For the second time in thirty years, the entire world has fallen asleep...
Thirty years after the Greymen caused the decimation of her people, high school drop out Rain Collins spends her days learning to pickpocket and hold her booze. Yet she long...
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Miss Becky the baker was the next name on my extremely short and extremely important recruitment list. I spent the morning wandering the marketplace, visiting every shop except the bakery. I had considered giving up after my depressingly pathetic attempt with Miss Diana at the school, but Miss Becky would be invaluable to our efforts. She wasn't just a nosy woman, but also an amiable one. She fed the town our bread and made sure the children were safe, she attended every event in town, and was related to or knew relations of nearly every man, woman, or child. Miss Becky was more connected than anyone else and, with her on our side, we'd be able to get any message across the entire city in minutes.
After my third trip into Ramone's Clothiers, I finally talked myself into it. Miss Becky wouldn't have a classroom full of students sitting around frustrating me while I tried to convince her. It wouldn't be the same. I could do this. Reminding myself to compliment the smell of the day's bread, I crossed the marketplace to Miss Becky's and stepped through the door.
Nearly fifty people stood in the front lobby of Miss Becky's shop. As her storefront took up most of the bottom of a fairly large former office building, there was still plenty of room to stand, but the space did not alleviate the chaos. The shoppers moaned and shouted at Miss Becky, who stood with her arms folded across her chest, eyes tired.
"You can't tell us you don't have no bread, Miss Becky," a sour-faced old shopper said. "We just slept for two days and you're telling us we can't eat for who-knows-how-many-more. I won't wait another day. I have my money, now you do your job."
"Miss Cora, please," Miss Becky said, waving for quiet. "You all have been coming in here every day and shouting about your bread, your bread, your bread. I have told you every time: all I have are preserves. If you want preserves, I will sell you some. But if it's bread you want, you'll just have to try to be patient. You don't see me harassing the farmers, do you? No. I'm here, in my shop, tending to what I can. And I can't tend to your bread. Now if you want to shout at someone about the grain I don't have, the eggs, the herbs, even the starter, then go shout at the farmers. But there's nothing I can make for you."
"We're starving. We can't live off peaches and syrup," a young man by the door said, and the ruckus began again.
"That's it!" Miss Becky said, stepping out from behind the counter brandishing a rolling pin. "Everybody out. Shop's closed."
The shoppers cleared quickly, leaving only myself, Miss Becky, and Miss Cora behind
"But Miss Becky--" the old shopper named Miss Cora said.
"No, that's it. It's enough." She scowled at the old woman.
"Can't I get a few jars of those preserves first?"
Miss Becky's grimace fell. Shaking her head and smiling, she took four jars of preserves down from the shelf behind the counter and passed them to Miss Cora, who deposited them in one of the many reusable shopping bags hanging from her person.
"Three dollars," Miss Becky said.
"Oh, Becks. Don't be like that." Miss Cora laughed and handed over a wrinkled twenty.
Miss Becky rolled her eyes, but accepted the bill. "Get out of here, you old troublemaker."
Still laughing, Miss Cora hoisted her bags and trundled out of the shop.
"Now. What are you doing here?" Miss Becky asked, turning to me.
"Oh." I bit my lip. I'd become so distracted by the events in the bakery, I'd nearly forgotten why I'd come there. "Well, you see, Miss Becky. Have you had any strange...well, stranger dreams lately?"
The baker raised an eyebrow. "You mean those visions? Sure. Everyone's been having the same ones."
"Right," I continued, "well, the Masters--I mean, the ones projecting those visions--they're too powerful for us to fight, but we have no idea how smart they really are, how strong their communities are. We may still have an advantage over them, with the help of people like you. We won't be able to fight them, but maybe we can resist them. Maybe, if we work together, we can keep our people alive through the arrival. Then, we can study the Masters, infiltrate their ranks, drain their morale... That's a bridge we'll have to cross when we come to it. But we could survive. You understand, don't you, Miss Becky?"
Miss Becky shook her head. "What I understand, Miss Rain, is that your father is worried half to death about you. He's been seeing those visions, too, you know. And your sister. Oh, yes. That's right. He called me on the radio last night and this morning asking if I'd seen you, fretting that you never came home last night. I told him I'd drag you in here by your ear and make you call him the second I saw you, and you know I'm a woman of my word."
"Oh, no." I raised my hands in front of me and started to back slowly to the door. "He must have forgotten I was staying at a friend from school's last night. We made the plans a little while ago. It makes sense that he forgot. There has been a lot going on lately."
"There certainly has. You made these plans before the Sleep?"
I nodded.
"Oh, Miss Rain. What are we ever going to do with you?"
I shrugged and tapped my temple. "Just can't seem to get it together, Miss Becky. Well, thanks for listening. Good luck with your bread."
I slipped out the door and jogged around the corner before she could say another word. Frustrated with another failed attempt and certain that Miss Becky was calling my father at that very moment, I rushed toward the doctor's office. Perhaps the others had found more success with their candidates. Plus, my dad would be rushing toward the bakery any second, intent on dragging me home.
***
Dr. Farrah listened to my report, nodding distractedly. "Fine, fine. We don't need them anyways," she said when I was done.
I stifled a laugh. "Oh? I must have been confused. I thought this was important."
The doctor waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "We don't have time to be messing around trying to get some sort of resistance formed; the Masters are already invading. I believe that we have established that our own powers are essentially non-existent when compared to theirs, so we can be fairly certain that any hideouts we set up, any plans we make, any infiltrators we send, will be exposed immediately. Luckily, we have the Speaker on our side."
"Does he have a plan?" I said, leaning forward.
She nodded. "Something like that. Rain, he's a Master."
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