Alliance

Chapter One

I knew that the day would arrive when I got the letter, but had expected it to be on a different day. That day that would be dreary and overcast, not bright and cheerful. 

The sun warmed my body and the breeze brushed my cheek as I watched groups of women bustled from store to store, their arms full of bags. I should have come to town on a different day. Wednesdays were popular grocery shopping days for most women in the town. Shipments came in every Tuesday at two. All the stores closed early to restock their shelves in preparation for the next day. If one did not shop on Wednesday, it was slim pickings for the rest of the week.

Though I didn't care. Dad and I didn't need much. Not with our fishery. We traded fish to get most things like the vegetables from the Williams down the road and fresh bread from old lady Crocker. Once Dad and I tried to grow a garden, but neither of us had a green thumb so it died within days.

Children ran down the sidewalk of main street, they screeched as they chased each other in a game of tag. The tagged child gained on a little girl but the girl swerved into the street to avoid his touch.

I focused back on what I was doing. All I had left was the post office to get our weekly mail. My shoulders would be grateful for the last stop before the bike ride back home. The bag grew heavier as the day went on. I stopped at the hardware store, the general market, and the drug store. Most of the heaviness was due to Dad's new tools he wanted me to pick up.

The post office came up on my right. Like most things, the building was ancient and worn down, and the door was heavy to push open. The inside was as ancient as the outside, the floor was made of marble and the desk before me was polished wood there were a few nicks here and there. Paint was peeling off on the walls. A hot breeze drifted through the room from the open windows. The temperature inside was warmer than outside.

"It happened yesterday, another rebel attack on a village like ours but down south," said Old Margie. The old lady sat on a stool behind the counter. Her grey hair was pulled back in a neat bun. Grey circles framed her shallow, sunken face. Her unearthly blue eyes looked like they could pop out of her head if she was hit hard enough from the back. "You would think after all these years they could stop the rebels from crossing the Wall."

"Oh Margie," said Betsy, she walked out of the back room with a box full of mail in her arms. "You need not worry so much."

Betsy was everything Margie was not. Betsy had a plump and rosy face. Her features corresponded to her personality, both sweet and kind. Whereas Old Margie was coarse and a busybody.

The plump woman placed the box on top of the counter. She smiled at me, "Miss Mel, we didn't hear you come in."

Old Margie's eyes widened to a point where they could pop out. Despite the shocked look of having a visitor, Margie heard me come in. When there wasn't drama to tell, she created her own drama.

"Good afternoon Margie, Betsy. I am here for my mail."

"I think-"

"Oh!" Margie cried, successfully cutting off Betsy. She jumped out of her seat. From where I stood, it looked like she almost fell off. She waved an index finger at me like if she was scolding a young child. "You have mail, I remember putting it away."

She walked to the shelves of small mailboxes behind her and hummed while searching for my box. For years Margie worked at the post with Betsy. I knew full well that Margie was toying with me while she pretended to forget where my mailbox was.

Resting my arms on the counter, I exchanged a look with Betsy who in return shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Sparrow, Sparrow... You are around here somewhere." She walked around the shelf and gave a short cry of victory. "Ah! Sparrows!" She ducked below the short shelves. Reappearing, she held the mail over her head.