Chapter 62
Jane
Jane felt like she’d turned to dandelion fluff and might blow away entirely. She could smell the roses and the mint of her mask. Caradoc held her tightly until they found an abandoned building to hide in. The basement was Dusted but empty except for boot prints. Soldiers had already swept, they’d be safe enough, at least for a little while. Saffron wanted to back for her grandmother but she didn’t know what to do with the body. She couldn’t bury it, couldn’t burn it. She couldn’t even walk.
Before she left, Shanti told them the other Ferals had left before the drugged strawberries were brought out, feeling too trapped in the subway tunnels. Anya and Shanti had stayed, to buy at least two more months of a Green Jill’s life in their gully gardens. Jane promised they would get their two months but her words slurred with exhaustion and she wasn’t sure Shanti believed her.
Jane slept for two days, waking only when Kiri forced her to drink water. The bruises on her face were healing and someone had found her new clothes to wear. Caradoc left to scout the area on a regular basis but he was always there when Jane woke. She dreamt of Green Jacks, burning satellites falling to earth, red dust under her fingernails. She woke with a startled yelp, the back of her neck damp with sweat.
Caradoc looked over from his post at the window. She could make out the shapes of the others, still asleep. It must be late. “Okay?” Caradoc asked.
She nodded, pushing the mask off her face. Rose leaves itched. I am the earth where seeds of wisdom grow. She might not feel particularly wise but the rest of the prayer was suddenly true in a way it never had been before. She might one day, literally, be earth.
“Drink more water,” Caradoc passed her a plastic jug. She drank, tasting mint and roses. He shrugged. “Your friend Kiri insisted on taking some leaves from your mask for the water. She says it tastes like home.”
“It does.” She touched the mask, the mint leaves that tangled with her hair. Her numina mark felt cool, like spring water. She was used to it burning.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said. “It just feels odd.” She’d never expected to be anything but Jane, a shy Oracle from the Enclave. She didn’t know what it meant to be a Jill. Fear and excitement thrummed through her. “I guess this is the new me.” She drank more water, forced herself to stay calm. “Do you think Cartimandua is right? About the power being the next to go?”
He nodded. “The grid has been on the edge for years. Most of it is older than the Cataclysms. The rest is cobbled together from pieces that aren’t much better. Not enough manpower, not enough supplies.”
“At least we can make more masks now,” she said. “Or try to, anyway.”
“Will Kiri help?”
“I think so. She can’t go back home. I think she’ll like it at the camp,” she smiled wryly. “Once she gets used to it.”
“We’ll protect you, Jane,” Caradoc said, eyes pinning hers. “I’ll protect you.”
She smiled softly. “I know. I’ll protect you too. And I think I’ll probably make a better Jill than a Greencoat.”
“But you’ll still come home with me?” He asked hoarsely.
“Of course. Isn’t that where Green Jacks go?”
“No.” He crouched in front of her. There was still blood on his shirt, dried paint on his collarbone. “So you’ll come home with me?” he repeated, taking one of her hands.
She caught her breath. She’d been so afraid that she’d stopped being the girl from the Enclave to him, only long enough to become a Green Jill. To become another responsibility.
She nodded, words tangling in her throat. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. She felt rosebuds blossoming in her hair. She leaned into him.
The building shook, dirt raining through the cracks and crevices. An alarm pierced the darkness.
Saffron sat up. “Jacking hell, the Elysians are rioting again.”