The Dying Fall
Chapter 22: Unrest
Song for this chapter:
Chapter 22: Unrest
Carrie hastily unbuttoned the top half of her overalls, slid her arms out of the sleeves and stepped up onto the toilet seat. It was raining outside and she could feel the water on the window frame soaking into her top as she reached her arm outside and dropped the bag into the hedge. She’d had to swap the green cloth bag for a waterproof one that she’d fashioned from an old raincoat she’d found in the shed. The bag contained a few strips of copper wire, her token contribution to the deal she still had to uphold with Dryce. She had an interview at Eco Office on Monday and if they offered her a position she’d be able to leave the Plant in a couple of weeks.
Carefully closing the window, Carrie stepped down from the toilet and buttoned up her overalls again to cover the wet patched on her top. As she did so, she noticed graffiti carved on the cubicle door. There was always some sort of scrawl on the cubicle walls: usually derogatory comments about one of the foremen or complimentary ones about certain attractive colleagues. Sometimes it was just a string of curses. But this new graffiti was different:
When I die, then I’ll rise:
Rise louder than before.
Directly beneath this someone had scratched the Dextinction symbol.
Carrie swore under her breath and hastily let herself out of the cubicle. This wasn’t the first Vannah or Dextinction graffiti she’d seen this week. She’d seen ‘Rise louder than before’ at the bus stop and the Dextinction symbol on the edge of a table in the canteen. But this was the first time she’d seen them together and it confirmed the fear she’d had at the undersound last weekend: that Vannah and Dextinction were becoming linked, as if their message was the same.
Carrie felt torn by the association. On the one hand it was flattering that the song she had created resonated so deeply with others. It gave her a thrill to think that Vannah had inspired in listeners the same passion other songs had inspired in her. But she had never intended it to become a political statement. It was true that the song was an act of rebellion, but it was an expression of personal defiance, not a call to arms.
At least the new track she and Nano were working on was just music and no lyrics. If they did decide to sell it to Dryce, there was no way it could become quotable propaganda. Carrie was starting to suspect that monetary profit hadn’t been Dryce’s only motivation for buying Vannah and positioning it as the first track on the DEBUT bud. As long as he kept his word and ensured Carrie and Nano’s names were never associated with Vannah, then it didn’t much matter if Dryce was using his black market operations to support Dextinction and their political cause.
The rain had stopped by the time Carrie got off the bus in the square. As she stepped onto the pavement and zipped up her jacket, she was surprised to see Nano standing at the stop with a rucksack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, quickly walking with Carrie a short distance from the bus stop so they were out of the way of the alighting passengers.
“What are you doing here?” Carrie asked. “Are you going somewhere?”
Nano slid his gaze briefly to the dispersing commuters and lowered his voice. “The Patrol picked up a dealer this morning.”
“What? Where?”
“At the DReG,” Nano said. “Plain clothes officers picked him up in the middle of a deal. They got the buyer too. It seems they were waiting to get him—as if he’d been set up.”
Carrie swore softly as her stomach wriggled sickeningly. Saturday morning, under the bridge in the market, and it could have been her and Nano. She pushed her hands into her pockets and supressed a shiver.
“Are you leaving town?” she asked.
“I’m going to stay with my mum for a bit in Greenwell.”
Carrie sucked the inside of her cheek for a second. “How long for?”
“Until Dryce thinks it’s safe to start up business again. Perhaps a month—maybe longer. There won’t be any dealers operating here for a while and the undersound is suspended until further notice.” Nano dug a hand into his pocket and took out something wrapped in a brown paper bag. “Here—this is for you.”
Carrie opened the bag and took out a sterling silver brooch, the metal work styled to form the petals of a flower, with a paste turquoise stone at the centre.
“Open the back,” Nano suggested.
Carrie tweaked the back plate tentatively and it popped out to reveal a small black disc cocooned in the hollow of the turquoise stone.
“Should keep you going for a bit,” Nano said. He took the brooch from her, fastened the back and unzipped her jacket a little way to pin the brooch on her jumper, like he was a mother pinning an I.D. badge to the lapel of a child’s blazer on their first day of school. “When you come back for more buds,” he added. “You’ve got something safe to transport them in.”
Carrie looked down at the brooch, bright and blue against the jumper Mrs Giles had knitted her.
“Thanks, Nano.”
“Gotta keep my best customer happy,” Nano returned with his customary cocky smile. He glanced up the street. “This is my bus.”
Carrie nodded.
“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Nano said as he moved toward the bus stop.
Carrie turned to leave as well but immediately changed her mind and spun round again. “Nano, wait…”
Nano half-turned and Carrie walked quickly towards him and put her arms around his neck. Nano responded by wrapping an arm around her waist, and they stood holding each other for a moment in the street.
“Stay safe,” Carrie whispered fiercely before she released him and walked away. She glanced back once, in time to see Nano boarding the bus, and then she zipped up her jacket to cover the brooch and hurried home.
As Carrie reached her front door, Mrs Giles stepped out of her own house and beckoned her over. Crossing the road, Carrie joined her neighbour on her doorstep, where Mrs Giles then took her hand and led her into the hall and through to the living room.
“Mum!” Carrie exclaimed, seeing Molly sitting on the sofa with her feet curled up under her and one of Mrs Giles’s knitted blankets tucked around her.
“I had a migraine so came home early,” Molly explained. “Mrs Giles made me lunch.”
“Are you feeling better?”
Molly smiled weakly. “Mostly.”
Mrs Giles gestured at the space on the sofa and signed she would make them all tea. Carrie remained standing whilst she fumbled with her jacket and tried to remove the brooch from her jumper at the same time. Molly had gone back to watching the television, so Carrie was able to slip the brooch in the pocket of her jeans before folding her jacket on the arm of the sofa and sinking onto the lumpy seat. She stared unseeingly at the television screen, her mind gnawed with anxiety over the news Nano had given her. Whenever she thought of the dealer and his buyer, she thought of her meetings with Nano under the railway bridge and in Reddick Woods; of Meg, sitting at home in her silence; of the black bud, lying encased in its ornamental hiding place, in her pocket. But her anxiety wasn’t for herself—it was for Nano. She had an chance of getting out of her dealings with Dryce but Nano had no such opportunity. There was no way Dryce would let his best dealer go. Did Nano really expect to keep taking the risk of dealing buds for the rest of his life? How much longer before the Patrol finally caught up with him?
“How was your day?”
Carrie didn’t register the question at first and Molly had to ask it again.
“Had a tiring day?”
“Just cold and boring,” Carrie replied.
Molly nodded slowly but didn’t make a comment. Carrie suddenly had an urge to tell her mother about the Vannah graffiti, the Dextinction speech at the undersound, and Nano leaving town. The impulse to spill everything was so overwhelming that Carrie struggled for a few seconds to stop herself from opening her mouth. And then Mrs Giles shuffled in with the tea on a tray and the opportunity passed. Strangely, Carrie felt disappointed rather than relieved, and her secrets weighed even heavier on her.
Carrie wriggled further back in her seat as Mrs Giles handed her a cup of tea. “I have a job interview for an Eco Office on Monday,” she said.
Molly shifted in her corner of the sofa to give Carrie a keen look. “Really?”
“It’s just for a Data Administrator.”
“Oh!” Molly’s pleased response was a little tentative. “Well, it should be much warmer in an Eco Office.”
Carrie half-smiled and Molly’s face relaxed, allowing her full delight at the news to brighten her eyes. Mrs Giles, who was settling into her armchair with a piece of sewing, snorted abruptly with an air of disgust. Carrie and Molly glanced at her to see she was scowling at the news bulletin on the television. Carrie’s heart sank when she saw it was yet another item warning against further illegal disturbances—referring to the protests that had been forcefully broken up in several towns around the country in the past couple of weeks. The bulletins never mentioned Dextinction or the name of any other insurgent group, but they did warn against the influence of terrorists who used protests as an excuse to create anarchy. The public were reminded that protests must have the necessary approval from the regional council and adhere to the regulations set out by law. Anyone who had complaints about recent policies or energy rations should write to their Region Chief first, before engaging in illegal, divisive and disruptive behaviour.
Mrs Giles muttered something rather ripe about the local Region Chief before demurely sipping her tea.
“I hear quite a few of those at the protest the other week were workers from the Recycling Plant and Distribution Centre,” Molly said soberly.
“That’s because they’re no paid enough to get up in the dark and the cold every morning,” Carrie said dryly.
“Is there much talk of it at work?”
“There has been this week,” Carrie admitted, cupping her mug under her chin.
“About more protests?” Molly’s tone was taut with worry and her habitual suspicion.
Carrie was aware of Mrs Giles watching them, following the conversation as she read their lips.
“A little,” Carrie replied. She sipped her tea and the added: “And strikes.”
“Those are against the law,” Molly said gravely. “They carry a hefty fine and even a prison sentence.”
Mrs Giles signed something that Carrie didn’t understand but was sure was quite rude.
“I agree,” Molly replied. “The legislation needs to change, but there’s little point in engaging in something that is unlikely to have any impact and will only ruin your life.”
“What did she say?” Carrie asked.
“Just that the ban on strikes is against workers’ rights and that people have been robbed of their power.”
Carrie gave Mrs Giles a thoughtful look, remembering the speech the woman from Dextinction had given.
Someone has to make the sacrifice—Mrs Giles signed.
Molly sucked on the inside of her lip for a second and then exhaled a slow breath. “Yes,” she agreed, “The right sacrifice, at the right time.” Her gaze rested on Carrie. “And that’s not now.”
Mrs Giles gave them both a sympathetic smile and went back to her sewing.
“You’ll stay away from any protests or strikes, won’t you?” Molly said to Carrie, her voice quiet but steady. “There’s nothing wrong with protesting,” she added. “There’s everything right about it—but people are too angry right now, and any action, especially if it’s not legal, is likely to end in a clash with the Patrol.”
Carrie realised her mother was actually more afraid that Carrie would end up in a bad encounter with the Patrol than she was that she might get mixed up with insurgents. A warning shot from a Patrol officer’s gun could easily lead to an accidental, but fatal bullet to the heart.
“Okay.” Carrie said.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Carrie couldn’t help wondering what advice her father would have given her if he were around. What was he doing right now? Was he visiting undersounds, trying to recruit fellow addicts to Dextinction’s cause? She was desperate to know if that was the reason he had made contact with Savannah. Had it been a recruiting opportunity or had he just wanted to connect after all these years of silence?
Carrie felt a familiar instinct stirring and her thoughts turned to the brooch in her pocket with its hidden gift inside. With no dealers on the streets, no undersound and no access to the production equipment in the basement, it was going to be a long wait until the danger had passed and business could commence as normal. But mostly it was going to be a long wait without Nano around. And Carrie just had the one bud to get through it. Once upon a time, she would have traded everything for a single bud, but now it seemed an inadequate substitute for the more beautiful harmony she was discovering—a harmony made of seemingly inconsequential pieces of her everyday life: tea with her neighbour, a promise to her mother, and a gift from a friend whose cocky smile could make her veins sing with the same sweetness of a melody’s dying fall.
Next weekend: Chapter 23—Changes
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:
Cassie actually made a promise she intends to keep.
Chapter 23: Changes, coming next weekend.
PJ