Free Dissidence by Jamie Canosa Page A

night. Good to know because I’m counting on her. Connor seems to catch my drift pretty quickly, but he’s just as quick to shake his head.
    “ Girlie, even if we could make it out of the pavilion, how far do you think we’ll really make it with the patrols? And, that’s not mentioning the twenty foot fence that’ll basically skin us alive if we even think about climb ing it.”
    “I’m not that dumb, Connor.”
    “What then? You plannin ’ on walk in ’ right out the front gate?”
    It’s not a bad idea, but in all honesty, I have n’t quite gotten that far in my plans.
    “I’m still working on the details.”
    “ Details ?” he huffs. “Some pretty big details . L et me know when you have them figured out, Girlie.”
    They both look disappointed w ith my spotty plan, but at least now I know they’re on board the crazy train with me. There’s no way I can pull this off on my own.
    ***
    I keep waiting and watching and listening. It’s that last one that ends up paying off. I’m eaves dropping on two guards as I make lame attempts to swing my pick. Now that I’m making at least a little progress on my own, Connor has agreed to share the bunk with me, taking turns instead of insisting I sleep in it every night like he did for the first few weeks.
    “The kitchen’s been nearly empty for the past week. If the next supply train doesn’t get here soon , we’ll be eating what the workers eat,” one guard complains.
    The second makes a disgusted face , and I can’t rea lly blame him. “I t’s a good thing the next train is coming in tomorrow night , then.”
    “Will it be here by dinner time?”
    “It’s scheduled around seven, so if you eat late, sure.”
    “I’m not on grub duty tomorrow , so that works for me— ”
    They move on down the tun nel, but I’ve heard all I need to hear. The supply train will be here tomorrow night at seven p.m . That’s meal time, and tomorrow everyone’s favorite little female guard will be in the pavilion. Everything is falling into place. Another thing I’ve observed from my espionage efforts is that when deliveries arrive , they suddenly g et very lax with gate security— t oo many people moving too many things into the camp to bother locking it between every single load. Gotta love laziness.
    ***
    The next day , I barely get any work done at all. Poor Connor is dripping sweat by the time we start making our way back outside. All I’ve been able to think about since I pitched my idea to Lori and Connor last night are the million and one things that could go wrong. It’s too late to turn back now , though. Stage one of my brilliant plan starts at dinner.
    Part of me can’t wait to get things rolling, just so we can get it over with, but another pa rt of me doesn’t want to take another step closer to the dining hall. That part must be bigger beca use I come to a sudden halt, and Connor slams into me from behind, which is a little like being hit by a locomotive. I stumble forward and most definitely would have face planted in the dirt if he hadn’t grabbed my arm to steady me.
    “It’s all right, Girlie.” His deep chuckle stabilizes me, and I take a deep breathe of the cool night air. “It’s just one foot in front of the other.”
    That doesn’t sound too hard. He gives me a little push to get me moving again, which is good since I don’t think my feet are listening to my brain anymore, and we’re on our way.
    Inside the pavilion, we take our food and search out seats near the exit to wait for the right moment. I haven’t got the slightest clue what the ‘right moment’ will be, I just pray I’ll know it when I see it. What could possibly go wrong? We all agreed to finish eating before we leave because we’re not sure how long it will be before we see anything edible again. Not that what we’re eating now would necessarily qualify under the category of edible e ither. Bowl, mouth, bowl, mouth— j ust keep my hand moving.  Feet, now hand