I Am Margaret (33 page)

“Love you too.” He held my hand close and didn’t say anything for a long long time. His chest heaved unsteadily against my fingers.

“Bane, you okay?”

“Yeah.” And then, because he knew me too well and I knew him too well, he went straight on, “s’just… I’m afraid. All the time, now.”

“Afraid? Does someone know you hid Father Mark?”

“
No,
no
, not afraid for
me
. And no they don’t, and I still am, he refuses to leave, big surprise. I’m afraid for
you
. I’m stuck out here, can’t help you, every day I’m terrified your parents will call and say they’ve… they’ve received your…
the box
… and it’ll be
too late
. Every time the phone goes, every time the door bell goes, I… If anything happens, by the time I know it will be
too late.”

I tightened my grip on his hand. I worried enough about him, what he might get up to on his own out there, but… for a moment Polly’s screams echoed in my mind.

“
Bane, we both know it’s
possible
, but it is very
unlikely
, you know. We’re not at Prime Condition and my tissue type is a common one, no shortages. So I reckon I’m probably actually safer in here just at the moment than I would be, say, hiding out with the Underground.”

“
I
know
, I know. But… it just feels so much worse. I mean, if you were out here, at least I’d have the chance to protect you.”

“You can be a little overprotective sometimes, don’t you think?”

He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke again I saw his eyes flash as they caught the glow from the flood lights, though there was no moon tonight.

“
Actually, I don’t. Because you know, Margo, you… you’re not something that can be
replaced.”

“Well…” I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so I swallowed a lump in my throat and went on, “Anyway, in just over a month the novel will be published and we’ll be escaping. It’s not that long to wait, now… Wait, here’s the book, before we get sidetracked. Take it now.”

I shoved the package through the hatch; Bane undid his rucksack and slid it inside.

“Now,” I went on, “I take it you noticed Sue put her own name on the short story?”

“Did I just, the sly bitch!”

“You didn’t say that to her, I hope?”

“No, no. I was all sweetness and light. Made out it was a brave and generous thing she’d done to help you. Blah blah blah. Probably didn’t do it as well as you, but if she thinks I’m just being nice to her for your sake, who cares, it’s true.”

“
Umm, well, we’re going to have to be doubly careful about being able to prove the novel’s mine. Sue will have been sent a submission slip for identifying the manuscript—you’ll have to charm it off her or something. You also need to photocopy the whole manuscript—sorry about that—and send in the photocopy, keeping the original. I’ve got the wordProcessor thingy which you’d better take;
here
…”

I passed the ‘art case’ back through the hatch. Okay, so people were going to wonder where it’d gone, but they were hardly going to guess the truth.

“
If you have the original manuscript and the thing on which it was written—the rather
unusual
thing, for a bonus—I think the press will believe you. But I suggest you send a detailed synopsis of the novel and copies of the entry slips and so on to some of the bolder papers
before
the publication—but do it anonymously.”

“I see. When it comes out, they’ll compare the synopsis to what they read, then when I send photos of everything and a few of the original pages they’ll be ready to take the claim—and the proof—seriously.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Right. Well, I’ve got enough time before the end of the month to copy it. Why can’t I just get Sue to send it in, though?”

“Sue mustn’t see it at all, Bane. If she reads it I don’t think she’d dare go through with it. I think she’d rather miss the deadline. Or possibly even own up.”

“
It’s that inflammatory, then?
Good
. What’s it called?”

I took a deep breath.

“Um. Well, I really wasn’t sure what to call it, so I just went for, ‘I am Margaret’.”

“
I am
Margaret?
That’s a funny name for a novel.”

“Well… it’s not exactly a novel. I thought I’d write a life story of a sample reAssignee and… well, I wanted it to be a true one.”

There was a moment’s quiet as Bane digested this.

“
Margo, what did you
write
?” He pulled the manuscript from the rucksack, ripping off string and wrappings with a rustle that sounded deafening in the night silence.

“Just… keep your hair on, okay?” I urged, as he tilted it to catch the light and flipped rapidly through it. “I’m going to be escaping, remember?”

“
Margo!”
he moaned, “there’s Underground stuff in here!”

“Yes, because it’s about me; it doesn’t matter, I won’t be here, right?”

“
Doesn’t
matter?
If we had a complete, polished, practiced escape plan ready I’d still consider
doesn’t matter
to be the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard you say! And we
don’t!”

“It’ll be all right, Bane.”

“
Don’t give me, ‘it’ll be all right, Bane’! You don’t know that! What if I don’t manage to get you out? Don’t you
know
what they’ll do to you?”

“
Stop it, Bane!” I gripped the rim of the post hatch with both hands, fighting against the most tremendous surge of panic, fighting not to demand he hand it back, that we call the whole thing off… “Please stop it! Don’t make this any harder than it already is!
That’s
the manuscript I want you to send in.”

“No.”

“
Yes.
You will send it in!”

“I won’t!”

There was a rustle of cloth, a familiar pop sound and his face was illuminated in the orange glow from his lighter. He held it centimeters from the corner of the manuscript.

“I’m putting an end to this right now!”

***+***

22

THE POINT OF NO RETURN

“Bane, put that out!” I hissed, terrified more for him than for the manuscript. “The guards will see you!”

He shot a dark look at the towers and let the lighter flick closed again.

“I’ll burn it somewhere else, then.” He stuffed the manuscript back into his rucksack. “‘Cause there’s no way I’m sending it.”

“
Bane, listen to me, please! When you wanted to bring me that wordProcessor I wanted to call the whole thing off. But Jon said you had the right to make your own decisions about what risks you ran. And he was right. So I let you bring it. And
you’ve
got to let
me
make my own decision about
this
. I’m not a child!”

For several long moments there was no sound but his breathing, deep and agonized.

“
Why
, Margo?
Why
do you want to do this?”

“Because this is the biggest chance to make a difference I’ve ever had or likely ever will. The whole world is interested in the winning EuroBloc postSort work, Bane! And right now, incredible as it may seem, that’s the book in your hand. I will not fail to take this chance simply because I’m afraid of a little pain.”

He took my hand and held it to his cheek.

“
I don’t think
simply
and
little
are the words I’d choose,” he whispered. “I can’t bear to think of that happening to you.”

“Then get me out of here.”

“Oh, no pressure or anything!”

“Sorry. Get us out if you can. If you can’t, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I sent that damn flyer to you! I’ll have sent this damn thing in! I’m more likely to throw myself under a train.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that!” I pulled my hand free and smacked his face—the slap sounded deafening in the quiet—I froze, furious with myself. But there was nothing but silence from the towers. He placed a conciliatory kiss on my offending hand so I took a couple of deep breaths and managed to speak more calmly.

“How is the escape plan going, anyway?”

“
Well, it’s progressing. Slowly. Thinking up possible diversions is easy, but actually getting
in
—anything short of a full scale assault won’t work and a full scale assault seems… problematic.”

“It’ll have to be a joint effort. If you can supply the right diversion, then if the Lord is with us, we can get out.”

“You’ve got a plan for that already?”

“No, I’ve been a bit preoccupied. But I will have soon. I think I’ll need your air gun—bother, why didn’t I ask you to bring it? I’m an idiot! It’s a perfect replica of the guards’ nonLees, you see.”

“You’ll use it to get a real one.”

“
Exactly. I reckon I really am going to need it. Why didn’t I
think?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll work on diversion plans, you work on how to get out, we’ll meet in a couple of weeks to fit the two together. We can’t fix up something like this through letters with nothing but allusions and double-meanings.”

“I suppose,” I said reluctantly. Bane and machine guns again, alas. “And I suppose you’d better go. Promise me you’ll look after that manuscript?”

For a moment it seemed he wouldn’t answer...

“I promise,” he sighed at last.

“Promise you’ll send it in on time?”

“Oh, damn it! All right. If humanly possible.”

“
Obviously. I hope I’m not as demanding as
that!”

Things dissolved into a lot of hand clasping and hand kissing for a while, but eventually we managed to wrench ourselves apart.

“I hate this hatch,” snarled Bane, fastening the rucksack. “They could’ve made it larger!”

“If I could get my shoulders in, I could probably climb through altogether, couldn’t I? But yeah, I hate it too. Now, be careful.”

“You be careful!”

We kissed each other’s fingers one last time and he began to worm his way back to safety. I waited again, until sure he’d have reached it, and headed back towards the dubious safety of the building, taking the less visible route under the bellies of the cars.

Creeping quietly into the washroom, I pulled off my jumpsuit and sweater, slipping back into my nightie and dressing gown. With the other clothes concealed about my person, I was much less encumbered than on my way out of the dorm earlier. Good. Things had gone as well as I could possibly have hoped. There was no longer any chance of the wordProcessor being discovered and far, far more importantly, Bane had the manuscript. And had promised to send it in. It was out of my hands…

Suddenly I was curled up, pressed against the wall under one of the washbasins, shaking, shaking, shaking so hard I fought to breathe, and the more I fought to breathe the more I shook… Because Bane was right, we didn’t have a plan yet, we didn’t have one, and even the best plans didn’t always work…

Not collapsing into tears took all the strength I possessed and it was long, long minutes before my gasps eased, that teeth-rattling shaking subsided and my terror lessened enough for me to think straight. When it did I found the words there waiting and I began to recite them in my mind.

Cum anxiatur in me spiritus meus,

tu novisti viam meam.

My heart is ready to faint within me,

but You are watching over my path.

I said them over and over until my heart slowed and all was still and calm once more. A bleak little voice asked me,
yes, but what path?
—I pushed it away. Enough. The night’s work was done. I was going back to bed.