upon another smoking crater.
Had he really only proposed to her yesterday? It must have been; he had knelt before her not an hour before the ambassadorial convoy had left for London. The bombs had detonated no more than an hour later. Now, all that seemed like a hundred years ago. Neither of them had slept since then. He shook his head, trying to clear a ringing he knew would only get worse.
But there would be time for sleep later. Right now, they had to figure out what they were going to do in the short term.
Sarah turned to him then, and the look in her eye made him wonder whether she had read his mind. “They’re out there, aren’t they?”
“Probably.”
“Why haven’t they finished it? If they can do this”—she gestured to the carnage around them—“there’s no way we’d be able to put up much of a fight.”
“That’s not true. We have some of the best snipers I’ve ever come across. I wouldn’t want to be the one who tries to sneak up on this place unwelcomed.” He managed to keep his voice level, but shame flushed his cheeks. That might have been true with the others around, but with the city scattered and most gunners either holed up with their loved ones or wandering the forest’s nooks and crannies, they were all but defenceless.
He knew she could see right through him. The arch to her eyebrow only heightened his shame. He forgot how sharp she was sometimes. And, how strong. The sight of the Old World explosives had shattered the nerves of dozens of the toughest men this side of the Thames. He couldn’t blame them; only a handful had seen such power. Only Robert and a few others had witnessed ordnance like that before, in the northern skirmishes during the Early Years. Yet here she was, standing right beside him, shaken, but not beaten. He felt a swell of longing for her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “We wouldn’t be any match for them, not like this.”
“Then why not finish it? They must know what they’ve done to us. Our elders are gone, we have no power, our guards are all hiding behind locked doors… They’ve razed dozens of settlements to the ground in the last few weeks. Why spare us?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The wind picked up and skewed the smoke columns to the south, turning the horizon a dirty brown. They could now see clear across the ridge, with a full view of the treeline. The hairs on Robert’s forearms stood on end. There must have been hundreds of pigeons in the trees, all cooing, all watching. At first there had been only a few. Then the explosion had rocked the city, and they had been arriving in a continuous stream since then.
“They’re everywhere ,” Sarah said.
“Yeah.”
“What do they mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I’m tired of not knowing, all this mystery. We can’t live like this.”
She stroked his arm in slow circles, and he inhaled sharply. They stood like that with the wind blowing smoke into their faces and through their hair until they were deaf to the pigeons’ cooing and the sight of the wreckage had lost its edge.
Robert brushed Sarah’s hair behind her ear and held her close. He couldn’t believe she could be taken away from him. This was supposed to be their time. He had played protector for too long, putting the needs of others ahead of his own.
He wanted routine, excitement, and passion—and everything that came with it: lazy days between the sheets, mundanity, petty bickering, and dreams of the future. Not twenty-four hours ago, he had pictured them both old and weathered, sitting upon the porch of a home he had planned to build with his own hands, somewhere quiet where she could read her books and he could work on projects in the shed. Nothing fancy, just simple and real. He wanted it all. And now it could all be stolen from them.
Everything they had fought for, it could all come to nothing but flames, and death. He hadn’t given up hope,
Had he really only proposed to her yesterday? It must have been; he had knelt before her not an hour before the ambassadorial convoy had left for London. The bombs had detonated no more than an hour later. Now, all that seemed like a hundred years ago. Neither of them had slept since then. He shook his head, trying to clear a ringing he knew would only get worse.
But there would be time for sleep later. Right now, they had to figure out what they were going to do in the short term.
Sarah turned to him then, and the look in her eye made him wonder whether she had read his mind. “They’re out there, aren’t they?”
“Probably.”
“Why haven’t they finished it? If they can do this”—she gestured to the carnage around them—“there’s no way we’d be able to put up much of a fight.”
“That’s not true. We have some of the best snipers I’ve ever come across. I wouldn’t want to be the one who tries to sneak up on this place unwelcomed.” He managed to keep his voice level, but shame flushed his cheeks. That might have been true with the others around, but with the city scattered and most gunners either holed up with their loved ones or wandering the forest’s nooks and crannies, they were all but defenceless.
He knew she could see right through him. The arch to her eyebrow only heightened his shame. He forgot how sharp she was sometimes. And, how strong. The sight of the Old World explosives had shattered the nerves of dozens of the toughest men this side of the Thames. He couldn’t blame them; only a handful had seen such power. Only Robert and a few others had witnessed ordnance like that before, in the northern skirmishes during the Early Years. Yet here she was, standing right beside him, shaken, but not beaten. He felt a swell of longing for her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “We wouldn’t be any match for them, not like this.”
“Then why not finish it? They must know what they’ve done to us. Our elders are gone, we have no power, our guards are all hiding behind locked doors… They’ve razed dozens of settlements to the ground in the last few weeks. Why spare us?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The wind picked up and skewed the smoke columns to the south, turning the horizon a dirty brown. They could now see clear across the ridge, with a full view of the treeline. The hairs on Robert’s forearms stood on end. There must have been hundreds of pigeons in the trees, all cooing, all watching. At first there had been only a few. Then the explosion had rocked the city, and they had been arriving in a continuous stream since then.
“They’re everywhere ,” Sarah said.
“Yeah.”
“What do they mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I’m tired of not knowing, all this mystery. We can’t live like this.”
She stroked his arm in slow circles, and he inhaled sharply. They stood like that with the wind blowing smoke into their faces and through their hair until they were deaf to the pigeons’ cooing and the sight of the wreckage had lost its edge.
Robert brushed Sarah’s hair behind her ear and held her close. He couldn’t believe she could be taken away from him. This was supposed to be their time. He had played protector for too long, putting the needs of others ahead of his own.
He wanted routine, excitement, and passion—and everything that came with it: lazy days between the sheets, mundanity, petty bickering, and dreams of the future. Not twenty-four hours ago, he had pictured them both old and weathered, sitting upon the porch of a home he had planned to build with his own hands, somewhere quiet where she could read her books and he could work on projects in the shed. Nothing fancy, just simple and real. He wanted it all. And now it could all be stolen from them.
Everything they had fought for, it could all come to nothing but flames, and death. He hadn’t given up hope,
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