Storm Signal by Fletcher Ryann
Author:Fletcher, Ryann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-03-31T00:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The last thing Georgie wanted to be doing that day was drugging the military police supervisors, and yet, there she was, dumping illicitly gained sedatives into a line of lukewarm mugs of coffee. It was the only way if she was going to get out to the communications tower and back without being seen and dragged back to the city to be thrown into an interrogation cell. Her heart pounded as she stirred the white powder into the drink, grateful that her years of unquestioning obedience on the job earned her their trust.
She willed her hands to stop shaking as she carried the mugs back to their owners posted outside the small tent with a grin. âHere you are, officers,â she chirped, hoping that she sounded more neutral out loud than she did in her own head. âIâm going to head back to my post now unless yâall need anything else?â
âGet back to work,â one of them laughed, pointing out at the barrier. âWouldnât want to leave a job unfinished, now would we?â
âNo, sir,â she said, looking at the ground, swallowing back the rage and bile that bit at the back of her throat. Ever since Allemandeâs increased patrols and policing, these officers had become even more brash and ugly.
The barrier wasnât far, only a few minutesâ walk from the tent in the heavy pressurized suits they all wore in case of a boundary breach. Of course, the janitors were given the old orange models, the ones with patches covering the elbows and thighs, whereas their new overlords were granted the newly developed suits, which came complete with their own radar and communications in case they got stranded out here. Their lives were worth more to the Coalition, and especially to the governor.
The mess they were out there to clean up was mostly industrial waste, though not as toxic as the materials found at a work camp. Barrels of dirty oil, tarps covered in rocks and dust, empty cans of paint theyâd used to make the monorail tracks reflective, in case of a low flying craft too far from the docks. A dayâs work, but Georgie would have to work fast if she was going to spend part of that day wiring the tiny chip in her breast pocket into the communications tower.
Two of the five officers were beginning to doze, their heads hung in drowsiness. She almost hadnât expected the drugs Judy gave her to work, and certainly not that fast. Part of her worried she had overdosed them, and no one wanted to be explaining away a dead officer with a mountain of sedatives in his bloodstream, even if many of them were known for drug use.
She took a deep breath and paused to gather some of the trash scattered at the barrier, blown in all directions from the ever-present wind that swooped low over the cliffs in the distance where Henry and Roger had almost lost their balloon. The boundary almost shimmered in the dull afternoon light, the differing atmospheres swirling around each other but not quite mixing.
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