Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (16 page)

He just smiled faintly.

“Okay. A preKnown, then. So by the time Bane’s mum’s parked, my mum’s called that there’s someone here to play with me and she’s in the car park greeting Mrs Marsden and saying how kind it is of her and Bane’s out of the car like a shot and Mrs Marsden’s caught in a terrible dilemma – doesn’t want to admit she was going to leave Bane in the car all day but she’s terrified her horrible son will beat up her employer’s poor little blind boy.”

I snorted.

“I bet she was in a sweat.”

“Yep. So I come along then, dizzy with excitement, I admit – literally years since I’d had anyone to play – and Bane says ‘hi,’ sizing me up, and I say ‘hi’ ever so firmly back, wondering if he’s going to punch me, ‘cause he sounded like he was thinking about it. But he thinks I don’t seem so bad and anything’s better than a day in the car, so he says to me in a friendlier tone, ‘D’you have any good dens in all this forest?’ And off we scarper before his mum can decide what to do.

“And my mum’s going on about what a nice kind little boy Bane is and Bane’s mum is quaking in her shoes and doesn’t dare say anything and has probably one of the worst days of her entire life. But Bane didn’t hit me – well, not the first visit – we got into fights later, of course! So after that Bane’s mum brought him whenever he couldn’t go to you.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. “He didn’t have to keep coming when he was older. He knew he was going to be hurt if he kept caring about me.”

“Well, Bane’s nothing if not loyal.”

“Yeah. Didn’t he tell you all this?”

“Yeah... vaguely familiar. He talked about you a lot when we were little. Used to want me to meet you. When we were... I don’t know... ten? Eleven? He just stopped mentioning you so much.”

“That’s when he decided he was going to marry you,” said Jon dryly.

“Really? I’ve been going to marry him since I was eight. Well, they do say boys catch on slower than girls.”

“Also when he found out I was in the Underground too.” Even drier.

“You told him?”

“No, he asked me. If he ever claims to be thick, don’t believe him. I thought I’d been careful as anything.”

“Too well up on all things Underground. He was half raised in our house and my parents never tried to keep it from him – would’ve been impossible. They just treated him the same as me and Kyle and it paid off. Eliot was a different matter, but Kyle generally went around to their house to play with him.”

Jon snorted slightly.

“Poor Kyle drew the short straw there.”

“Well, they didn’t have much to do with one another when they were little, but once Kyle understood why our parents went to so much trouble to get on with the Marsdens, he wanted to do his bit. Didn’t do Eliot any harm. He actually cried at Kyle’s funeral, y’know.”

Jon was looking all thoughtful again.

“
You’re
Bane’s family, y’know. Have been for years. It’d kill him if he lost you. Kill his spirit, anyway.” He stared through his comatose friend for a few more moments. “Come on, mate, hang in there...”

My attention turned back to Bane, but... Jon was right. I’d taken the place of Bane’s real family a long time ago. And if Jon hadn’t been part of Bane’s tiny family before our trek across Europe, he was now.

Was that why Jon had never made any effort to steal me away from Bane? Not that I’d ever given him the slightest encouragement, surely? Without that, he was too loyal a friend to try. Perhaps even
with
.

Doctor Frederick came back with the nurses after a while and chased us out while they changed the dressings. When he let us back in he expressed satisfaction at Bane’s progress, following it up with strenuous cautions against getting our hopes up. I cross-examined him at some length, probably forcing him to repeat much of what he’d said the day before – the wound in itself wasn’t too serious, apparently, but the delay in Bane getting treatment and the corresponding draining of his strength (and blood) was.

“But you’ve replaced all his blood, haven’t you?” I demanded. “If you need more, I’m O positive too, he can have mine...”

“Calm down, calm down,” said Doctor Frederick. “We had enough blood, he’s simply exhausted. His body used up every last reserve to stay alive until he got proper help. We’ve got him on fluids and salts, and if he can hang on long enough he should rally. But he may have gone too far. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

“But...” I couldn’t think of anything to suggest.

“
But
since
you’ve
clearly come back to life, I should take a look at your chest. Doesn’t actually make much difference if they’re bruised or cracked or outright broken, same treatment applies, but your brother is nagging me. I
should
take a look at that hole, anyway.”

“That’s really nothing.” But since he didn’t try to get me out of the room again, I didn’t put up a fight. Apparently he considered Bane unlikely to wake up in the middle of his examination, worse luck.

Cracked and bruised was his verdict, and the bullet hole was clean and no cause for concern. He was able to tell Kyle so as he was leaving, when Kyle appeared with sandwiches. And Sister Krayj.

“I’m letting a substitute go tonight, Margo,” Kyle told me, when I’d finished my plateful. “I wanted to stick around.”

I looked at him blankly.

“Go where?”

Surprise covered his face.

“On the raid, Margo.”

They were carrying on. Of course they were. The world hadn’t stopped. Hadn’t actually shrunk to this one little room. Not for everyone else.

“Of course. For the Boxing Day raids. Are you in charge, then?” I asked Sister Krayj.

“Yes. We’ve tweaked the plan a little but I need you to tell me
exactly
what happened, or we won’t be going anywhere tomorrow. And we’d rather not waste the little bit of time before New Year.”

“Umm. No, of course not.” I swallowed. “Okay, well...” I tried to sort my thoughts, straighten out my memories of that disastrous night. “It all started exactly as normal, but Father Mark – in his own words, the back of his neck was prickling...” I told her of Bane’s precautions, filling in what she already knew, then how Father Mark got up to scout around, and alerted the guard, and the terrible consequences.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said when I’d finished, my voice a little shaky. “I don’t think the guard was supposed to show himself at all. I mean, the guards don’t usually carry Lethal pistols. Only the Commandant. But the Commandant’s got a few extras locked away he can issue if necessary.”

“Usually to officers, according to the book,” remarked Sister Krayj, also sober-faced.

“Yeah. But I’m guessing they thought rifles would be too unwieldy up a tree. Especially for someone who just needed a weapon for protection as a last resort.
I
think the guy was supposed to hear us coming and get on his wristcell to the tower, tell them where we were going to be, and when we actually got there, switch on the floodlight. At which point the machine guns would mince us up.

“But the wet – and Bane always insisting we crawl all the way from the trucks – meant he didn’t even know we were there. So when Father Mark materialised completely out of nowhere, heading for the guy’s tree, he just panicked, and once he’d got him, he couldn’t think what else to do but to try and take him in – those guards aren’t the sort of hardened killers who’d just shoot a man dead at close range. I expect they
would’ve
been quite pleased with him for catching one of us, but I doubt it was the plan.”

“And the towers didn’t open fire at first because they weren’t sure what was happening,” said Sister Krayj. “Makes sense. No major surprises in what you’ve told me. The amended plan should be fine.”

She was silent for a moment, her face drawn. “There’s, uh, there’s going to be a Requiem Mass for Father Mark, of course. But the time’s not been set. Bane would want to be there, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, he would. I’m glad they’re waiting. The other teams were all okay? Eduardo said they were...”

“Yes, they were fine. But the next raid’s going to be a cautious one. We’ve worked a lot of extra checks into the plan, so even if we have to pull out without any reAssignees, the danger to our guys should be minimal. And they won’t be expecting it so soon after the Christmas Eve raids, which is the only reason we’re rushing out again like this. But your brother’s staying here for this one, all the same.”

Kyle took my hand and gave it a squeeze and I squeezed back. Felt bad a capable person was off the team on my account, but... couldn't stand anyone else dying right now, not with Bane lying there on a knife edge.

The light was fading again when something – a slight change in the rhythm of the monitor? – focused all my attention on the precious figure in the bed.

“Bane? Bane?” I brushed gently at the hair around his face, though it was all out of the way already.

“Is he waking up?” asked Jon.

“Maybe. Does it sound different?”

“Yes. I’ll get Doctor Frederick.”

He left the room so fast his stick hardly tapped the ground at all. I pressed the morphine button, then shifted to sit on the bed itself, staring at Bane. Was his chest moving more quickly?

“Bane?”

Lord?
Please?

His eyelids twitched.

“
Bane?
”

***+***

14

THE IMPATIENT GARDENER

More twitching, then Bane’s eyelids crept up as though each weighed several tons. Beautiful brown eyes stared up at me, frighteningly dim.

“Bane? Can you hear me?”

“Margo?” His lips moved but I could barely hear him. Never seen such exhaustion in his eyes. Like nothing would be better than to just close them and let go of everything...

“Bane, don’t try and talk, okay? You were hurt in the raid, I don’t know if you remember. But you’ll be okay if you fight, but you’ve got to fight, do you understand?
Don’t you DARE let go...
”

“How would I dare?” he mouthed. His eyes closed and he slipped asleep again.

“That’s right, you tell him, Margo,” grinned Jon, from the doorway.

Doctor Frederick hurried in past him and Jon followed him to the bed.

“He was awake!” I told them.

“Was he coherent?” asked Doctor Frederick.

“He tried to say my name. Must’ve taken in what I said, ‘cause he replied! But he fell asleep again almost at once.”

“You pressed the morphine button?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in his condition, the morphine will be enough to put him back to sleep, but that can’t be helped. He mustn’t exert himself.”

“I tried to stop him from talking...”

“Quite so.” Doctor Frederick consulted the monitors. “He’s sleeping quietly, anyway. Well, I must still counsel you not to raise your hopes too high, but I’d say there’s definitely hope.”

Off he went again. Despite what he’d said, I hugged Jon and he rocked me back and forth in similar jubilation before remembering my ribs and stopping abruptly. I was so happy the pain barely registered.

News of Bane’s turn for the better spread fast. Half of Animal team managed to pop in despite there being barely half an hour before they left for the mission. Kyle came as soon as he’d seen them off, looking less strained, and bearing food as usual.

“So much nicer for them all to be able to go off with some hope,” he remarked, dishing out a more than usually substantial meal.

“Doctor Frederick said we mustn’t get our hopes up too much,” I admitted.

“Yeah, but... without meaning to raise your hopes out of all proportion... Eduardo says Doctor Frederick could be pessimistic about a miracle let alone any normal recovery – and he’s one to talk. Everyone else thinks Bane’s going to be fine.”

My heart lightened a little more and I tucked in. Could scarcely imagine a better Christmas present than this.

Time for a
Te Deum
. Praise be to God.

“Your Holiness?” I looked around the door.

“Ah, Margaret, come in. I hope you don’t mind me taking you away from Bane for half an hour.”

Bane had spent pretty much the entire of the last two days asleep, but as of last night Doctor Frederick considered him out of danger. I still felt like I was floating.

“It’s okay. Doctor Frederick says he’s going to be fine. Lord willing.”

“I know.” Pope Cornelius waved me to a sofa. “I wouldn’t have invited you round otherwise. Coffee? No tea, I’m afraid, we’re waiting for another shipment.”

“I know. Coffee’s fine, thank you. I can get…”

“No, no, sit down, relax. You look pale. Are you all right?”

I absently rubbed the bandage on my arm. The hole was beginning to heal, but breathing was still no fun.

“I’m fine. How are you, Your Holiness? I’m surprised you’ve got time to invite me to tea.”

He waved this aside with the serving tongs.

“Cake?”

“Please.” I tried not to blush. Embarrassing letting him wait on me!

He noticed my pink cheeks and winked cheerily as he handed me a plate and a mug.

“Servant of the servants of God.”

I had to laugh. We chewed and sipped for a while in an appreciative silence.

“This Liberation operation of Bane’s is amazing, you know,” he said at last, putting aside his empty plate. “Normally it’s such a lot of work just to ensure all the Believers in the bloc have access to a priest on a fairly regular basis. So much that I fear we get a bit… hmm… narrowed down, in our focus. So intent on what has to be done from day to day that we don’t look at how to
change
the bigger picture. But your fiancé’s stuck a stick of dynamite into the wasps’ nest, all right. You both have.”

“It’s all Bane’s idea.”

“This bit is. You kicked the wasps’ nest clear across the garden, just to start things off.”

I shrugged and said nothing.

“I’m very glad that young man is going to pull through, and not just for the obvious reason. It would be a shame to lose his... ah...
practical
take on things.”

I shuddered. The fact that as soon as Bane was recovered he’d go straight back out on another mission was something I’d rather not dwell on.

“I keep thinking...” the words broke out suddenly, “I keep thinking... there was this moment when I froze, just for a second, when I saw...” I gulped. “When I saw Father Mark was dead. And I keep thinking... if I’d just moved faster, perhaps... perhaps Bane wouldn’t have been shot...”

Pope Cornelius sighed – took my hand in his old wrinkled ones.

“Or maybe, maybe you’d both have been standing in slightly different places and the little collection of bullets you brought home with you would have hit Bane instead – and he wouldn’t have come home at all.”

I swallowed again. Bane
might
only have survived that burst because he was standing behind me...

“I really... I really thought I
understood
... y’know, that it was
dangerous
. That someone might actually...
get hurt
. Now I feel like I really didn’t understand it at all.”

“Ah yes,” he sighed, “I know the feeling. When I was a young priest – long time ago now, I admit – things were just getting really bad. Conscious Dismantlement had been recently introduced and we all
thought
we knew what we faced. Then someone I was working with – a close friend – got taken. Conscious dismantlement. Left me reeling.”

I’d felt like this before – I realised now, when he put it like that. With the book, back in the Facility. Thought I’d understood what I was risking, until I actually won the competition... Reeling. That was the word.

“Is there any chance of some more bulletproof jackets, Your Holiness?”

“I was under the impression the planning committee were already organising another, ah,
purchase
, to take place as soon as New Year is passed. They don’t want to waste the time before then.”

“No... That code – it’ll have saved...” I paused, my maths failing me. “Well, a
lot
of lives.” Thousands.
Even if it did cost Father Mark his
... I pushed the ungrateful thought away. Father Mark wouldn’t be complaining.

“Yes, a Godsend, all right. Even if He did use a most unusual courier.”

I nodded and said nothing. No one had ever named our ‘mysterious benefactor’ out loud. I think everyone hated being in the man’s debt.

“I take it you won’t be leaving Bane’s side for a while?”

“No, I won’t. Everyone’s told me how replaceable I am often enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Oh no, of course not.” He changed the subject.

His desktop computer pinged gently after a while and he checked his watch.

“We must draw this to a close, I’m afraid. I have a video conference to attend. Oh, just leave those on there...” Obediently I placed empty plate and mug on the side table. He saw me to the door.

“Thank you for tea, Your Holiness.”

“You’re welcome. Nice to catch up. I hope Bane will be able to come next time. Which reminds me, I know Father Mark was going to marry you two. I don’t know if you’ve chosen someone else yet – I imagine not – I just wanted to let you know I’d be honoured to take his place. But don’t feel you
must
pick me.”

I smiled, sadness mingling with appreciation.

“I imagine we will want to take you up on your offer, Your Holiness, but I’ll check with Bane.”

“Of course. Oh, this is for you. Well, not to
own
, I’m afraid, we can’t quite afford that, but it’s for your exclusive use.”

He placed a largish, flat box in my hands, but as I opened my mouth to inquire what it was, his computer pinged again.

“I must say goodbye, Margaret, three continents are waiting.”

He ushered me out, blessed me and shut the door.

Hmm. I eyed the box and headed back to Bane’s room in the hospital wing. My home for the last few days. Bane was still asleep. Hopefully hadn’t noticed my absence. I couldn’t really turn down an invitation to tea with the Pope!

I placed the box on the table, opened the flaps along one narrow side and slid out the contents.

Oh.

A laptop.

Was it me, or did I have my new work assignment?

I lifted the lid and switched it on, pulling up a chair whilst it came to life. Everyone
wanted
me to write, I just... hadn’t felt like I could. Call everyone else to arms from this – admittedly deceptively – safe citadel? Sit at home writing whilst everyone else was out saving lives?

I was going to be sitting at home now anyway... And Pope Cornelius was clearly getting impatient enough to give me a gentle nudge.

The usual icons clustered in the corner of the screen, but one sat right in the middle – ‘FreedomBlogs’. Another hint? I clicked on it.

A webpage opened up. This computer was online?

FreedomBlogs

Congratulations!

Your new blog account has been created.

To begin blogging, fill in the information below to tell your readers about you and your blog. Then click on ‘New Blog post’ and you’re away!

I drummed my fingers gently on the table. Blogging. Yes... no way I was getting another book published, was I? But it was nearly impossible for the EuroGov to censor things online – though they tried hard enough. Most people didn’t actually have internet but ‘PrintArounds’ – blog entries printed off and photocopied and passed on, either for free or for cash – were in high demand, and had almost as wide a circulation as newspapers. There were a lot of popular blogs. Whether I could write one of them was another question...

I picked up the phone and dialled.

“Eduardo?”

“Margaret?”

“Yes. You know the little gift the Holy Father’s just presented me with? If I post something on this link begging for attention in the middle of the desktop, will it be traceable?”

“I prepared that little link myself, so what do you think?”

“No, then. Just checking. Okay, thanks, bye.”

So. I stretched, steepling my fingers and staring at the ceiling.
Do I get the impression I’m supposed to do this, Lord?
Well, a blog needed a name. I clicked in the box and typed, ‘I Am Still Margaret.’ No. I deleted it. Tried again, ‘The Three Most Wanted’. No, delete. Jon and Bane were unlikely to be writing anything on it. What about...

Oh no!

I leapt up from the table and bolted through the door. But I didn’t run all the way to my room; no point, the damage was done.

Pulling the seed tray from the window, I looked glumly at the shrivelled seedlings. Bother. The winter sun in Gozo was quite hot enough to kill young plants if you didn’t water them for about five days. But... the one in the corner had been in the shade... I watered it cautiously and left it out of the direct sunlight. Could always plant some more, but then I’d have to wait all over again.

Returning to Bane’s room, I put my fingers on the keyboard once more and marshalled my Esperanto.

Blog Title: The Impatient Gardener

Name of blogger: Margaret Verrall

Subject of blog: Life as a fugitive, Sorting, Religious Freedom, Liberations.

Subject categories: Biography, Politics, Religion.

Likes and dislikes: I like Bane Marsden – actually I love, love, love him – I like Jonathan Revan, all my family and friends, going to Mass, praying, reading and writing, mountain biking and high adventuring in the Fellest (though I’ve probably done the last of that), blowing up EuroGov fireworks, liberating reAssignees, being free, and being alive.

I dislike Sorting, Dismantlement, Facilities, the EGD, the EuroGov, Religious Suppression, Major Gladys Wallis, Private Finchley, several members of the SpecialCorps, machine guns and all Lethal weapons.

People you admire: Our Lord, Our Lady, Cardinal Hans Schteiner and Father Peter Wilson (requiescant in pacem), Bane, Jon, my parents, loads and loads of the Underground. Oh, and Lucas Everington – if I could’ve pulled a stunt like that, I wouldn’t even have needed Bane, would I?