat, who was holding Celene by the hair. “The people have spoken,” he said in a strange voice. “You went to the gates, and then what information did you give away?”
“I didn’t,” Celene growled. “Go away.”
“She fired the weapon at them,” Alf spoke up, suddenly thinking he could solve everything diplomatically, though if he were any closer he would’ve noticed Rat smelled like mushrooms. “They were destroyed.”
“I didn’t kill them,” Celene corrected.
“Why not?” Someone asked. “You should have.”
“I didn’t agree too,” Celene said with a pout, but this tactic no longer had any effect in the least bit and she grimaced when she saw them all erupt into arguing. “Go away.” She hissed. Then louder, “Go away!” As comes often with being overwhelmed, she began repeating frantically, “Go away, go away, go away,” as she clawed at Rat and finally kicked him in the face. A clearing morphed quickly around Celene.Those who could not hear the whirr of the Dragon could see the eerie blue lights swelling brighter at the apparatus on the wrist. “You all are no better than the Zons.” She turned slowly so as to be able to keep an eye on everyone, “You deserve nothing better and I am embarrassed to be working with you. Hagen is a good man, and you have abused him. If you want crossfire so bad, get over there do it yourself. I qui-” She stopped before finishing. Resigning right then would create a bigger uproar, one she couldn’t run away from. “I’m going inside,” she said instead.
She had no more trouble that night, and even Hagen showed nervous feelings when he secured the doors and asked Celene a few tactical questions. No one offered food, no one wished her good night. After the night was in full swing, she rummaged through the cupboards until she grabbed a whole pail of freeze dried bacon and a canteen of water and went to her room and scooted the desk in the way of the door. The dragon had left red marks on her shoulders and she took it off tenderly. She then secured the canteen to the strap of a leather bag and crammed several of crumbly, dry, bacon stalks under the flap and into her pockets and the rest in her mouth. Her old thing jacket from Greensville lay shoved under the bed and feeling sentimental, she shook the dust out and put it on under her coat.
The window made a pop as she levered it open with a strip from a picture frame. She lowered her bags and the dragon to the ground outside before sliding out herself. Her boots made a soft thud as she landed, and she suddenly wished she had took a better coat. She hadn’t been cold before, but now that the sun was taking a break it was rather uncomfortable. There was a guard a few meters away from her who laughed and said, “We knew you’d run. Get back inside.” But Celene waved the weapon at him and he instead decided to go alert the others. Celene started running, as best she could with the weight and joggling of her bags, and disappeared into the woods beyond. They were incredibly thick and one could not just walk through them. It was an up and down and over and around process and many had good reason to get to the base through the gates instead.
Celene made mental notes on trees and vines and the position of the stars. So many times she had run blindly and with no intention of follow up, but she had a feeling she’d be back. She traveled till she came across a sort of wireframe cove made by a fallen but still rooted tree, and draped several vines and brush over it to give it some protection from rain. She hoisted all her stuff under it, and with the little bit of room that was left she curled up and slept. It was the middle of the day before she woke again. The shelter had kept the direct light out and it still felt like night. She ate more freeze dried bacon and washed it down with the water which was staler than she had hoped.
The bark was icy and wet against her back but she leaned her head back against it and stretched her legs. What on earth should I do now? She asked aloud and then laughed at the question. It was a tired, condescending laugh that she had never heard from herself. Of all the people that passed through her mind, she thought of Teagan and her bright lipstick and wished she was here. She would have something biting to say, but it would have been something and everyone would have united together to do it. If not Teagan, she at least wished for Lisa, the camerawoman. She had interesting things to say. Bandaids, and such. Celene had completely forgotten about that conversation. Expose the wound, was it? There was definitely a wound and Celene had made that clear last night, but what had really been accomplished? A clandestine exit out the back window, as usual. It was more like a scratch, and the wall was the wound.
Celene stood. Maybe the wall was the wound. The distance back to the base was longer than it had seemed the previous night, but she did not leave the safety of the forest. It was frustrating to try to see the entire picture of what was going on with the inconvenient angle, and every time she thought she saw someone she knew they would disappear behind a tent. The supplies had been left in her shelter, and she finally decided to get a closer look at the crack to get up the wall. She pulled her coat up over her head and, with careful timing, made a bolt for the back of the house. Even though she looked ridiculous, at least no one would see her face.
The wall rope wasn’t too far up ahead and people surrounded it, arguing. Celene waited as long as she felt comfortable, but as the crowd grew and faded, it was kept under close watch at all times. Not a bad idea, actually.
Voices spoke at the other end of the house and Celene retracted to the shadow of the gutter and put her head in her knees. The door opened and then clicked shut and she was sure she heard the refrigerator open. “Those people are crazy,” came Alf’s muffled voice.
Hagen’s voice huffed. “I would be too if I didn’t have to be otherwise.”
“Should we go up there with a big white flag and surrender?”
“Maybe.”
“Or we could trick them into thinking we’re a really big army? You know, with lots of noise and stuff.”
“Maybe.” Hagen said again. “This all requires one sticky piece, and that is group cooperation.”
“We could send the mob out to hunt Celene down and get the weapon back. Maybe Mr. Min could re-work it. Well, I don’t know, she’s probably dumped it in a creek or something.”
“That would be the good knews, Alf.”
“Oh yeah, right. I don’t know of any creeks though.”
Celene’s head jerked up at a noise. Lisa was standing there with an even larger camera held in both hands. It wasn’t pointing at Celene, however, and the woman was just staring at her. Celene didn’t move but grabbed the gutter with a clammy hand and her mouth cracked partially open, looking just as helpless as if Lisa was holding a bazooka too. The camerawoman swept her gaze past Celene to the forest and her eyes showed understanding, but she did not show that she had recognized Celene. And she turned calmly and walked back to camp. It felt to Celene as if she had just been freed from slavery and she wished she could speak to Lisa.
Instead she bolted through the forest again and paced agitatedly through the evening. Finally, she climbed a tree to watch the sun’s first touch to the horizon. The chromium edges appeared to burn through the sky and one could expect the clouds to peel back like scorched paper. Celene slid down the trunk and slung the weapon on. She drank the last from the canteen and trotted back through the brambles. By the time she entered the clearing of the base, her pant legs were tattered from all the trips through briars and stuffing was peeping out through her coat. She sauntered past the house and with a bit of luck, wasn’t spotted till she reached the wall. Even then, the people stepped back and fell silent.
Some assumed that she must have been given authorization they didn’t know about and the others didn’t want to ask. Ben and Nail were there, and though Nail scowled suspiciously as usual, Ben and Celene’s eyes met and Ben looked intrigued. Celene mentioned the idea of hoisting her up with the rope but no one replied and she began to climb the old fashioned way. Her muscles were stiff from un-use and the Dragon scraped the sides several times, metal against rock. The rope fibers were worn and weather beaten and it was harder to hang on to but Celene made it to the top by the time the sun was just about to disappear.
She was ready to do what she had wanted to do for a long, long time. It was a little stupid, maybe, but it felt good. Really, really good. Something that good should have an audience, she thought. Her last splurge. Because the sunset was so beautiful, she sat down first and ate a few crumbs of bacon out of her pocket to watch it. Then she stood and closed her eyes, enjoying the wind through her hair. It slowly dawned on her that something was jabbing into her leg. She unzipped her coat and felt inside the old pocket from Greensville. The light was too dim to see but one touch and she remembered exactly what it was and smiled.
Alf was awoken by Hagen and they pushed their way into the cold outside. There were only a few people out, but he finally saw what they were looking at, after his eyes adjusted. A small figure was on top the wall with long hair out behind her. The last bit of light glinted off the metal on her shoulder and no one had any doubt who it was. Alf immediately bolted for the rope to climb up after her but Hagen restrained him and because they were fighting, they missed what happened.
A soft “whoosh” shot up into the air from the wall, and then a pause in which the base had never been so silent. Then the dark sky exploded into light as a giant firework displayed all the attention Celene had wanted and every single person came out of their tent to see what it was.
“Where in Heaven did she get that?” Hagen asked, having not seen a firework since he was young.
“From me.” Alf beamed. “It was my best one.”
“What is she doing?” Two blue lights appeared at Celene’s wrists and a low reverberation went through the air. “Where is she aiming? Did she just fire?”
A cloud of dust rose from the wall and hid Celene completely. A hissing sound began and something began rolling down the wall, like someone was pouring a truckload of marbles over it. It collected at the ground in bigger and bigger chunks and when the people realized it was the wall itself, they ran backwards and some started screaming. Suddenly a wave of air hit them and with it a suffocating intensity of sand, but it only lasted a minute and before slowly settling. The sound of crumbling subsided and everyone began to see each other with their shirt up over their nose.
“She’s destroyed us all.” Some said.
“I pushed her too hard,” Hagen replied hoarsely.
Alf continued to look on, however, a little too optimistic for all of that. A cold breeze carried the remainder of the cloud up into the sky revealing a giant gap in the wall, bigger than the Crete gates themselves, spanning from the sky to the ground. A few more seconds and heads popped up on the other side, peering over the rubble and hiding behind one another.
“Are those refugees from Crete?” A boy asked innocently. Most that had run were returning now, curiosity overruling all senses of survival.
“Those... must be the Zons,” Hagen said, his voice hesitant. This simple misunderstanding held uncomfortable meaning to everyone.
“Should we fire on them?” Nail asked.
“No,” Hagen interjected, then more calmly. “No, I’m sure they’re prepared for anything…”
But no one saw anything that was any more threat than they held themselves, and without quite knowing why, they made their way to the new window to see what was on the other side. They were met face to face with a number of black heads and beady eyes who had also come up closer to see. Hagen began to hold his hands up in surrender, but when he saw the rubble and tattered camps of the Zons he only ventured nearer.
Out from the burnt trees, Azim emerged, face smudged and tired. Beside him was Avery, still loyal, but strangely silent. The smoke they had imagined to be the furnaces of war were merely a collection of fires with which to keep warm, and the mob that they had imagined were unarmed and timid. “Tis is a twist,” Azim remarked with fear in his voice. Not a at all a safe distance away, Azim caught sight of Hagen who was already looking at him. “Hagen ta tyrant,” he muttered, “I’ve heard of t’is man. Some leader. Heh. W’at a match we are. Tell everyone to hold their fire.” Avery nodded and left.
“Hagen, that guy is walking toward you,” Alf tugged on Hagen’s sleeve.
“Ah, Azim. Celene told me much about him.”
“Is he going to kill you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do?”
Hagen smiled at himself and made a subconscious gesture to their own vulnerable encampment. “I’m going to go talk to him.”
Alf watched them close in on each other, and he bit his finger nails. When they met, Hagen extended a hand Azim shook it.
“Oh, God,” Alf suddenly exclaimed, “Celene.” She could no longer be seen on the wall. “She’s dead, the idiot, she’s dead,” he moaned as he ran in circles throwing pieces of wood from the Zons ramp and digging through the dust. She was no where to be seen in the rubble. Alf called to those standing by and the word spread so that a large number of them began searching.
Later that night those that had not left for home found one another around the fire for one last drink. “That bastard dark blood, tried to kill us all. We’re lucky it backfired.” Many nodded their heads in agreement.
“And the war?” Someone asked.
“I guess it’s off.”
Alf surveyed them all with distant eyes. He knew the truth. Celene had brought the situation to a point where it had to be resolved without deceit, and in her own dramatic way, it had worked. Although he couldn’t hold back a smile, his face was crusted with dry tears. His stomach felt knotted and he couldn’t enjoy the food so eventually he left early and went inside the house.
Mr. Min had already thrown most of their belongings outside the door of their rooms and jabbered excitedly about having the house to himself again. Alf often saw Lisa run by with microphone in hand, she would have a very busy next few weeks. When the food ran out, Rat and his gang eventually left the base and no bit of mischief they attempted proved to be very significant. Hagen and
Azim weren’t seen much at all that night or the next day, but afterward Hagen’s eyes were forever younger and older, all at the same time. He suddenly felt age on his bones like he never had before and in the next few weeks carefully divided his party into three groups. One he gave to Nail, and the other to Ben, but the few he trusted most he kept around him to discuss more weighty matters. He even began to consider Alf as his successor, but of course he didn’t tell him.
Hagen held a small funeral, but Alf refused to attend. They hadn’t found the body, after all. He had seen Celene pull disappearing all his life and he was willing to hold on a few more weeks.
Celene wasn’t dead. She was very much alive and very much confused. The wall had fallen like a sandpile, so that she had ridden it down whilst always clawing for the middle as it tumbled over itself toward the ground. In the end she had found herself half buried and sand in her nose and mouth and down to the roots in her hair. The Dragon had taken most of the brunt of any sharp rocks and was cracked in two. Before the dust had completely settled, she had taken it off and made a speedy exit out into Crete.
After laying low for a few days the Zons camps had dried up and the non-perishable cans left in the Crete rubble were sparse. Celene took a first look at the carnage she had left behind her with dread. Only after that night had she allowed herself to think the idea through, and she couldn’t stop thinking of having to find Alf and burying him. What she found instead were two neatly packed up camps and a few scragglers here and there calmly cleaning up and filming. Mr. Min’s house was glowing yellow light through the windows and Hagen’s boots were still frozen outside the door. Celene emerged from the bushes and removed her hood. The air was stark and her frosty breath blurred the air in front. A light snow was falling and Celene thought she could smell hot noodles. She wrapped her coat tightly around her and started up the hill for the house.