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I gaze at Rory’s bowed blond head, repeating his last words and feeling suppressed worries flare within. Cadets. So he already has a history with the military.
On the paper, Rory shows us his new translation. It’s a residential address: a number followed by the name of an avenue. “I don’t know it.” Rory frowns down at it, his chin slumped on his hand as he analyzes the new address. “I’ve a feeling it’s suburbia. Private schools and privet hedges.”
“Are they more or less inclined to have Luke living next door?”
“It’s not like they’d ever know it’s being used as a safe house,” Rory remarks. “But I suppose… traditionally small-C conservative, and therefore privately — if not outright — a supporter of the monarchy, or at least of the status quo. But your typical Antiro anarchist is also the product of these places so it could be a real risk.”
“This is good, though,” Danny says, excitement threading his voice. “He hasn’t said ‘S.O.S’ yet. No ‘Help, there’s a gunman at the door’ or ‘I’ve forgotten the last letters of the alphabet.’”
Again, the timing of the beats changes and Rory draws the paper back to him. This message is even longer and takes Rory a full five minutes to decipher. His expression is grim when he turns the paper toward us:M HURT. OK. F NURSE. ANT PROTESTS OLD SH.
“Mack’s got injured somehow but Finlay’s treating him,” Rory guesses. “That’s the whole message. I don’t know what this is — an ‘old sh’?”
“What’s an ant protest?”
“Antiro,” I say automatically. “Antiro protests at old… safe house?” I glance at Rory in alarm. “They’ve figured out where Luke was?” It’s not improbable: I remind myself that a safe house is just a house, not a secure underground fortress. Unwillingly, I cast my mind back to the night of the break-in. I’ve mentally cordoned it off with a barrier lined with steel. If the guy had been known to others, if he’d left notes or told someone of his plans, then rumors could have spread…
Rory brings me some momentary relief by saying, “There’s been nothing in the news about a protest at my mother’s apartments.”
More new messages come thick and fast:
F L BORED. SEX. LOTS. STOP.[INCOMPREHENSIBLE]L TAKE OVER. IGNORE PREV.
I raise my eyebrows. Part of me doesn’t want to know, but a larger part really, really does.
“They’re doing what?” Danny asks, mouth gaping.
“No. It’s Finlay. He’s joking.” Rory glances at me and seems to note I don’t look overly convinced. “What?”
Hesitantly, I recall our last union. The power and rapture. The ecstatic plunder. The cruel threat of our lives being snatched, the victorious gift of time and life being returned to us, as we’d declared ourselves, through our whispered love, God’s chosen ones. “It’s just… when you’re sheltering, bedding down, together… It’s just you and whoever else is there. And you’re so hyper-aware that your world might cave in the next second. But it’s also really boring, waiting for a demise that might never come. Sex offers a sense of control. Something to do. So no, I don’t think Finlay’s entirely joking. I think they’re very trapped and very bored and sex is a release.”
I can’t read Rory’s expression. His affection for his fellow chiefs is so insurmountably deep as to be intoxicating, but I’m never sure whether he approves of us doing our own thing without him there to witness it. Maybe deep down, he’s still that little boy scared of losing all his friends and desperately needing his musketeers around him.
Rory busies himself with the next message, which turns out to beIS J WEARING EGG. Blush stains my cheeks and I don’t know where to look.
PROB NOT OR COULDN’T READ CODE
THIS IS MORSE CODE BTW
IDK VIB EFFICACY WHEN INSERTED
“Did he actually tap out the word ‘efficacy’?” Danny says with a small laugh. “I thought the whole idea of Morse code was it’s short and to the point?”
“They’re bored,” Rory says. “I don’t mind. I want to heareverythingfrom them.” The way he says this, something warm yanks at my navel. I swallow. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate, whether it’s from Rory’s soft, knowing baritone or the flashbacks to that night, just the three of us tangled together in wicked harmony… I can hardly sit still.
U CAN PUT IT IN IF U WANT
Suddenly the room seems sucked out of air. It’s not just my rapid, degenerating breath I hear, but Danny’s beside me. He flicks a curious glance at me as if analyzing whether or not I would.
JUST GOING TO CHAT SHIT
KEEP BUZZ GOING
IF U WANT
As the final message passes, Rory turns to me. His gray eyes are extraordinarily bright. “Obviously, it’s your choice,” he says, “so don’t let D-boy having a conniption over there sway you.”
“Hey!”
