Havoc

Havoc Read Free

Book: Havoc Read Free
Author: Jane Higgins
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watching for her red scarf and beaded braids. Lanya would
marshal an army better than most; she didn’t need me playing nursemaid. In fact,
in this whole mess of a war, she didn’t really need me at all. She had a plan: she
wanted to dance, and on Southside the way to do that was to be a Pathmaker—a dancer
in ritual ceremonies and celebrations. After tonight, the Makers would be busy with
funerals, but she wouldn’t be one of them. She was on probation after breaking the
rules six months ago. I’d said to her once that being seen with me didn’t exactly
square with her probation conditions, especially since I was the reason she was
on probation at all, but she’d grinned and mentioned the army coats. Now her probation
was nearly up and she had to decide, soon, if that’s what she was going to do. So
she was thinking. And I was watching her think.
    Makers don’t partner. She’d told me that as soon as she knew she had a chance to
follow that future again. We could be friends, yes, close friends even, but there
it stopped. She wanted to know if I was okay with that. Sure, I said. No problem.
Which was mostly a lie, but I was trying not to get in the way of her doing what
she most wanted to do.
    I arrived at the bridge gate—or where it used to be. There was nothing there except
the remains of the gate uprights: they were splayed out as though something giant
had marched through, pushing them aside, and stormed off into the township.
    Moldam Bridge was gone.
    It had been ripped from its moorings, broken in pieces and hurled into the water.
All that was left were its ragged beginnings jutting towards the river. People grew
quiet when they came near it. They stood and looked, then hurried back into the mayhem.
I thought of Fyffe and how we’d walked over this bridge for the first time only half
a year ago. That stupid nursery rhyme arrived in my head:
    Over the bridge it’s dark not day,
    Over the bridge the devils play,
    Over the bridge their souls are black,
    Go over the bridge and you won’t come back.
    No one was going back over the Mol ever again.
    The gate had been a square steel frame, taller than me, with bars running top to
bottom. Now it was lying in a mangled heap across the road. People were dead. That
was why everyone who came near went quiet. The two guards on the gate had been blasted
to the other side of the road. The medics hadn’t arrived yet, but someone had stopped
to care for the bodies: they’d been moved out of the foot traffic to lie side by
side near the remains of the gate and had been partly covered by a couple of coats.
    A kid sat beside them. He was a few years younger than me and he wore the red bandana
of the Breken uprising around his head. People hurrying by nodded to him. Some said
a word of greeting or prayer, recognising that he was doing what someone needed to
do: sit with the dead. There was no sign of Lanya so I crouched in front of this
kid.
    â€˜Did you know them?’ I said.
    He shook his head. ‘My sister’s gone to get the medics. I said I’d stay.’
    â€˜Have you seen a girl about this tall?’ I stuck a hand in the air. ‘She’s wearing
a red scarf in her hair and a baggy dark coat and boots that are too big for her.’
    â€˜I haven’t been lookin’ too close. It’s dark, you know? And I’ve been saying the
Charter to—’
    He stopped.
    I nodded. ‘Good idea.’ To keep the ghosts at bay.
    â€˜Yeah. So I haven’t seen a girl like that. She hasn’t stopped here.’
    Not what I wanted to hear. ‘Okay, thanks.’ I stood up.
    He said, ‘You can wait for her here, if you want.’
    He seemed really young and not liking what he was there to do. I couldn’t blame him.
I sat down.
    â€˜What’s your name?’
    â€˜Teo.’
    â€˜I’m Nik.’
    â€˜You from Gilgate?’
    That made me smile. ‘You’d think

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