The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  My nightly updates become less and less too. Whereas once they would speak to me for hours, now it lasts only a minute or two. They don’t have a great deal to say to me – and though I wish I could tell them everything that’s happened to me, I can’t. But each sunset ends with a solemn promise from them that they will find me, that they will bring me back home. It’s that which keeps me hopeful.

  Nicholas softens a little with time, and though he repeatedly tells me not to get my hopes up about being rescued, I learn to ignore him. I often imagine when they do come, and how I’ll grab Nicholas by the arm and bring him down to them. How we’ll carry him back to Fairground, back to the home he so clearly loves. Though he may rant and rave about how they abandoned him, his eyes grow wider and brighter when he talks about it. He’s like an old man, memories faded – but every so often he’ll have a flash of something and will break out into a smile. I hear stories about how Fairground was when it was founded. I was there, of course, but far too young to understand or remember.

  The formation of Fairground was initially a bad thing. Dr Newton, having had a wife who worked on robotics for the city, had some idea of how they worked. When it all went to hell, he knew there were very few areas in the city where the bots would or could not go. The only place he saw was Fairground. The owner of the old theme park had been a stickler for tradition, and so he had openly refused all robotics, instead opting to use old-fashioned, non-intelligent computers. Because of this, the area was safer than anywhere else he could think of.

  Having lost his wife and picked up a small group of survivors along the way – myself and Adam included – he brought us here. But a number of people had already gathered, and for a few weeks Fairground was home to a turf war. Nobody wanted to leave, and everybody was scared of staying together.

  It took a long time before things settled down. Once the other people realised we had a doctor, children, families, they began to soften towards us. And once we realised that greater numbers equal greater strength, we finally became willing to join them. Since then the turf war has ended, most of us too focussed on survival to care about petty arguments.

  Or so I’d thought. But hearing Nicholas drone on about it, I realise that I didn’t know all that much. Apparently the tension is still there. Dr Newton still represents us, defends us, speaks for us. We have much more to thank him for than I first thought.

  One evening, I stand on the rooftop garden, and I stare out at Fairground. There’s so much about that place that I never knew, never even considered. I just blindly followed, never thinking that I could do so much more. With Adam and the Scouts risking their lives every day and Dr Newton doing all he can to defend us, I feel a pang of guilt. I can’t go back to how I was, plodding along, silently argumentative, expecting others to fight my battles for me.

  When I get back, I have so much to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sit on the wall and play with my hair, twirling it idly around my finger. When I get there, the first thing I’ll do is give Bree a hug. That poor girl; unsure and alone most of her life, no family, no friends aside from one person who can’t even hold a conversation with her. I can only hope that she’s visiting the infirmary, and getting some kind of company there. I also need to thank Dr Newton. No explanation, no details. No clue that I know what he really does for us. Just a wordless, massive thankyou. I’m sure he’d appreciate that.

  My chest pangs a little. I should also apologise to Adam and the others. I endangered them, risked their lives, all by forcing myself into something that didn’t concern me. I was so obsessed with feeling useful that I forgot I didn’t have to be in the middle of things to be important. Here, I’ve learned to do whatever needs to be done and not to fuss or argue about it. The idea of moping around and frowning when things don’t go my way is abhorrent to me now.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to see Max hopping up the last step. He shoots me an easy smile and walks over, sitting softly next to me. I smile in response and look back at Fairground. He follows my gaze and his face twists a little.

  “Time’s almost up, huh.”

  I nod. It’s been so long. Weeks now. Any day now I expect to get the message that they’re coming for me. I close my eyes, and suddenly something unusual stirs in my gut.

  When I open my eyes again, Max is closer to me. He leans forward a little, his eyes scanning my face, his lips parted just a little, like he’s about to say something. But as I meet his gaze he bites into his lip and looks away.

  “A-are you looking forward to going back?”

  His voice is broken, unsure, and I don’t know why. I shrug – and then immediately wonder why. I should have nodded.

  “You don’t seem too sure about that,” he says, his voice hushed, “are you nervous to go home?”

  I hesitate for a moment, then nod. I suppose I am. I’m nervous that I’ve changed too much to slot back into my old life – or else that my old life has changed too much for me. I’m scared that the others won’t look at me the same, or that they won’t trust me anymore. I’m scared that they’ll think I’ve changed.

  I stare down at my hands and clench them into fists. There’s no denying it. Things will never be the same.

  Max watches me for a moment, and then lets out a small, awkward sigh.

  “Do you like it here?”

  I pause, my mind momentarily blank. How do I answer that? I don’t dislike it; my weeks here have been some of the most exciting in my life. If I was forced to stay here I’d probably survive okay… but is that really what he’s asking?

  Hesitantly, I nod.

  His face floods with relief and he smiles. I turn back to the city and stare at the ferris wheel in the distance; but a strong hand finds my shoulder and turns me around, softly holding me, pushing me a little so the back of my legs are pressed against the wall. I stare up at Max, the conflict in his eyes, the hesitation on his face. He bites his lip for a moment, then speaks.

  “You could always stay here.”

  I stare.

  “I-I mean it! You like it here, and we like having you. You’re a great use to us, and I like to think we’ve been good to you…”

  I avoid his eyes and stare at the ground, but he leans in a little more, pressing for an answer.

  “What do you say?”

  I must seem uncomfortable, because his expression falters and he steps back a little.

  “I don’t… I don’t want you to feel you have to stay here,” he says, his voice quiet, “you don’t owe us anything. That’s not what I mean. I just…”

  He leans in now, and he’s so close I can smell his breath on my face. He sighs, his breathing a little uneven, and a hand finds my chin, pushing it up to face him.

  I don’t have a moment to think before he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft and he tastes somehow warm, and perhaps in any other situation I would have enjoyed it. But it’s so sudden, and so far out of left field for me that my body responds out of instinct.

  I pull away sharply, my eyes wide, my hands over my mouth.

  Suddenly, his mouth falls open in horror.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  His face crumples, and in it I see the realised fear of rejection. My heart aches. I already knew he wasn’t the type to do something drastic, or to be so impulsive. But the one time he tried, the one time he put himself out there, I responded like he’d slapped me in the face.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I know. I’m sorry. That was wrong. I just… fuck!”

  He takes another step back, and I know he’s thinking of leaving. But as he moves away I lean forward and grab his sleeve. I can’t just let him go.

  My mind runs at a mile a minute. Why did he do that? What did it mean? Am I being honest or arrogant by thinking he might like me? Some small part of me says it’s true, that he must think something of me to kiss me like that, but the overwhelming voice in my head cries that it’s ridiculous. I’m nobody, nothing. I’m not likea
ble.

  I’ve never been the romantic type. I don’t even remember having a crush. I’ve always looked at men and women as the same, without thought to romance or feelings. I’ve always assumed that by being mute, I was automatically unattractive, unappealing, a total non-entity. The possibility of my being liked has always seemed so slight that I never gave it any thought.

  Max watches me, and clearly my thoughts show on my face because he lowers his arm and relaxes his shoulders. The seconds go by in silence, both of us awkwardly staring the other one down, biting our lips.

  Finally, someone breaks the silence. I’m glad it’s him.

  “Don’t… read into that,” he tells me, his voice calm, “I don’t even know why I did it. I mean, come on, we barely know each other. We’re practically strangers.”

  I nod, but I can hear the doubt in his voice, the quiet wondering if he really doesn’t know why he did it.

  “I don’t want you to feel… like you have to stay here. Or like you have to be with me. That’s not my place. But it’s not that guy Adam’s place, either.”

  Adam’s face flashes in my mind; I feel a pang of something akin to guilt and immediately wonder why.

  “The choice is down to you. I don’t blame you if you want to go back there. It sounds better than here, anyway. But it’s not just me who thinks you could stay. I had Minni coming to me just today, asking me what I planned to do to keep you here. I honestly didn’t think I’d end up doing that.”

  I can’t help but smile a little at the thought of Minni climbing up onto the wall and demanding to know his plans. I love that she already expected him to want me to stay. I wonder if she noticed this before I did.

  My body moves of its own accord. I step towards him, lift myself to my tiptoes and touch my lips to his. I close my eyes - because that’s what I think I should do - and I half expect to be pushed back. But then his arms find me, and they’re strong and safe, and his lips are rough and his fingers are calloused but I don’t care. He pulls me close and the moment is perfect, and I don’t know if he can see me or not but it’s okay. My chest aches and I find myself wishing that this wouldn’t end. I don’t want to stop and pull away, or to think about what this means. It’s just a compulsion. Something I feel the need to do.

  Suddenly, the HT on my belt bursts into life, a crackling jumble of sounds. We pull away with a small yelp and the awkwardness sets in. I lift the HT to my face and place a thumb on the button, but something stops me. I look back at Max, who seems stunned.

  “G-go ahead. We can talk later.”

  I nod and turn away, the HT pressed against my palm. My fingers shake a little and my mind is oddly blank, like I haven’t really registered what I just did. As usual, it takes a few minutes for the voices to come through clearly, but then we hear it.

  “…ley?”

  I push the button to open the line for a second, and then listen.

  “Ashley? Can you… me?”

  I press it again, and suddenly I recognise the voice. Suddenly my throat hurts, my chest filled with longing. Adam. Max steps up beside me, one hand gently resting on my shoulder. I try not to think about all the times he’s touched me in the past, so casually, like it meant nothing. Only it didn’t.

  He reaches over and grabs the HT from my hand.

  “Hey, Boss. Long time no talk.”

  “Evening. Is Ashley there?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ashley? Are you still okay?”

  Max chuckles, and he meets my eyes, and something passes between us.

  “Course she’s okay.”

  “Good. Then listen closely. Pack your bags. We’re coming for you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The morning comes too quickly, and as the sunlight breaks through the window an awful feeling clenches in my gut. I sit upright, pushing the thin blanket off me and stretching. Something’s not right – and after a moment or two I realise that Minni’s not here. While I’m usually woken by her soft singing, today I wake to utter silence. Even outside is quiet.

  I stand up – and a shadow in the corner of the room catches my eye. She sits facing me, her legs crossed, her hands clutched together, her lips pursed. Our eyes meet, and for a moment I think she’s going to greet me.

  But then she sighs and looks away.

  “I heard your news.”

  The words make it sound like it’s a good thing, but her voice is so dull and unhappy that I flinch back. She eyes me up, slowly, carefully, her mouth forming a small, familiar scowl.

  “That’s great for you. I bet you can’t wait to get home.”

  I pause, unsure how to respond. Is she mad that I’m leaving? Or maybe that I didn’t tell her? An uneasy feeling swirls in my gut and I shuffle uncomfortably. She stands now, pacing the room, coming to a stop just in front of me.

  “I know it’s not my place,” she snaps, “I just hope you’re making the right decision.”

  She stalks past, bumping my shoulder as she does so. For a moment it’s like when I first came here, how she hated me, distrusted me, was suspicious of everything I did. But this time, the feeling’s not mutual. I watch her go in silence, biting my lip hard as she slams the door behind her.

  The rest of Keep is odd with me, too. Some ask me outright if I’m going to stay, but most simply stare. They don’t ignore me; they don’t have hate in their eyes, but their look is… reproachful. Like they don’t know if they should put in the effort – because I could be leaving in two days.

  I try to smile at everyone, and gently tap people on the shoulder in the way I’ve come to do each morning, but I’m met with hushed voices and whispers. I can’t figure out if it’s because they don’t want me to go, or if they just never thought I would. I can’t blame them; there have been times when I, too, thought the Scouts wouldn’t come back for me. I’ve spent countless hours pining for home, and longing for the confident voices and brave actions of the people at Fairground. Even now, the yearning burns my throat. It’s not that I want to leave here, as such… I just want to be home again.

  I clamber up onto the wall, ready to take watch. Max is already there, and he passes me a gun with a smirk. No mention of yesterday. No mention of the kiss.

  “Morning. Guess who the talk of Street is today?”

  I roll my eyes. He watches me for a moment, studying my face.

  “I thought you might be unimpressed. People sometimes get a little… defensive of things around here. Just because you want to go back home doesn’t mean you hate it here. Right?”

  I nod, happy that someone finally understands, but then his face falls a little and I’m not sure it was the best thing to do.

  “So,” he mutters, “two days, huh? Those guys sure haven’t given you very much time. I mean, that’s not very long at all.”

  I shake my head, and an awkward moment falls over us. I look away, and instinctively my fingertips find my lips. I touch them softly, remembering last night. The kiss on the rooftop, the way I backed off, the shame on his face as he realised I hadn’t expected it. The way I’d kissed back, not knowing why, not caring what it meant. I look up at him; but he’s already gone, striding across the wall, gun in hand, a blank look carefully plastered on his face.

  I take a seat and stare into the dust. Why do I feel this way? This was only ever supposed to be a temporary option. I was never meant to stay, or even to like it here. This is a stopgap, a short-term shelter until the others are well enough to escort me home. I was never meant to form any relationships with these people or any bond to this way of life, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be good for me. It makes sense I want to go home. It’s not like I actually have a choice. I need to go back.

  So why do I feel so guilty?

  I lean over, pulling my knees up to my chin, and bury my face in my legs. I shouldn’t be feeling so conflicted or confused about this. It’s a simple enough choice. I could never have stayed here. I’m too different. Too much of a nothing person to be here, where the c
haracters are big and the days are loud and the adventures are endless. I need to return to my quiet home where I can sit in a corner and study for the rest of my life.

  I close my eyes for a moment, and the scene plays out in front of me. I’ll come to the gates of Fairground, my heart unsure, and then I’ll see the ferris wheel. My eyes will skirt the metal frame and trace the lights on it, and suddenly everything will click into place. I’ll smile, and I’ll finally be at home. I’ll never want for anything again. I’ll stay in the infirmary and work my fingers to the bone as a trainee, and eventually a doctor. Dr Newton will be proud to leave his work to me, and I’ll never think about the outside world again.

  My lip trembles. That’s got to be how it happens. It’s got to be.

  I spend the afternoon in the hospital, sitting on the dusty floor and giving what little company I can to the patients. Nicholas sits up against the wall, eyeballing me. But every time I meet his gaze he looks away, a sour look on his face.

  “They’re coming for you, huh?”

  He stares now, his face twisted in a combination of anger and sadness. When he speaks, his voice is fragile.

  “I kept telling you they wouldn’t come for you. I told you they’d abandon you here like they did with me. I was sure of it. So why have they decided to come back for you?”

  He snarls a little and I shake my head, desperately wishing I could explain. They never left him behind; they must have thought they’d lost him forever. The Scouts don’t abandon people. He narrows his eyes at me.

  “What’s so special about you? You’re small and weak and you can’t even talk. I was a king. Why would they save you and not me?”

  I don’t know how to reply, so I shake my head again and give a soft smile. He rolls his eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh, before lying down and turning away from me. But despite his outward anger I can see his shoulders shifting, shuddering like he’s holding back tears.