Sable Wren's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

They never left the chapel. Dawn came gray through the cracked colored glass, and Dex crouched at the door with one eye on the street. He swore under his breath and pulled back. "Enforcers," he said. "A whole line of them. Going door to door." Sable pressed against the cold stone and listened. Boots. Shouted orders. They were sweeping the district for her, and this ruin was one more door to open. "They'll come inside by midday," Dex said. He looked at her dyed scalp, then at the bright orange vest under her coat. "That thing will get us both hung. Take it off." "I've tried. It doesn't come off." She showed him the seam sewn shut, no clasp, no zipper. Dex grunted and drew a short blade from his patchwork coat. He sawed at the fabric until the vest split. It fell away. For the first time in weeks Sable stood without it, thin and shivering in the dark. A voice called from behind the altar. "You can't burn it here. The smoke will bring them." A young man stepped from the shadows where the timbers sagged. Dark beard, dark hoodie, hands buried in his pockets. Sable had not known anyone else was hiding in the chapel. He nodded at the ruined vest on the floor. "I've watched you two argue for an hour. You want out of this district, you don't fight the sweep. You join it." "Who are you?" Sable said. "Someone who queues at the ration hall every morning," the man said. "Ethan. They're funneling the whole district there for the count. Enforcers wave the crowd through. Nobody looks at a face in a line that long." He tossed her a gray cloak, weathered and draped, the kind the ration lines all wore. "Put that over the bald head. Walk in the middle. Walk slow." Dex studied him hard. "And you help her why?" "Because a girl in a vest brought enforcers to my street," Ethan said flatly. "I want her gone as much as you do." There was no better plan and no time. Sable pulled the cloak over her shoulders and drew the hood low. Dex kicked the split vest under a broken pew. They slipped out into the flow of frightened people the enforcers were herding along. Sable kept her head down and her steps even. The crowd pressed toward the tall doors of the distribution hall. An enforcer stood at the entrance, waving them through by the dozen. His eyes slid over her hood and moved on. She passed under the sign and into the wide, orderly hall. The sweep had swallowed her whole and let her through. Inside, Ethan caught her sleeve. "They log every ration card at the count," he whispered. "You don't have one. When you reach the front, they'll know." The line inched forward. Sable was safe from the street and trapped in the hall.