“My name is Wren MacAvoy, and I represent the enclave, a settlement outside the dome.”
“My name is Adam Reid, and I represent the shiners.”
“My name is Jon Monroe, and I represent those you called the scarabs.”
And to my amazement, the king stands. “My name is King Henry of Hanover-Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, Duke of Kent and Windsor,” he continues to rattle off titles that have absolutely no meaning to the rest of us, but we listen in fascination. “And I represent,” he pauses and then grins so widely that he looks like a small boy who has just discovered a rare treasure, “the royals!”
The voices ring out around the room. I did not realize how many smaller factions there were. The butchers, the bakers, the metalsmiths, the gardeners, the shopkeepers, the launderers, and those who serve the royals. The workers from the fans who attacked us. The teachers and the doctors and nurses and those who cared for the animals. The street sweepers and lamplighters and Max who represents the dome cleaners. The last to stand is Findley. I am surprised when he does not; instead the bluecoat next to him stands and declares his name as Pierce, while Findley just sits and smiles. So many groups to make up the whole. So many to care for, but so many who can work to make this new world succeed.
The future is ours if we want it bad enough. I know I do.
The meeting continues for hours, hours in which I realize that I have not eaten anything at all today. Hours in which I fight the urge to lay down and sleep because I am still so weak from my wound. I have to pay attention. There is so much these people need to know to survive and so much I need to do to ensure the safety of the people who I represent in the enclave.
They ask question after question. All of them having to do with their survival. I had not realized how safe we were inside. There was no question of food or shelter. We might not have had much, but there was always that assurance that we would not starve or be in fear of outsiders for our lives.
Pace answers their questions with an amazing amount of patience, even when it seems like the exact same question is being asked again.
At least they are happy about parliament and what it represents for the future. Finally, when I do not think I can keep my eyes open any longer, Pace draws the meeting to a close.
“The dome was not built in a day,” he says. “So we should not expect to solve all our problems in just a few hours. Can we all agree to meet back here again tomorrow?”
“I have one more question,” Jon says. “If we are to implement parliament, shouldn’t we go ahead and elect our prime minister?”
“I agree,” the king says to my surprise. He rises from his chair. “I would like to volunteer my services.”
“And I would like to nominate Pace Bratton,” Adam says before the king sits down again. By the look on his face, I am fairly certain the king thought the job would be his.
“If it is acceptable to everyone, I can act as a facilitator, since I am impartial,” Dr. Stewart interjects.
My eyes meet Pace’s. I can tell by looking at him that he is surprised yet flattered. Yet he wants my approval. I give it to him, gladly, willingly, with my smile and a nod of my head. Why shouldn’t he be prime minister? He is fair, he is honest, he is patient. He has a way about him that soothes people.
This is why I fought this battle, why we fought this battle. We should be able to aspire to things that are greater than expected. We should dream about things that are out of reach. We should not be afraid to reach for the sky, and if we find it is glass we should break through it. Without reaching we cannot achieve anything.
Pace is made for greater things. I never would have thought it the first time I saw him, but as he said, “Things are not always what they seem.”
The vote is quick. Pace is elected. The king is not happy, but he offers his congratulations. It is a good start. The noise of talk among the factions is loud, and then it suddenly quiets to a hush. We look to the door.
Levi and Lyon are there, and with them, Ragnor and Janna. They both are bloodied and bruised, and I fear for the worst. I run straight to them.
“What happened?” I ask. “We saw the smoke.”
“Wulf is dead,” Ragnor says. “The village is no more.”
“What about the people?” Pace joins us. Everyone around us is listening. There has to be good news, Lyon would not have brought them here if there wasn’t.
“My husband challenged Timor for power after Wulf died,” Janna says. “He won, but he spared Timor’s life.”
“I should have killed him,” Ragnor says. “I told him to leave. Some chose to go with him. They fired the village.”
“What will you do?” Pace asks.
“We will build again. Better this time. Will you show us?”
“We will,” Pace says. “For a trade. Show these people how to hunt. What plants they can use for their gardens. Where to find water. How to fish.” He extends his right hand to Ragnor. “Do we have a trade?”
Ragnor nods and takes Pace’s hand in his. They shake. “We have a trade.”
I feel a great weight lift from my shoulders. There are still dangers out there. Timor’s faction. The filchers who disappeared. The certainty that not everyone will be happy with how things are. Luckily my hope for a better future is stronger than my fears.
27
We have always burned our dead. When we lived inside the mines we placed them on a litter in the stream that ran through our village and lit them on fire and let the ashes carry them beneath the wall. I used to wonder where the water would lead. Now I know that it leads to the sea, as we followed the river out after the explosions that destroyed our village.
That evening we do the same for James. Adam, Alcide, Pace, and Peter hoist his body to their shoulders and carry him to the ridge behind the enclave as we all follow with Jonah and a few other cats trailing us, along with the dogs, Belle and Beau. Ragnor and Janna follow us, and they stay off to the side, curiously watching as we continue to our destination.
The children spent the day gathering wood under Rosalyn and Colm’s direction, and a large pyre, higher than my head, awaits James’s body. The men place him on top, and as the sun rises in the sky I look out at the land that surrounds us.
We are slightly higher than the hilltop where we live. Only our stone tower and walls make it higher. The top of this ridge is nothing more than a large boulder, smooth and scarred from the fires that left it barren and lonely. A few small depressions hold water from the rain that fell overnight, and there are a few crevices of dirt where wild violets have taken hold.
The land rolls off, endless and beautiful, hill after hill, covered with trees and grass, while the valleys below are filled with the blazing colors of the wild flowers. So much beauty, at such a cost. Another life lost because of men’s selfish desires.
There is no more time for what ifs. There is no changing the past; all we can do is learn from it and hope for the future. Hope that it is better, that we are stronger, that we will survive and our children and their children will appreciate the sacrifices that we all made so that they could choose their own paths.
I will make sure that James, Peggy, and all the rest who died in our struggle are not forgotten.
Pace comes to my side. Adam and Alcide light the pyre, and we all watch as the flames lick up around James’s body and the sheet catches and he is suddenly engulfed in flame. Lyon and Jane stand across from us, with Zan between them, and she weeps as they both hold onto her hands. Levi stands behind them and to the side, and he looks so alone.