Shadows of Sherwood (7 page)

A Plot to Take Over the World

“Disappear?” Robyn repeated. The concrete walls of the jail cell seemed to contract around her.

Laurel nodded. “They don't let you back out anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Ever since Crown appointed the new sheriff,” Laurel said, “they've had Sherwood on lockdown. I guess it was only a matter of time before they started another Purge.”

“Another Purge?” Robyn echoed. She knew about the Purge—from history class. It occurred almost fifty years ago, when the Crescent rebels began plotting to overthrow King Simeon. The king tried to shut down the Crescent Rebellion by murdering, capturing, or “disappearing” the known leaders. The hunt lasted days, if not weeks, and when it was over, the rebellion was decimated.

But the rebellion did not die. Over the next ten years, a new crop of leaders emerged. Full-scale war broke out, and
the rebels triumphed. Nott City formed a democracy, led by the governor and Parliament—an elected body of leaders.

“Why would there be another Purge?” Robyn wondered. “There's no rebellion.”

Laurel's eyes widened. “There's always a rebellion,” she said. “But especially now.”

“Now?”

Laurel's curious gaze turned puzzled. “You've heard the announcements. Everyone has.”

Robyn shook her head. “Announcements?”

“Where have you been? You must have heard them.”

“I've been in the woods,” Robyn mumbled, puzzling over the new information. Crown, purging rebels? That made some amount of sense to Robyn—Dad always said Crown could not be trusted. That he'd stop at nothing if he ever had a chance to consolidate power, despite Nott City Parliament's efforts to keep democracy alive. But what did it have to do with her parents?

Robyn had seen Crown in person a few times, at important gatherings she'd had to go to with her parents, but at the moment she couldn't exactly picture his face. There were always lots of official people at those kinds of parties; she found them all pretty boring.

“Well, you'll be hearing them soon,” Laurel said. Her voice sounded ominous.

“What?” Robyn asked.

“Crown's announcements. They've been happening more than usual today. Ever since the disappearances.”

“How do you know about that?” Robyn snapped. How could this girl know her parents had gone missing?

Laurel's gaze grew more troubled. “How do you
not
know? They've been showing it all day.”

“Showing what?” Robyn asked.

“All the leaders who have been taken. Crown came for them last night.”

All
the leaders? Not just her parents?

And had it really only been one day? It felt like a lifetime. Her canopy bed in Loxley Manor seemed like part of a dream life. Out of nowhere Robyn was overcome by tiredness. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

A high electronic whine screamed from somewhere overhead. Robyn's eyes flew open. Had she slept? How much time had passed?

Laurel and Robyn plugged their ears. “See?” Laurel shouted. “I knew it was almost time.”

“ATTENTION, CITIZENS OF NOTT CITY. A word from Royal Governor Ignomus Crown.”

The rear wall of their cell lit up, with a four-by-two-foot box, like an instant television set. Robyn hadn't noticed the screen corners at first—four tiny round projectors mounted on the wall at each corner of the image.

A man's face appeared. Robyn recognized him as Governor Crown.

“Good morning, my dear citizens,” he said. “And it is indeed a beautiful morning.”

Across the cell, Laurel moaned, holding her fingers in her ears.

“In recent days, a minority of unhappy citizens have chosen to make trouble for you all. Fear not, the situation is well in hand. I am your governor,” he emphasized. “From this day forward, I—and I alone—am the leader of this city.”

He spoke in a firm, slow voice. “Parliament has approved my resolution to restructure. All dissenting members of the lower house have abdicated their posts.”

Robyn leaned toward the flickering image. Abdicated? What did that mean? Her father was a representative in the lower house of Parliament. Her mother was fourth chair in the upper house, because of her ancient noble lineage. After the Crescent Rebellion, the last king's cruel dictatorship had ended, but the royal bloodlines still counted for something.

“Some went voluntarily,” Crown continued. “Others had to be . . . encouraged.” Static rolled as the video feed cut to the image of a man handcuffed to a post. Robyn recognized him from her parents' cocktail parties. A lower house representative: Connor? Collins? Something like that. “Democracy forever!” he cried out. Then a strange sound erupted from somewhere offscreen. As Robyn watched, the man slumped down to the base of the pole, lying limp.

“Is he dead?” she said aloud. “Did they kill him?”

“Citizens would do well to respect the new regime,” Crown said, his face coming into focus again. “Dissent will not be tolerated. But law-abiding citizens have nothing to
fear. This is a glorious day for all of us. Nott City will be great again. I will see to it.”

The makeshift screen went dark.

“Stay tuned for further developments in this exciting time. All hail, Nott City!” concluded the first voice. The overhead static hum died and the jail cell became quiet again.

Robyn blinked, as if to shake off the images she had seen, and the things she had heard. But they could not be shaken.

Parliament . . . restructured? The lower house at least—but what about the upper?

Governor Crown . . . no longer simply governor, but royal dictator?

Robyn understood little about the politics in Nott City, but she had sat at the dinner table night after night while her parents rambled on about it. Her father had called Crown ruthless and power hungry. He had been worried that something was going to happen.

The truth began to sink in. If the governor was responsible for her parents' disappearance, for the blood on the kitchen floor, then they really might be . . . but she didn't want to even think the word.
Dead.
She thought it anyway. It was out of her control.

Robyn huddled against the cell wall. Tears filled her eyes again.
Mommy. Daddy
, she thought.

She was trying so hard to be strong, but it was getting harder. She had always liked going off on her own, but now . . . she was alone. Really and truly alone. And very afraid. The world as she had known it no longer existed.

 

CHAPTER TEN

Jailbreak

“Last night it became official. But it really started months ago,” Laurel said. “Here and there. New uniforms. New rules.”

Robyn wrapped her hands around the bars. “We have to get out of here.” She jammed her shoulder against the space in the bars. It wedged itself immediately. No room to maneuver.

“I tried that. And the lock is too thick,” Laurel said. “I couldn't pick it.”

Robyn raised her eyebrows. “You know how to pick locks?” Unlike the hallway door, the cell door was latched with an old-style key lock. They were fairly rare; nowadays almost everything locked electronically. At least in Castle District. Here in Sherwood, many buildings seemed much older, like the jail.

Laurel reached into her grimy hair and extracted a small bobby pin. “I do it all the time. Regular-size ones.”

Robyn smoothed a hand over the crown of her thick and intricate braid. Her fingers poked at the seams. Somewhere in there . . . aha! She withdrew a longer hairpin.

“With hair like mine, you need something heavy duty,” she said. The extra-large bobby pin was twice as long and twice as thick as Laurel's.

Laurel's eyes lit up. She stretched out one small hand and took the pin. She scraped off the rounded plastic tip, exposing the metal corner underneath. “That should work.”

“Great. Let's do it,” Robyn said, rising to a crouch.

But Laurel simply sat there, toying with the pin. Finally she said, “Maybe after lunch?”

Robyn's stomach growled in response. “I'm hungry, too,” she said. “But there has to be another way to get food.” She didn't want to stay in jail a minute longer than absolutely necessary. Right now, they thought she was just a street rat from Sherwood, but that thing the warden had said about processing her later might involve scanning her Tag into the computer system. If so, they would learn who she was, and whose daughter she was. Based on the attack on her house last night, and Crown's video clip, Robyn feared her life would be in even more danger once she was processed. “We should go now,” she insisted, “and find food later.”

“Please?” Laurel asked. “I mean, they bring it right to the cell. We could wait until nighttime. It's always better to escape in the dark.”

Robyn licked her dry lips. “How do you know? I thought you said you'd never been caught before.”

“I know about things,” the little girl declared haughtily. She crossed her arms. “I can handle all kinds of trouble. And I'm the one who can get us out of the cage.”

Robyn held back a smile. Tiny but fierce. She liked this girl. Robyn sat down and crossed her arms, too. “Fine. We'll wait.”

They waited for hours. Robyn leaned against the cold concrete and tried to sleep. It didn't work, though, because what she was really doing was trying to wake up. Hoping it was all still a dream, and any minute she would open her eyes, safe and sound in her canopy bed, with her parents alive and well across the hallway.

Robyn in jail? Crown taking over? Military police who were not here to protect the people in the community but instead to suppress them? It was all too surreal.

Robyn pulled out Dad's map and studied it. The cryptic markings seemed no less mysterious on closer inspection. The map contained more than streets and landscape. Small symbols arose in places. A strand of DNA in what looked like the forest. An image of flames. The cryptic words at the edge . . . Elements Gather . . . echoed something Dad had said in the hologram. “Gather the Elements.” What did that mean?