Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

César barely said a word for much of the long walk home. They couldn’t even steal a car, not without leaving Scrambler behind, and he wasn’t going to be separated from his comrade. Unless Hilaire drove it the nonmechanical way. No, this way would have to do, Scrambler and Patience appearing to support his weight to the naked eye. Patience kept talking to him, trying to get a response, Scrambler joining in with the odd contribution. César would murmur in response when required, Patience trying to ask him yes and no questions that didn’t require him to say much. It was clear he understood what they were saying, that was the main thing.

“Quality inspector.” He looked to Scrambler as he said this. Scrambler didn’t quite catch it but didn’t want to make him repeat himself. Instead, he asked Patience,

“What did he say?”

“Quality inspector,” Patience repeated, explaining further in case he heard what he’d said and just couldn’t fathom what this was in reference to. “Your job. You get free samples and get to check them out away from the machinery.”

“I guess me and my teeth have had a good run together. Okay, boss, you’ve graduated from the sofa to a bed.”

César mumbled something in response that none of them could make out. Patience worked it out later. Pillows and sheets? They didn’t force him to repeat himself or exert himself in any way. He was gossamer light, Patience and Scrambler aware that Hilaire was effectively carrying him even though his arms were round their shoulders, both of them clutching his hand to keep him positioned there – which was, of course, unnecessary. Hilaire kept her wits about her, dealing with one patrol by making them fly down the street like they’d been hit by a water cannon. Florence liked to show off her power, revelling in that sense of danger. Hilaire was not like that, keeping her light under a bushel, but she was very, very powerful too.

Hilaire advised them to stop as they neared Scrambler’s street. Some juveniles were playing out, Hilaire waiting for them to walk away before continuing to the home straight. She ushered Patience to come with her away from César and Scrambler, the two men sitting with their backs against the back wall of a house.

“It’s up to you if you want to tell her how close he came,” Hilaire said.

Close – he went over. Patience knew it, Scrambler knew it – Florence certainly knew it from the way she fled. César didn’t know much at the moment, so maybe he wasn’t fully aware, but Hilaire definitely knew. He’d gone and come back. Which did happen in rare and exceptional circumstances. It was a gift horse, and who looked them in the mouth when in the company of the Love Phantom?

“She’ll have been worried enough. Let her nurse him without that on her mind. I can’t promise that Scrambler won’t say.”

“I don’t see it.” Hilaire was right. Scrambler wouldn’t want to talk about what almost happened. It had nigh on broken him.

Marcella had been sitting on the stairs and stood up when the door opened, forced to cling onto the bannister to stay upright, her legs numb from being in the same position for hours. She saw that César was back and groggy as fuck. She supported herself on the wall to get to him, pushing his right eyelid further open to examine his eyes. “What’s happened to him?”

“We’ll get him upstairs and explain. He’ll be okay,” Patience promised.

Marcella let Scrambler and Patience past with César. Scrambler thanked Patience for her help with the heavyweight and assisted him up the stairs himself for the last part. Marcella followed them up the stairs as did Patience. Hilaire stayed by the front door. Marcella told Scrambler to take César to her room, not his, which was where he was heading towards.

“He needs rest, not to be ravaged by you. You can look after him in here.”

Marcella was displeased with this but didn’t press it. She asked Patience, “Where’s Florence?”

“I don’t know. She got us inside and then we got him out.” This was true and all that she needed to hear right now.

Chapter 20

Peace in our Time

Patience returned to her home almost as soon as the city was free. It had been too long. She was grateful for all that the Foundation had done for her and planned on keeping in contact with Marcella and César, but she had an old life to get back to. Scrambler had been a welcoming host, her only slight quibble being that his natural bonhomie was a little overpowering. She’d lost her key along the way and had looked up Mthandeni. She wanted to catch up badly, but she was after the key primarily, for she’d have gone to see her straight after going home otherwise.

Patience felt like shit when Mthandeni told her that the Milice had harassed her for information about where she was, information she couldn’t give because she didn’t even know. Mthandeni told her not to feel guilty about it, not blaming her. Mthandeni was pleased she hadn’t known as it meant she couldn’t betray her out of fear if the urge had overcome her. Patience felt she wouldn’t have anyway and told her this. Mthandeni accompanied her back home, the pair passing one of Mthandeni’s interrogators on the way. Mthandeni said that she was pleased to see him swing, though she sounded neither happy nor sad as she said this, the words flat and numb. Patience viewed this like the would-be arsonists at the factory. It was not something to mourn, nor was it something to celebrate. It was something that happened which had to be moved on from.

Patience had seen too much ugliness over the last few years for this sight to upset her for long. As she neared her neighbourhood the excitement mounted, increasing as they went inside her family home again