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T he next three days and nights followed a similar routine.

During the days, Daniel and I kept busy—and fit—with long hikes through the nature reserve. We stayed deep within the park, never roaming too close to the lake, and had endless conversations about The Smoke and the wilds and the barons.

As I’d suspected, Daniel had never been outside Capra and his knowledge of what lay beyond our walls was sketchy. He knew something of the Protectorate, but he’d never heard of the Union Families and Blood Throats, or anything about life in The Smoke. The same held true for the wilds. He knew we traded with the barons for some of our goods, but he had no idea about the life they led or about the trade of ovarian eggs.

The heirs were not privy to the full truth until they inherited their spot at the council table.

Our nights were spent with Roman, discussing the state of our world, Capra, The Smoke, the Eastern Coalition, the wilds, as well as the governing bodies of the old world.

Roman had been beyond the Eastern Coalition, he’d traveled the wilds.

At times, it seemed his knowledge was like his rogue experience, without limits or any boundaries, and I absorbed it all with insatiable hunger, digested his words from both worlds and used them to craft my next letter.

Roman also kept his ear to the ground, and it soon became clear that Geneva had no intention of going public with the missing heirs or my betrayal of the Sisterhood. The wardens had confronted the Sisterhood, and obviously the Protectorate knew, but as usual, the citizens of Capra were kept in the dark.

On the fourth day, a little after noon, Jessie found her way to us.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining as she propped her bicycle against the porch and bounded up the steps. “I thought I’d never find you! I took two wrong turns.”

“How is that even possible?” I hugged her, giggling. “Seriously? It’s left turns all the way.”

“I was nervous,” she groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No you’re not,” I said. “You found us.”

I shooed her inside so I could close the door on the winter storm brewing outside. Not that it was much warmer inside. Our portable heater was charging at the Parklands cabin, where Roman ‘officially’ resided.

Daniel was on the couch, snuggled beneath a quilt. “Jessie, right?”

They’d never formally met. I completed the introductions as I squeezed passed the couch to get to the kitchen. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, yes and yes! Oh, and I brought this.” Jessie swung her backpack off and dug inside it, producing a tin of raspberry oatcakes. “They were supposed to be choc-chip, but the stores are out of chocolate.”

Daniel laughed. “We’re not fussy here at camp misery.”

“It’s not that bad.” Jessie’s nose scrunched as she looked around.

“That’s what all our visitors say, until we make them spend the night.”

Her gaze flashed to him. “You have visitors?”

“He’s kidding.” I set the pot of water to boil on the gas burner and joined them on the other side of the couch.

“So?” I prodded her with a look. “Were you able to deliver the letter to Axel?”

“Oh, right!” She delved into her backpack again and handed me a piece of folded paper.

“What’s this?”

“Look.”

Disappointment engulfed me as I unfolded the page and saw the ‘Dear Friend’ at the top. This was my letter. “You weren’t able to get it to him? Or he wouldn’t take it.”

“Look closer.”

Daniel jumped up to peer over my shoulder as my eyes scanned lower, reading the words I’d written.

“I don’t understand.” I glanced at Jessie, frowning. “This is my letter, but it’s not my handwriting.”

“Exactly.” She curled up onto one end of the couch and grabbed a cookie to munch on while she talked, her voice pitched in excitement. “So, I got your letter to Axel the day after you came to see me. It was fine. I grabbed him at the bus stop that morning and the moment I mentioned your name, he was suddenly my best friend. He’s something else, isn’t he?”

I laughed. “He’s enthusiastic.”

“And then some.” She rolled her eyes at me. “He wanted to know why you haven’t come in to work, what’s happening, where you are.”

“You didn’t say anything, did you?” Daniel snapped over my shoulder.

“Of course not.” She looked at me. “I didn’t say anything to your mom, either, and she also asked. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to tell her?”

“No,” I said. “The Sisterhood will be interrogating her. It’ll be easier if she honestly doesn’t know anything.”

“Okay.”

“Did Axel mention anything about the heirs escaping?”

“No, and I didn’t bring it up,” she said.

“Sounds like he doesn’t know about your involvement,” Daniel said.

One person there did know. The night nurse. What had they done to silence him?

“Anyway,” Jessie said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to come. After I met with Axel, I swear I felt eyes watching me everywhere.”

My breath snagged. “You think the Guard are spying on you?”

“I don’t know.” Jessie shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m not used to all this sneaking around. But I was afraid to lead anyone here, so I thought I’d give it a week, just in case. Then that happened.”

She pointed the cookie she was holding at the letter in my hands. “Carolyn and I went to the Crooked Teapot for brunch.”

“Carolyn?” I was so out of touch with my friends. “How is she?”

“She’s fine, but that’s not the important part,” Jessie said. “When the waiter brought our tea tray, that letter was lining it below the doily.”

I dropped onto the couch beside Jessie, spreading the letter open on my lap. “Someone copied my letter and served it with your tea?”

“Many someones and many copies, apparently.” Jessie’s head bobbed. “Carolyn confessed she’d seen that exact same letter. She was at Grodgens, the playhouse, with Simon the night before, and some of the programs had that letter slipped inside them. So I approached the waiter and after a little persuasion, he told me everything.”

She paused to nibble on her cookie.

“Jessie! You’re killing me here.”

Behind me, the pot hissed.

“I’ve got it,” Daniel said, pushing around the couch to get there. “Three hot chocolates?”

Jessie and I both raised our hands, then she continued. “So, it’s a whole thing that’s been going around town for days. If you see the letter, and agree or sympathize or whatever with what’s in there, you make a copy and pass both on.”

I was dumbfounded, didn’t know what to say. My gaze slid to the words I’d written.

Hear my words and whisper them to a trusted friend or family member, and maybe they will hear your words and whisper them, and when all our whispers gather, our voices will roar.

Axel was doing so much more than passing a whisper along to someone he trusted. He was multiplying the whispers. And not only Axel. How many Axels were out there?

“It’s crazy, right?” Jessie beamed. “I was terrified that eyes were watching me just because I’d been in possession of that letter, and folk are brazenly copying and distributing it around town. I felt ridiculous, such a stupid coward, so I said enough of that, and here I am.”

“You’re not a coward,” I told her. “You passed it on first. That was brave. And I don’t want you to take any unnecessary risks. I promise you, I’m not. That’s why I asked you to deliver the letters in the first place.”

“I won’t,” she said. “But I’m not going to be afraid of my own shadow. So, what’s next?”

I grinned slyly. “Since you ask, how do you feel about delivering a new letter to Axel?”

When I’d written it, I hadn’t been sure about the part where I exposed the missing heirs and confessed to helping them escape, but I was sure now. Secrets and silences put lives at risk. I just hoped the letter wasn’t too late for that night nurse.

Dear Friend,

A few days ago, I helped the council heirs escape rehab. Whether what I did is right or wrong, I don’t know. That’s not for me to say. It’s not for the head of the Sisters of Capra to say, either. This is what I have come to believe: no person should be judged, before or after they’ve actually committed any crime, through one set of eyes.

There is another way. I won’t tell you what that is. The time has come for you to tell Capra what it should be, to use your voice to shape the rules by which we are governed.

The Smoke has the Protectorate, a ruling body of people who rise through the ranks to become their leaders. I suppose you have to show certain qualities, profess to certain beliefs, to join their ranks before you rise. This propagates one belief, one vision.

They also have the Union Families who control certain zones, The Smelt and The Break. The families rule by extortion, threats and violence.

The Blood Throats, a vicious gang, run The Packing District.

The wardens operate as a military organism with appointed positions. They have senior wardens who are curated, and high wardens who are elected, and a tribunal system to deliver justice.

Here in Capra, we had the council where a seat at the table was inherited within our council families. Now we have the Sisters of Capra and have yet to see how the leadership roles would be passed on. For both these regimes, their hand of power is absolute and, in many instances, extreme.

The old world had an electoral democratic system. Leaders were elected by the people and held accountable to the people, and if they did not deliver on their promises, or if the people changed their minds, they had the opportunity to elect a different leader every five years.

Justice was delivered by a jury of twelve impartial people after bearing witness from both the accused and the state.

The Eastern Coalition was founded to preserve the human race.

Capra, in particular, was established to preserve human civilization, the customs and traditions, the technical and medical advancements, the parts that might be lost in the chaos when the Fertility Plague devastated our world. So why did Capra fail to preserve the voice of our people? Was it an oversight or necessary evil or plain negligence?

We cannot change what has come before, but we can do better. Our ancestors fought for this democratic right, they died to give the people a voice, and Capra should be charged with preserving it. And once you have your voice back, it is yours to use as you will.

This is our present duty, or the future will become our sin.

The Flame

(Georga West)

Daniel passed his own letters on to Jessie before she left.

I took her aside to speak in private. “Slip the letters under Brenda’s door so she doesn’t know you delivered them.”

“Why?” Her nose puckered. “Do you think she’ll rat on us?”

I had to think about that, which said everything about our failed friendship. “Honestly, no, I don’t believe she would. But she’s in a weird place right now. I don’t know what Daniel wrote, or if he’s made arrangements to see her, but that’s between him and Brenda. There’s no reason to expose yourself.”