With Love, G.W.

The chirping of cicadas is the only sound that occupies the dimly lit intersection of Citadel Road and First Avenue. It’s 1:55 a.m. and her window of opportunity is just ten minutes from closing. The night patrol is turning in, and the early morning shift never starts their rounds before 2:05. With one final glance at the nearest guard post, Robyn lowers herself down from her flat’s second floor window and proceeds toward the graveyard.

She isn’t the only person on the street at this hour. So, it’s easier to camouflage. There are many ironies in the city, one of them being that despite an overabundance of housing units, about two thirds of the population sleep on the streets. She takes care to silently weave around the bodies as she advances to her destination, what the locals and her neighbors of the past four months refer to as The Yard. It’s about an acre of scorched land overrun with debris and blackened ruins. Those ruins used to be a library, a place where knowledge was rented out and shared among groups in quiet alcoves, but that was before the Trials, or the Executions, as her father called them. The library had been shut down and, shortly after, burned to the ground. That was the same night he died.

Robyn instinctively clutches the locket resting on her chest and feels the cold silver between her clammy fingers. That was a night she’ll never forget.

She sat on the living room floor, absent-mindedly stroking her dingy white stuffed rabbit while the expressionless news anchor droned on about the most recent trial’s verdict.

“The court has found Monica Roberson, a teacher at De Luca’s primary school, guilty on four counts of extremism and twenty counts of child endangerment. She is scheduled to be executed tomorrow at sunrise in Town Square. All are welcome to attend.”

The same verdict as the last trial, the one before that, and the one before that, as far as Robyn could remember. No one had ever been found not guilty, but she supposed they wouldn’t have announced that on the news. There was always such a large turnout for the burnings.

Suddenly, she was floating. Her father’s brown eyes and full beard came into view.

“Someone was supposed to be in bed an hour ago. Isn’t that right, Mr. Wabbit?”

Robyn giggled. She’d been caught. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Her father’s eyes widened in mock-horror. “You couldn’t sleep? So, you came all the way down here to watch tv?”

“Yup!”

He chuckled and shook his head. The tv was turned off and they were headed upstairs. “Well, this time, how ‘bout we actually try to go to sleep, hm?”

BAM! BAM!

They both started at the intrusive knocking at the door. Before Robyn could ask about the disturbance, her father was already on the second floor. He’d passed her open bedroom door, and headed towards the attic hatch at the end of the hallway.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

With one swift movement of his free hand, he opened the hatch and steadied the ladder that spilled out of the black space above. Without a word, he hoisted her up to the top rungs. She immediately complied and climbed all the way up into the void. He removed the necklace he’d been wearing and shoved it into her open palms.

“Just like we practiced.” After that, she was consumed by the darkness.

For a moment, she was paralyzed in fear. She could faintly make out her father’s footsteps retreating down the stairs, but the rest was overshadowed by the pounding in her ears.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The quick raps on the door shook her from her stupor, and she bolted into action. Just as she had practiced, Robyn threw the necklace over her head and scrambled across the attic floor to the west wall. Once she ran into something solid, she fumbled for the slight indentation in the wood paneling. Upon locating it, she used all her strength to shove the panel to the side and climb through the crawlspace. From the attic, she could faintly hear the front door open. Someone she didn’t recognize started shouting. There were heavy footsteps approaching. Robyn shut the panel tightly and didn’t dare breathe while sandwiched between the attic wall and it’s false twin. She tried to focus on the voices below, but could only make out snippets, very little of which she understood.

“...charges… terrorists…”

“...misunderstanding… just a teacher!”

“...child.”

“With her mother.”

“Look around.”

Footsteps climbed the stairs and Robyn could hear doors open and objects being thrown.

“Nothing here!”

“...office!”

More commotion ensued, followed by a loud thud and a groan. Against her better judgement, Robyn let a whimper escape her lips. The house was once again still for a moment before-

POP!

Robyn jumped at the sound of a gunshot. Her ears rang and joined the chorus of her pounding heart as she stood silent in the crawlspace. Every part of her was shaking as she fought the urge to scream, causing her to feel choked. She almost didn’t notice the sound of the attic hatch being opened, but she quickly regained her senses once she realized her hands were empty.

“Stuffed animal by the hatch. She’s up here, somewhere.”

Robyn wanted to cry. They’d spent months practicing, and it didn’t even matter. They found her.

Footsteps drew closer until they were right in front of her. In truth, this moment only lasted a few minutes, but Robyn spent an eternity waiting for the false wall to be opened. She wondered if they would kill her, too.

Eventually, the footsteps retreated and the house became still, once again, but she couldn’t trust the silence. This was a trap. They were waiting for her to reveal herself just so they could finish the job.

No. She wasn’t supposed to leave. She had to stay quiet and still until someone came for her.

Someone did come for her. By that time, she’d fallen asleep and lost feeling in her legs, but they came.

From a few miles east, the clock in Town Square heralds the second hour of the morning, and Robyn silently curses, letting go of the locket and continuing her trek. She takes note of her surroundings before sprinting across the street and climbing over the barbed wire fence. She feels the needles dig into her flesh, but the pain is only an afterthought. She wastes no time and starts making her way to the largest pile of ruins. As she runs across the yard, she tries her best to ignore the piles of bones she passes. Terrorists aren’t allowed proper burials. So, their remains are discarded among the ruins of their churches. Her father’s bones are no doubt among them. She chooses to ignore that thought, as well.

She makes a beeline for the rear of the old building and ducks behind the security of the remains of a staircase. She hopes to whoever might be listening that the locket has led her to the right place. The early morning shift has already begun, and, if caught, she’ll surely be executed where she stands. Wasting no time, she starts removing charred planks of wood until she spots a hidden hatch. Without a second thought, she yanks it open and disappears into the ground.

The drop isn’t too far; she lands on both feet in a narrow, dimly-lit corridor. She glances up just in time to see her only exit shut behind her. With no other option, she cautiously walks down the hallway to wherever it will lead her. Only after a few yards, she comes face-to-face with a thick steel door. Taking a deep breath, she bangs against it with her fist. The chances of this cell still being active are slim after so many years, but she pushes that thought aside in favor of hope.

The crack of static pulls Robyn’s attention to a small camera and intercom to her right. She anticipates hearing someone’s voice on the other end, but they remain silent.

“Is uh… G.W. here?”

Silence.

“I-I was told-” Robyn releases an exasperated sigh and holds up her heart-shaped locket in view of the camera. Surely they’ll recognize that. She opens the locket to show them its contents.

“This led me here. First and Citadel, right?”

She has to be right. Saying the words aloud only bolsters her confidence. The necklace her father gave her all those years ago is an address. Inside, where one might expect the portrait of a loved one, is a crude sketch of a tower with the moon poking through its battlements. Inside the tower is inscribed the number one. On the back of the sketch are the words, “With love, G.W.”. It took her years to grasp the importance of those etchings and even longer to decipher them. All documentation of the Moonlight Library that isn’t state-sanctioned propaganda has been erased, and those that remember live as though they don’t. The time it took Robyn to earn the trust of those scattered few took up the majority of the time she spent searching.

A single click comes from the intercom, followed by a metallic clang and the steel door opening. Robyn lets out a sigh of relief and lets her locket fall to her chest as she advances into the stronghold. She is met by a pair of who she assumes to be guards. They are clad in simple pedestrian clothing, but both are armed with batons. They lead her through a large, open area filled with desks, computers, and bookshelves. There are dozens of people scattered about the aisles, carrying out various activities. None of them pay her any attention, engrossed in their tasks. Robyn follows her guides to another hallway that ends at yet another steel door. Before either of them can knock, an older, feminine voice orders, “Come in.”

They open the door, let her in, and leave. The owner of the voice is a tall, stern-faced woman of ebony skin and short, gray hair. She wears a simple white button-up and sits at the largest desk Robyn has ever seen. It is covered in books, like the ones in the open area and the ones she remembers seeing in her father’s office. More than half of them have seen better days, covers ripped and edges blackened with soot.

The older woman rises from her seat and considers Robyn before gesturing to one of the unoccupied chairs across from her. “Please, take a seat.”

Robyn obeys, and when she looks back up to the woman, she notices a soft smile gracing her lips. “I see you’ve found me. Georgie Welles. Well, that’s my alias. We don’t share real names here. Precaution.”

“Did you know my father?”

Georgie slowly nods and studies the floor. “I gave Ray that locket. He helped me start this…” She gestures to the books strewn across her desk. “... along with a few others.”

Dozens of questions that have flooded her mind all these years finally pour out of her mouth. “Why the necklace, the code? Why couldn’t you find me? Why didn’t you save him?”

Despite Robyn’s raised voice, Georgie remains stoic and waits for her to finish. “No patrol guard is going to check a little girl’s locket, and if they do, they’ll find nothing to immediately suspect. We didn’t need to find you; we already knew where you were: safe. And I think you already know the answer to the last question. He was one man, Robyn. Our cause is greater than any one person. Greater than me. Greater than you. I doubt you would have gone through all this trouble if you didn’t already believe that.”

Through tear-filled eyes, Robyn surveys the cause for which her father had sacrificed his life. A slender hand perches on her shoulder and gently squeezes. “He didn’t die in vain.”