Scared Hands: part 1

The grass was gray. Trimmed to perfection, it was still the color of a thundercloud. Other that the grass, though the scene was perfect. A crystal clear river flowed slowly past and the sky was sapphire blue.

In the center of the river a small wooden boat rocked gently. Inside sat a girl and a boy. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve but there was no denying that she was beautiful. Dark curls framed creamy skin and perfect lips. And there were her eyes. Her eyes were large and as green as the grass should have been. Those eyes had gotten her in trouble before. Green is not a healthy they said. The boy’s bright blue eyes seemed less an offence.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” said the girl whose name happened to be Angela.

“I’m not complaining” Jack, the boy, was grinning.

The side of the boat hid Angela’s kick. “Just give it to me.”

“What if I don’t give it to you so we can stay out longer?” Jack, still grinning, suggested.

“Then I’d row back to shore.” Said Angela through a manufactured smile.

“No you wouldn’t,” said Jack his grin still in place. “Your parents are counting on us. Oh, and tell Jordan I’ll have his book back by next week.”

Angela’s smile slipped. “Jordan’s gone.”

“What? How? When?”

“The SIF took him out of school yesterday.” Said Angela her fake smile wiped clean.

Jack just stared at her.

“Smile, if we don’t get this information to my parents they won’t be able to do anything.”

Jack smiled again but this time his grin, too, was fake. Silently he passed her a wrapped package and she hugged him for the benefit of any one watching. Jack rowed to the west bank and Angela got out. They made a show of hugging goodbye. As his head passed her ear he whispered.

“I’m Sorry.”

Angela watched Jack row to the other side. Then turned toward the gate holding the package Jack had slipped her. She didn’t need to worry about him; he wasn’t carrying anything. He had nothing to fear from the gate on his side.

“You guna open that?” sneered a guard who’s face, Angela felt, was one of those which really should qualify him for duty in a dungeon somewhere.

Angela looked at him innocently. “Not ‘til I get home.”

“Interesting, and what will be inside I wonder?”

“What?” Angela’s perfect brows knit in apparent consternation.

“I want to see it.”

Angela had long ago learned to call tears at will she did so now. “What did I do?” She sobbed.

The guard, however lacking in intelligence, had full measure of steadfastness. He snatched the package. Angela winced as the bright paper ripped. Then the guard stood holding a wooden bear.  He sneered again, obviously disappointed and knocked on the side to see if it was hollow. It wasn’t. He threw the bear at her. She sighed inwardly as he gave her a dismissive wave. It was hard not to run but that was a sure way to attract attention. .

She walked calmly through the gray circular houses. They varied in size but not much else. Beside her men walked with their eyes straight ahead and women walked with their eyes on the ground. The men wore black and the women wore gray. No one looked around no-one really saw anything. They had made sure there was nothing to see. Her house was the same as the others, at least on the outside.

She pulled open the door and closed her green eyes. Her mother and father were sitting on the black couch. Across from them, furiously scribbling on a note pad was a reporter.

“We had no idea.” Said Angela’s mother, her brown eyes filling with tears.

“I mean we knew he was with the wrong crowd. But Anarchy?” Her father’s arm was protectively around his wife’s shoulders.

The reporter heard the door and turned. “And you must be the sister. Do you have anything to say about your brother’s conviction?”

Angela froze. “Conviction?” She had known this was coming from the moment the grey-haired men stopped in front of his classroom she had known that Jordan’s recklessness had finally caught up with him, had known that the thing all of them had feared every waking hour had come upon them. But still to hear the word in all its finality was a blow.

“Your brother was convicted of treason this morning.” Said Angela’s father gently pulling her towards him.

The reporter did not give up. “What is your initial reaction to this news?”

This time her tears were real. “I wish he had thought before he did some thing that stupid.”

“Thanks I can use that.” He winked at her his oily black mustache bobbing.

“Goodbye,” said her father firmly. His jaw muscles were tense.

“Goodbye and thank you.” The door closed before the thank you got out.

Her parents waited until he was gone and then spun to face her.

“Did you get it?” they both asked.

She handed them the bear. Her mother sighed with relief and grabbed the bear. They followed her into the dining room. Behind the table was a stuffed bookcase. Her father pushed his hand into a crevice and pushed the mechanism. The bookcase slid apart revealing a long stairway and a door at the bottom. Her father led them down and pushed open the door. Angela pulled the door closed.

The basement was the best room in the house. It was elegantly decorated with green and red; books, banned books, lined the shelves. Perhaps the most defiant feature was the open fireplace. They hated fire.

Her father took the bear and twisted the right ear five times to the left three to the right then the left foot three to the left. Finally the right ear, once, right. A minute compartment with a tiny scroll inside popped out. Her mother handed him a magnifying glass. The note was written in code but he could read it almost as readily as normal letters.

“Dragon claw.” Isaac’s features were set

Her mother’s gasp was barely audible. “This cannot be right. It must have been intercepted and changed. This can’t be what it meant to say.”

“Everything is correct. This is the message.”

“So we are just going to abandon Jordan? No help will be sent and instead they send you on this suicide mission?”

“Perhaps help for Jordan is coming from a different quarter. Would we not be the first to be suspected if he escaped?”

“And if it does where will you be?”

Isaac closed his eyes. “We choose this Ama; we swore our oaths long ago.”

“Oaths? I was not a mother then.”

“But you were a wife. This mission will not change anything for Jordan, only for me.”

“What about Angela? How will we live?”

“If I die it will look like a suicide, not treason. You will not be suspected. There are jobs you can do.”

Angela could not take the sound of their voices anymore and slipped quietly from the room.