Chapter 17:
Quiet on New Year's Day
Summer turned to autumn, and autumn into winter. Black market heaters and stoves were installed in Baile Saoirse, but it was still bitterly cold in the castle. Renee, as commander-in-chief, directed the military operations, often travelling herself to various cities across Ireland. Andrew, ever-practical, complained bitterly about the security problems this posed, but she ignored him. Across Ireland, the Party suffered many attacks on Thought Police members, arson attempts, and bombings. The COR suffered equally, with raids, arrests and executions occurring almost daily. The reports occupied a pile in a corner of the kitchen at Baile Saoirse, which Renee tried to ignore with every fibre of her being.
On New Year's Day, 1992, Renee and Thomas were in County Kerry. As her New Year's present to the Party, Renee would personally oversee an attack on a prison camp in a rural area of the county. It was bitterly cold as they rode on horseback over the hills of Kerry from the temporary base that had been erected there. Renee had never ridden before, but her horse was docile and tame, and the raiding party did not travel at high speeds, so she had very few problems.
The raiding party rounded the last hill in the morning fog, which lay thick and wet on the hills. Thankfully, it masked the party's approach, but it was still freezing. Renee was thankful that she was wearing a pair of Andrew's woollen trousers rather than one of her own skirts.
As a New Year's present, Andrew had given her an old-fashioned analog watch to keep the time. At first, she had been confused by the fact that there were only twelve hours, but Andrew had explained the AM and PM principles. She pulled it out of her pocket. 8:37. AM, she guessed, not really remembering which one was morning. No time like the present. She replaced the watch, and pulled out her revolver from the thigh-holster she had acquired in October. With a wave of her arm, the party crept forward on horseback, fanning out to surround their side of the camp. Three other teams were doing the same from different directions. She nodded at the young man to her right, who dismounted, took a package from his saddlebag, and crept forward on foot. The riders advanced slowly. The young man was gone for only a few minutes when he came running back, and mounted swiftly. A few seconds later, an explosion turned the fog orange. Another explosion came in quick succession.
A primal yell ripped from Renee's throat as the riders around her charged at the huge gap in the fence. Too inexperienced to charge, she was forced to satisfy herself with watching and proceeding at a slower pace. Another explosion signified that the third party had breached the camp perimeter. Renee brought her horse forward, stepping through the breach with a stately air. The smoke and fog mixed into an unpleasant grey blanket, but out of the clouds came figures dressed in rags. She could hear the gunshots from the officers' building, but they were strangely muted.
Suddenly, a man on her right dropped to the ground, red blossoming on his arm. Renee turned in her seat, aimed and fired, hitting the sniper in the guard tower. He fell from the tower, landing on the ground with a sickening crunch. Heart pounding, Renee dismounted, and went to the man the sniper had shot, but he waved her away.
"Fine, just fine. Go," he said. There was a note of pain, but his voice was strong and adamant.
Renee nodded, and remounted, with some help from one of the prisoners. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a roll of bandages, tossing it to the person helping the wounded man sit up. The fourth and final explosion rocked the ground, but the man caught the bandages anyway.
"Thank you," he said brightly, which Renee thought was a little out of place. The man paused. "And you are?"
"Phoenix," replied Renee. Before the man could respond, she was gone, toward the gunfight at the officer's building.
The firefight was at a standstill. The two opponents were only exchanging fire, and everyone had taken up good enough defensive positions to avoid being hit. Three bodies were within Renee's field of view, though. She approached the highest operative in the raiding party, White Knight.
"I'll take a team into the building," she said.
"Is that wise, ma'am?" he answered.
"It will have to be, won't it?" she snapped.
"Right." He looked around, and signalled to Renee's quarter of the raiding party. They converged on her, and she quickly dispensed her orders. She and five other operatives ran out from the cover to the wall of the building. One was shot through the neck, and fell dead behind them. Willing herself not to think about her, Renee signalled the four remaining operatives to line up alongside the door. The biggest operative kicked the door down. The five fighters entered silently, guns trained ahead of them.
The officers' building was hardly grand. A small foyer was hung with a portrait of Big Brother facing the door, bearing the caption "BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU." Two banners hung on each side wall. The one on the right listed the three Party slogans, the left bore "WHO CONTROLS THE PAST CONTROLS THE FUTURE: WHO CONTROLS THE PRESENT CONTROLS THE PAST." There was a doorway under each banner.
Renee took this all in with a glance, then signalled three of her fighters to the right, and took the biggest operative with her to the left. The other three hesitated, then followed her orders. Renee crept up to the doorway, the man behind her. She could hear nothing. She quickly risked a glance through the doorway, then snapped back to the wall. The room was clear. She nodded to the man, and they crept through the hallway on the other side of the doorway, gun muzzles leading. They checked every room off the corridor in this manner, but all were empty. They were mostly clerks' offices, with some supply rooms at the end of the hall. There was nothing valuable there, so they left them and kept going. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading up.
As they crept into the stairwell, they could hear the continued gunfire from upstairs grow louder. Then it exploded in Renee's ears, and she realized that there were soldiers at the top of the stairs. They took refuge under the stairs leading up to the second floor as bits of concrete and dust filled the air. She heard the sound of boots coming down the stairs over her head. She shared a glance with her companion. As the boots came into view above her, she fired for all she was worth. The young man with the rifle fell, knocking over his companion, a young woman. Renee pulled the trigger again, but her gun was empty.
"Fuck!" she said with feeling.
A bullet embedded itself in the wall behind her as the woman fired, but Renee's companion finished her off. Breathing heavily, the two COR operatives nodded to each other.
"Thanks," said Renee.
The quiet man just smiled. Renee reloaded her revolver, but put the safety back on and holstered it. Instead, she took one of the Party officer's rifles. Her companion took the other and slung it over his shoulder "just in case." Renee checked her new weapon like an expert. In the four months since Michael's death, she had bullied Andrew into training her with all the weapons used by the COR. Now, she thanked that training.
A glance down at the two bodies sent a chill through her body. The young man she had killed could not have been older than twenty, and he looked eerily like Eamon Edwards from the angle where she stood. Renee shook herself and led the way up the stairs.
The corridor turned to the left, then branched off either straight or to the right. Skylights lit up the hallways, which had no windows. Renee could hear loud gunfire coming from the right. Creeping up to the corner, she peeked around to see an officer running between rooms. She turned to her companion, their backs against the wall, and explained the situation.
"Just take it a step at a time," she said.
Peeking around the corner, she waited until the coast was clear. Then she and her backup rounded the corner at full speed and ducked through the open door into the nearest room, firing with everything they had. The three officers fell dead, bullets in their backs. A radio crackled next to the oldest, who had been standing at the back, but Renee paid it no heed.
The next time she stepped into the hall, she saw three figures emerge at the other end. Renee signalled that they were to do as she and her companion had done. The building was small, and there were only five room on this corridor. A shadow fell across a doorway, and Renee ducked back into her room.
A young officer turned to step into the room when both Renee and her backup shot him through the chest. They dragged the body into the room, left it, and ran into the next, guns blazing. They repeated the process quickly, then sprinted into the fourth room to meet up with the rest of their squad.
They used one of the dead men's shirts as a white flag, and signalled to White Knight that they had taken that side of the building. Immediately, the remaining fighters charged through the front door. Renee and her squad met them in the corridor.
"There are still officers firing from the windows," she said. She split up the fighters to each take a side of the building, to work toward the back of the building. Half an hour later, the battle was over, and the officers of Oceania were all dead. Renee had lost five more fighters, but they had taken the camp.
Thomas met her as she exited the officers' building. He took her arm, and pulled her to the back. There were five bodies hanging from a gibbet, and a few of her fighters, fidgeting near it in silence. Neither Renee nor Thomas spoke. Renee lowered her head.
"Cut them down," she said. "Give them a decent burial."
"Don't you want to -" Thomas started.
"It doesn't matter who they were. No one deserves to end up like that. Just do it, Thomas." She turned and walked away from the gruesome sight.
As she rounded the corner of the officers' building, she was greeted with the sight of over a hundred prisoners gathered there, silent, watching. White Knight strode over to her.
"They want to know what will happen to them," he said.
"We'll get them into the cities. We'll provide transportation and clothing for them, that's all waiting at the base," she said.
"They'll want to hear that from you," he said.
Renee blinked. He expected her to make a speech, to address this crowd. To make history. She opened her mouth to say "I can't," but shut it when she looked around. Instead, she gently pushed White Knight out of her way and stepped forward into the empty space around the building.
"When I entered this building behind me, I passed through a door under a banner that said 'Freedom is slavery.' I don't believe that. I don't think anyone who has suffered as you all have, who has had their freedom taken from them, can ever say that. Your courage in surviving this place makes you heros in my eyes. I now ask you to prove that freedom is something worth fighting and living for. If you follow my men, we will take you to our base, and from there, we promise transportation anywhere in Ireland. We also offer a place in our ranks, if you so wish. All we ask is that you make your choices of your own free will. Happy New Year's."
It wasn't the most eloquent speech ever made, but it felt right, for the moment. A murmur of approval spread through the prisoners. There was no cheer, not even applause, but the nodding of heads showed Renee that she had said the right thing. Renee walked into the crowd, followed by White Knight. Their backs were patted, words of thanks were uttered to them. As Renee broke free of the crowd, she saw one of her fighters holding her horse for her. White Knight gave her a leg up, and she mounted. She leaned down to the woman holding her horse.
"Oberon and a few others are in the back, burying the dead. See to it that we get names for the bodies," she whispered.
The woman nodded. Renee sat up straight on her horse.
"We will leave as soon as our work here is finished. There are five bodies behind the officers' building that we are burying, and we do not want to place them in unmarked graves. Please take this time to gather your belongings. We will leave when everyone is ready."
Two hours later, Thomas and the others were finished with the funerals. Names had been supplied, and Thomas had had them carved on what used to be a tabletop, which was laid over the graves. They set out, a strange procession, with Renee, Thomas and White Knight in the lead, followed by the mounted fighters, and then by the throng of former prisoners. As they marched through the hills, the prisoners began to sing.
"The heart is a bloom,
Shoots up through the stony ground.
There's no room,
No space to rent in this town.
You're out of luck,
And the reason that you had to care,
The traffic is stuck,
And you're not moving anywhere.
You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place,
Someone you could lend a hand to
In return for grace.
It's a beautiful day.
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day.
Don't let it get away..."
Hearing the music, Renee couldn't help but smile.
Author's Note: The chapter title is from U2's song New Year's Day. The song is U2's Beautiful Day. Come on, I couldn't resist putting a U2 song in.
Disclaimer: Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan. Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell. New Year's Day is by U2. Beautiful Day is by U2.
Summer turned to autumn, and autumn into winter. Black market heaters and stoves were installed in Baile Saoirse, but it was still bitterly cold in the castle. Renee, as commander-in-chief, directed the military operations, often travelling herself to various cities across Ireland. Andrew, ever-practical, complained bitterly about the security problems this posed, but she ignored him. Across Ireland, the Party suffered many attacks on Thought Police members, arson attempts, and bombings. The COR suffered equally, with raids, arrests and executions occurring almost daily. The reports occupied a pile in a corner of the kitchen at Baile Saoirse, which Renee tried to ignore with every fibre of her being.
On New Year's Day, 1992, Renee and Thomas were in County Kerry. As her New Year's present to the Party, Renee would personally oversee an attack on a prison camp in a rural area of the county. It was bitterly cold as they rode on horseback over the hills of Kerry from the temporary base that had been erected there. Renee had never ridden before, but her horse was docile and tame, and the raiding party did not travel at high speeds, so she had very few problems.
The raiding party rounded the last hill in the morning fog, which lay thick and wet on the hills. Thankfully, it masked the party's approach, but it was still freezing. Renee was thankful that she was wearing a pair of Andrew's woollen trousers rather than one of her own skirts.
As a New Year's present, Andrew had given her an old-fashioned analog watch to keep the time. At first, she had been confused by the fact that there were only twelve hours, but Andrew had explained the AM and PM principles. She pulled it out of her pocket. 8:37. AM, she guessed, not really remembering which one was morning. No time like the present. She replaced the watch, and pulled out her revolver from the thigh-holster she had acquired in October. With a wave of her arm, the party crept forward on horseback, fanning out to surround their side of the camp. Three other teams were doing the same from different directions. She nodded at the young man to her right, who dismounted, took a package from his saddlebag, and crept forward on foot. The riders advanced slowly. The young man was gone for only a few minutes when he came running back, and mounted swiftly. A few seconds later, an explosion turned the fog orange. Another explosion came in quick succession.
A primal yell ripped from Renee's throat as the riders around her charged at the huge gap in the fence. Too inexperienced to charge, she was forced to satisfy herself with watching and proceeding at a slower pace. Another explosion signified that the third party had breached the camp perimeter. Renee brought her horse forward, stepping through the breach with a stately air. The smoke and fog mixed into an unpleasant grey blanket, but out of the clouds came figures dressed in rags. She could hear the gunshots from the officers' building, but they were strangely muted.
Suddenly, a man on her right dropped to the ground, red blossoming on his arm. Renee turned in her seat, aimed and fired, hitting the sniper in the guard tower. He fell from the tower, landing on the ground with a sickening crunch. Heart pounding, Renee dismounted, and went to the man the sniper had shot, but he waved her away.
"Fine, just fine. Go," he said. There was a note of pain, but his voice was strong and adamant.
Renee nodded, and remounted, with some help from one of the prisoners. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a roll of bandages, tossing it to the person helping the wounded man sit up. The fourth and final explosion rocked the ground, but the man caught the bandages anyway.
"Thank you," he said brightly, which Renee thought was a little out of place. The man paused. "And you are?"
"Phoenix," replied Renee. Before the man could respond, she was gone, toward the gunfight at the officer's building.
The firefight was at a standstill. The two opponents were only exchanging fire, and everyone had taken up good enough defensive positions to avoid being hit. Three bodies were within Renee's field of view, though. She approached the highest operative in the raiding party, White Knight.
"I'll take a team into the building," she said.
"Is that wise, ma'am?" he answered.
"It will have to be, won't it?" she snapped.
"Right." He looked around, and signalled to Renee's quarter of the raiding party. They converged on her, and she quickly dispensed her orders. She and five other operatives ran out from the cover to the wall of the building. One was shot through the neck, and fell dead behind them. Willing herself not to think about her, Renee signalled the four remaining operatives to line up alongside the door. The biggest operative kicked the door down. The five fighters entered silently, guns trained ahead of them.
The officers' building was hardly grand. A small foyer was hung with a portrait of Big Brother facing the door, bearing the caption "BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU." Two banners hung on each side wall. The one on the right listed the three Party slogans, the left bore "WHO CONTROLS THE PAST CONTROLS THE FUTURE: WHO CONTROLS THE PRESENT CONTROLS THE PAST." There was a doorway under each banner.
Renee took this all in with a glance, then signalled three of her fighters to the right, and took the biggest operative with her to the left. The other three hesitated, then followed her orders. Renee crept up to the doorway, the man behind her. She could hear nothing. She quickly risked a glance through the doorway, then snapped back to the wall. The room was clear. She nodded to the man, and they crept through the hallway on the other side of the doorway, gun muzzles leading. They checked every room off the corridor in this manner, but all were empty. They were mostly clerks' offices, with some supply rooms at the end of the hall. There was nothing valuable there, so they left them and kept going. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading up.
As they crept into the stairwell, they could hear the continued gunfire from upstairs grow louder. Then it exploded in Renee's ears, and she realized that there were soldiers at the top of the stairs. They took refuge under the stairs leading up to the second floor as bits of concrete and dust filled the air. She heard the sound of boots coming down the stairs over her head. She shared a glance with her companion. As the boots came into view above her, she fired for all she was worth. The young man with the rifle fell, knocking over his companion, a young woman. Renee pulled the trigger again, but her gun was empty.
"Fuck!" she said with feeling.
A bullet embedded itself in the wall behind her as the woman fired, but Renee's companion finished her off. Breathing heavily, the two COR operatives nodded to each other.
"Thanks," said Renee.
The quiet man just smiled. Renee reloaded her revolver, but put the safety back on and holstered it. Instead, she took one of the Party officer's rifles. Her companion took the other and slung it over his shoulder "just in case." Renee checked her new weapon like an expert. In the four months since Michael's death, she had bullied Andrew into training her with all the weapons used by the COR. Now, she thanked that training.
A glance down at the two bodies sent a chill through her body. The young man she had killed could not have been older than twenty, and he looked eerily like Eamon Edwards from the angle where she stood. Renee shook herself and led the way up the stairs.
The corridor turned to the left, then branched off either straight or to the right. Skylights lit up the hallways, which had no windows. Renee could hear loud gunfire coming from the right. Creeping up to the corner, she peeked around to see an officer running between rooms. She turned to her companion, their backs against the wall, and explained the situation.
"Just take it a step at a time," she said.
Peeking around the corner, she waited until the coast was clear. Then she and her backup rounded the corner at full speed and ducked through the open door into the nearest room, firing with everything they had. The three officers fell dead, bullets in their backs. A radio crackled next to the oldest, who had been standing at the back, but Renee paid it no heed.
The next time she stepped into the hall, she saw three figures emerge at the other end. Renee signalled that they were to do as she and her companion had done. The building was small, and there were only five room on this corridor. A shadow fell across a doorway, and Renee ducked back into her room.
A young officer turned to step into the room when both Renee and her backup shot him through the chest. They dragged the body into the room, left it, and ran into the next, guns blazing. They repeated the process quickly, then sprinted into the fourth room to meet up with the rest of their squad.
They used one of the dead men's shirts as a white flag, and signalled to White Knight that they had taken that side of the building. Immediately, the remaining fighters charged through the front door. Renee and her squad met them in the corridor.
"There are still officers firing from the windows," she said. She split up the fighters to each take a side of the building, to work toward the back of the building. Half an hour later, the battle was over, and the officers of Oceania were all dead. Renee had lost five more fighters, but they had taken the camp.
Thomas met her as she exited the officers' building. He took her arm, and pulled her to the back. There were five bodies hanging from a gibbet, and a few of her fighters, fidgeting near it in silence. Neither Renee nor Thomas spoke. Renee lowered her head.
"Cut them down," she said. "Give them a decent burial."
"Don't you want to -" Thomas started.
"It doesn't matter who they were. No one deserves to end up like that. Just do it, Thomas." She turned and walked away from the gruesome sight.
As she rounded the corner of the officers' building, she was greeted with the sight of over a hundred prisoners gathered there, silent, watching. White Knight strode over to her.
"They want to know what will happen to them," he said.
"We'll get them into the cities. We'll provide transportation and clothing for them, that's all waiting at the base," she said.
"They'll want to hear that from you," he said.
Renee blinked. He expected her to make a speech, to address this crowd. To make history. She opened her mouth to say "I can't," but shut it when she looked around. Instead, she gently pushed White Knight out of her way and stepped forward into the empty space around the building.
"When I entered this building behind me, I passed through a door under a banner that said 'Freedom is slavery.' I don't believe that. I don't think anyone who has suffered as you all have, who has had their freedom taken from them, can ever say that. Your courage in surviving this place makes you heros in my eyes. I now ask you to prove that freedom is something worth fighting and living for. If you follow my men, we will take you to our base, and from there, we promise transportation anywhere in Ireland. We also offer a place in our ranks, if you so wish. All we ask is that you make your choices of your own free will. Happy New Year's."
It wasn't the most eloquent speech ever made, but it felt right, for the moment. A murmur of approval spread through the prisoners. There was no cheer, not even applause, but the nodding of heads showed Renee that she had said the right thing. Renee walked into the crowd, followed by White Knight. Their backs were patted, words of thanks were uttered to them. As Renee broke free of the crowd, she saw one of her fighters holding her horse for her. White Knight gave her a leg up, and she mounted. She leaned down to the woman holding her horse.
"Oberon and a few others are in the back, burying the dead. See to it that we get names for the bodies," she whispered.
The woman nodded. Renee sat up straight on her horse.
"We will leave as soon as our work here is finished. There are five bodies behind the officers' building that we are burying, and we do not want to place them in unmarked graves. Please take this time to gather your belongings. We will leave when everyone is ready."
Two hours later, Thomas and the others were finished with the funerals. Names had been supplied, and Thomas had had them carved on what used to be a tabletop, which was laid over the graves. They set out, a strange procession, with Renee, Thomas and White Knight in the lead, followed by the mounted fighters, and then by the throng of former prisoners. As they marched through the hills, the prisoners began to sing.
"The heart is a bloom,
Shoots up through the stony ground.
There's no room,
No space to rent in this town.
You're out of luck,
And the reason that you had to care,
The traffic is stuck,
And you're not moving anywhere.
You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place,
Someone you could lend a hand to
In return for grace.
It's a beautiful day.
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day.
Don't let it get away..."
Hearing the music, Renee couldn't help but smile.
Author's Note: The chapter title is from U2's song New Year's Day. The song is U2's Beautiful Day. Come on, I couldn't resist putting a U2 song in.
Disclaimer: Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan. Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell. New Year's Day is by U2. Beautiful Day is by U2.