We carry torches. Aramovsky didn’t get dirty. He didn’t fall, not even once. Figures. With the help of Bishop and Visca, he ripped down the flagpoles. I hate to admit it, but Aramovsky did a good job. Spingate and Gaston used the knife to cut the flags into long strips, then rubbed them in the greasy dirt and wrapped them tightly around the ends of the flagpoles. Gaston used the scepter to set them on fire. Flames lick up from the fabric in soft, pulsing waves that are hypnotic if you look at them too long. Bello was smart enough to keep one flag whole. She tied the corners together to make a kind of bag that holds the extra grease-soaked strips. Okereke volunteered to carry the bag. Of all the circles from Bishop’s group, I like Okereke the most, probably because he seems to be the hardest worker. We move through the long room, three abreast. Torchlight makes shadows that twitch and jump.
