by C. J. Harper
I shake my head. ‘You were right about her. She’s a traitor. I saw her shake hands with one of the guards.’ Janna’s smirking face comes back to me. ‘In fact, we had a charming chat where she showed no remorse at all. The complete opposite.’
‘What’s chat?’
‘Talk.’
‘What’s remorse?’
‘Being sorry.’
‘Janna doesn’t do sorrying. What did she say?’
‘To say hello to you.’
Kay’s forehead creases. ‘Me? That’s not the meanness I was thinking she’d say.’
I drop my eyes to the worn fabric of the sofa.
‘Blake? What more things did she say?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Tell me.’
‘She said to tell you that you’re beautiful.’
‘Oh.’ She flinches ever so slightly, but then she covers it with her fighting face. ‘That is mean.’
‘No! Well, yes, but only because of the way she said it. Only because everything Janna says is mean.’ I bite my lip. ‘You are beautiful.’
‘Oh, Blake.’ She gives a half-laugh as if I have said something silly. ‘Janna’s beautiful.’ She says it with undisguised envy and I’m filled with both sadness and anger. Why should someone as perfect as Kay ever want to be different? And why don’t I have the words to make her see how perfect she is?
‘You must think Janna is beautiful,’ she persists.
I think back to when I first met Janna. She came to interview me and Wilson at the Learning Community when we won the Moritz prize. Wilson’s eyes were out on stalks and I suppose that I thought that she was attractive too. She made me think about sex. But I don’t think I liked her. I mean I don’t really think that I thought about her. Since I’ve met Kay I’ve realised that it’s horrible to judge a person by their body.
‘Do you know what I like best about Janna?’
Kay rolls her eyes. ‘What?’
‘She’s smart. She’s really quick. Do you know what I like least about her? She doesn’t care about anyone, but herself. What she looks like – well, it doesn’t change either of those things.’
Kay nods slowly. I put my arm around her. She looks up at me and I get that feeling again. Like something is peeling open inside me and there’s this rush of sweetness and I want to hold her, touch her, be with her. She moves her mouth to mine. We kiss.
As we pull apart, I see Tanisha making her way back across the gloomy room.
‘Ven said I have to show you where to sleep,’ she says.
I exchange a look with Kay. This seems like another step towards Ven accepting us. My outburst must have had some effect.
Tanisha leads us back up four flights of stairs. We pass several wards before she says, ‘This one.’
The ward is dark. There are a number of lumps in beds apparently already asleep. As Tanisha swings her torch around I see Robin curled up under a blanket clutching her bear.
‘You’ve got the corner spot.’ Tanisha points with her torch to a mattress covered with blankets.
‘But there’s no bed,’ I say. ‘Other people have got beds.’ Actually, looking round the ward again I realise that there are some sleepers on mattresses in between the metal beds.
‘You get a bed when you’ve done something. You know, like contributed to the Resistance. You haven’t done anything.’
‘I’ve just bloody well saved Ven’s skin!’
Tanisha looks at me blankly.
‘Well, yes,’ I say. ‘Obviously that’s not much of a contribution.’
‘Is it the bed for Blake or for me?’ Kay interrupts.
‘Both of you.’ Tanisha smirks. ‘Not getting coy now, are you? You weren’t coy downstairs, I saw you, you were practically—’
‘Thanks,’ I say and walk away towards the corner.
Tanisha retreats out of the ward.
Even though we shared a bed in the abandoned farmhouse, I suddenly feel shy and hesitate beside the mattress.
‘Come on!’ Kay whispers and pulls me down and under the blanket.
She settles herself beside me with her arm around my middle.
I smile into the darkness.
In the middle of the night I wake up and all the fug of the explosion has melted away. My knee is throbbing, but my head is completely clear. I slide carefully away from Kay and stumble through the blackness, out of the slumbering ward. Out in the corridor it’s much colder. I feel my way to the stairs and down several flights. I crunch along the gritty corridor to where Tanisha pointed out Ven’s office. I can see a faint light leaking out under the door; I fling it open.
‘You mother-efwurding bastard! It was you that threw that grenade, wasn’t it?’ I say.
Despite the late hour, Ven is working at a desk. He turns to look at me calmly.
‘Wasn’t it?’ I demand.
He nods. His face still devoid of emotion.
‘Don’t you even feel bad?’ I ask. ‘People were killed in that explosion.’
‘Not the workers. The workers were on the factory floor on the other side of the building. I considered all factors, which, contrary to your opinion, is something that I always do with plans.’
‘So it doesn’t matter about the other factory staff?’
‘They’re part of the regime. If they end up on stretchers it’s their own fault.’
‘What about the ones that ended up in coffins?’
‘The people we saw only had minor injuries.’ He says it with such assurance that my temper flares.
‘What kind of leader are you? You must have known when you threw that grenade you were risking the lives of innocent people.’
‘What kind of leader would I be if I allowed myself the luxury of never taking any risks? I’d end up paralysed by inaction and indecision. Is that leadership?’
I look at him. He’s only a little older than me and he’s responsible for everybody here. In a way, he’s responsible for trying to save the entire country, but surely he can’t be a good captain if he doesn’t care about people dying? Doesn’t that make him as bad as the Leadership?
‘I just keep thinking about those bodies,’ I say.
‘It was a contained impact grenade. There was no way I could have known that idiot would throw it into the gas tanks. It was designed to kill within a five-metre radius. It should only have killed the guards—’
‘And me,’ I interrupt, as everything clicks into place. Sweet efwurding efwurd. He was trying to kill me. I don’t even know how I could have failed to see this before. ‘You thought I was going to tell them about this place, didn’t you? So you decided to kill me before I had the chance.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Has my attempt to blow you up hurt your feelings?’ He stands up. ‘Do you want to get Paulo in here so that you two can sing me a little song about playing nicely with the other children?’ He moves around the desk and steps towards me. ‘Maybe we should all move away to the coast where we can settle down with the people we love and grow vegetables and educate the kids in something other than hand to hand combat and just give up on this whole crazy “let’s get rid of the oppressive killing regime” idea, shall we?’ He’s right in my face. His skin is waxy. He’s clearly still feeling the effects of the explosion.
I take a step back. ‘I’m not saying that.’
‘That’s great. Try focusing on that will you? Try to not say as much as possible.’
He closes his eyes and tips his head back as he exhales. His eyes snap open again. He sits down, picks up his pen and carries on writing.
What the hell? ‘Is that it?’ I ask. ‘I saved your life. You tried to kill me and you think telling me that freedom is important is an adequate explanation? What the efwurd is wrong with you?’
He finishes his sentence and lays down his pen. ‘A lot. A whole hell of a lot. You don’t need me to tell you that I am far from perfect. I got you wrong. Based on the intelligence I had, I thought you were a threat, so I tried to kill you. I was doing my job. I am a
ttempting to overthrow a corrupt government. People are going to get hurt and some of them won’t deserve it. If you don’t like my methods, leave.’ He goes back to his papers.
I stalk out of the room and stand in the corridor with my fists clenched and my face screwed up. My muscles are so taut with anger that I am quivering with suppressed rage. I want to wake Kay up and leave this stupid place, but I can’t. A deep growl of frustration leaves my lips and I smack the heels of my hands against my temples. I realise my earlier conversation with Kay about whether we should leave was completely pointless. Even if I could figure out some other way of getting to my father, I just can’t leave the Resistance now that we’ve found them. I have to stay. I want to help.
Which just goes to show that even when you think you’re on the good side, the side that’s fighting for people’s rights, you’re still not free to do whatever the hell you like.
The next morning after breakfast, Ven insists that Tanisha takes Kay and me through some Basic Training. We learn what we should do in the event of a Leadership attack and some rules about survival in the open Wilderness. She also tells us about the day-to-day routines of the hospital.
‘Everyone starts with physical fitness before breakfast. After you’ve eaten, it’s a work shift with your team. In the afternoon it’s more team work or instruction classes. When you’ve had dinner, there a bit of rec time. You can only eat and drink at the set mealtimes. Water is pretty tight. Ven says you both had your wash allowance for the week, yesterday.’
I sigh. At least there was plenty of shower water at the Academy, even if it was usually cold. I remember the daily long hot baths I took at the Learning Community. I didn’t know how lucky I was.
I turn to Tanisha. ‘Can I ask a few questions?’
‘Sure.’
‘What exactly are the Resistance’s plans?’
She gives me a long look. ‘That’s not the kind of thing Ven likes me sharing about.’
‘But you don’t always do what Ven tells you to, do you?’
Tanisha laughs. ‘Listen, I don’t reckon you’re a threat, so I’ll give you a rough idea. We want to get rid of the Leadership and replace them with elected representatives.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
‘There are a couple of different plans. Essentially, we want to create an inciting event where we show people all the nasty stuff the Leadership is up to so we can get them onside. We take the Leadership building by storm and cripple the infrastructure by taking out the power companies and then, when we’ve got them on their knees, we put in place emergency rule, because, you know, the elected representatives bit takes time.’
‘What’s emergency rule?’ Kay asks.
‘It’s someone taking charge just for a short time,’ I say. ‘Who’s going to do that? Ven?’
Tanisha snorts. ‘No. Remember General Adil?’
‘From the Long War? Isn’t he retired?’
‘Uh-huh, the Leadership “retired” him as soon as they realised that he wasn’t going to go along with all of their nasty plans, but the public remember him and they love him and . . .’ she grins, ‘he’s on our side.’
This is big news. Adil is a hero. ‘Really?’
‘Yep.’ Tanisha’s forehead creases. ‘Anyway, that’s probably more than I should have said. We’ve got plans, okay? That’s all you really need to know.’
It’s not all I need to know, but it will do for now. The Resistance have got definite plans and I want to be part of them.
Tanisha moves on to assigning us to a work team.
Fortunately, she seems happy to accept my assertion that I should be on the Intelligence team and Kay’s that she should be with Defence. I was prepared to get into an argument about it, but Tanisha just nods and tells us to report to the captains after lunch and sends us off to the cafeteria.
When we’re seated and attacking the salad that’s been laid out on the table, Kay says, ‘I’ve been thinking about Janna saying that thing about me.’
‘What about it?’ I don’t want Kay being upset by Janna’s nasty remarks.
‘You were thinking that she was doing that thing when you’re saying what you don’t really think. Like, “Oh Kay, you are soooo beautiful.”’
I laugh. ‘You mean being sarcastic.’
‘Yes. But after I had that fight with Janna she didn’t do the sarcastic any more. She just said, “You’re an idiot,” and stuff like that.’
This is true. In the end Janna got so angry with Kay that she gave up making smart remarks and was just downright rude. ‘But what difference does that make?’ I ask.
Kay’s face lights up. ‘I don’t think she said that thing to be mean.’
I can’t help looking sceptical.
‘I think she said it to help us. That’s why she said that not-Janna thing. She was helping us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think she told us the password. I think the password is “beautiful”.’
I don’t believe it for a moment. ‘She was just being nasty.’
‘Maybe,’ Kay says. ‘But can we try that word?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. I’m not sure that I can look at Ven without punching him – and he’s the one with the AV bug and the key to the computer room.
‘We need to try it. Are you thinking I’m wrong?’
‘It’s not really that . . .’
‘What is it?’ She looks at me and I can see that she really cares that something is bothering me. It’s such a good feeling to know she worries about me, just like I worry about her. It makes me feel less alone. And I want to tell her what’s wrong, but I’m pretty sure that if I told her that Ven tried to kill me that she would pulverise him. A smile escapes me.
‘What?’ she asks again.
‘I just don’t like Ven. But we should try out your idea.’ I scan the room for Ven, but he’s not here. I crunch my last piece of cucumber. ‘Let’s try his office,’ I say.
We take our plates over to the kitchen hatch and leave the cafeteria.
‘It’s funny,’ I say. ‘We’ve switched positions on Janna.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You hated her and I thought she was okay, and now I think what you thought and you—’
‘I don’t think she’s okay,’ Kay says.
‘But you’re the one suggesting that she’s given us the password.’
‘I don’t like her. People I don’t like can still do good things. She’s probably not just bad and bad.’
I realise with a shock that we’re talking about Janna in the present tense when in all likelihood she’s dead. I don’t know what to think about that. She shouldn’t have died. She might have been a nasty piece of work, but she didn’t deserve that.
We find Ven in his office dolling out orders to a queue of waiting kids. Thinking about Janna has brought back last night’s rage. He shouldn’t be allowed to go around blowing people up.
I move right up to the front of the waiting gaggle, but I know that if I speak to him I will lose it, which isn’t a good idea. I have to work with Ven because he’s in a much better position to overthrow the Leadership than I am. I have to work with him if I want to get at The Leader. So I let Kay do the talking.
‘We know the password,’ she says.
Ven doesn’t react.
‘We maybe know it,’ she qualifies.
Ven looks at the long queue. ‘Well, obviously I don’t have anything else to do this afternoon other than check out the suspicions of a fairy girl.’ He pushes his papers away. ‘Come on, then.’
No one complains when Ven leaves the room, nor does he seem to think it necessary to explain where he is going or how long he will be. I notice that Paulo gets up from his own cramped desk and moves quietly into Ven’s place. I don’t know how he can stand working under Ven.
We head back up to the computer room. Even in the daytime the hospital is still dark and creepy. There are gaps at the edges of some of the wind
ow boards which allow shards of sunlight to slice through the gloom. On the stairs we hear a burst of laughter coming from one end of a corridor.
‘What’s down there?’ Kay asks.
‘That’s the supply store.’ He takes us both in with his dark eyes. ‘We guard our supplies closely, so don’t you get any ideas about helping yourselves. Only captains are allowed to access the supply room. So if you think you need something ask a captain, so that they can tell you that you don’t.’ He turns back to the stairs.
‘What about down here?’ I say looking down the left-hand corridor.
Ven looks grim. ‘Don’t go down that corridor.’
‘But can’t you—’
‘Don’t go down that corridor.’
‘Wh—’
‘Ever.’
I’m getting pretty sick of Ven ordering us about, but I’m determined not to show any curiosity about his stupid secret corridor, so I say nothing.
‘Can I ask a thing?’ Kay says to Ven. ‘Do the Leadership know about the Resistance?’
Ven nods.
‘If they know you’re here, why don’t they eliminate you?’ I ask.
‘Blake’s got a lovely turn of phrase, hasn’t he?’ Ven says to Kay. He looks back to me. ‘When you say “eliminate” you mean “slaughter”, don’t you?’
‘I’m just asking a question. I’m not going to work my way out of this hideous ignorance of mine that you keep referring to unless I ask questions.’
‘They don’t see us as much of a threat. They keep an eye on us. When they catch us they usually kill us. But they think we’re a bunch of kids. What could we possibly do to them?’
I don’t tell him that the same thought had occurred to me.
‘Also, we’re useful to them. We give a face that they can direct people’s outrage towards. If they want to blow something up then they can always blame it on us.’
I think about the newspaper article about the Academy fire. And about the rumours I heard about terrorists when I was a kid. ‘I suppose people are prepared to fall for that,’ I say.
He narrows his eyes at me. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised just how stupid people can be.’
‘Anyway, couldn’t they kill you all and still blame things on you?’