Chapter 44: Taran

Dee gasps in horror. "Was he shot?"
"Fell." Stryker's eyes never leave mine, like he's trying to tell me something. Or warn me. I glance toward Diogo who's frowning at him, no longer amused.
Oblivious of any tension, Milla says, "You should come to our group and speak to the volunteers about your experiences. I'm sure they'd love to hear all about it."
"Yes, definitely," Dee chimes in, taking a gulp from her wine glass. "We'd love it."
"Volunteer group?" I ask curiously.
"A group of us wives who want to do more for our city." Milla's voice is shining with pride as she explains. "We create food and basic supply packages and organize welcome tours for refugees. We're involved in a few other things too, like creating food hampers to the poorer communities, planning holiday parties and organizing events for city workers."
"Milla created the group shortly after she arrived in Sanctuary and married Jorje," Dee chimes in excitedly. "The group has really taken off, we have twenty-seven members."
Life in the slums is so geared toward survival that the very idea of organizing ‘groups' feels utterly foreign to me. But I realize that I've heard of the hampers, even partaken myself when food rations ran low and I was in danger of not eating for a third day in a row. Though I truly believe their efforts can be much better utilized than for party planning, I am impressed by their drive to help. I'd always pictured the elites as a group of shadowy food-hoarding assholes. It didn't occur to me that they might also be working toward the common goal of aiding refugees and feeding the poor.
"You've done well," I murmur, gifting Milla with a smile.
Her answering smile lights up her face and out of the corner of my eye I see Jorje watching at her, his annoyance at her questions completely forgotten. To my eyes, he's a man in love. I watch them curiously, seeing in Milla a young, sheltered and passionate woman.
"You were brought into the city as a refugee?" There's only two ways into Sanctuary. Birth, and showing up at the gates. Many children don't survive the first few years, so refugee status is the most likely. Everyone needs Sanctuary, most can't survive without it.
She nods and lowers her eyes, the happy expression melting from her face. "I was turned out of the New Las Vegas Sanctuary. My parents had died of that horrific flu that took out so many people, and I was married off. The city officials found out found out" her voice trails off and she glances sideways at her husband.
He reaches over toward her lap. I assume he's taken her hand though I can't see it below the table. "It's okay, mi alma. You are perfect the way you are. There is no shame."
Milla straightens her shoulders and looks at me. "They found out I can't have babies and they banned me from the city. Luckily, I was able to join a band of other refugees who didn't make it into that Sanctuary. We headed South together and I ended up here."
I glance at Diogo, who is watching the scene with quiet contemplation. I wonder if he knew Milla was barren before she was invited into the city. I suspect not, otherwise she'd have been turned away, her sole purpose as a human woman having eliminated her as a candidate.
Jorje lifts her hand to his face and presses their linked fingers to his lips, oblivious to their audience. She seems to relax under his care and I feel something dangerously close to envy at their easy affection. I've been fighting my feelings for Diogo, and I realize that once I leave him, I will never have what these two have.
I'm surprised by the depth of affection Jorje has for his wife. The few times I've seen him in public and in Diogo's presence, he gives off a serious and disapproving air. I now see why he's become Diogo's right hand. He can do his job with cool precision, but under the uniform is a man capable of feeling deeply.
"You didn't miss anything," I tell her. "New Las Vegas fell in '60. If you'd stayed you likely would've gone down with it."
She gasps. "But that's the same year I left! What happened?"
"Flu weakened them to the point that they couldn't provide enough defence on their walls and they were overrun by Primitives." I study her carefully, hoping my words won't affect her too much. After all, she had a husband back there. Maybe she was attached to the man, maybe he wasn't party to her ejection from the city.
She nods, her eyes faraway. I wonder if she's imagining her ex-husband, or maybe her friends. Though na?ve, I sense a depth of intelligence that I'd assumed was missing.
"When did you arrive here?" I ask curiously. She wouldn't have necessarily come here right away after being banned from her Sanctuary. Many people wander for long periods of time in groups, trying to survive, while searching for a new Sanctuary.
"I arrived here in '61."
I frown at Diogo. The same year I arrived. Back to Milla, I ask, "How old were you?"
"Seventeen," she says.
"And were you married right away upon entering this Sanctuary?"
"Of course," she says as though it should be obvious. And I suppose it is. All young women are immediately married on entering Sanctuary. The need for babies outweighs the need to provide women with proper care and choice. I grit my teeth at the realization that Milla would've been married twice by the time she was seventeen. Normally I would consider her lucky for living in Sector One and marrying an elite, thus becoming one herself. Now I'm not so sure. As happy as she seems, she never had a choice.
"And you?" I turn my gaze to Dee. "Did you come to Sanctuary as a refugee?"
"No," she says softly. "I was born here."
I'm not surprised. Many among the elites were born in their Sanctuary. It's the refugees that get punted into the lower classes. I wonder what happened to Dee's husband. He must've been important to land her a place at Diogo's table.
It seems odd to give this much thought to the lives of the elites. I never have before. But I'm coming to realize over the course of this meal that even elites have problems. Women are treated like cattle across the classes. I frown into my food and pick at it, which is unusual for me. I've known too much hunger to not eat with gusto. But, this time, I'd rather think than eat. I glance toward Diogo. His eyes are on me, his look thoughtful and almost pleased. As though this dinner has gone exactly according to plan. Which doesn't make sense. If he thinks I won't organize a rebellion among the female elites, he's dead wrong. I was born to cause dissent where I see injustice flourishing.
He flashes me a quick smile, as though he's reading my mind and he approves. I flush in response. How has he come to know me so well in such a short time? And more importantly, how has he come to love me? I'm a pain in the ass.
I realize that Stryker is watching us, a slight frown between his brows. Does he approve? I suspect of everyone sitting at the table, Stryker's opinion means the most to my husband. I can't read him though, Stryker is good at hiding his feelings. Not one to let an uncomfortable silence pass, I open my mouth to ask Stryker about his job within the military.
But before I can speak, a deafening banging sound echoes through the room followed by rumbling that shakes the walls and the table. One of the women shrieks as we all leap to our feet. For a few seconds silence reigns as we stare at each other. I look to Diogo, whose gaze is hard. His relaxed fa?ade is melting away and in its place is the Warlord, standing tall and serious.
Radios go off all around the table. I jolt in confusion before I realize all the men are receiving the same message. "The wall has been attacked. Repeat, the wall has been attacked. All hands to HQ."
Milla gasps and turns to clutch her husband's arm. The door flies open and Garrett hurdles in from his guard position in the hall, his radio waving in his hand. Diogo nods sharply at him and Garrett falls back, the alarmed look on his face quickly changing into something more professional.
Diogo lifts his radio and barks, "Fuentes here. Report."
The room falls completely silent as we all stand tensely waiting for the response. Finally, the radio crackles and the man on the other end shouts, "Rebels have attacked the West wall, bringing down a section of it in an explosion."
Diogo's hard gaze finds mine. I'm lost for a moment as to why he's staring at me with such a cold look, then I realize he thinks I knew. I shake my head feeling sick to my stomach. Even before I met him I would never have been on board with such a plan. Bringing down the wall is one of the stupidest things a Sanctuary can do. Though not impenetrable, the walls have proven effective at keeping out Primitives. They can't seem to sense the humans on the other side and don't bother going to the effort to find out if anyone resides within the walls.
Without the protection of that wall every part of the city is left vulnerable.
"The roof," I whisper.
Diogo nods, giving his permission and I bolt from the table, heading for the roof. The others follow close behind me, pounding up the stairs to our rooftop terrace.
"Oh, this is lovely," Dee says as she steps out and looks around.
Everyone ignores her as all eyes turn to the West. A huge cloud of dust and smoke billows out from the wall. My heart leaps into my throat and I hold myself tight as the full impact of what the rebels have done sends a chill down my body. Diogo comes to stand beside me, his hard gaze fixed on the destruction. Hushed murmurs rise and fall around us from the dinner guests.
Diogo lifts his radio and barks orders at whoever is on the other side. The military men group around him, awaiting his command. Trepidation and awe war inside me as I watch my husband in action, the man born to lead with an iron will. When Diogo puts his radio back on his belt, he sweeps everyone with a glance. His eyes settle on Garrett, "I'll need you to escort Milla and Dee home." His gaze flicks to me, but he doesn't actually look at me. My heart sinks. Does he still think I was part of this rebel plot? "Take Taran with you," he tells Garrett. "It's your life if she leaves your sight."
"Of course," Garrett says and makes a move to usher the women back down the stairs while the men prepare to leave with Diogo. We all file back into the apartment and I look to my husband, hoping for just a glimmer of the warmth I've come to know from him.
"Diogo," I say, pulling his attention back to me.
He locks eyes with me for a moment, then says, "Go with Garrett, don't give him any trouble."
I'm hurt by his tone of voice and I have to swallow past a lump as I nod. I remind myself that this city is his responsibility. This isn't about me. He needs to take care of everyone else. We'll sort ourselves out. But as I watch him leave, I can't help feeling that I'm watching my future walk away.
As if sensing my despair, Milla moves to my side and tentatively touches my arm. "This isn't his first emergency. He'll be fine."
I smile up at the taller woman and nod absently, my eyes on the door as the men leave.