The next morning I began a three-day patrol to the south, with eleven others.

I hated leaving Eloise alone with her nightmares, but I had to do my duty. Before I left, we spoke with Helga, who promised to help Eloise in the night whenever she needed it.

The resistance took the rumors of Tripods on the move seriously, so we used a three-party patrol system. Three parties of four people each, on horse, patrolled in the same direction, but stretched out in a line pointing back toward Freetown. The parties kept each other in sight as much as possible while maintaining the greatest possible distance from each other.

The lead party had the greatest risk. Approaching Tripods would spot it first, giving the second party the opportunity to hide and/or retreat with the news. The third party was the backup in case the second was also caught.

I was in the lead party. Fritz was in the second.

For this special patrol, Fritz had been entrusted with Freetown's one and only portable radio. Apparently, portable radios were very difficult to find because the Masters had instructed our ancestors to destroy them. The resistance had the knowledge to build more portable radios, but finding the components was likewise difficult. Also, this radio was powered by a battery our scientists had jerry-rigged, and this battery had a short life. Fritz was only to use the radio if we saw Tripods or experienced a life-or-death emergency.

No one had expressly told us to kill ourselves to prevent capture, but we all knew that was the protocol. The Masters could read minds forcefully, and each of us had too much knowledge which should never fall into their tentacles. We each carried a supply of metal eggs – or grenades, as I had learned they were called – with the intention of taking as many Masters with us as we could, if it ever came to that.

Each day, we started at sunrise to cover as much ground as possible. We headed south for one day, east the next, and northwest the third, taking us back to Freetown. We saw no sign of the enemy.

Since our final leg formed the long side of a triangle, we didn't get back until around midnight. Eloise, of course, was already asleep, and I noticed she now wore normal clothing. I quietly and gratefully climbed into my blankets beside her, took her hand in mine, and was asleep in moments.

 

Eloise and I caught up at breakfast, and I was selfishly grateful I had missed the drama which happened in my absence, because I probably would have been terrible – or at best, painfully clumsy – at dealing with it.

The afternoon of the first day I was gone, a former slave harmed himself badly trying to rip his cap off. He was beside himself with madness and grief.

"A late-developing vagrant?" I asked.

"No. Just human. After we calmed him down, hours later, he said he just couldn't stand it any more. He hated the feel of the cap. He said he'd rather die than live a life always feeling it there."

"What happened to him? I mean..." I didn't know what to say. How does one deal with a situation like that?

She shrugged. "We just talked to him some more, convinced him to change his mind, at least for the moment. He's still in hospital, because he really messed up his head. They're actually using the slave hospital in the city, because it has better equipment than anything we have."

"Well, hopefully that was the only bad thing you had to endure while I was gone."

"No," she said grimly, and told me more.

The second night I was gone, Eloise, led by that compassionate instinct she possesses, went in search of Juanita, as she hadn't seen her for a while and felt uneasy. She found her at the edge of the forest, standing on a small crate under a tree. Eloise was just in time to see her kick the crate away to let the noose take her.

Eloise ran like the wind, calling for people to help. They cut her down, and Juanita was mostly unharmed, as she had only hung for about thirty seconds.

Eloise, Juanita, Helga, and another two women they had revived that day and the day before, all stayed up late into the night having a long meeting just among themselves in a private tent, a tent which is now set aside solely for their use. Eloise didn't tell me what they discussed, and I certainly didn't ask.

"I think a large part of Juanita's despair is that ninety years have passed since she entered the city," Eloise said as we finished our meal. "Her family is gone. However, I think she is actually all right for the moment. She seems to be doing better after our talk, and she even smiled once yesterday. Just a tiny bit."

"I'm glad. It's good that she has friends, and people who understand."

"Very much so. In fact, I told her she would soon by joined by many other women facing exactly the same problem. The more women we revive, the less lonely she will be. And she can help them when they feel the same despair."

She pushed her plate to one side and folded her hands on the table. "There are two key things I want you to understand, Guillaume."

"I'm listening."

"The first is that a new word, in English, has entered the town's vocabulary while you were gone, and I don't want you to lose your temper the first time you hear it."

"Who said I would lose my temper?"

"I've heard the stories."

"Hey!"

"So, people have started calling the revived women gowners."

"Goners?" I asked, not quite understanding.

"No, gowners. As in, we wear pageant gowns."

I scowled.

"I know, it's stupid. But for several days, at least, we have nothing to wear besides our fancy gowns, and the more of us who are revived, the more of us the town will see, so I suppose it's only natural people would coin a word to refer to us." She hesitated. "I'm still not sure whether it is meant, or should be taken, as something derogatory."

"It better not. It would be exhausting punching so many people in the nose."

She kicked my leg and squinted at me in mock irritation, and I held up my hands in surrender. "Fine," I said. "We'll just see how that turns out. Where's your own gown? Did you burn it?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "It's under my blanket. I might keep it as a memento. Or burn it later in a ceremony of moving on. I haven't decided."

"All right. What's the second thing?"

She let out a deep, deep breath. "I'm trying to persuade Julius to add a page to the pamphlet, but he's not convinced."

"What for?"

"It would be an extra page to encourage people not to feel shame about being subjugated, not to give up hope, and not to kill themselves. To keep fighting for life and to appreciate it. To encourage them to think of the cap as a battle scar, exactly how you encouraged me in that horrible moment when I didn't know what to do. To encourage them to channel any anger or despair into aid and kindness for one another, and into the continuing fight against the invaders."

"Have you thought about running for mayor of Freetown? Because I would vote for you."

She smiled, but didn't take the bait. "I think it's important, Guillaume. I know in my heart there are thousands, maybe millions, of people who need to read those words."

"Then I hope you succeed in changing Julius's mind. And I'll certainly say something to him in your support when I get the chance."

She squeezed my hand. "Thank you, Guillaume."

 

After breakfast, I found some paper and a pen, and sat alone in the mess tent. I stared at the blank paper for a long time. I'm not good with this kind of thing.

Finally, I simply wrote:

Dear Mother and Father,

Henry and I are alive and well. We ran away from home because we were afraid of being capped. We hated each other when we lived in Wherton, but after sharing so many hardships and dangers, we are now the best of friends, and have made many other friends.

We are active members of the resistance group which defeated the Tripods here recently. Even now, I am in a small town we created just outside the alien city, but by the time this letter reaches you, I almost certainly will be somewhere else. Henry is far away, returning from another mission. We are always on the move, and our fight is not finished, for the other half of the world is still enslaved, and we are all still in grave danger. We have so much more to do. I will visit after we free Earth from the invaders.

Please share this letter with Jack and Ralph.

Your loving son,

Will

I sealed it in an envelope, along with a pamphlet in English. I addressed the envelope, "Parker family, millers in Wherton, a village in England near Winchester." I resolved to give it to the next supply boat.

 

That afternoon was a special one in Freetown, as part of the town had to be cleared so we could detonate an explosive.

They had finished the scaffold while I was on long patrol – not a surprise, considering how much manpower Julius had thrown at the project – and the scientists were preparing to break into the Tripod.

They couldn't use the metal cutter like they'd done with Ruki's Tripod, because it used flame to pierce the heavy metal, and they didn't want the scaffold catching fire.

This meant revealing one of our greatest secrets to the general populace, but it couldn't be helped. It was possible to create much bigger explosives than grenades, called bombs, and we had some in that guarded tent with the radios. When I had suspected we had some secret weapons, I hadn't been wrong.

Every Tripod dome the resistance had ever observed, including this one, had three huge portholes on one side and a large hatch about a third of the way around the dome from those portholes. On the side directly opposite the three portholes was a smaller hatch and two smaller portholes; each smaller porthole was an eighth of the way around the dome from the smaller hatch, one on either side of it.

We knew the smaller hatch and portholes led to a compartment to hold humans, so it seemed reasonable to presume that the three larger portholes and the larger hatch led to a control room. Neither hatch had any kind of handle on the outside, and seemed to be perfectly sealed.

Francois and Abner stood at the top of the scaffold, carefully attaching a bomb to the edge of the large hatch. A crowd watched. I stood with Beanpole and Fritz, staring with fascination. Julius and Andre stood some distance away, also watching the scientists intently.

"What if we make the bomb too strong?" I asked.

Beanpole shrugged. "If we mess up this Tripod, there are others."

"I take it Ruki didn't tell us anything about driving Tripods?" I asked.

"No," Fritz said. "But we already knew he would never betray his people."

I looked up again at the smaller hatch and portholes, and thought about the chamber they led to, used to hold humans. It reminded me of my trip inside a Tripod, when Fritz and I infiltrated the city as spies. My fellow slaves and I had crowded around those portholes to get a look at the city as we approached.

A thought struck me. "Why would they take the trouble to provide windows for people in that smaller room to see out of? They don't care about people enough to make an extra effort like that."

"Maybe they did it for the same reason one of them created a slave hospital," Fritz said. "Or for the same reason your Master indulged you by showing you things he thought you would enjoy."

"Or allowing humans to see a large area from a great height enhanced in their minds the grandeur of their captors," Beanpole said. "When you can see for miles, and see their city from the outside, with your own eyes, you might feel greater awe and respect toward those who make such things possible."

At that moment, Juanita, Helga, Eloise, and two medics exited the city. They were escorting two newly-revived women. They had escalated to reviving more than one per day; enough women had already been revived that they could now help multiple newcomers at a time.

A former slave standing near me, whose name I didn't know, took one look at the new arrivals, snorted in derision, and said loudly, "Great, more gowners." A few people around him chuckled, a few scowled at him. Since the man was capped himself, his attitude was that much more bizarre.

I pivoted in his direction, but before a word escaped my lips, a strong grip slapped onto my upper right arm. "Don't," Fritz whispered sternly. "It's not worth it. You have a reputation as a hothead. Your rashness is your biggest weakness, still, even after all you've been through. And trust me when I say people are watching whether you can control it. Just take a deep breath, and stand this one down."

I took a slow, deep breath, then turned to look at Fritz. We stared at each other as he let go. Without a word, I walked away. In the distance, I saw Eloise and the other women disappear into their private tent, where they would probably be for some time.

I was back a few minutes later. Francois and Abner were still on the scaffold.

Not many people noticed at first. The few who did did double takes, but seemed unsure of what to say. Fritz finally noticed, gave me a stern look, then a smile. Beanpole didn't notice; he was absorbed in the actions of his fellow scientists.

Finally, Andre noticed. He did a double take, and called over to me, "What... in... the... hell... are... you... wearing?"

I stepped forward and spun around. "Isn't it obvious?" Then I looked squarely at the jerk who'd made the comment earlier. "I'm a gowner." I playfully clapped the man on his arm, as if we were buddies. "Right?" He just scowled at me in confusion.

Eloise is a tad shorter than me, so her blue gown with white lace only went to my shins, and it stretched across my chest. The shoulders were really tight. By this time, everyone was staring. Even Beanpole, who was at a loss for one of the very few times in his life.

Even Francois and Abner were staring down at me.

"I mean, that's what we call 'em, right?" I asked quickly of the whole crowd, before anyone else could get a word in. "Even though they were captured, capped, subjugated, and sometimes killed, just like so many of the rest of us. You know, when my Master first showed me the Pyramid of Beauty, he said they disposed of the specimens they didn't think were pretty enough. And he said it so casually." I made a funny face and played to the crowd. "I'm pretty sure I would have been tossed out." That actually got a big laugh.

"So how about we stop treating them with derision, and start treating them like they're in the same boat as the rest of us?" I looked at the jerk again. "Because they are. And they've already contributed to the fight. Hell –" I motioned upward "– the idea to use Tripods as weapons against their creators came from one of the women who was revived! She thought of this! When no one else did. Certainly none of you did!"

I stared around at all of them one last time. "They can be incredible. If you open your eyes and pay attention."

The crowd was quiet, just for a moment. I could tell my words had reached them.

Julius came to me. "Well said, Will Parker." He nodded. "Now...go get out of that ridiculous outfit."

"Gladly sir. It doesn't match my eyes."

Another roar from the crowd, and I flounced off.

Fritz couldn't stop shaking his head and laughing for the rest of the day.

I had provided a message and a moment of high entertainment, both of which we had all badly needed. Did I erase gowner from the town's vocabulary? Hardly. But from that moment on, I only ever heard it used respectfully, or as a term of easy reference. I never heard it used as a slur again.