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Invercharing Community, 2063
The babbling chatter of toddlers and an escalating cry of a baby blared behind Siobhan as she walked out of the Community’s nursery area where she’d left Jake. It was good for him to socialise with the other young children while she performed her role of coordinating the recording and storage of food and supplies. Jake loved his cousins. Micah and Cèilidh were prolific with their sets of twins, and Callum and Mandy had recently had their third child.
Jake had a brother in the future—her baby. The pregnancy that would kill her. She briefly closed her eyes on her grimace.
What a way to think of it!
If she didn’t alter this present, that’s how their personal history would pan out. Of all the things she’d informed Rory of regarding her trip to that future, her death was the one detail she hadn’t mentioned.
And would never.
Her proposed course of action would work. No need to give Rory more anxiety. And if it didn’t work? Well, the future was the future and some things you couldn’t change. She swallowed past a thick throat. She would set the plan in motion once she became pregnant again.
Again. Well, you had to have sex to get pregnant and that hadn’t happened that often lately. In fact, since their argument last month, not at all. It was tense sleeping next to Rory, wondering if he would make the first move, or if she should. Life was so tiring, lately he’d often fallen asleep soon after lying down.
Kendra strode toward Siobhan along the long corridor coming from the stables, her bow over her shoulder and the usual quiver of arrows at her belt.
“Siobhan!” Her eyebrows almost met in the middle with her scowl. “Where’s Rory?”
“There’s a Chief Council meeting. Why?”
“Bandit trouble. I’m getting some militia together, but I want him, Callum, and Xian to know what’s goin’ on.” Kendra spun on her heel and faced the direction of the Chief Council meeting room. “I can’t wait till they’re finished their bletherin’.” She looked down to her. “Siobhan, could you tell him for me, please? I need to get the guys and get going.”
“I’ll let him know,” Siobhan replied and made her way past the tall, lady militia member.
“We’ll be up near the lookout on Bheinn Fionn. They’re that close!”
Siobhan nodded to Kendra’s back.
Micah would go with them, most probably. He’d settled well into Community life, and they had accepted him more readily. They’d trust a bandit over a Government representative. She stomped most of the way to the meeting room, gritting her teeth against the hurt once more.
The door was open when Siobhan approached, so she quietened her step and paused right before it.
“Taxes?” Martin’s voice floated out of the open door. “In what form?”
“Och, well, we have nae money, so goods,” Rory answered.
“They’ll be taxing us of our young and able soon.” It was Callum’s voice. “For their defence force.”
“What else did Angela say?” Christine asked.
“That our close ties would ensure a strong alliance,” Rory replied.
The room was quiet except for the shuffling of papers, which came from the same direction as Rory’s voice.
“What about retaining our independence?” Mary McKenzie, the head teacher, sounded defensive.
Someone continued to shuffle papers on the tabletop.
“If we join with them, what resources will they give us in return for these taxes they demand?” Callum’s deep tones rumbled.
A crack, like a pencil slamming on a tabletop, echoed out the door. Siobhan stood further back.
“They’ve only ever shown that the Government comes first,” Mary McKenzie, the probable slammer of the pencil, continued. “They’ll take from us, call us allies and the next thing we ken, we’ll be swallowed up in them. They’ll monitor oor way of life, our self-sufficiency, our egalitarian governing—”
“They already have,” Christine interrupted the older woman.
“What do you mean?” Mary asked. “When?”
“Christine!” Rory spoke at last, his voice holding an edge.
“Tell us, Rory Campbell,” Martin said.
“Och.” Resignation filled Rory’s tone. “When I brought Siobhan back, they’d bugged her gear and followed us.” A chair creaked. “Micah dealt with it. The men—recovered—and we sent them back to the Government with a please explain.”
“Did they?” Bec asked.
No sound came from the room.
Rory must have shaken his head, for the Government had yet to respond to that one, and it was nearly two years ago.
Well, the Community did beat up their men.
Siobhan grimaced, aware she was eaves dropping but her feet stayed in place, nor could she move forward and make her presence known.
“Rory,” George spoke. “You know the Government better than anyone. What do you think? Should we align ourselves with them?”
“We should.” Rory’s reply was quick. “Because we need them,” Rory continued. “We require their resources for what will eventuate. Having said that, I truly believe we’ll lose our autonomy. That’s the price we’ll pay. The Community System, much to my deep regret, will never be the same if we do.”
“Bottom line, brother,” Callum asked. “If we didn’t have to, would you?”
“No,” Rory said, and for a few moments no one spoke; no papers shuffled. “We’ll become a Government outpost...And, because of our ties to the Government—through my marriage to Siobhan—it would be difficult to resist them.”
Cold clenched Siobhan’s shoulders.
Rory was proclaiming to all that deep down, he wasn’t happy with their connection to the New Scottish Government. The connection he’d made because of her.
Her throat burned. She blinked and clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp that threatened to give away her position just outside the door. A band ran around her chest and pressed in, tighter and tighter. She turned with care and trod with a light step away and along the corridor.
Once back on the main walkway, she scurried through the compound, avoiding others busy at their assigned tasks. She never eased her pace and ran the last short distance to their rooms. She flung open the door, slammed it behind her and then exhaled. She leaned against the door, her legs wobbling and her arms trembling.
“He’s betrayed me!” she shouted into their hallway. “My own husband had discredited the Government to his Chief Council.” She continued into the stillness of their accommodation. “Virtually stated the New Scottish Government is tyrannical and only wants to have power over us.” She noted her voice had risen. “That, only from necessity, would he even consider joining, and the cost would be significant. Why has he never shared this?” she vented as she strode to the kitchen.
Siobhan grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.
“Why tell his inner thoughts to the Chief Council before sharing them with me?” She asked after taking a sip from the glass shaking in her hand. “I could refute and correct and advise. Speak for the Government. Speak to the Government on the Community’s behalf.” She took another sip; the clear Scottish water went down the wrong way and she choked.
“But, no,” she said once her throat had cleared. “No one wants my input.”
Bile rose. She clunked the half-full glass into the sink and leaned against the bench, breathing in deeply until the nauseating hurt passed and the shaking settled.
Siobhan strode to the bedroom, dragged her few clothes from the wardrobe and stuffed them into her duffle bag.
Fumes, white and hot, began to rise deep within her.
Rory had walked away often enough. It’s my turn now!
She ran into Jake’s room, found another bag suitable for strapping on a saddle, and shoved it full of clothes and baby things she’d need for her little boy.
She would not leave without him.