The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  Sitting around the fire with us are Thomas, Marcus, and some other man I haven't met. Thomas blushes a little as we sit down, his eyes flitting from the fire to Minni's face. I catch his eye and raise an eyebrow. Aha.

  "I heard you guys have done pretty well today," says Marcus, passing Minni a bottle of water. She takes it gratefully, takes a large sip and passes it to me. I wrap my fingers around it and watch Marcus from the corner of my eye. I had expected him to be angry at me.

  "You heard correctly," Minni grins, "we managed to get through a lot of work today. Lots of things that have needed to be treated for a while."

  "All because of this girl," he says, waving a hand at me. I meet his eyes, still a little reproachful after the tension between us earlier; but he gives a wry smile and winks.

  "So you really are a doctor," breathes Thomas, "I heard the rumours but somehow it didn't seem right. Don't get me wrong, but…"

  He looks me up and down, his face contorting in disbelief.

  "You just, er, don't look like the doctor type."

  I smile and wave my hand at him dismissively. I'm used to that. It used to upset me but honestly, I've had so much more thrown at me - especially recently - that I just can't bring myself to be upset.

  But then a foot lands next to me. I scoot out of the way just in time before Max drops to the floor, sitting cross-legged by my side. He gulps down a bottle of something dark and amber and releases a satisfied sigh.

  "Hey guys, what's up?"

  I'm a little taken aback when he meets my gaze and smirks. It's surprising how easily some people accept the new or the strange. He winks at me and laughs.

  "I hear you've had an interesting day."

  "You bet!" Minni cries, "we patched up so many people, it was great! I've wanted to help for so long. Bet you'd never have guessed, Max, but we make a pretty good team."

  For a moment he pauses, his eyes darting from me to her and back again. I know what he's thinking. How did we go from being at each other's throats to working as a team? I briefly wonder if she's going to explain about the photo, but then she turns to Thomas and starts nattering about something, and I quickly tune out.

  Max looks at me, and his face is full of pride. Pride in his people, pride in his choice. Maybe even a little bit of pride in me. It makes me feel a little uneasy. My cheeks heat up and I force myself to break eye contact with him, instead gazing down at my hands.

  The others joke and banter around the fire while I watch. It's surprisingly, really, that despite the vast difference between here and Fairground, the talk around the campfire is an ongoing tradition. I never really understood it myself. As far as I'm concerned, you sit around a fire for warmth and to cook. The banter never really appealed to me - though I suppose it's harder to understand something when you can't actively join in.

  Minni seems to relax more now, and even Thomas' awkwardness seems to fade away. They talk openly, honestly. They discuss their day, the structure from this morning, the number of bots they spotted on watch, their overwhelming excitement at the thought of eating actual meat - the non-tinned kind - for the first time in years. While I start with my knees tucked to my chin, as the hours go by I feel myself starting to relax. I find myself sitting upright, my legs splayed out to one side, my weight shifted towards Minni. For the sake of comfort I'd prefer to go the other way, but every time I think about leaning too close to Max I feel a little odd and unsure. He's a nice guy, there's no doubting that - but every so often as we both look around the fire our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze for as long as I allow. The expression on his face is half-confidence, half-curiosity, like he's never seen someone quite like me before. Which I suppose on some level is true, but it still leaves my stomach in a whirl every time.

  The food comes round. There's not enough for more than a few scraps each, so the meal is bulked up with tinned vegetables and booze. Marcus reaches over and offers me a bottle of something that looks like oil, and I take a deep sniff before trying it. It smells like aniseed and tastes like it too. My face crumples a little as it hits the back of my throat, the alcohol burning. The others laugh, but I just take another sip. It's a sudden and sharp experience, but not altogether unpleasant.

  It's not long before the alcohol starts to kick in. It starts slowly at first, but pretty soon people are singing, dancing, laughing. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. We have parties at Fairground, once in a blue moon, but they're nothing like this. They're calm and structured, quiet enough that we don't draw any bots to us. Here though, it's the opposite. They dance and sing for what seems like hours, and some part of me realises that I should be cold. The moon is high overhead now, its light somewhat blurred by the dome. The temperature has dropped massively. I can feel the cool air on my face - but that's all. The fire, the alcohol and the company are keeping me as warm as I need to be. I wonder if I look like the others; red faced, cheery, my movements with a little extra something. In a way, I hope not. But in another way, it looks like a nice, carefree way to be.

  The party soon dies down, though, and I realise that despite the hours of rare escapism, we still need to face up to reality at some point. One by one the people around us yawn, agree that it's time to sleep, put out their fires and head off. But the five of us stay seated around our fire, even when it dies out and becomes no more than a few glowing embers. Once or twice I consider standing and trying to show that I'd like to go, but something stops me. Whether I'm tired or not, there's something nice about sitting here. The others' laughter rings out across Street, an unusual sound in an otherwise cold and empty space.

  "I suppose we'd best go to bed," says Marcus at last, standing up. He reaches down and grabs Thomas by the scruff of his neck, pulling him up with him. The younger man jumps away and chortles.

  "Come on, man. Don't drag me around like that, I'm not a cat."

  "Whatever. Come on. We're on wall duty in a few hours. I'd rather be rested, and I don't want to hear your snoring again, like last time."

  Blood rushes to Thomas' face and he shakes his head madly.

  "I-I have no idea what you're saying! I don't snore!"

  "Yes, you do."

  "No I don't."

  Marcus simply rolls his eyes and reached out, hooking the younger man around the shoulders and dragging him off without another word. I stare after them, watching them go.

  Max stands up and brushes himself down.

  "I guess I'd best go, too. A couple of us are heading back out in the morning."

  Minni gasps.

  "Are you crazy?" she cries, "you've not been able to get far enough in weeks. It's a deathtrap out there right now."

  "It's always like that," he insists, "but we can handle it. Trust me."

  Ha. The ‘trust me' face. One flash and Minni looks away, her resolve broken by her unwavering loyalty.

  "Fine. Go. Just… don't expect us to help if you get hurt. Right, Mutie?"

  Max just scratches his ear and nods.

  "Deal. Now then, you two off as well. There are still more people for you to treat.”

  "There are?"

  He nods.

  "Yeah. I want you to get to the bottom of what's wrong with the old guy."

  I tilt my head. Old guy? There aren't many of those here. But Minni just shakes her head sadly.

  "There's nothing we can do about him, Max. If he doesn't behave, I can't treat him. I can't even feed him properly."

  He frowns, and the image of the motionless figure in the hospital comes to mind.

  "That guy has been here for ages. We can’t just let him wither away.”

  "I know, Max. But if the guy is beyond saving then there's nothing we can do."

  "Can't you just try? Ashley can check him out, right?"

  I stare at him. This place has no medical equipment. No supplies. Nothing. If the guy is barely even conscious, how am I supposed to treat him? I mean, I could try. It wouldn't hurt to try. I nod, but ensure that the movement is low and unsure, my doubt showing o
n my face.

  "Don't worry," he says, "I know you can do it."

  Suddenly, the HT on my hip makes a loud, coarse sound. I whip it from my belt and pull it close, holding down the button to confirm I'm here. A few tense seconds go by, and then I hear a voice.

  "Ash. Are you okay?"

  I pause. The calmness of the voice, the level-headedness of the words. Dr Newton. Fear clenches in my gut. I hope they're all okay. Max reaches over and takes the HT out of my hands; my fingers suddenly feel empty without it, but I don't try to get it back.

  "This is Max."

  "Ah yes. I've been told about you. My name is Newton. I'm the resident doctor here at Fairground. I believe you have my apprentice under your care."

  Max nods, then seems to realise that he can't see him and agrees.

  "Good," says Dr Newton, "I trust everything's okay?"

  "I'd say so," Max replies, "your girl's been pretty useful to us today. Really helpful to have a doctor around here."

  "She's just a trainee, at least for now. Once we bring her back, she'll continue her training. Anyway, might I speak with her?"

  "She's here now, doc. She can hear you."

  I hear a sharp intake of breath, and the fear flits through me again. Please don't have bad news. Please tell me they all made it back to Fairground in one piece.

  "Things don't look great."

  His voice seems tired all of a sudden, and I wonder how long he's been awake for.

  "First, don't worry. The others managed to make it back in one piece, just about. But that's the thing…"

  He trails off, and I can hear others talking quietly behind him.

  "… the injuries suffered by the Scout team in that fight were far too great. They'll be fine, given time and treatment and rest. But none of them will be fighting fit for a number of weeks. They can barely walk right now."

  My heart sinks, and I stare open-mouthed at the HT, dreading what's coming next.

  "I'm sorry," he croaks, "but we can’t come and get you."

  Chapter Thirteen

  My head hangs, and I can feel the first few tears threatening to break through. They push at my eyes, trying to force their way out. I can feel my hands clenching at my sides. Please. Please come for me.

  Max eyes me carefully, then brings the HT to his mouth.

  "Hold up. Now you're just going to leave her here?"

  "Of course not," Dr Newton says, "but it will take a while. We can probably get someone out there in six weeks, two months. Possibly longer depending on recovery times."

  My face falls. What do I do if they won't let me stay? What if they push me back out into the city with no way to protect myself and no way to find my way home?

  My fear must show on my face, because Minni gives me a gentle elbow in the ribs and smirks. Max frowns.

  "So, what? You expect us to house and feed your apprentice for a few weeks?"

  "We'd be grateful," Dr Newton replies, "I know that this is a massive imposition, and you may see it as a burden, but if you give Ash a chance I'm sure she can more than earn her keep."

  Max meets my eyes, and then his gaze travels down to my still-bandaged arm. He chews at his lip, thinking hard.

  "Yeah, I can see how that would work," he says slowly.

  "Then if you'll have her, she's yours. And Ash?"

  Max passes the HT back to me and I take it gingerly, weakly, as though I'm afraid it might burn my skin. When Dr Newton’s voice carries across to me, it sounds warm and hushed. It sounds like home.

  "Ash. It'll be alright."

  I stare at the little speaker with sad eyes. Don't tell me it'll be alright. I'm a fish out of water here.

  But then the channel falls silent and I lower the HT to my side. I stare into the dying embers with dread building in me. My hands shake and I push a strand of hair from my eye. The movement, intended to seem nonchalant, instead looks clunky, pained, distressed. Minni looks at me with an expression that seems to lean back towards distrust and anger - but it's not as fierce as before. She probably just thinks I'm pathetic.

  "Then it's settled," Max says, his voice hushed, "for the next few weeks, you're our doctor. We'll see what else you're capable of in due course, but for now…"

  He stands and looms over me, a self-assured smile playing on his lips.

  "Welcome home."

  That night I dream of Adam. I dream of all the years we've known each other. The first time I saw him, on the streets, in the fresh ruins. How Dr Newton was leading me, taking me somewhere safe, and we discovered him. A young boy drenched in blood, standing over his mother's still form. The innocence in his eyes, the lack of understanding as Dr Newton reached out and asked him to join us…

  The dream jumps and we're at Fairground. Young Adam and I play in the courtyard, chasing each other around. He stumbles and falls, grazing his knee and I'm there, kissing it better and binding it with a scrap of cloth. We beam at each other, enjoying the last innocent dregs of youth.

  It shifts again, and this time I'm running, out of the infirmary and into the courtyard. The bells are sounding and I can see the Scouts returning. Excitement courses through me, the desire to hear all about his first outing. But as I near, I notice that the men are carrying bodies. Their fallen comrades, chopped and burned and massacred. My run slows to a stop and I stare, only snapping out of it to notice Adam approach. He's taller now, stronger than before, but as he passes me by his face is a picture of rage and fear and distress. Tears fill my eyes as I watch him fade from my sight.

  The next scene is vague and fuzzy. I don't know where we are; but the men are hoisting up a new structure. It's metal and shiny and my eyes can't make out what it is - but as I pass beneath it the holdings fall, and there's only a split second to react before the world grows dark.

  All around me is shouting. It's echoing, deafening, and it makes my head throb. I can feel the floor beneath me, and something unbelievably heavy above me. Something warm and strong stands over me, holding it up, protecting me from the brunt of its weight.

  "Ashley!"

  I stir a little, forcing my eyes open. The pain doubles and I wince.

  "Ashley? Come on."

  Above me I can see a familiar face. A square chin dotted with stubble, short dark hair, piercing blue eyes. I only see them for a moment before the darkness overwhelms me again.

  "Ashley!"

  I snap awake to see Minni leaning over me. Morning has broken through the window, filling the hospital with yellow light. Minni is already up and dressed, though she seems a little worse for wear. As I roll over and try to get onto my elbows, my stomach twists and something threatens to find its way up my throat. I wrap the thin blanket around my shoulders and cringe, the world spinning around me.

  Above me, Minni clicks her tongue and sighs.

  "You know, somehow I knew you'd end up hung over. Your theme park guys don't exactly sound like party people. I bet you've never touched hard liquor in your life, have you?"

  Perhaps normally I'd be tempted to shoot her a sarcastic look, but the best I can manage is a feeble wave. Ugh. What is this? I've witnessed and even treated hangovers before, but I never realised they felt this bad.

  Minni gives me a gentle kick with a booted foot.

  "Come on. You can't stay there all day. You need to get up. We have important stuff to do."

  Our eyes meet, and in her I see a hint of someone new. Someone mischievous and oddly charming, in a rude, irritating kind of way. But my intrigue goes out the window as my throat fills with bile and I grab at the nearest bucket.

  It takes hours before the hangover is gone, and even then, it doesn't fade completely. I can still feel the churning in my stomach, the occasional pulse of agony in my head. But it feels better to have washed it away with as much water as I can swallow.

  All this time, Minni simply chuckles. Clearly, she finds my pain hilarious - perhaps she isn't quite as sympathetic as I thought.

  But finally the pain fades, and I'm able to sta
nd without the world dipping and swaying in front of me. Minni crosses her arms and smirks, a condescending expression playing on her face.

  "Feel better?" she teases, "good. Then how about you pull yourself together and help me with some actual work?"

  I sigh heavily, but obediently follow her to the other side of the room. The figure still lies there. He's moved somewhat, but not by much, and I frown. The first time Max brought me up here it was dark and quiet, and the man barely moved. I was exhausted and in pain and probably not the most aware of my surroundings.

  I stare at the back of the man's head. His hair is grey and thinning, the skin his neck just starting to darken into liver spots. He's thin, nearly skeletal, and even through the scrap of cloth covering his back, I can nearly see the lumps in his spine.

  "This guy's been here for a while," Minni says, her voice suddenly gentle, "Max found him in the city a few months back and carried him here. For a while he was making a recovery. He was even able to walk. But then something changed and ever since then, he just sleeps. He barely eats enough to stay alive and refuses to talk to us. Nobody even knows his name, not really. We just call him N."

  I walk slowly, pacing around N and examining him. To start with, he seems like your typical give-up. A middle-aged man who can't take the stresses of the city anymore and simply collapses, not caring about food or water or what goes on around him. It's something we've seen a lot at Fairground. When someone loses everything, they only go on in the hope that something better will come in its place. When things don't change, they wonder why they gave it all up in the first place. I crouch down next to him and reach out, softly shifting a lock of white-grey hair from his eyes.

  My hand freezes. I stare for a moment, then blink rapidly, over and over, as though trying to convince myself that what I'm seeing is real.

  "Hey," Minni mutters, "what's wrong with you?"

  I don't react; I just stare down at the man's sleeping face and gape. I know him. I'm sure I do. But it can't be who I think it is.

  Minni leans down next to me, her eyes darting between my expression and the man's face.