Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (32 page)

More snow. More wind.

This final demand – for us, the most important – was at the mercy of the elements.

***+***

29

GOING FOR BROKE

At nine o’clock huge articulated lorries drove onto the site of every major protest the bloc over. ‘Krauss Industries’ it said all over them.

“What’s Krauss Industries?” someone was asking.

“Ulrich Krauss. German billionaire.” Eduardo’s voice. “Built his business from scratch, came from a very poor family. Had a twin brother who...”

“...failed Sorting?” everyone chorused.

“That’s right. I’d say he thinks it’s payback time.”

The lorries were opened up. Pallet-loads of instantHeat camping meals were handed out. Also foil blankets and gel heat cubes. Massive urns dispensed hot drinks. And the question of whether the protests could survive another night was answered. If Ulrich Krauss and his empire had anything to do with it, no one would leave from cold or hunger.

“He doesn’t manufacture any of that stuff,” Eduardo was remarking. “He’s been busy.”

“God bless Ulrich Krauss,” said one of the priests, and I was dimly aware of everyone toasting this with their coffee mugs.

Ulrich Krauss was going for broke, because on top of his articulated lorries he’d set up big screens, and the TV channel he was showing was
Veritas
. Which was
Category 1 Sedition
, unlike handing out free stuff or standing in a cold square, both of which were perfectly legal.

People were discussing whether Ulrich Krauss might already be on a plane to Africa? Or whether he might think all this public opinion would keep him safe?

“What do you think, Margo?” Kyle gave me an anxious look.

“
Faster
,” I said.
Bane, are you alive?

Kyle winced. Jon, his arm already around me, held me a little closer. He looked ready to drop. Or burst into tears. I let my head rest on his shoulder, and his head drooped to touch mine. Brother Marcel snapped a picture. If the dejection of Bane’s pack would help him, show the world. But we’d no communications, so Brother Marcel must be acting on reflex.

The third day of our besiegement was beginning. More artics arrived as Ulrich Krauss laid on a midnight feast, sending people’s spirits soaring despite the persistent snowfall. The crowds swelled, chanting furiously. Even the smallest towns had a protest going now – food outlets had opened their doors and were handing out donation-only food in the places Krauss Industries hadn’t reached.

“Breaking news...” Fatigue had finally driven the newscaster to hand over to a male colleague. “All over the bloc, candles and lights are appearing again in people’s windows as those who cannot get to their local square or government building show their solidarity with the protestors.”

They knocked on some doors and spoke to various nervous elderly people, single mothers with small children, a pregnant lady, some people in bad health... None of them looked like they’d been woken up.

“Decision time for the EuroGov,” said Eduardo. “You can’t get a much clearer majority than this...”

A decision the EuroGov didn’t want to make. They kept quiet. And kept quiet. Released some preliminary details about the promised referendums. Kept quiet some more. The crowds chanted and beat drums and blew horns and rang bells and chanted some more. Bands rocked up and started playing loud protest music dug up from the twentieth century. People danced to keep warm.

As the darkness began to lighten, the EuroGov announced that they were considering the people’s request.

Too much. I flung an untouched cup of coffee at the TV, screaming, “
Consider it faster, you bloody bastards!
”

The mug bounced harmlessly off the flexi-screen and Kyle began apologising to the people who’d been in the cold coffee’s arc.

“It’s fine,’ and ‘Don’t worry about it,’ filled the air.

“Sorry...” I whispered, shame-faced.
Are you alive, Bane?

“Don’t mention it, Margo,” said Hippo. “Cathartic just watching you do that. I think that’s how we all feel.”

Ulrich Krauss’s screens began defiantly displaying:

Breakfast Menu

Continental (All Depts)

or

Full English (British Dept. only)

The crowd went wild.

And the EuroGov caved.

They announced that they would be withdrawing from the Maltese and Vatican Free states, and releasing all Maltese and Underground prisoners.

Some of the crowd went home. A lot of them, bless their common sense, stayed put to see the EuroGov follow through. So after another day-long hour, footage was released of the Minister for EuroDefence issuing the appropriate orders through gritted teeth and a very unconvincing smile.

Huh? The room was empty. Except Jon and Kyle.

“Where is everyone?”

“They’ve gone to the battlements,” said Jon. “To see if they’re really going to withdraw.”

“You can’t go up there,” said Kyle quickly.

“No...” I stared at the screen. “Did they give orders to free the prisoners yet?”

“They said they had,” said Jon, “you heard them. But that sort of transfer takes time.”

After a while, some people dashed back in, all trying to tell us at once that the tank was driving away and the snipers were packing up and leaving.

“It’s really happening!” squealed Sister Mari.

“Great... Any news on the prisoners?”

“Not yet, Margo,” said Jon gently.

Exhaustion and uncertainty were crushing me. My head swam.
Bane, are you alive?

My head was in Jon’s lap. Kyle was laying a blanket over me. I struggled to sit up; it felt like fighting with clouds of
cotton wool
.

“No
... have to... Bane
...”

“Rest, Margo.” Jon pressed me gently down again. “I promise we’ll tell you the instant there’s any news. Just lie quietly till you feel better...”

The evening sun was warm on my face. I opened my eyes. There were my lovely ceiling beams...
Bane!
I sat bolt upright.

I’d slept all day! What was happening? Had the prisoners been handed over yet? Was Bane among them?

I tumbled out of bed, my head spinning. Not felt this mentally and physically tired since our journey across Europe. I’d been wearing these clothes for three days and two nights, but I wasn’t stopping to change them... I’d almost reached the door when someone knocked on it.

I yanked it open.

Jon. His face white. My heart turned over; my stomach convulsed.

“Did they... find him?”

He came in, closed the door. Strangely ominous.

“They’ve found him. They handed him over with the others. Alive,” he added quickly.

My heart swooped up to the heavens and joy exploded in my chest, but I didn’t take my eyes from his white face.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Please, just tell me...”

He swallowed. Turned his face away slightly.

“They... decided to dismantle him... one piece each day. The moratorium stopped them. But, Margo, they... took his eyes.”

I spun around, putting my back to him, my hand clapped over my mouth, fighting to smother any sound, because I couldn’t... how could I, make a fuss about this, in front of Jon, who’d never had sight at all...

Shock and joy surged and collided inside me as I fought back that howl of anguish...

Jon gripped my shoulders fiercely.

“Margo, it’s okay. You can be upset. I’m pretty upset myself. I’ve never known what I’m missing, but Bane will... Cry, scream, whatever you want... It’s okay...”

So confusing, so utterly contradictory my feelings. Most intense relief, delight, happiness – most terrible dismay, sorrow, pain. I sank down on the bed, my body too confused to stand upright.

After a few moments literally gulping like a fish as I tried to stop the emotions ripping me apart, I was able to speak.

“Where...?”

“They left him outside the Vatican with some other prisoners about half an hour after handing it back. He’s safe and being looked after.”

“I’ve got to...” Didn’t have the breath for long sentences.

“Yes, the first boat’s leaving in half an hour. Eduardo’s got a place for you on it.”

I clutched his hand.

“And you...”

“And me. Do you want me to help you pack?”

“I can do it. Do your own stuff, you know where it is.”

Jon hugged me tightly and tapped his way out of the room. Returned with a couple of cardboard boxes before I’d got so far as wondering what to put things in. Like a clumsy, manic whirlwind, I ricocheted around the room, dumping my stuff into one box and Bane’s into the other. Trying not to think. ‘Cause I didn’t know what to think. Or how to feel. Bane was alive,
praise the Lord!
But
blind
... Poor, poor Bane...

Jon was soon at the door again, clutching his own cardboard box and accompanied by Kyle.

“Are you ready?” asked Jon. “We’ve got to dash...”

Kyle stacked the cardboard boxes one on top of the other and picked them up. I tried to find the energy to object, then simply gathered up the mats, which hadn’t fitted in, and followed them. I took one last look at the room in which Bane and I had had such fleeting happiness...

“Wait...”

I dashed back to the window and grabbed the fuchsia. It looked a little wilted after the last few days, but its purple flower was fully open. Juggling it in my arms with the rugs, I hurried out again.

Jon’s hand encountered the plant where I held it securely on my lap as the speedboat slammed from wave to wave, heading for Ostia.

“You brought that?”

“I...” I broke off suddenly. And the tears escaped at last. “Oh no... I thought... I thought it’d be cheerful for Bane to look at while he recovered... But...” I tried to contain myself. Pope Cornelius was looking my way and I didn’t want the old man to try and move around in the speeding boat to reach me.

“Shsss...” Jon rubbed my back soothingly. “It’s going to take us all a while to get used to it. Plants make a room smell nice, anyway.”

Grudgingly, EuroTrac released the impounded Vatican train, which they’d had on display for an admission fee, and soon we were rolling past huge crowds and through the Vatican rail portal. The state didn’t look very much different as we hurried through the stone corridors and courtyards. Busy hands were already carefully removing the EuroGov’s (mis)information boards and by the light of the floodlights the ticket barriers were being slung unceremoniously out of St Peter’s square.

Jon and I headed straight up to the hospital.

“He’s in there,” said an unfamiliar nurse, with a compassionate look.

I raced to the door and stopped dead, my hands clenched together and shaking. All the way here, I’d been so desperate to reach him, and now... now all of a sudden I was just terrified.

“I can come in with you if you like.” Jon, as always, sensed my fear.

I stared at my trembling hands for a few long moments, gathering my courage. My husband was through that door, and I was going to him.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

He didn’t contradict me, simply using his long eye to locate the nearest chair as I put my hand on the door handle.

“I’ll just be out here, then.”

I opened the door and went in. A small white room, not unlike the one in the hospital wing at the Citadel. A figure lay in the bed, barely visible – the sheets were propped up on frames. Of course, they’d have taken most of his skin the first day...
Oh, Bane
...

I walked forward, trying to calm my breathing. A bandage ran over his empty eye sockets and his head moved, just a tiny bit – he’d heard me come in.

“Bane?” My voice was a whisper. “Bane?”

His head jerked right around, this time, as though he were straining to see me. A slight frown of concentration appeared on his brow but he didn’t speak.

“Bane? It’s me. It’s Margo...” I perched carefully on the edge of the bed, not wanting to jolt him. I knew too well what it felt like post-skinning.

“Margo?” His voice was thin and hoarse. “They haven’t got you too?”

“
Got
me! No! You’re
safe
, Bane. You’re free. You’re in the Vatican and they’ve handed it back to us. We’ve won!”

The frown line eased slightly.

“Oh... They... they told me I was rescued. But... I didn’t know who they were. Kept expecting them to turn around and
laugh
...”

“No...
no
... It’s okay. It’s all okay. Well... we’ve still got to win the referendum they’ve promised on Sorting and Religious Freedom, and even holding them to it won’t be as easy as it should be, but... for now, we’ve won. Everyone’s safe, Bane... Even Alligator. They hadn’t executed him yet. We’re all safe, and you’re alive too!”