Mouse - Part 2

Mouse is a member of The Undercurrent, determined to end the Archon's control over Azrahan

Mouse waited in the shadows. She was nervous but understood why she had been chosen as the Whisper-Link; the person who ran the messages between her cell and their co-ordinator. She was small and quiet, introverted and appeared to lacki confidence. She was largely ignored; barely noticeable as she went about her daily life, hence her codename. It made her perfect for the role, which she accepted without question, although she knew it was a dangerous position. An active Whisper-Link was a highly regarded prize for The Sentinels, even though the structure of The Undercurrent’s communication network ensured that nobody knew many other members, and information was written only when absolutely necessary. Even then it was coded.

Somewhere nearby, she heard the marching boots of a militia patrol and looked at her watch nervously. Her breathing was shallow. Her contact should have been here by now and she only had about five more minutes before the militiamen turned down this street. She slid back into the darkness of an alleyway, silently debating with herself whether it would be better to risk being reckless and leave now, running home before the patrol passed, or to wait, silently praying that she would not be seen in the shadows.

Suddenly he was there.

“Psst!” Her contact ducked into the alley beside her.

“You need to hide better than this!” he hissed. “Or wear black shoes. I could see your legs!” He pointed down to her worn, red, canvas ankle boots. “They definitely are not government issue,” he mused.

“No, I got them from…” Mouse whispered, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her speaking. The patrol was coming closer. Without releasing his grip, he led her further into the alleyway and through a gateway into a courtyard. A small ornate fountain, a group of cherubs pouring the water from jugs, tinkled in the centre and a string of decorative lights hung around the walls.

“We should be safe here, for a while,” he said, stepping back to look at her, his face serious. “Never tell anybody where you get your clothing. Even if it is second hand and certainly if it is not government issue!”

She looked at her contact in the pale glow of the tiny light bulbs. He had shoulder length, greasy hair and a slim, elongated nose. He smiled at her to reveal large buck teeth, dirty and broken. She could see how he earned his codename: Rat.

“Did your group meet tonight?” he asked quietly. She nodded, without speaking and looked around, still nervous of being overheard by lingering militiamen or suspicious Sentinels.

“Good,” said Rat. “And what did you discuss?”

“I am sure everything you need to know will be in this message,” she whispered, passing the envelope to him. He smiled again as he took it from her hand.

“You know the rules,” he said. “I like that. You don’t say more than you need to, and you keep quiet when it matters. It is the people like you that will make The Undercurrent successful.”

Rat tore open the envelope and pulled out an invitation to a children’s party.

“How innocent this looks,” he said, brandishing it towards her face. “And yet it contains a date and time for…”

“Please don’t tell me,” Mouse interrupted shielding her eyes, refusing to even look at the invitation as she repeated Owl’s mantra: “The less we know, the less information The Sentinels can get out of us!”

Rat nodded, impressed.

“Good,” he said. Mouse thought his tone was a little patronising, but did not speak as he shoving the invitation into the pocket of his dirty, brown overcoat and continued: “You will be safe here. I will leave now and you should wait about ten minutes. By then the Militia patrols will have moved into the next city sector and you will have about an hour before the next ones pass this way.”

“And The Sentinels?” she asked.

“Who knows?” Rat shrugged. “Good luck!” And with that, he was gone, out into the darkness of the alley. He quickly disappeared into the night.

As instructed, Mouse waited for ten minutes, constantly checking her watch. She worried that her breathing was too loud, and each time she heard a noise, she held her breath, only to chuckle to herself when a cat or fox scampered into the yard, saw her and ran away again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ten minutes wait was over and she crept to the gate looking out into the alley. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she slipped out into the shadows and began making her way home, sticking to the poorly lit side streets and only pausing to look around before scurrying through the pools of light she could not avoid.