Chapter 11:
Daybreak
Renee opened her eyes to see a strange woman standing over her. Her arm still burned, but she could feel something cool on her wound. She turned her head to see Constance standing behind the new woman, a look of intense relief across her face.
"Who are you?" Renee demanded of the stranger. Constance laughed delightedly, although she was obviously very tired. "What are you laughing at?"
"You're all right!" Constance crowed. With that, she dashed down the stairs, leaving Renee and the stranger together.
"Same cannot be said of her," commented Renee. "So, who are you, and what are you doing in my castle?"
The woman smiled. She was older than Renee, at least thirty-five, with a kind face and a stout build. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and pulled back out of her face. She opened her mouth to speak when Andrew, Thomas and Constance burst in.
"Phoenix!" Thomas hugged her as Andrew held Constance.
"Will you all shut up and tell me who this is?" Renee ordered.
"Back to normal," grinned Thomas.
Andrew let go of Constance and introduced the woman.
"Phoenix, this is Witch. She's the medic that treated your arm."
"Ah. I suppose I should say thank you," Renee said with a smile.
"You're very welcome," Witch answered quietly, but she was cut off by a Constance's arm around her neck in a joyous hug.
As Witch struggled to politely extricate herself from the second-in-command of the COR, Andrew explained how they had brought her from Galway to treat Renee's infection.
"How long have I been out?" asked Renee.
"Three days, give or take," said Thomas.
Renee groaned and lay back on her bed.
"What've you done to my rebellion?" she moaned melodramatically.
"Nothing more than the usual," said Andrew. "Graffiti, arrests, nothing for you to worry yourself over."
"Actually, she shouldn't be worrying over anything for a few days," interrupted Witch, now free of Constance. "She'll be needing rest, which I doubt running a rebellion will afford her."
"Right!" Andrew clapped his hands. "In that case, we'll leave you to your rest. Witch, thanks for coming. You can go down to the village?"
"Of course." Smiling gently, Witch picked up a small bag and a coat lying next to Renee's feet, then turned down the stairs, pausing only to exchange good-byes with her commanders, and then disappeared.
"And we have to look at the Derry problem," Andrew said to Thomas.
"Right. Good to see you back on your feet," said Thomas. He paused. "Theoretically speaking, of course."
"What's the Derry problem?" Renee called indignantly, but the men were already down the stairs.
Constance threw herself down next to Renee's bed. Renee fixed her with a glare.
"Are you going to tell me what the Derry problem is?" she demanded.
"No. Not until you're up and about again. Don't worry," Constance added, seeing Renee's eyes widen, "it's nothing serious." She sighed as she lay down on the floor, resting her chin on her folded arms.
"You look like shit, Stance."
"Thanks. So do you."
Renee smiled.
"I noticed that Andrew didn't mention who called Witch in. Now, if I can guess correctly, you immediately decided I was dying and ordered Andrew to do everything in his power to cure me?"
Constance sighed and rolled over onto her back.
"Yeah. Pretty much, that's what happened."
"You shouldn't do that, Stance."
"Why not?" Constance sat up and stared Renee in the eye. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister. You're my captain and my friend -"
"Save the older sister histrionics for Eamon, Stance." There was a pregnant pause. "You've been staying with me all the time, haven't you?" she added softly.
Constance nodded, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.
"I was scared, Nee. I saw you there, and all I could think of was..." She looked away.
Renee swallowed the lump in her throat and took Constance's hand in her own.
"I'm sorry."
Constance gave her a watery smile, then brushed away her tears with the back of her hand.
"Thank you," Renee whispered. She clasped Constance's hand to her heart as she sat up and pulled her friend into a tight embrace.
For the next week, Renee slowly recovered, and by the third day, she had nearly driven the rest of the inhabitants of Baile Saoirse to homicide with constant questions about the state of her COR. By the fourth, she was back on her feet, if only through force of will alone, and resumed command of the rebellion. The fifth day she spent in bed, having overexerted herself the previous day. Constance would have said "I told you so," but refrained, knowing Renee would retaliate and probably damage herself further with the effort. Days six and seven passed without major incident, and Renee was safely in charge by the end of the seventh day.
Once back in command, Renee learned that she had missed more important information than Andrew had told her. There had been requests from many of the cells located in major cities to build dance clubs patterned after the Warehouse, which Andrew and Thomas wanted her to approve. The "Derry problem" was a lack of resources in the Derry cells. Most importantly, there were reports on the situation in Dublin.
Renee suddenly realized how little information she had received on the subject, and tore through the reports. The devastation was bad, morale was worse. The death toll was higher than she had ever imagined, and had been augmented by riots after Hate Week. Dublin had been shut down, and only recently had movement to and from the city been allowed.
Three weeks, not a word from Dublin, and they had done nothing, Renee thought bitterly. They had not even noticed the ominous silence. She thought of her city as she had last seen it, its ruins sending smoke into the sky so that the misty light grew hazy and dull. Then she thought of her family. How callous could they be, she thought. She did not know whether her parents were still alive, in Dublin, or somewhere else entirely. Horrified, she called out to the others, only to be drowned out by Thomas' voice warning of Thought Police patrols.
Once the chopper had passed, she bluntly said she was going back to Dublin. Predictably, this was met with less than enthusiastic responses.
"Are you insane, woman?" cried Thomas. "Have you seen the reports?"
"No, I'm just holding them for fun," she retorted.
"You can't go back!"
"Well, I certainly intend to try. Who's coming with me?"
She looked around the table. Andrew was shrinking into himself, which meant that he disagreed with her, while Constance looked her in the eye.
"I am," she said.
Renee nodded.
"You two?" she asked.
Both shook their heads. Of course they wouldn't, she realized. Thomas was from Belfast, and Andrew's parents were dead. They had no reason to go.
"All right, then."
The next day, she and Constance hiked down to the town, and took various buses to Galway, where they took a train to Dublin.
"Why is it," Renee asked once they had settled into their seats, "that our lives seem to go in circles?"
"They don't," said Constance. "It's just that the farther you go, the faster you come home."
Renee leaned back and stared out the window at the hills rolling by. She felt a strange queasiness in her stomach as they neared her home town, not knowing what lay ahead, and afraid to find out.
Author's Notes:
As promised, the plot goes on. Now we're partying, that's what it's all about!
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Daybreak
Renee opened her eyes to see a strange woman standing over her. Her arm still burned, but she could feel something cool on her wound. She turned her head to see Constance standing behind the new woman, a look of intense relief across her face.
"Who are you?" Renee demanded of the stranger. Constance laughed delightedly, although she was obviously very tired. "What are you laughing at?"
"You're all right!" Constance crowed. With that, she dashed down the stairs, leaving Renee and the stranger together.
"Same cannot be said of her," commented Renee. "So, who are you, and what are you doing in my castle?"
The woman smiled. She was older than Renee, at least thirty-five, with a kind face and a stout build. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and pulled back out of her face. She opened her mouth to speak when Andrew, Thomas and Constance burst in.
"Phoenix!" Thomas hugged her as Andrew held Constance.
"Will you all shut up and tell me who this is?" Renee ordered.
"Back to normal," grinned Thomas.
Andrew let go of Constance and introduced the woman.
"Phoenix, this is Witch. She's the medic that treated your arm."
"Ah. I suppose I should say thank you," Renee said with a smile.
"You're very welcome," Witch answered quietly, but she was cut off by a Constance's arm around her neck in a joyous hug.
As Witch struggled to politely extricate herself from the second-in-command of the COR, Andrew explained how they had brought her from Galway to treat Renee's infection.
"How long have I been out?" asked Renee.
"Three days, give or take," said Thomas.
Renee groaned and lay back on her bed.
"What've you done to my rebellion?" she moaned melodramatically.
"Nothing more than the usual," said Andrew. "Graffiti, arrests, nothing for you to worry yourself over."
"Actually, she shouldn't be worrying over anything for a few days," interrupted Witch, now free of Constance. "She'll be needing rest, which I doubt running a rebellion will afford her."
"Right!" Andrew clapped his hands. "In that case, we'll leave you to your rest. Witch, thanks for coming. You can go down to the village?"
"Of course." Smiling gently, Witch picked up a small bag and a coat lying next to Renee's feet, then turned down the stairs, pausing only to exchange good-byes with her commanders, and then disappeared.
"And we have to look at the Derry problem," Andrew said to Thomas.
"Right. Good to see you back on your feet," said Thomas. He paused. "Theoretically speaking, of course."
"What's the Derry problem?" Renee called indignantly, but the men were already down the stairs.
Constance threw herself down next to Renee's bed. Renee fixed her with a glare.
"Are you going to tell me what the Derry problem is?" she demanded.
"No. Not until you're up and about again. Don't worry," Constance added, seeing Renee's eyes widen, "it's nothing serious." She sighed as she lay down on the floor, resting her chin on her folded arms.
"You look like shit, Stance."
"Thanks. So do you."
Renee smiled.
"I noticed that Andrew didn't mention who called Witch in. Now, if I can guess correctly, you immediately decided I was dying and ordered Andrew to do everything in his power to cure me?"
Constance sighed and rolled over onto her back.
"Yeah. Pretty much, that's what happened."
"You shouldn't do that, Stance."
"Why not?" Constance sat up and stared Renee in the eye. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister. You're my captain and my friend -"
"Save the older sister histrionics for Eamon, Stance." There was a pregnant pause. "You've been staying with me all the time, haven't you?" she added softly.
Constance nodded, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.
"I was scared, Nee. I saw you there, and all I could think of was..." She looked away.
Renee swallowed the lump in her throat and took Constance's hand in her own.
"I'm sorry."
Constance gave her a watery smile, then brushed away her tears with the back of her hand.
"Thank you," Renee whispered. She clasped Constance's hand to her heart as she sat up and pulled her friend into a tight embrace.
For the next week, Renee slowly recovered, and by the third day, she had nearly driven the rest of the inhabitants of Baile Saoirse to homicide with constant questions about the state of her COR. By the fourth, she was back on her feet, if only through force of will alone, and resumed command of the rebellion. The fifth day she spent in bed, having overexerted herself the previous day. Constance would have said "I told you so," but refrained, knowing Renee would retaliate and probably damage herself further with the effort. Days six and seven passed without major incident, and Renee was safely in charge by the end of the seventh day.
Once back in command, Renee learned that she had missed more important information than Andrew had told her. There had been requests from many of the cells located in major cities to build dance clubs patterned after the Warehouse, which Andrew and Thomas wanted her to approve. The "Derry problem" was a lack of resources in the Derry cells. Most importantly, there were reports on the situation in Dublin.
Renee suddenly realized how little information she had received on the subject, and tore through the reports. The devastation was bad, morale was worse. The death toll was higher than she had ever imagined, and had been augmented by riots after Hate Week. Dublin had been shut down, and only recently had movement to and from the city been allowed.
Three weeks, not a word from Dublin, and they had done nothing, Renee thought bitterly. They had not even noticed the ominous silence. She thought of her city as she had last seen it, its ruins sending smoke into the sky so that the misty light grew hazy and dull. Then she thought of her family. How callous could they be, she thought. She did not know whether her parents were still alive, in Dublin, or somewhere else entirely. Horrified, she called out to the others, only to be drowned out by Thomas' voice warning of Thought Police patrols.
Once the chopper had passed, she bluntly said she was going back to Dublin. Predictably, this was met with less than enthusiastic responses.
"Are you insane, woman?" cried Thomas. "Have you seen the reports?"
"No, I'm just holding them for fun," she retorted.
"You can't go back!"
"Well, I certainly intend to try. Who's coming with me?"
She looked around the table. Andrew was shrinking into himself, which meant that he disagreed with her, while Constance looked her in the eye.
"I am," she said.
Renee nodded.
"You two?" she asked.
Both shook their heads. Of course they wouldn't, she realized. Thomas was from Belfast, and Andrew's parents were dead. They had no reason to go.
"All right, then."
The next day, she and Constance hiked down to the town, and took various buses to Galway, where they took a train to Dublin.
"Why is it," Renee asked once they had settled into their seats, "that our lives seem to go in circles?"
"They don't," said Constance. "It's just that the farther you go, the faster you come home."
Renee leaned back and stared out the window at the hills rolling by. She felt a strange queasiness in her stomach as they neared her home town, not knowing what lay ahead, and afraid to find out.
Author's Notes:
As promised, the plot goes on. Now we're partying, that's what it's all about!
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.