Chapter 4
"Not knowing when the dawn will come,
I open every door"
― Emily Dickinson
Vasilisa -
After weeks aboard the Acella, solid land has never felt so good and the grimey docks of this Northeastern compound are suddenly the most beautiful things I've ever seen. If not for Eddie, I probably would have fallen to my knees and kissed the filthy planks upon scrambling out of the tiny lifeboat we'd commandeered. Instead, Eddie guides me past rows of docked cargo vessels, passing in and out of pools of light radiating from the lanterns marking the path to shore. The sun will be up soon and we need to find a place to lay low before that happens.
The harbor is deadly quiet, save for the gentle lapping of water and our hurried footsteps. We reach the end of the dock, passing under the looming shadows of giant cranes and other rusted machinery that looks as if it hasn't been used in ages.
"This way" Eddie murmurs under his breath, tugging me forward.
I can just barely make out the hulking shapes of the structures looming before me, but upon closer inspection, I realize that this must be the container port. We're now moving through rows and rows of shipping containers waiting to be loaded onto ships or trucks and transported elsewhere. Eddie moves purposefully among the metal containers until we reach a row at the far end of the yard. He yanks open one of the double doors to the last container and ushers me inside.
"You should be safe here for now," he whispers, pulling the door shut behind him.
I blink at him through the darkness. "Why does it sound like you intend to leave me in this giant metal crate?" I hiss. "Did Christian put you up to this? Lock me in a container and load me back onto the ship so I can't do anything stupid?"
I can't so much see as I can feel Eddie's wide grin. "That's a pretty elaborate plan - and anyway if Christian had asked me to keep you from doing anything stupid I wouldn't have let you off that ship." I hear him rummage through his pockets for something. "Close your eyes." I do as he says and a few moments later, I hear the clicking sound of a small handheld lantern coming to life.
I open my eyes, blinking against the bright light now emanating from Eddie's closed fist, then glance around the empty shipping container. "Okay, so you're not leaving me in here?" I ask hopefully.
"Just temporarily. We need more information on whatever the Executor is planning and you're too recognizable."
"Too recognizable?" I scoff. "This place is teeming with refugees and civilians - no one is going to notice one more lost girl." Eddie looks at me uneasily. "You sound like Jared - forcing me to stay below deck when we dock,"
"Turns out he was right to be cautious. You're not just some lost girl." He pauses to withdraw a folded sheet of paper from another pocket and hand it to me.
"Are you starting a poster collection?" I ask, recalling the Executor's glossy tour announcement he'd brought back. Eddie, still holding the small lantern, steps closer so that I can see better and I feel the blood turn to ice in my veins. "How did they get this?" I ask, voice trembling.
It's another NAAMA-issued poster, but this time, the eyes staring back at me don't belong to Natasha - they're mine. The word Wanted is printed in giant block letters below a picture of my Executor's ban on technology has extended to cameras, except in the case of surveillance equipment, which means that capturing images like the one on this poster would have been extremely difficult. Perhaps the Executor would have been able to get her hands on footage of me when I lived in the compounds, but it would have been grainy and far away - this image is too detailed.
"Mikhail and I think it's a sketch," he says, guessing at my thoughts. "Some kind of digital rendering."
I step closer to the lantern, trying to get a better look and realize that he's right. There are some irregularities and details of my appearance that aren't quite right.
"Your nose is all wrong," says Eddie, trying to sound lighthearted.
"Whoever made this," I say, gripping the poster tightly, "Would have needed a reference - to talk to someone who knows me…" And judging by the level of detail, someone who knows me well…
Eddie goes rigid beside me. "I...I didn't even think about that... you don't think...Dimitri would never agree to do something like this."
"He would if they made him," I choke out, beginning to rip the poster apart. Images of Dimitri being tortured bombard my mind. "Why didn't you show this to the others?" I ask Eddie, wanting desperately to think about anything but Dimitri.
Eddie doesn't answer immediately. He turns and sets the lantern on the floor and moves toward the container door. "Because Christian would have never agreed to follow the Executor on her tour if he saw it." I don't bother saying that Christian would have never agreed to stray from our plan, regardless of whether he'd seen a wanted poster with my face on it.
"I'll be back in a few hours, you should try to get some rest," he says warily. In that moment, I realize how exhausted Eddie looks. He's spent weeks moving through the provinces, searching for any clue that might lead us to the capital, to Rose, or to Dimitri - probably getting little to no sleep. The thought gives me an idea.
"Eddie, wait," I say, and he pauses at the mouth of the container. "Do you think you could get your hands on some coffee?"
He frowns at me in the low lantern light. "I guess...do I look that bad?"
I laugh, "No - well yes, you do look tired, but that's only partially why I want it."
He shrugs, "I'll try," and with that, he disappears back into the night.
Though I know should listen to Eddie and rest, I pass the next few hours pacing the length of the shipping container - racking my brain for reasons why the Executor has chosen now to go on a tour of the provinces. Eddie and Mikhail had called it some kind of morality campaign - a way for her to connect with the people and assure them that they have nothing to fear - but it would be foolish of us to think that it has nothing to do with recent events or our own plans. What is she up to?
Even more terrible to consider is whether Eddie's hunch is right - that following Natasha will eventually lead us to Dimitri and to Rose. I fall back against the wall of the container near the lantern and slide to the floor - I should never have let her leave, I think to myself for what feels like the millionth time. But I know there's nothing I could have done to keep her from Dimitri. I draw my knees to my chest and wait for the tears to come but my eyes remain perfectly dry - I'm too exhausted to even cry. My heavy lids finally shut and I let sleep claim me.
"Time to wake up, Liss," a gentle voice whispers to me what feels like only seconds later. I feel Eddie's hand on my shoulder, trying to prod me awake.
I let out a groan and begin peeling myself off the shipping container floor. "Never thought I'd say this - but I think I miss my cabin on the Ascella." My knees crack as I rise to my feet - what I really miss is my bed in Portum Lux.
"At least it doesn't rock back and forth," Eddie offers, turning to two large tins he's placed on the floor next to the lantern. "Here," he says picking one up and handing it to me. "Coffee."
He grabs the other and raises it to his lips. "Wait!" I say, lurching forward. "It's not for drinking." Eddie furrows his brow in confusion and disappointment. "How strong do you think this stuff is?" I ask, sniffing the warm brown liquid.
He shrugs, "I got it down by the docks, and from the look of the men they were handing it out to - I'd say it was pretty strong."
"Perfect," I say, handing the tin back to Eddie and tucking my arms inside my sweater to remove the tank top beneath it.
Eddie's cheeks flush with embarrassment before he whirls around to face the other direction. "Can you please explain to me why I am - one, not allowed to drink this very nice, delicious smelling coffee - and two, why you are taking your clothes off?"
"Calm down," I tell him, poking my arms back through the sleeves of my sweater, tank top in hand. "I'm not taking my clothes off - we women learned the ancient art of removing layers without stripping long ago."
His only response is an exasperated sigh.
"We," I say, moving myself back into his field of vision. "Are going to dye my hair."
"This is not going to work," Eddie tells me for the fourth time. "But at least you'll smell nice."
I scowl at him from my place on the floor of the container. "You're just bitter because you didn't get to drink the coffee." Eddie, sitting against the opposite wall, barks out a laugh.
Despite my words, I'm also deeply skeptical of my own plan. We'd managed to soak most of my hair in the coffee and wrap it up in my tank top. It had been messy and I watched Eddie silently mourn every drop that had fallen onto the floor. To add insult to injury, I'd decided to just dump the remaining coffee directly onto my head, letting it soak through the shirt.
I need a way to disguise my appearance and there are only so many ways to dye my hair without chemicals and without more time.
Eddie's watch beeps from across the container. "Alright," he says, rising to his feet. "Moment of truth."
I let out a sigh and begin unraveling the shirt from around my head. Limp, damp strands of hair fall onto my shoulders and I pull on the ends, trying to see the results of my caffeinated experiment. I can't make out much of a difference in the lighting."
"Well?" I ask, trying to gage Eddie's reaction.
He claps a hand to his mouth, but I can still hear the girlish giggles that escape him.
"Eddie!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. "Did it work or not?"
He takes a breath, then lowers his hand. "Kind of," he says finally.
I snatch the lantern off the floor and hold it up to my hair to get a better look. "Kind of," I repeat, deflating a bit. The strands of my hair, once a pale gold color, are now a ruddy shade of light brown. "Not the color I was hoping for, but it will do."
A part of me had hoped for something closer to Rose's rich dark locks.
Eddie begins circling me slowly. "It's patchy," he observes. "But I guess better than before. How long will this last?"
"Not long, less time if I wash it," I tell him.
"That's fine," he says, turning to gather up or meager supplies. "We can figure something else out later, but right now - we have a rally to attend."
The former city of Baltimore, one of NAAMA's busiest harbor compounds, is brimming with life. Having grown up in a sparsely populated province whose main function was crop production, it's strange to see so many civilians doing so many different jobs. There are fish stalls and trading posts, sailors and dockworkers - everyone seems to have a purpose, and everyone seems to be oddly happy. The buildings, most of them converted warehouses, are all well maintained and unlike the ones in my compound, bare no sign of the destruction of the Pulse.
Eddie, who is leading me through the throngs of people, seems to notice my apprehension. "Strange, isn't it?" he asks.
I nod and push my way past a group of women discussing what kind of bread goes best with fish stu. "I've never seen people - civilians - look so content."
"It's the Executor," he whispers, pulling me toward a less crowded street. "She's sent 'Tour Ambassadors' ahead to get everything ready for her rally - which includes encouraging everyone to look their best and remind them how much it upsets her to see her people unhappy."
The way he says upsets her sends unease rippling through me. "They're being threatened," I say under my breath.
Eddie nods. "She's also had most of the refugees - those who're most likely to have a gripe with her - rounded up and placed in temporary holding facilities."
"This whole thing is a scam," I hiss, though we had already guessed as much. "What else were you able to find out?"
"Not much. The rally kicks off at the end of the work period and will be followed by a meet-and-greet."
I swallow hard. "She's going to meet with the people?"
"Supposedly, but I imagine it'll all be staged - complete with fake civilians and planted questions. To do anything else would be too risky."
The paved road we'd been walking down turns abruptly to a cobblestone sidewalk, leading into what I think is meant to be the main square - though it is exceedingly different from the one I'd grown up gathering in. Every year, on the anniversary of the Pulse, I had huddled with my neighbors and friends around a speaker atop on aging pole to listen to the Executor's speech. This square is covered in grass and sprinkled with trees and dormant flower beds. Tall lamp posts line the area, each covered in copies of the Executor's tour announcement poster. Her piercing blue eyes gaze back at me from every angle.
"She really went all out," Eddie says mildly, coming to a halt beside me.
A stage has been erected at the center of the square, complete with a banner stretched between two wooden posts that reads The People's Tour. A tent has been raised behind the stage and seems to be providing a covered passage between the raised platform and the compound's massive embassy building.
"The People's Tour," I say with a snort. "What a load of-" a tinkling chime rings out across the square, cutting off my words. Is that meant to be the bell ending the work day? Again, I am struck by the stark contrast of this place and the one I had grown up in.
The people who'd only moments before been clogging the streets of the harbor compound have all found their way to the stage. Everyone talks excitedly to one another, some are even jockeying for positions closer to the platform - to where the Executor will soon stand. Eddie and I stand as far back as we can manage and I glance around me furtively, noticing that up close - not everyone seems to be excited about the Executor's close proximity. Men and women with pale faces clutch the hands of small children, looking panicked and ready to bolt.
"Good evening," a jovial male voice calls out. My attention snaps back to the stage where a squat man has appeared with a microphone. Even from this distance I can tell that he's nervous - his smile is forced and he blots at his face with a handkerchief despite the chilly air.
"Quiet down please," he asks, though everyone in the crowd - even those at the front who'd seemed genuinely excited - had fallen completely silent at his first words. "I know you're all eager to hear our courageous leader - the woman who brought us back from the brink of extinction - live and in person," his voice grows tighter with every word. "Just a few quick words of guidance. Please keep interruptions to a minimum - though applause is most welcome, encouraged even!" The people around me shift uneasily. "I would also ask that you remain in the square for the duration of the rally, lest you miss even a single moment of this historic event! We wouldn't want that," he says, forcing a chuckle. "If you find that you've...forgotten anything I've just outlined, there are Tour Ambassadors walking amongst you in the crowd who would be very happy to...remind you."
My whole body begins to tremble - out of the corner of my eye, I spot NAAMA military officers weaving in and out of the crowd. Their black jumpsuits fill me with the same crippling dread I felt as a child. I attempt to make myself smaller, tucking closer to Eddie while trying to make out the color of their belts, running through the phrases I'd learned as a child to distinguish between the different branches...silver is for soldiers, green is for grunts, blue is for brains, red is for risk prevention…
"Eddie," I breath. "Their belts…"
He seizes my wrist, squeezing it in a silent plea to keep quiet.
The belts are black - nearly indistinguishable from their jumpsuits. Before I'm able to think too hard about what the black belts could mean, the man clears his throat into the microphone.
"Now - the moment we have all been waiting for - I am so very honored to introduce - Executor Natasha Ozera," the man gestures to the mouth of the tent where a woman with inky black hair has emerged.
There she is, I can't help but think to myself, the woman who has taken everything from me.
She strides purposefully onto the stage and the man takes a teetering step back, his eyes darting from Natasha to the crowd. He starts gesturing wilding with his arms - and one by one the people in the crowd begin to clap until thunderous applause fills the square. My arms feel as if they're glued to my sides, but after a quick jab in the ribs from Eddie - I join in.
She's even more beautiful in person, dressed in a sharp white suit and smiling broadly. She waves and the clapping grows louder, accompanied by shouts and calls for her to look their way. Natasha turns to the man and he thrusts the microphone into her hand before practically running off the stage.
She brings the microphone to her lips and a hush falls over the crowd almost instantly. "Citizens of the North American Alliance for Modern Advancement," she says in a crisp, cool voice. It echoes across the square and I realize there must be speakers mounted on the lamp posts lining the area.
"Today's address is a very special one. We are living in turbulent, dynamic and contradictory times, but we must do everything we can to nurture and protect our gentle way of life - so that we may leave behind a better world for our children. Many years ago, you appointed me as your guide - I believe I have led us to a place where we can finally begin to heal...to forget. I did not fail you then, and I do not intend to fail you now." She pauses for effect, her eyes darting around the square expectantly but her words are met with absolute silence.
It's clear that even those people present who believe in the Executor's words still fear her. A few of the military officers lash out the people around them. "I think that's our cue to clap," a woman behind me murmurs and a round of polite applause breaks out across the crowd.
"I know that our progress since the Pulse has been slow and has come at a high cost, and that many of you are...unsatisfied," a sneer flickers across her face for the briefest moment. "But I assure you that the unrest you feel now will not last forever, I come to you now - at this pivotal moment in our history - with a plan to safeguard our future." Natasha takes another pause, and this time the crowd does not need to be reminded to clap.
"This can't be good," mutters Eddie.
"But I cannot hope to succeed alone. We all have a part to play - from the children in our schools, to the farmers in our field, to the brave men and women in our military. To have even one soul stray from the path I have lain out, is to risk the ruin of this precious world we are all trying so hard to build and protect."
I have to give Natasha some credit - she's a compelling speaker, and even more impressive is her ability to say so much without really saying anything at all.
"So let this day be a reminder to you all - a reminder that nothing I do is without purpose, and more importantly - a reminder that I am here for every single last one of you. I am with you always, even if you can't see me." Natasha's words are followed by more sporadic clapping.
The faces of the people around me vary from elated, to frightened, to confused - but still no one in the crowd dares to speak.
"The fun is not yet over," Natasha says, almost threateningly. "As a special treat, I have arranged for food and drink to be brought out - after all, we have so much to celebrate. I shall join you all in toasting to NAAMA's long and prosperous future, and of course make myself available to those of you who wish to speak with me in person," she says, offering the crowd a simpering smile. I feel my stomach roll over.
Natasha turns to exit the stage and the crowd erupts into one last round of applause
"I think that's our cue to get out of here," says Eddie, turning to exit the square. "We need to find out where the Executor's tour staff are wholed up - see if we can find a way to slip in with them."
"Eddie, wait," I hiss, grabbing at his arm. "I think we should stick around - we might be able to hear something."
Natasha's speech had left me with more questions than answers - she had spoken of a plan and a purpose but had of course failed to elaborate on what any of that could mean. The civilians around me shift uneasily, even despite being given the opportunity to eat and drink and stay out past curfew, most remain wary of the situation unfolding around them.
"Besides," I insist, "I don't think we'll get very far with the Tour Ambassadors still roaming about. I imagine this part of the rally is just as mandatory as the speech was."
"Fine," Eddie grumbles. "But we're not going anywhere near the Executor."
I nod my assent and together, we make our way toward the other end of the square where tables laden with assorted breads, cheeses, and seafood dishes have been set up. My stomach growls at the sight of it all. Eddie and I don't hesitate to cram as much of it as we can into our mouths.
Then, out of the corner of my eye - I see her. True to her word, Natasha is walking among the people, shaking hands and exchanging a quick word with anyone who asks. Eddie, who seems to be eyeing a plate of crab legs, doesn't seem to see her yet.
My legs threaten to give out from underneath me but I force myself to take a deep breath. After a few quick glances at the people around me, I dart out a hand to snatch a knit hat off the top of a small girl's head.
"Hey!" she exclaims through a mouthful of bread, but no one seems to notice. The food is enough to distract everyone - even Eddie - from paying too much attention to their surroundings.
I begin making my way toward Natasha, pulling the stolen hat down as far over my head as it will go. Between my light brown hair and new baby blue hat - my "disguise" is laughable and it's possible that Natasha will recognize me the moment she lays eyes on me. But it's also possible that she's too high up to bother being directly involved with searching for someone like me - a teenage girl from a compound in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the poster didn't really look that much like me, I try to assure myself as I draw nearer to Natasha.
By now, Eddie will have noticed that I'm gone, but he won't risk drawing unnecessary attention to me - I'm too close to the Executor, and to the armed guards I now see braced on either side of her. Eddie we'll forgive me – he'll understand why I have to do this without him.
Your plan is stupid, I tell myself, forcing my legs to take another step forward.
So…incredibly stupid.
I should stop - I should wait for…
"Hello there," Natasha Ozera says to me with a welcoming smile.
A loud buzzing sound has filled my ears.
She fixes her piercing gaze on me, her dark brow furrowing and I notice - for the first time, a set of pale jagged lines cutting across her otherwise flawless complexion.
She takes a step closer to me. "You look…" she says, and I feel bile rising in the back of my throat.
If she doesn't arrest me for being a wanted fugitive, she will most certainly arrest me if I vomit down the front of her nice white suit.
"You look unwell," she finishes, sounding genuinely concerned.
I steal a quick glance at the guards next to her, they don't seem to recognize me either.
"There's just so much - so much excitement," I manage to stutter out.
Natasha smiles even wider. "Yes, I imagine this must be a bit overwhelming - overwhelming, but comforting, I hope?"
I nod in fervent agreement. "Absolutely."
"What is your name?" she asks, her blue eyes boring into me.
To my own surprise, the false name comes easily to my lips. "Rhea," I tell her.
"Well, Rhea," she says, turning to go. "It was so lovely to meet you."
"Wait!" I say, making as if to follow her, but her guards step quickly into my path.
Natasha looks back at me, one eyebrow raised. "Yes?"
"I can't tell you how much it means to hear you talk about your plan," I say clumsily. She nods in acknowledgement - I can tell I'm losing her interest. "The Pulse killed my family," I blurt out. "I lost everything - everyone."
Natasha waves off her guards. "You must have been young."
"I was," I say, swallowing hard. "I didn't grow up knowing the evils you did - relying on technology. I'm glad the Pulse destroyed it all. I just wish…" I let my voice trail off. "I just wish my parents were here to see all that we have done - all that we've accomplished."
Natasha nods solemnly. "I understand. It is one thing to survive, but another thing entirely to flourish in the way that we have. I also understand that you must feel guilty sometimes, living and thriving when those you love cannot."
"You do?"
"It killed my family as well."
"I thought you still had your nephew?" the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
She closes her eyes for a moment, as if bracing herself. "My nephew has...passed."
Liar, I think to myself. But it does make sense that she would rather tell the world Christian is dead than admit he has betrayed her.
"I'm so sorry to hear - I didn't know."
"It's quite alright. I fear there is so much the people do not know about me." This admission feels like the first uncalculated thing Natasha has said.
This could be my in – my way onto the tour.
"You could change that. Let the people get to know you - I think it would make this," I say, gesturing to the rally around me, "Even more...comforting." I'm careful to use her same words.
"How do you mean?" she asks, her interest piqued.
I wring my hands together nervously. "Well, you could make your speeches more personable - talk about yourself. And perhaps…let civilians be Tour Ambassadors." My eyes flick to the two soldiers - both visibly scowling at my suggestion.
She notices their twin expressions and laughs. "I suppose they are a bit intimidating."
I force a laugh, my heart racing.
"Well, Rhea," she says, her voice taking on a velvety quality. "How would you like to be my first civilian Tour Ambassador?"
See! I told you I would keep going! I have so much planned and hope that you all continue to stick with me. Every time I check the views/reviews I get a little more inspired. Thank you for all you support !