Skye City: Sister of a Rebel Soldier (The Darkness of Emmi Book 1)

by R. D. Hale

  Gary wags his tail, then sits proudly on the dirt path, and says: 'Nelson, you haven't locked the gate. They'll get out again.'

  'That's okay, Gary, I didn't actually want you to round up the sheep. You were being a little overenthusiastic, as usual.' Nelson chuckles.

  'Oh, sorry.' The dog lowers his head, rather sheepishly.

  'So, Gary, do you not mind being ordered to work for humans?' I say as we plod on, watching the boldest of the flock leave the pen.

  'Are you kidding me? Rounding up sheep is the most awesome thing in the world. How could I not love it? And I get free food. All the food I can eat. It's a pretty sweet deal, I tell you.'

  'I'll take that as a No, then.' I laugh as the sheepdog joins my side. 'I still can't figure out how you talk, though. Your lips don't even move.'

  'You only need to move your lips if you have primitive human vocal cords. Mine are way more advanced. Think of a speaker, how it can make any sound,' Gary says.

  'Are you saying you can make any sound?' I say.

  'Well, erm, not exactly, but I can do a great impression of Nelson,' Gary says.

  'Oh no, not this again!' Nelson says.

  'Hey, I'm Nelson. I think I'm the most handsome guy in the world!' Gary says with uncanny accuracy and the gang roar with laughter. 'I act as though all the girls like me, but really I'm lonely and need a nice girl like Em–'

  'Okay, that's enough!' Nelson blushes and Bex pats his shoulder.

  Our path takes us beyond the farm fields and pastures into woodland where the trees are short and tightly-packed. Some are clinging to their leaves, but the leaves which have fallen form a soggy brown carpet. Wiry sticks sprout from the boggy ground without branches or foliage. And ferns are covered in purple patches and look half-eaten. The scenery is attractive and gross at the same time.

  'Wow, I can sense so many auras,' Rupert says as he admires our surroundings. 'I could definitely spend some time here.'

  'Auras?' Nelson says.

  'The energy of living things. Many here are unfamiliar to me. This place is fascinating,' Rupert says.

  'Well, fascinating is one word. Some get a little freaked out by these woods, but not me,' Nelson says.

  A robin swoops from a tree and sits on Rupert's shoulder, and I sigh. Gary barks loudly, startling the poor thing which flies away, and he gives chase. His gaze is fixed upwards as he slips into a stream, and he paddles furiously, failing to beat the current. My heart pounds as he vanishes from view.

  We follow the bank to see the sheepdog splashing in a pond at the bottom of a small waterfall. Nelson doubles up laughing at the plight of his companion.

  'How many times, Gary? Seriously, when will you learn?' Nelson says.

  'Your concern is appreciated,' Gary gasps as he scrambles ashore and shakes his cleaned fur, creating a shower of sparkles.

  Hand-in-hand, the gang descend a slope to sit on rocks and listen to the rush of the waterfall which is no taller than me. The pond lies in the shade of trees, but a slender opening allows a strip of sunlight across its surface, as though the silver cascade continues. The air is cool, but not as cold as winter can be, not cold enough for a coat, and the trees are keeping out the breeze.

  A lime-green frog is resting on the mud near white flowers; its throat bulging with every breath. Gary growls and the frog dives into the water before it becomes lunch.

  'Pleasant, isn't it? I come here to relax and to laugh at Gary when he gets himself in trouble… Hey, where you off to now?' Nelson says.

  Gary runs over to a tree and barks loudly so I approach to see what the fuss is about. Beyond a bush with red berries, a spider is nestled in a sprawling web which has caught a struggling robin – maybe the one Gary was chasing. The spider's body is nearly the size of my head, oily black with a red stripe down its middle, and fangs as long as my fingers. The stupid dog is going to get himself eaten if he is not careful.

  I withdraw my phaser to kill the spider for everyone's safety, but Nelson pushes it down and says: 'Don't shoot, the spider's done nothing to you.'

  'But isn't it dangerous?' I say, completely failing to empathise with such a hideous creature.

  'Only if you disturb it. Why not let nature do its thing?' Nelson says.

  The spider creeps along its web and bites the robin, then wraps its poisoned body in silk in seconds, and crawls into the branches of a tree. The poor bird is now a motionless cocoon and our resident spider expert is in awe.

  'A Jaworski spider. One of the biggest species in the world,' Oscar mutters and the cringing gang turn away as the weirdo gazes in admiration. Rupert approaches and whispers questions which Oscar enthusiastically answers, but my ears tune out.

  I holster my phaser as we return to the waterside rocks, and I feel guilty not to have saved the little robin. Why does something so hideous get to live at the expense of something (of many things) so sweet? It seems like the nicest creatures are always the weakest.

  The spider enthusiasts plod after us, and Oscar is grinning, clearly not sharing my sense of guilt. We stand in a circle and Nelson clears his throat, glancing to each group member.

  'You're probably wondering why I'm showing you guys around. I volunteered to help you settle in, and observe you. Like it or not, you're gonna be with us a while. I know you wanna leave but…

  'You should know, we're gonna be at war any day. A coalition is ready to invade and the Rebellion is paving the way. The safest place you can be is here with us. We can protect you, teach you how to survive. This world is gonna become a whole lot tougher.'

  'I'd much prefer the coalition didn't start this war,' I whisper. 'So many innocent people are gonna die.'

  'How many die from poverty? Hunger? How many have died from their plague?' Nelson clenches a fist and there is a wildness in his eyes as he repeats lines clearly borrowed from his leaders. 'The only solution is to break San Teria's grip on the world.'

  'Are you ssthaying the plague was sent by San Teria? I knew it,' Scoop growls; his face still bearing boils from his illness.

  Vengeance could be a powerful recruitment tool.

  As the gang sit on the rocks and natter, Nelson takes my hand, but I break free of his grasp. He turns around, then nods over his shoulder, and we sneak into the woodland alone. The surrounding trees are strange and not just because of the giant cobwebs. The bark is almost black, and the yellow leaves form a patchy ceiling, just yards above our heads. And there are neat gaps where the thick branches do not quite meet those of the next tree. It looks like someone has drawn wobbly rings of light in the canopy.

  'I wasn't kidding before,' Nelson says. 'Life is about to get tough. You'll need to learn how to adapt. Survival is gonna become even more of a struggle.'

  'Then why don't you teach me about survival?' I say and Nelson kneels on the forest floor, near the roots of a tree where mushrooms are growing.

  'Okay, you see this here? It's called the urole mushroom. Many wild mushrooms are poisonous, but resemble edible mushrooms so it's best to avoid them, unless you're certain, or desperate. However, this mushroom is easily identifiable by its plump shape and golden colour,' Nelson says as I watch a cute little chipmunk scurrying along the ground. 'You're not listening, are you?'

  'I am.' I look sheepishly at Nelson who is still crouching at the roots. 'Mushrooms.'

  'Your furry friend there would make a meal if you were desperate. Your phaser would easily kill him, and you could use it to light a fire, too. Try not to eat anything unless you cook it first. Uncooked meat should only be eaten when…' Nelson blathers on as I stare into those big, brown eyes which are somehow both harsh and friendly… and blurry… 'So, should we do it then?'

  'Do what?' I shake my head in confusion.

  'Shoot a chipmunk.' Nelson stands and looks through the trees with hand over brow. 'It'll be good hunting practice.'

  'What? No.' I slap Nelson on the shoulder. 'I like animals.'

  'Believe me, if you find yourself stuck in a place like this, y
ou'll change your tune. Later, I'll teach you how to build a shelter. It's the most important thing if you're stranded.'

  'How come you know so much for someone so young?' I say as we march below the strangely flat canopy, fortunately seeing no more chipmunks. One dead innocent creature is enough for one day, thanks very much.

  'I've been working for the Rebellion for years. They've trained me hard to make sure I'm ready.' Nelson tenses his arms as though that is supposed to impress me. I roll my eyes.

  'Ready for war? So that would make you a child soldier.' I sternly fix Nelson's gaze until his eyes shift. All boys think they want to be soldiers when really they want to be heroes, but personally I cannot see what is heroic about killing or dying. Far more heroic just to be nice to people and avoid fighting where possible.

  'Child? I'm seventeen years old. I'm no child. If you'd–'

  'What's that? I hear howling.' I clutch my phaser, scanning the trees for signs of any creature about to attack in these 'pleasant' woods, but I see nothing. Even the gang are out of sight, and the thousands of trunks suddenly seem so omin… erm, dark and scary.

  'Could be many things, wolves, monkeys, ghosts…'

  'Oh my Goddess. There it goes again. It's coming from behind us,' I say.

  'There's only one thing for it. Run!'

  Nelson and I run through the woods, swerving giant cobwebs, hurdling fallen branches, and slipping into a steep valley. Nelson takes my hand, but cannot stop us tumbling through the mud, and we land at the bottom with a thud. I struggle to breathe as a filthy teenage boy lies on top of me, but secretly I do not mind. We stare at one another silently, and I feel my lips twingeing, then we burst out laughing.

  'There you two are,' a voice bellows and I look up the valley to see Gary's face poking over the edge.

  The House in the Dene

  The gang emerge behind the sheepdog, skidding to a halt a moment too late. 'Whoa!' Momentum carries them over the edge and they cling onto one another as they slide into the valley. Scoop tumbles in lumpy grass and ensures he drags the others down in a human avalanche. The gang land in a heap with Scoop buried somewhere beneath everyone, and then Gary tumbles down to complete the pile.

  'That was fun,' the sheepdog yelps as the others groan, clearly not sharing the sentiment. The gang get up, one by one, to reveal a mud-caked swamp monster has replaced Scoop. This version is an improvement.

  Thigh-deep in weeds, I gaze down the valley to a structure poking through the tilted trees. From this distance, I can barely see, but it must be a derelict building the height of the valley wall.

  'This is the dene.' Nelson joins a trail alongside a stream which hisses over boulders, rushing into this deepening crack in the ground. I spot an arching footbridge further downstream which I will not be crossing. 'We come down here for training. The many vantage points and natural cover make it great for developing tactical awareness. Definitely my preferred training ground. I'm one of the top ranked soldiers in my age group, and much of what I learnt, I learnt here. Maybe I'll teach you guys a thing or two.'

  The gang follow the winding dene, passing small, crumbling buildings consumed by plantlife; burgundy bricks succumbing to ivy and weeds and the roots of trees taller and more varied than those on higher ground. Gary runs in every direction, barking excitably, and rolling in the long grass and weeds.

  The large structure poking from the trees comes into full view and a big wheel is fixed to its front. Six storeys high but narrow, it has windows made of glass squares, some broken, and all creepily black. The burgundy tower stands against the valley wall; its base swallowed by muddy slopes at either side.

  Red ivy above the arched doorway is so thick, it looks more like a bush dangling from the face of the building. The brown double-doors are huge with long rusty hinges and gargoyle knockers. Nelson leaves my side and I watch suspiciously as he whispers something into the ear of Rupert who says: 'Gotcha.'

  'What do ya mean, gotcha?' I place my hands on my hips.

  'Nothing, let's just go inside,' Nelson says and I frown, giving the pair the side-eye as we climb the crumbling steps.

  Nelson pushes the unlocked doors and the gang duck under his arms, entering a lobby with a grandfather clock still ticking. It contains a broken reception counter, two elevators, and several doors with smashed windows, hanging off the hinges.

  We turn right into a huge room with concrete pillars, mouldy gridded windows, and paper bubbling on the walls. For a moment, it appears we are not alone because there are human-like figures everywhere, but I quickly realise they are mannequins. Cobwebs fill every crevice and I spot the words Help me! scrawled on a wall among hand-prints.

  'Please tell me this place doesn't contain those giant sp… Oh my Goddess!' I point to a hand-sized spider on a window, twitching in the horrible way spider's twitch.

  'Get a grip, it's tiny.' Oscar giggles. 'Deadly, but tiny.'

  Gary growls and runs towards one of the many mannequins standing in weird positions like they were frozen mid-action. The closer we get, the creepier the mannequins seem. Some are wearing clothes. Some have makeup smeared on their faces. Some bear smiles or frowns. Rubbish is scattered among their feet. And it is all so unnerving.

  'Why don't we play hide and seek?' Nelson says with a grin.

  'What are we, like twelve?' Bex sneers.

  'Not afraid of the dark, are ya?' Nelson says. 'Come on, I'll count to one hundred. You guys go and hide, and hope the ghosts don't get you.'

  Nelson walks into the corner and begins his count to one hundred, loudly and slowly. I look around to the many ajar doors and then I cross the increasingly dark room, hoping a creepy mannequin does not grab my arm. I sneak through a door into a black corridor, feeling the moist wall as I approach the light of a stairway.

  I climb three levels up stairs of soft, rotting wood, and into a short corridor which contains boxes of nappies. Like seriously, what are nappies doing in this place? The room I enter has a big hole in the ceiling, a tipped over piano in the corner, and loads of sticks poking from the walls. What the hell?

  In the next room I see toilet cubicles, broken mirrors, and large stains on the tiles. Red stains. I approach a toilet cubicle to hide inside, jumping as I glimpse a horrifying figure in the mirror. How embarrassing – it is my own distorted reflection.

  I sneak into the toilet cubicle, leaving the door ajar so it does not look suspicious. Every creak makes me nervous as I stand perfectly straight to avoid touching the walls. I do not even look at the toilet, let alone breathe through my nose. Minutes pass and I hear hurried footsteps. Although I know it must be Nelson, I cannot help picturing a serial killer on the hunt.

  I squeeze my eyelids shut as footsteps louden and I squeal as the cubicle door creaks open. 'Gotcha!' A hand grabs my shoulder and I open my eyes to see a shadowy but handsome figure. For a moment, it seems as though Nelson has company, but then I realise I am seeing his reflection many times in the broken mirrors.

  'So I'm not gonna be murdered, then?' I place my hand on my chest.

  'What?' Nelson crumples his brow.

  'Never mind.' I chuckle, emerging from the disgusting cubicle, and Nelson's hand lingers on my shoulder. I gaze at his obscure face in this far-from-romantic setting and mutter: 'I guess it's my job to help you find the others.'

  Nelson and I explore the abandoned building, passing many mannequins along the way. It occurs the best hiding place might be in the shadows between them, so I check every vague figure for familiar clothing. However, none are as badly dressed as the boys.

  We come to a room with off-white walls bearing faces with teary eyes which have been scrawled in red spraypaint. 'This place is seriously creeping me out,' I say as we navigate scattered bottles and then I hear a giggling which makes me jump. 'Oh my Goddess!'

  Nelson opens a cupboard door to reveal Oscar covering his mouth to stifle his laughter. The three of us enter another room with wires poking from a wall and who knows if they are still live? A li
ght-fitting is dangling like someone tried to tear it from the ceiling and I take care not to stand below its frayed cable. Nelson leads us around a large machine, crouching low and reaching into a gap. 'Gotcha!' Bex crawls out of her hiding place, stands, and crosses her arms.

  'Just Rupert and Scoop to go,' I mutter.

  'Well, Scoop should be easy to find,' Bex says as we continue the search, each checking a different corner of the room.

  'What do you mean?' I say, glancing over my shoulder.

  'Just occasionally growl as you search for him. If Scoop hears you, he'll burst into tears,' Bex says.

  'Fair point.' I nod.

  The group come into a room with many upside-down chairs and garden tools. Some look like they would make effective weapons. In fact, I think some of them are weapons. There are no hiding places so we pass through a door into a room with barred cells and I just stare at the others in disbelief.

  'Like what are cells doing in here?' I whisper to no response and the smirking Bex seems to find something funny. She prowls along the corridor into blackness, growling in a convincingly animalistic manner. A loud squeal pierces my eardrums and then a figure charges from a cell with a sickle above his head. Nelson rushes over to grab the figure's arm.

  'Stop!' the gang yell.

  'I thought ssthomeone was g-gonna kill me,' Scoop gasps, bending over.

  'Well, you could've killed me, you idiot,' Bex snaps, moving closer to the window light.

  'Sstherves you right for growling.'

  Scoop swings his sickle as we head down a corridor, keeping a safe distance, and I retch as we pass flies sitting on what smells like poo. 'I think I'm gonna be sick,' I mutter as we come to more stairs. We climb to the top floor which has pipes running between skylights and scattered clothes in every room we check – more clothes than I can count.