The Dying Fall
Chapter 4: A Proposition
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Chapter 4 : A Proposition
The green cloth bag pressed uncomfortably against Carrie’s spine, where it was wedged into the back of her waistband, as she watched the bus pull away from the curb. Once it had turned out of the square, she crossed the street and headed to the market, her heart in her throat. She’d smuggled items out of the Plant before, and every time she went through the same rollercoaster of fear and exhilaration. Getting caught would not only mean losing her job, but a criminal record and a prison sentence. The trouble wasn’t so much taking pieces off the disassembly line, but getting those pieces out of the Plant. All employees, on entering and leaving the premises, had to go through security, which included metal detectors and random pat-downs. Since everything of value on her line was metal, there was no way Carrie could smuggle parts out through the usual exits. It had taken her a few months after starting at the Plant to figure out a relatively simple solution: one that hadn’t failed her yet but still made her feel sick with anxiety each time she risked it.
This morning, as she’d slipped the copper wiring from a microwave up her sleeve without anyone noticing, Carrie had been convinced she was going to get caught this time. It was a long wait to the end of her lunch break, her one chance to find herself alone in the toilets when everyone else was heading back to their stations. Once she’d snuck into the end cubicle, she’d put the wire in her cloth bag, climbed onto the toilet seat, opened the tiny window, and pushed the bag into the hedge that grew up the wall outside. She knew there was no C.C.T.V covering this wall because the bathroom windows were too small for anyone to get through and therefore not deemed a security risk. The trickiest part was collecting the bag later at the end of her shift, which meant taking a walk around the outside of the main building and then snagging her clothes on the branches of the hedge as she reached up to retrieve the bag. Trying to look nonchalant as she strolled back to her bus and climbed on board, with stolen electrical components shoved down her waistband, took all the ballsy self-control she had.
Even when the bus cleared the gates and was well on its way back through town, Carrie still didn’t feel safe, so she was wary as she skulked down an alley to the market now, occasionally checking over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. And yet, at the same time, wriggling under all that anxiety was the raw joy of having done something so audacious and got away with it—so far.
The market was fairly quiet as Carrie passed through it, most of the stall holders hunkered down in their coats with mugs of tea and cold sandwiches as they watched the trickle of shoppers hurrying past. Detouring off the path and behind the oatmeal van, Carrie approached the bridge, where she saw Nano dealing with a customer in the shadows. She hung back and diverted her gaze until she sensed the transaction was complete and a quick glance showed her a silhouette retreating through the tunnel.
“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Carrie,” Nano said, his gaze not flickering from the money he was counting as she joined him under the arch. He folded the cash and shoved it into the inside pocket of his jacket before he looked at her with a cock of one eyebrow. “I’m starting to get worried about you, if you’ve finished that last bud already.”
Carrie didn’t take the bait but maintained as neutral an air as she could. She needed Nano in an agreeable mood if she was going to make a deal with him; and at the same time she didn’t want to get ripped off because she’d given away her desperation.
“I haven’t come for that,” she said.
Nano raised his other eyebrow. “You miss my company?”
“Of course, I always miss being cheated,” Carrie replied.
Nano snorted. “What do you want?”
“I want cash.”
Nano looked mildly offended. “I’m not a loan shark.”
“I don’t want a loan,” Carrie continued. “When I trade you stuff from the Plant, what do you do with it?”
“That’s none of your business.” Nano’s tone wasn’t defensive, just matter-of-fact.
“I want to make it my business,” Carrie said. She shrugged. “You either have a weird collection of electrical scraps in a glass cabinet at home, or you sell those scraps on to someone else for money. I want a cut. I’ll source you stuff from the Plant, if you give me cash in return.”
Nano’s lip curled in a sneer. “Why would I want your scraps? When you’re short on payment for a high, you give me stolen bits from your job to make up the cash, and I reluctantly accept it. That’s the arrangement we have.”
Carrie put her hand to her waistband at the back of her jeans and pulled out the green cloth bag. Nano tensed a little until he saw the bag in her hand, and she realised he’d been anticipating a weapon. A fleeting feeling of sympathy pinched her in the gut before she refocused on the task at hand.
“So you’re not interested in any of this?” She took out several pieces of coiled copper wire that she had filched off the line over the week. “C’mon, Nano, it’s not just copper—I can get motherboard scrap, transformers, gold connectors, microchips, batteries, graphic cards… Don’t tell me you don’t know someone who will pay for that stuff.”
Nano’s mouth twisted at the corners for a second and then he held out his hand. Carrie placed the wire in his open palm and he turned it over for a few seconds before looking at her with his head tilted slightly, as if he was taking time to reassess her.
“I know someone who might have clients willing to pay for certain scraps,” he said, handing her back the wire. “Meet me here on Saturday morning and I’ll let you know if there’s a deal.”
Carrie hid her relief as she slipped the copper into the cloth bag and tucked it back into her waistband. She straightened her jacket and gave Nano a bold look. “Tell your friend,” she said “If I’m going to risk my neck for this stuff, I want a decent cut.”
“He’s not a friend,” Nano scoffed mildly, digging his hands into his pockets. “And what kind of cut do you think I get for the risks I take?” He gave her an amused smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to take payment in buds? You know if I give you cash you’re just going to be handing it back to me for your next hit.”
Carrie shoved her fists into her jacket pockets and gave him a wry look. “Just try not to get arrested before Saturday, Nano.”
Nano smiled at her mirroring his stance as they faced each other in the shadow of the bridge. “You too,” he said.
A flash of irritation crossed Carrie’s face and she turned to leave.
“Why do you want the cash?” Nano asked as she began walking away.
“None of your business,” Carrie called back without looking round.
She heard him snigger and kept walking. Joining the main thoroughfare of the market, Carrie quickened her pace and tucked her chin into her collar. The air was cold, but she felt hot under her skin. For a moment, doubts crowded at the door of her mind but she quickly pushed them back and shut them out. She was, for once, doing something illegal for a reason that wasn’t entirely selfish. Her mother had managed to get a two-day extension on the fine and an extra shift at work on Saturday; but they still wouldn’t have enough to pay the bills next quarter. And that was Carrie’s fault. At least now, if she got a favourable answer from Nano’s contact, she’d be one step closer to making up for her mistake. The DEW inspection team would be back tomorrow evening and once the fine was paid, the whole ugly business would be behind them.
Her mother hadn’t said anything, but Carrie could tell she was still both angry and suspicious—as if she suspected Carrie of deliberately leaving the plastic bottle to be discovered by the inspectors. Carrie could only imagine how much angrier her mother would be if she knew that she had stayed up late for the last three nights, wasting the torch battery reading through Savannah’s journal whilst a bud played in her ear. It had taken a while, but Carrie was starting to figure out her sister’s notes, differentiating between thoughts, quotes taken from books or songs—many of which Carrie recognised—and lines of poetry that were original. Of all the things in Savannah’s journal, the lines of poetry stuck with Carrie the most. As she walked home, a couple of these—adulterations of the quote on the first page of the journal—churned in her head to the rhythm of her feet, intertwining with a melody she had been conceiving for a couple of weeks.
If music be life, give me excess of it
Until I die…
Carrie pressed her lips together to stop the music that hummed on her tongue and tried to focus on something else. A movement caught her eye as she passed an alley way and she stopped to stare at the community service volunteers in their high-vis jackets who were preparing to remove graffiti from the side of a house. It wasn’t unusual to see community service teams clearing obscenities from public buildings or fixing damage to government property but Carrie had never know them to bother with the colourful scrawlings found in obscure back alleys or on private property in residential areas. But then this graffiti was a little different; over the top of the usual faded, meaningless jumble of symbols, tags and self-portraits drawn with cartoonishly exaggerated features, there was a bold, fresh and particularly striking piece of artwork: an image of a sprouting seedling with long roots that spread out on either side of it to form links in a chain, each link in turn forming the oval head of a stick figure—so that it looked very much like each figure was being strangled by the roots of the seedling.
Carrie stared at the graffiti for a moment, something about it tugging at her memory, even though she knew she had never seen the image before. Her mind scrabbled around for a moment, but came up blank. When one of the community service volunteers glanced round and saw her, she stirred herself and walked on, the half-formed song temporarily forgotten and replaced with a disturbed feeling in her stomach as she continued homeward, heavily aware of the silence that awaited her.
Next weekend: Chapter 5—Small Link in the Chain
The Dying Fall: Index
Welcome to the index page of The Dying Fall. Please scroll down to find links to each published chapter. If you need any help, let me know via the message button at the bottom of the page.
Author’s Notes:
Nano being that person who knows everyone in the criminal underworld.
Chapter 5: Small Link in the Chain, coming next weekend.
PJ