Page 85 of Privilege

“Just a little longer,” he says.

Vale’s eyes dart around, no doubt wondering what I’m wondering. A little longer until what? We all stand here.Jeremy, that stupid grin plastered on his face, holds the backpack with the laptop. His fingers tap on the edge of the zipper. The guards stand stiffly with their guns out, silently waiting.

“Jeremy,” Vale says, low and urgent. “Just let her go, she’s not involved.”

“She’s obviously involved,” Jeremy scoffs. “But I wouldn’t worry so much about your girlfriend if I were you. I would worry about yourself.”

And weirdly, a flash of fear flickers through Jeremy’s eyes. My stomach drops. He’s the one with the guns trained on us, what does he have to fear? Maybe Vale was able to call for backup from the Forge?

With that, the stairs echo with footsteps. This time it’s not a mad rush of boots, but the footsteps are lighter, the rhythms precise. I stiffen.

The sound of it, the tap of feet all together in perfect rhythm. I heard it at school when the CSOs came to talk to us about Clearance and job opportunities. I heard it when Mom used to take me to work on days off school.

I heard it at Security headquarters, at a daycare for the babies of the Officers. I went to help out the caregivers and get my babysitting license. I’d walk up and down the long room with a baby on my shoulder, looking through the clear glass that showed the gymnasium down below where they trained.

The gym was enormous and the Officers would do their morning jog, their boots a steady rhythm on the floor. The sound echoed through the glass, where I could feel it in my body. It was the same tap, tap, tap. The same steady tempo, every day.

Some days I’d be walking a baby in a carrier, other days carrying a lonely two-year-old or bouncing a playful toddler.

But the steady drum of their jogging during their warm-up was always the same, and that’s what I hear, coming up the stairs, steady and true.

---