Tremor: If your world was falling apart, how far would you go to save it? (The Tremor Cycle)

by Ryan Mark

  Chapter 2

  School and Back

  Parr secondary school came into sight as they rounded the next corner – a big old gothic pile with spires and wide-vaulted windows, surrounded by a mess of crumbling modern buildings. William trudged through the entrance archway, which he suspected might come down in the next big tremor, vigilant for any new cracks that might have appeared overnight.

  ‘What’s your first period?’ asked Althea, stopping in front of the main entrance.

  ‘Science with Mr Blobby.’ William opened the big oak door in front of them, although they’d been told to use the doors to the rear, which had been made safe. It creaked and fell inwards to the floor, sending a crescendo of noises across the school grounds as it splintered into about twenty small pieces.

  ‘Oh God, quick!’ Althea grabbed his sleeve and pulled him through the doorway and into the hall. All was quiet. They raced around the corner towards a bank of classrooms at the back of the building.

  ‘Sorry,’ William panted. ‘Stupid thing to do.’

  ‘You should be. We could’ve been fined electricity rights or food for that one.’ She grinned as she caught her breath. ‘Meet you back here after class, OK?’

  He nodded and Althea skipped off down a dusty hall.

  William wandered off in the opposite direction. He opened the door to G1, where he had science, though he could have easily stepped through the huge, gaping crack in the wall to the left. He did it out of normality, trying to forget about the reality that surrounded him.

  Eight other students sat in the room, poor sods whose parents thought, like William’s mum, that there was still hope. He sighed, and pulled the journal and some pencils out of his bag.

  ‘Hey Willy, still alive then,’ said a greasy-haired boy slouching against a table at the back of the room. His tone was one of complete disappointment.

  ‘Yeah, suppose I am, Chris,’ replied William, biting his tongue to try to stop himself from throwing back an insult.

  ‘That dump of a house you live in can’t last much longer, can it?’ Chris said, snickering. ‘Can’t imagine what it’s like to live in such a tip.’

  William ground his teeth. Chris had to be the most arrogant little creep left on the planet, which wasn’t helped by the fact that his father was mayor, and that they had one of the sturdiest mansions in town, complete with an underground bunker.

  ‘If your dad didn’t suck up to Terrafall like he does, you’d be living like the rest of us, you know that?’ William couldn’t help himself.

  Everyone knew that Chris’s dad, Mayor Greystone, did a rubbish job as mayor. Nothing would happen until someone complained to Terrafall, and even then the complaints never made it far, because hardly anyone saw or even knew who was in charge of the covert company. The mayor was known as The Puppet, for he simply did exactly what the huge company told him to do.

  The other kids began to laugh behind their hands, some silently encouraging Chris to get up and start on William. William rolled his eyes and turned his back.

  ‘I’m gonna permanently bury that geeky face of yours in that stupid book you’re so obsessed with. Don’t you dare talk about my dad like that!’ Chris moved forward, face blood red, but he quickly sat back down when the door began to rattle.

  William settled into his seat, deliberately ignoring his nemesis.

  ‘Good morning class!’ boomed the familiar voice.

  A heavy-set man entered the room and slammed the door shut. The doorframe shook slightly. He was large, very large. William always wondered how he’d managed to stay that size since the rationing had started and Terrafall had taken control of the food supply. Even Chris’s family didn’t seem to overindulge. You worked for your food, and got what they thought you needed. He’d probably stockpiled the contents of some grocery shop or something, William guessed.

  ‘Now, we got onto renewable powers last time. Yes, well it is my strongest belief that you, you mere children of what – fourteen, fifteen? – hold the keys to this crisis! You are the ones who will lead us into a brave new world!’

  The teacher stood behind the desk, straightening the stained white shirt he wore, which really didn’t fit. It was tight around his gut, and the buttons were ready to pop. He turned to the whiteboard and scratched his thinning black hair before pulling out a black pen and beginning to write.

  William opened his journal and started to read. Mr Blobby couldn’t teach him anything new, so he figured he had an hour of undisturbed reading. Perfect. He sank back into his seat. All he needed now was a cup of tea. He smirked. Dream on.

  ‘Mr Hoarden,’ said Chris, raising his hand and shaking it. ‘I don’t think William’s listening.’ He smirked when William glared back at him. ‘Reading again? You geek.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ muttered William, closing the journal and pulling it onto his lap.

  Mr Hoarden bounded over to William’s desk and held out a chubby hand. William looked up into his beady brown eyes and held the book tight.

  ‘I saw what you had there. It is a privilege to still be in school, you know that. How dare you waste time reading trivia! Hand it over!’ Mr Hoarden drew closer, his foul breath pushing through the bristles of his goatee. After a short tussle he managed to snatch the journal.

  ‘No!’ William tried to retrieve it, but failed.

  The teacher flipped the pages. ‘A book about Terrafall? Oh my, this doesn’t appear to be an authorised copy, does it? You know the rules. This type of documentation is to be handed in for incineration.’

  ‘Give it back!’ said William, standing up.

  The teacher walked back to his desk. ‘No, this is school property now.’

  William banged his hand on his desk. ‘Give it back. Now! It’s mine!’

  ‘William loves his book. Totally weird,’ said Chris in a mock whisper. A few of the students in the class laughed out loud.

  ‘Books are only good for firewood now,’ commented another kid, Aiden. ‘That’s what my mum says.’

  ‘Poor William and his unnatural love of books,’ Chris said, more loudly this time.

  ‘William, sit down, and Chris, enough of that,’ said the teacher, placing the journal in a desk drawer. ‘I’ve told you, this is school property now.’

  ‘That’s my damn book, you fat idiot!’ William felt his face burn. ‘I want it back. NOW!’

  ‘How dare you! I think we’ll do Terrafall a favour, and as Aiden said, books are only good for one thing now.’ Mr Hoarden pulled out the journal and struck a match before throwing them both into a metallic waste-paper bin. A fire quickly flickered into life.

  William lunged forward, but the flames had already taken hold, and there was no way he’d be able to reach in to grab the journal. ‘You stupid piece of crap!’

  Mr Hoarden met William’s tone. ‘Get out of this room now!’ he yelled. ‘If you set foot inside this classroom again, I will personally see to it that you’re thrown into The Pit!’

  William didn’t move, his eyes locked on the teacher in a death stare. What could he do now? The journal was gone, its pages swiftly devoured by the greedy fire and turning to scorched fragments. What good would ashes be? He took a breath, walked back to his seat, swung his bag over a shoulder and crashed out of the room, not looking at anyone, or even listening to the insults that followed him.

  He stamped down the corridor, straight into a line of chairs outside what was once the headmaster’s office. Picking one up, he threw it across the hall, knocking down a bust of King Alexander, the last monarch to have ruled the United Kingdom before the war. The pieces shattered across the marble floor. Someone shouted at him from behind but he carried on without looking back.

  Turning into another corridor, he began to pace the length of it, holding back the angry screams that were raging to be unleashed from deep within him. He thought of his father and something came to mind, a memory he thought lost: he was about seven, having a tantrum over a broken toy and his father dragged
him to the piano and began guiding his fingers across the keys. ‘Learn to play; it’ll help funnel the anger. Let the keys absorb it and the sounds carry it away. That’s my boy.’

  William headed straight for the music hall. It was piled with old glockenspiels, metal bars mostly gone, the ones remaining covered in rust. The back of the room was filled with electric keyboards, dust almost consuming them. But his attention was drawn to the sedate grand piano in the far corner.

  Storming to the piano, William began to bash out some angry chords on its worn keys. He tried to push the anger into the tune he was playing, just as he’d been taught, but it wouldn’t work. He could feel the pressure building in his hands. He bunched his fingers into fists and slammed them into the piano, causing one of its legs to collapse.

  Turning away in disgust, he threw the piano stool across the room and headed for the door. What that fat crappy teacher had done to him couldn’t be tamed by the out-of-tune piano keys. He punched his already sore hand into the plasterboard wall as he left the room.

  Outside, spent, he sat down on a bench and buried his face in his hands. ‘Will, wake up, you sausage!’ Althea plonked herself down next to William, slapping his knee.

  ‘W–what?’ William wiped the drool from his mouth. He looked up. Althea’s querying green eyes stared back at him. He must have fallen asleep. ‘Oh, hey.’

  ‘Bad class?’

  William nodded. ‘You have no idea. Can we bunk?’

  ‘Yeah, let’s go. Not much point in school anyway, is there? Not when it might fall down tomorrow.’

  They left the school through another collapsed wall in the disused Drama block.

  William linked Althea’s arm this time. ‘How was self-defence?’

  ‘Boring. I’m gutted I can’t do gymnastics anymore – I loved the beam. Could’ve gone national, my old coach said.’ Althea looked down. ‘I suppose the tremors make gymnastics pointless. You can’t do a sport like that when there might be a tremor at any moment, can you?’

  William plodded beside her. ‘Well, nothing could be worse than science. I lost my dad’s journal.’

  ‘No! How?’

  William relayed the sad story.

  Althea squeezed his arm. ‘Mr Blobby is putrid. I swear he’d have eaten it if you’d not stood up for yourself. Listen, want to go back and mess with him later?’

  ‘No, we’d get thrown in The Pit. It’s over now.’

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best. You were getting obsessed.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it, OK?’ William unlinked his arm. ‘If there was anything in there that could’ve helped, it’s gone.’

  Could they really chance going back for revenge? No. The few remaining teachers in the settlement were idolised and Terrafall didn’t take kindly to kids who didn’t respect them. If they messed with Mr Blobby and people found out, they’d end up being mobbed, or maybe even… he stopped himself. The teachers were Terrafall’s way of making sure the younger generations were kept in check, teaching that Terrafall was the saviour. There was no way they could risk screwing with Mr Blobby.

  Althea took a deep breath. ‘Want to go to The Brambles?’

  William nodded; it was the best suggestion he’d heard all day. The Brambles was a secret place he and Althea found four months ago after he’d been moved to Kentvale – and the most succulent blackberries inexplicably grew there.

  The thought of The Brambles made it easy to forget, if only for a while, about Mr Blobby and the journal. He hoped the remaining blackberries had ripened, as last time they’d demolished all the edible ones. It would be nice to take some back to his mother. God knew she deserved a treat.

  They left the vicinity of the school and headed to a forgotten housing estate on the outskirts of town. The toppled terraces hid the old allotments from the street, their grey bricks surrounding the patch of prickly shrubs in a protective circle. William crawled through the hidden tunnel first, but it was Althea who grabbed the first branch.

  ‘Yummm,’ she said, through a mouthful of purple-black goo.

  He smiled and began to pick his own.

  They spent the next few hours in the old allotment, picking blackberries, staring up at the sun while they ate them, then chasing each other through the tangled bushes even though they felt far too full to move. The hours passed and before long, the sun began to seep down towards the horizon.

  ‘The sun’s setting,’ said William, wondering how time spent with Althea always went by so quickly. ‘Better get home before the Scavengers come out. It’s nearly curfew.’ So far, no one had actually seen the Scavengers do anything other than, well, scavenge for food. William was fairly certain that the threat was made up by Terrafall to control them, but he didn’t fancy being proven wrong.

  ‘If we’re out without street passes, the Enforcers will totally think we’re Scavengers,’ Althea said, grabbing William’s arm.

  Rumour went that if you were found out after dark you’d be thrown into The Pit, a hole outside town where people who’d committed crimes were taken. Some said it was what had become of the bunkers, the place that sheltered the survivors during the war, but mainly it was described as a gloomy hell.

  ‘Let’s go. I need to get back and make sure Grandad’s alright, anyway. He’s probably overdone it in the vegetable patch, knowing my luck, and that’s not good for his muscles. And I bet Ori didn’t even try to stop him.’ She grabbed William’s hand and they exited The Brambles.

  They ran through the dreary streets, now deserted and completely silent. The main housing areas were gated and protected by defensive walls of junk, most had guards at their entrances. William came to the protective barrier that sheltered his own street. He left Althea at the gate and slipped through, nodding at the guard, Victor, as he passed.

  As he approached the house he knew immediately something was wrong.

  ‘What the…?’

  The door’s wooden planks were splintered and lying in the hall on the other side.

  William’s heart bashed at his ribs. His brain felt as if it were spinning in his skull. He trembled slightly, but managed to keep his balance by gripping the door frame.

  What had happened? Who had done this? A Scavenger? William gulped in air, his eyes scanning every dark corner of the corridor in front of him. Had his mother been at home? He shivered, and quickly stepped over the collapsed pieces of wood, fists tight.

  Please, mum, be safe. Please.

  She was all he had left.

  Chapter 3

  Lost?

  ‘Mum?’ William whispered through the gloom, the usual damp smell filling his nostrils.

  The dread began to rise into his throat, the taste of acidic bile stinging his tongue. He recalled the horrendous sight of two suited Terrafall Enforcers walking towards his house, each holding a clipboard, one with his father’s jacket and journal clenched in his hands. He remembered the ice-cold feeling of loss that followed soon after.

  He couldn’t go through that again. Please, no. William called out for his mother again.

  No answer came. The place seemed completely empty.

  He carried on through the hall, slowly stepping over the scattered and smashed up furniture, the floor littered with his family’s belongings – their life, his memories, broken into unrecognisable lumps. What had happened? It was clear there must have been a struggle. His pace quickened, his heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

  Grabbing a broken table leg for protection, William took the first step that led to the top floor. Silence. Still nothing. The narrow corridors were vacant and dark, the surrounding gloom pulling him back downstairs and towards the kitchen.

  Wait! What was that noise? William gulped, ran along the corridor and launched himself into the kitchen, the table leg held above his head.

  ‘N–no,’ he breathed as he took in the scene. He dropped the wood block, and his hand grasped his open mouth instead.

  There was blood, most of it pooled under the dining table.
Plates, cutlery and other utensils were scattered across the floor, surrounding the stomach-crippling sight. He crept towards it, hands still covering his mouth. He didn’t want to inhale the cold, rusty smell.

  He tentatively reached out to the blood stained table surface, but snapped back, shoving his hand into his side. Blood wasn’t something he wanted to touch, especially if it was his mother’s. Tears filled his eyes as he felt a wave of confusion and panic wash over him. What the hell had happened? Could it actually belong to his mum?

  And if it did?

  William looked away. If it was her blood, where was she? Could she still be alive? Perhaps? If she were dead, wouldn’t her body still be here? He shook his head. She must be alive. There had been some talk of night abductions, hadn’t there? People spirited away by who-knows-who? Scavengers maybe?

  There was hope.

  Then the piercing sound of glass smashing in the living room made him spin around. He grabbed up his weapon again and tiptoed through the hall once more, conscious of the sweat soaking through his tatty uniform.

  He pushed through the door to the living room and saw movement. He began swinging the wood manically, hoping he’d cause some injury to whoever it might be, or stun them at the very least. A shadow darted across the room. William’s senses left him and he reached out for his foe. Fur. He felt fur.

  Sighing, he took a step back and watched as a stray tabby cat shot through the debris-strewn room and out of the house.

  Adrenalin fading, William suddenly felt overwhelmed by grief. The day had started off badly and he’d thought it couldn’t get any worse when Mr Blobby had burned his journal. Yet things had become much, much worse.

  The ground shook a little, but William ignored it, and instead looked out of the window into the dark street. As he stared, a shadowy figure stepped into view and glared straight at him. Right, definitely not a cat this time. The person’s black coat rippled to reveal something glinting under the hem. The first thing William thought of was a knife.

  He ran into the kitchen and slammed the door. He grabbed a broom and shoved it under the handle, knocking into the table and almost slipping in the blood on the fractured linoleum. He looked around for something he could use to save himself. Then a piece of plastic caught his attention, lying on the floor close to the upturned bin.