The Dying Fall
Chapter 15: Caught
Song for this chapter:
Chapter 15: Caught
Rain thrummed on the roof of the bus as Carrie scanned her pass and followed Kayla to a seat. Carrie had to slide into the window seat, where the glass was already fogged, so Kayla could stretch her legs into the aisle. Kayla’s bump was big enough now that she’d taken to wearing a shapeless man’s Macintosh. She unbuttoned the coat and flung it open, flicking water onto Carrie’s jeans and revealing the dome of her belly under a yellow sweater that was a little too tight for her new figure. Carrie cast her an admiring glance before she put her feet up on the vent that ran under the window and slid her overnight bag under her legs. Why on earth Kayla was still taking overtime shifts in her condition, Carrie wasn’t sure; she could only imagine she needed the money to prepare for the baby before it arrived.
Carrie wriggled uncomfortably as the contents of her cloth bag pressed against her lower back. There had been slim pickings on the line for the past few weeks. The items on the new scrap list were not in plentiful supply and even the usual reliable strands of copper wire had been scant. Today, a decent EPROM chip, and a data bracelet that looked like it might still have life in it, had come her way, so she wouldn’t have to turn up emptyhanded again when she saw Nano tomorrow afternoon.
“Are you taking a trip this weekend?” Kayla asked, nodding at Carrie’s overnight bag.
“I’m just staying at a friend’s tonight,” Carrie replied.
Kayla’s eyes brightened. “Like a sleepover?” Her expression became sly. “What kind of friend?”
“Just an old school friend.”
“Well, that’s vague enough to be interesting,” Kayla teased.
“What are your plans this weekend?” Carrie asked.
Kayla readily took the diversion and Carrie listened to her chat about how tomorrow morning Ethan was helping her put together a cot, which she’d picked up from Zed’s Second-hand Furniture Store; in the evening she was meeting Derek for a drink, and then her mother was coming for lunch on Sunday. Carrie managed to avoid hearing about how Kayla’s mother kept giving her unwanted advice when the bus stopped in the square and she had to squeeze out of her seat to hurry to the exit.
Ducking her head against the rain, Carrie began a brisk walk to Meg’s house. Preoccupied with preventing the wind from driving the rain into her face, and on getting out of the bad weather as quickly as possible, she didn’t immediately notice the residents of Republic Street standing outside their homes. After passing a few houses, Carrie realised something was going on and slowed her pace as she drew close to a small huddle of neighbours on the pavement. A woman was standing in her doorway, hugging her body as she leant on the doorframe, whilst a man with an umbrella, and a woman and child in matching raincoats stood nearby. They were facing down the street and Carrie noticed a couple of Patrol vehicles parked up on the curb just a few doors along. Instantly, the blood rushed from Carrie’s face to her feet; the house at the centre of everyone’s attention was her intended destination: Meg’s house.
“How long has it been?” the woman with the child asked.
“About half an hour,” the woman on the doorstep answered.
“You’d think they would have found something by now.”
“They’ll be a while yet,” the man with the umbrella said. “Top to bottom and back again they’ll search it—no floorboard left unturned.”
“Do you think they’ll find anything?” the woman asked, pulling her child a little closer to her.
“Doesn’t much matter if they do or not,” the woman in the doorway said darkly. “It won’t change the outcome.”
Carrie shuffled to one side as a man brushed past her in a hurry and then stopped abruptly when he encountered the huddle.
“What’s going on here, Jayne?” the man asked the woman in the doorway with gruff surprise.
“You know the Conners at number nine?” Jayne replied. “The Patrol picked up one of them in the square a couple of hours ago.”
“What for?”
“Buds.”
The newcomer made a ‘hmph’ noise and went to the door of the next house. “Only one way that’s going to end,” he muttered before letting himself into the house.
Carrie had heard enough to make her feel physically sick, so she turned on her heel, aware of more figures standing at their doors and windows as she marched back the way she had come. Once out of Republic Street, she half-ran home, desperate to shut herself in somewhere safe, but half-afraid she’d find another set of Patrol cars outside her own home. Her own road was silent as she turned into it, the houses dark shadows, irregularly pinpricked with light that shone through slivers in curtains and blinds. A light was on in the front room of Carrie’s house when she reached it and when she let herself in she found Molly, still in her coat and holding her handbag, standing in the doorway of the living room. For a second they looked at each other, both holding their breath as water dripped from their coats onto the floor. An ill-concealed look of relief washed over Molly’s face.
“Bus was late,” Carrie said quickly, hoping her mother wouldn’t ask about the overnight bag or mention the news she’d obviously already heard.
Molly nodded. “I’ll get dinner ready.”
“I’ll do it,” Carrie said, peeling off her coat and heading for the stairs. “It’s my turn.” She took the stairs two at a time, shut her bedroom door behind her and tossed the overnight bag to one side as she slumped against the door, trying to still her hammering heart.
They had Meg.
It had to be Meg the Patrol had picked up in the square. She had been on her way to work, a bud or two in her pocket, and got caught in a routine stop and search. Carrie put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a second to block out the image that so easily conjured itself in her mind. Patrol officers were now crawling all over the Conners’ house and they were going to find all the other buds Meg had collected—evidence that this was a long-term habit and not a one-off misdemeanour. Not that it mattered, as the neighbour had shrewdly noted: there were no misdemeanours in the eyes of the Degenerative Recreational Drug Laws; no distinction between one bud and twenty.
Carrie turned to face the door so she could hang up her coat and tried to distract herself from the train of thought that naturally led her to the consequences of Meg’s arrest. Perhaps this time it will be different, she told herself. Please, she begged silently, please let it be different this time.
As she took the green cloth bag from her waistband, a familiar twist of guilt pulled at Carrie’s gut. It could have been her. If she hadn’t taken an overtime shift today, she could have been the one stopped and searched. They would have found the scraps from the Plant and that would have been enough to warrant a search of her home and the shed. It wouldn’t take long to unearth her buds, Savannah’s journal and the bottlephone. She would be where Meg was now: in a cell waiting to be sentenced. Or perhaps she’d end up with Savannah—scattered on the ash grounds.
Carrie paused with her hand on the bedroom door, swallowing back the biley lump that rose in her throat. Either of those outcomes was almost enough to persuade her to throw out her buds, tear up Savannah’s journal and stay as far as possible from Nano and his basement. Almost, but not yet, enough. With Savannah’s song so nearly finished, her addiction to making music ran deeper than any fear the Drug Laws or Patrol could instil in her. All thoughts of sneaking out to the undersound this evening, or any other evening in the near future, were banished; but she still had every intention of meeting Nano tomorrow. Somehow this seemed more urgent than ever; she was never going to find any equilibrium until this song was finished. And maybe, once it was done, she could go back to the habits of her previous life: no more stealing from the Plant, no more music production, no more undersounds…
Carrie sucked on the inside of her cheek as she went downstairs; it was so much easier to lie to others than it was to lie to herself.
Next weekend: Chapter 16—Because I Need It
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:
Short but important chapter. Reality hits 🙁
Chapter 16: Because I Need It, coming next weekend.
PJ
I was so afraid it was going to be Carrie who got caught. I am so afraid for her.