Remy
I’d always struggled with guilt. As the daughter of a pastor, and a girl with a weakness for boys and beer, there had been guilt since I hit puberty. Now the guilt was piled high for more reasons than just my rebellious behaviors. Standing in my new room after work, knowing Tater had a mechanical bug in his head because of me, and all of the humans in Primo Town were sharing rooms and dingy bathrooms, thin mattresses with no pillows . . . yeah.
Meanwhile I had been placed in a grand, high-ceilinged room with a four-poster king bed. I hadn’t touched it yet, hadn’t even moved since I walked in, but with the thick mattress, bustling comforter, and plush pillows, I could only imagine it would be heavenly. The only thing the room was missing was a window. Through the open bathroom door I saw a glistening sink and sunken tub. My God . . . the guilt was so heavy that I would never be able to enjoy these things. I wanted to beg for Kelsey and the other girls to come here with me. I wanted to demand that Tater be released from his mental prison. I wanted to tell the Senator that if they had the resources for this kind of luxury, they could do better for Primo Town.
But I couldn’t say any of that, because despite the pretty room, I was still a prisoner like the others. A prisoner with some sort of weird hold over her captor—I couldn’t forget that—and I couldn’t let whatever power I had go to waste. But using it required extreme delicacy. The Senator was not dumb. And I wasn’t sure he completely trusted me after seeing me come out of the cornfield with Tater.
My eyes stopped their scanning when I spotted an alarm clock radio, and my heart began to patter with nervousness. I approached it and turned it over, opening the battery compartment. Now my heart gave an even greater bang because it had batteries. I stared at it, then glanced at my closed door. I couldn’t hear anyone in the hall, so I sat on the floor and turned the volume down, then set it to AM radio and slowly began moving the dial. Static. More static. I barely breathed as I listened. I went from the lowest station number to the highest, painfully slow, three times, staring at my door with my heart in my throat.
Not a single signal. I tried FM next, and it was the same. No radio waves. My hope sank. Still, I wanted to somehow get this to Linette. Maybe she knew where to look. Or maybe there was a certain time of day when allies would go live on the air. I set the radio back on my side table and placed my hands flat on the bed, pushing down several inches into the softness. Tears burned my eyes. I shouldn’t have this. I took a cleansing breath and let it out. Time to let go of the guilt and focus on making the most of my place here at the palace.
Amber
My medical office was in the same building as communications. When my shift ended, I went down to check for news. Matt and Top were busy looking at a screen.
“How’s it going?” I asked them, leaning against a desk.
“Still no word on exactly when the ships will be arriving,” Top said. “But we’ve been able to contact our allies in several places.”
I chewed my lip. “Aren’t you worried they’ll intercept your messages or whatever?”
“Eventually, they probably will,” Top said. “The Baelese are technologically advanced. Everything they do and use is the best of the best, so we’re taking advantage of that fact by going old school. Technology from twenty years ago isn’t on their radar. AM radio with amplitude modulation transmission. Landline telephones. Telegraphs. We’re trying everything we can to reach others around the world and fly under the radar.”
“Are you using Morse code?” I asked.
“Pig Latin.” Matt winked and grinned.
I made a face. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Morse code takes longer and we’re trying to keep comms as short as possible. Most of the Baelese in charge of their tech and comm seem to be the ones who weren’t raised in human society, so they wouldn’t have learned it.”
I had to laugh and shake my head. “Okay.” They were taking a risk, but I guess at this point it was as good as any other idea.
“Believe it or not,” Top said, “it’s working. We choose a twenty-minute interval at different times each night, and pray that word will spread.”
“Good.” I pushed off the desk. “Have a good night, guys.”
“Ou-yay Oo-tay,” Matt said.
I paused as my mind sorted out the sounds, then smiled to myself and left.
