The Wilderness

by C. J. Harper

  My view is mostly of green fabric, but when the breeze catches it, the blind sometimes puffs away from the window, and the back of one of the guards becomes visible.

  I can’t hear what is being said. But the guards have stopped shouting, so maybe that’s a good thing. All I can hope is that Janna tells them I’ve left and that they go. My legs ache. My fingers are going numb. The wind cuts through my hair and for a brief moment the blind is whipped further away from the window than before so that I can see right into the room. I don’t like what I see.

  Janna is shaking hands with one of the guards.

  Kay was right about Janna. She’s a self-centred back-stabber. But before I can start to imagine what Janna is playing at, the wind catches the blind again and rips it away from the window. This time one of the guards has turned around. He sees me. As the blind falls back he strides towards me. I choose this moment to look down. It’s a long way to the ground. I stifle a retch. The guard tears down the blind, his face contorted with rage. King hell, don’t let him push me off!

  ‘What the devil are you playing at?’ the guard barks.

  The other guard brings a chair and the first guard climbs on to it and grabs hold of my wrist. It’s almost a relief. Being hauled through the small window by two angry guards is extremely unpleasant, but at least I’m not falling on to the concrete. Even though I try to cooperate, my feet slip and slide and I’m mostly dragged in, scraping the skin off my stomach on the edge of the window.

  The younger of the two guards lets go of me to return to Janna’s side. The older one keeps a firm grip on me.

  ‘What has she said to you?’ I ask. Has she told them who I am? I try to twist away from the older guard.

  ‘Settle down,’ he says and handcuffs my right wrist to his left.

  What are they going to do to me now that they’ve got me? What’s going to happen to Kay if I don’t get back to the hospital? Efwurd.

  ‘Where’s the other one?’ the older guard says to me.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The younger guard and Janna are leaving. Her hand is on his arm. Surely she can’t have charmed him into helping her escape?

  ‘Hey!’ I say, unable to form the questions I have for her.

  Janna turns back and laughs, she actually laughs. My mouth twists in disgust. She looks at me full in the face. She is totally unabashed at colluding with guards. I channel my anger through my eyes and give her the filthiest look I can muster. She stares back at me.

  ‘Say hello to your girlfriend for me,’ she says in a sing-song voice.

  I stiffen. She’s got no right to speak about Kay.

  ‘Say hello and tell her . . .’ She flips back her black hair. ‘Tell her she’s beautiful.’ I can tell she’s sneering at Kay.

  ‘She’s more beautiful than you!’ I shout. ‘She knew you for the back-stabber that you are!’

  But she and the guard have turned away. She swings her hips as she walks through the door.

  I lunge towards them, but the guard yanks me back.

  ‘Traitor!’ I shout at the top of my voice.

  She doesn’t even turn around.

  That’s when a grenade lands at my feet.

  It must have come through the window behind us. This time, I know immediately what must be done. I reach down to take it, but the guard is quicker. He bends and scoops it up. As he draws back his arm, I see that instead of throwing it back out the window, as I would have done, that he is going to hurl it out of the still-open door. In the direction of the gas tanks.

  ‘No!’ I shout. But it’s too late. We watch the grenade fly over the heads of Janna and the guard. It clatters to the floor of the corridor.

  There’s a moment of slow-motion where I see the wrinkles at the corner of the guard’s eyes as his face stretches in terror, and Janna turns back in surprise. Then out of the silence comes an almighty bang.

  It’s all over.

  The floor seems to ripple beneath me. I’m lifted off my feet and blown backwards into darkness.

  When I come to, my head is throbbing. For a moment I think I’m in bed at the Academy and that I must have had a fight last night because my body is pulsing with pain. I open my eyes. It’s dark. And dusty. My mouth seems to be full of grit. How the hell—? The factory. The guards. There was a noise. An explosion.

  I’m on my back, enclosed in a tiny space. Oh God, no. This time I don’t manage my fear. ‘Help!’ I scream. I claw at the stones covering my face with my left hand, but my right arm is stuck. My breath is coming in rattling gasps. I want to cry. I tense myself up and try to think methodically. I seem to be lying on rocks. I don’t think I’ve broken any bones. Above me is a long section of something smooth. My fingers close on a handle. It’s a door. The way it’s landed means that it’s created a space in the debris for me. I try to sit up but I can only get halfway up. My right arm won’t come. I roll on to my side to use my left hand to help. There are pieces of rubble covering me from the right forearm down to the hand. I pull again but there is something around my wrist.

  The handcuffs. I’m still cuffed to the guard.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ I shout.

  Nothing. I stretch out the fingers of my cuffed hand. There’s something sharp, some brick and . . . something soft and warm. It’s the guard’s finger. I flinch back. But I can’t move far because the metal of the cuffs cuts into my wrist.

  I pull myself together and reach for his hand again. This time I take hold of three fingers and give them a good hard squeeze. I wait. The fingers are still in mine. If he could feel me, surely he’d be squeezing back as hard as he could. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe I’m trapped under the rubble handcuffed to a dead man. Panic threatens to suck me down into a whirlpool.

  Efwurd. Kay. Is Kay all right? How long have I been passed out under here? Why has no one come to dig me out? Haven’t they missed the guards? I cannot lose it now. I have to get back to Kay. I fill my lungs with the thick dusty air and shout, ‘HELP!’ as loudly as I can. The fingers don’t stir. I start pulling at the pieces covering the end of my arm. The problem is where to put the junk that I move. I end up pushing it into the space behind my head. Actually, that isn’t the biggest problem; what I’m really afraid of is that I’ll start an avalanche of brick.

  When I’ve moved the stuff off my arm, I twist my hand painfully in the cuffs so I can place two fingers on his wrist. I can’t feel anything, but I can’t be sure that I’ve got the right spot. Besides, my fingers are covered in filth and my own heart is pounding so loudly I don’t know if I could detect another beat.

  I keep using my left hand to move bricks away to uncover the guard. I’m getting close to his chest when I reach a chunk of something chalky that won’t move. I rotate my hand to get a better grip and then pull hard. As soon as I’ve done it, I know that I shouldn’t have. There’s a terrible shifting. I’ve loosened something that was holding up a lot of other somethings. I try to push it back but there’s a sliding of bricks and a shower of small stones on my head. I pull away so I’m under the cover of the door. Stones, rubble, metal and wood scrape and fall around me. The door drops so that it’s pressing against me. I tense my body, waiting for the air to be crushed out of me.

  The rumbling slows to a trickle. I blink to get the dust out of my eyes.

  I can see.

  Not much, but I can see. That means that light is coming in from somewhere. I can’t be buried too deep. That’s good. I can also hear. Someone on the other side of this rubble is screaming.

  The guard’s arm is still exposed. I reach up to his shoulder and then scrabble through the junk to press my hand flat against his chest. There’s no heartbeat. Before I can even really take that in, I realise that under my hand, in his breast pocket, is a key.

  In that dusty, dusky space using only my left hand, it takes me a while to retrieve the key and then unlock the handcuffs, but finally my right hand is free.

  I have no idea how much time has passed since the explosion. Ve
n told Alrye to kill Kay if he wasn’t back by nightfall. There are trickles of sunlight in my tiny space. That means there’s still time to get back to her.

  I try to manoeuvre myself into a better position under the door. I push at the stones that have filled the space. Something sharp spears me under the nail of my right index finger, but I keep clawing at the rubble. Finally, I can get my hands flat against wood of the door above and push. Things above the door are definitely moving, but then I seem to hit a barrier. I lower the door again. Come on, come on. Kay needs me. I squeeze on to my knees so that my back is against the door. I brace my legs, my right knee is pulsing with pain, but I bite my lip and push. There’s a creaking and then once again things stop moving. I grit my teeth and give an almighty shove. The door flips off my back and suddenly I’m standing waist-deep in a pile of debris. I can hear the screaming loud and clear now, and there are voices shouting instructions back and forth, too.

  I look around me. Even though the interview room was on the first floor I’ve ended up close to the ground. I try to take in the devastation. Where the front of the building was, there is now a pile of bricks. Where the gas tanks were a fire is raging. Further back, parts of the factory are still standing. There’s a fire engine parked by the gates and a number of men are working through the rubble. A circle of people, lying on the ground waiting to be treated, surround a solitary ambulance. At least, I hope that they’re waiting to be treated. Over to the left I see lines of navy-clad workers. They’re upright and there are hundreds of them. The factory floor seems to be largely intact. It looks like most of the workers have survived.

  ‘You all right?’ One of the rescue workers is picking his way over bricks towards me.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say.

  He looks me up and down. ‘You can walk?’

  ‘I’m okay. Really.’ I’ve got to get to Kay. How long will it take me to get back? What time does it get dark? I scramble awkwardly over the rubble until I’m on level ground.

  ‘Someone will check you over,’ he nods towards the ambulance. ‘Might be a bit of a wait. He turns back to shifting rubble. ‘It’d help if your lot would send more people,’ he mutters.

  I remember that I’m still in uniform. I wonder why the guards haven’t sent reinforcements, but I don’t have time to get into a discussion about why the hell there aren’t more rescue workers at what is clearly a huge emergency.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I repeat, but he’s not even listening. I look around me again. Everyone is stretched so thin trying to help the seriously injured that no one is paying any attention to me. I can just walk right out of here and that’s what I need to do.

  As I turn to leave, something protruding from under a pile of bricks catches my eye. It doesn’t register with my brain until I’ve taken another step towards the gates. Then I stop. I know what I saw.

  It was a human hand.

  Part of my brain is screaming at me to leave anyway. Kay needs me. Time is running out. The rescue crew will get to the owner of the hand. They’re probably dead anyway. But what keeps me from leaving is what I saw around the wrist of the hand. A flash of red. Whoever is under there is wearing a guard’s uniform. Which means that either the hand belongs to the young guard, or it belongs to Ven.

  I can’t just walk away. I turn back. The person is actually barely covered, but a thick coating of dust and plaster means that they blend into the rest of the debris. As soon as I lift away a ripped piece of carpet I can see that it’s Ven. I uncover the rest of him quickly. He looks terrible, but apart from blood trickling down his forehead, I can’t see any obvious injuries. As I pull his arm free, his eyelids flutter open. He squints at me.

  ‘What?’ he says hoarsely.

  ‘The factory, remember? There was an explosion. We can’t stay here, they’ll find us. We’ve got to get moving.’

  His eyes come into focus as he reorientates himself. He nods. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Can you stand?’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  He is far from all right. His eyes are glassy and he sways as I help him to his feet, but he doesn’t complain.

  I half drag Ven towards the exit. I expect to be stopped at any moment, but the place is in chaos. A woman sits on what remains of a wall, sobbing. Rescue workers are desperately raking through the rubble. Some of the walking wounded are drifting about. A man is bellowing something about contacting someone. We just limp right out of the gates. Ven insists that we go back to the alleyway and retrieve the backpacks so we can change out of our filthy uniforms before we start on the long walk back to the nearest metro stop.

  ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ I ask Ven. This is a ridiculous thing to say. He’s clearly very unwell. I’m amazed he can walk at all. But we’ve got to get back to Kay.

  He looks at me sideways. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of rushing on ahead?’

  ‘I’d quite happily leave you in the gutter, but you told them to kill Kay if you didn’t come back, remember? I will be getting you home and it will be happening as fast as possible.’

  He shrugs, but I notice that he picks up the pace as much as he is able. This doesn’t make me feel any better because it just shows that he’s worried that we won’t get back in time either.

  Eventually, we reach the station. I take the cards from Ven’s bag and swipe them as we get on the train. I manage to find an almost-empty carriage where no one will stare at our dusty hair and dirty faces. Ven pulls up his hood and slumps in a seat. His breathing is shallow. He can die for all I care, but he’d better not do it before I’m sure Kay is safe.

  When we get off the metro I check the clock by the exit. It’s late afternoon already. We need to get a move on.

  Getting back to the house with the tunnel in the basement is tough. Ven’s head is bleeding again and, once, he staggers sideways and I have to catch him before he keels over. By the time we reach the house he is sweating and panting. I have to push him in through the window. He lands heavily. When I climb in behind him I discover that he’s fainted. It’s several minutes before I can wake him up. I don’t even have time to get claustrophobic about the tunnel. I just grit my teeth and half carry and half drag Ven through to the other side. As I’m hauling him through the appliance shop I face the obvious: there’s no way that Ven can drive in his condition.

  The car is right outside the shop, exactly where we left it. I bundle Ven into the back. He flops down on the seat, breathing heavily. I locate the keys in the lower pocket of his trousers. His eyes are rolling back in his head. I shake him.

  ‘Wake up! You’ve got to tell me how to drive.’

  His head lolls forward. I lay him back on the seat. What do I do? What the hell do I do? The sun is already lower in the sky and we need time to get back to the hospital. What’s going to happen to Kay? I lift my hand and slap Ven hard across the cheek.

  He snaps back into consciousness, tensing his body and raising his fist. ‘Whatzit?’ he slurs.

  ‘The car. How do I drive the car?’

  He frowns and fumbles in his pocket.

  ‘I’ve got the keys. I swipe the key, then what? Then what?’

  He grips my arm to steady himself. ‘Accelerator on the right, brake in the middle, clutch on the left. Clutch to the floor. Put it in first gear. Start accelerating, bring the clutch up slowly. It’s about the bite . . . you’ve got to make sure . . .’ He stumbles to a halt and looks at me suspiciously. He lifts a hand to his forehead. ‘I’m really hot,’ he says and leans back in the seat, his eyes half open. I’ve lost him.

  I scramble into the front seat. I can do this. Accelerator on the right, brake in the middle, clutch on the left. I put my left foot down on the clutch, then I find the key reader and swipe the key. The engine starts. That’s good. Now I have to use the accelerator. I press it cautiously at first then more firmly. We jerk forward and stop, the engine stalls. Come on, Blake, come on. I start again. This time I bring the clutch up and push down on the accelerator at the same time and th
e car starts to move. I’m doing it, I’m doing it! I grip the steering wheel hard. We’re not moving very fast. That’s okay, I don’t want to crash. But we’re really not moving very fast, I could walk faster than this.

  ‘Handbrake,’ Ven says from the back seat.

  I pull up the handbrake and we speed forward.

  ‘Efwurding idiot,’ Ven says. Then he’s gone again.

  I’m concentrating too hard on not killing us to say anything back.

  The first corner I take is terrifying. I have the entire road to myself and it’s just as well because I make a huge curve. By the fifth or sixth corner I’m getting the hang of judging when to swing the steering wheel. After a while, I’m able to relax my shoulders a little. It’s pretty straightforward really. The only thing I have to watch out for are obstacles on the road, mostly burnt-out cars and rubble, but also some random things like an armchair and a shopping trolley.

  I understand the theory of changing gear, but I still make some terrible grinding noises. It could even be fun if I weren’t so worried about Kay. There’s no escaping the fact that the sun will soon be setting.

  ‘Hey, Ven!’ I shout.

  Looking in the mirror I see his eyes open. ‘They won’t kill her, will they?’ I ask. ‘The people in charge of the Resistance won’t authorise it, will they?’

  ‘I’mincharge,’ he slurs.

  There’s no point talking to him. He’s concussed. I look at the road ahead of us. How quickly can I do this? I’m not going anywhere near as fast as Ven drove this morning. I put my foot down on the accelerator and lean forward. I’ve got to get back to Kay and it’s got to be soon.

  After a while Ven starts making grumbly noises in the back seat. I look at him in the mirror. His skin has a nasty sheen. He’s dabbing at his wound and swearing.