by Otter Lieffe
“I'll get you some more painkiller,” said Ash, opening the medicine cabinet.
“Thanks.”
“You were saying…” signed Pinar.
“So, yeah, I lost contact with the others. We scattered into the Forest and at some point, I found the river. I remembered hearing about you two, how you take care of the resistance fighters. So I walked here. It took a day or two, I guess. I'm not really sure. I got sick.”
“You had a fever,” Ash said with an edge in her voice passing Pinar the willow bark. “You started screaming that they—the State—were coming to kill us. Do you remember that?”
“No, not at all.” Jason coughed again. “But you're so isolated out here, I think it's fine—”
“Good.”
“Try to rest,” said Pinar softly. “We'll talk more later. Ash, it's hot and stuffy in here. Want to take a walk with me to get some water?”
“Let's go.”
Chapter eleven
With no air conditioning, and no fresh air, the office was claustrophobically hot, and Nathalie was beginning to feel dizzy. It was nearly lunchtime anyway, so she headed back down the stairs armed with another cup of coffee and an entirely bland nutrition-meal from the kitchen.
Outside, the sky was brooding, and the heat was almost as unbearable as in the office, but Nathalie liked to get away from her colleagues and have some time to herself to think.
She had a regular spot where she sat and ate her lunch looking down over what used to be the motorway out of town. It was completely overgrown, and it was gradually becoming a kind of long woodland snaking through the City as each day more trees pushed up through the concrete.
She ate her meal and looked out over the woodland thoughtfully.
I remember when cars still drove here. Before the vehicle ban, before the crash. I remember driving to the seaside for family holidays.
She took a sip of her drink.
Did this stuff really go extinct? We so rarely hear anything from the outside world. I wonder if the fuel ran out everywhere and not just here. I wonder if—
A voice from behind startled her.
“I know you, don't I?”
Nathalie turned around, surprised. Before her was a beautiful woman, someone she couldn't place but who, at the same time, seemed deeply familiar. Dark eyes, full lips, perfectly straight, black hair. Nathalie knew she knew that face, but where from?
“We met the other night. You remember me, don't you?”
The other night? The girl from the park! The stranger in the shadows!
Nathalie was suddenly overcome with embarrassment and her pale cheeks blushed bright red. She'd never met anyone from the park outside before. She wasn't afraid of being caught out—anyone who even stepped foot in the park was as guilty as everyone else—but she was lost for words.
After all, they'd never actually spoken before.
This woman has seen me commit all kinds of perverted acts under the night sky and I don't even know her name. And here she is and she's waiting for an answer—
“Err.. yes, of course I remember you…we haven't really met yet, my name's N,” she said, impulsively putting out her right hand.
“So formal,” said the stranger smiling and shook Nathalie's hand with a tight grip.
“Oh…well I didn't mean to be formal…I'm just, you know, a bit surprised is all…” Nathalie stumbled over her words. “Do you work near here?”
“Of all the questions. Yes. What's your placement? Admin department I'm guessing?”
“Err… Admin, that's right. In that office right there, twelfth floor, quite a view, but the lift never works.” Nathalie chattered nervously. “Actually, I should get back soon. I'm just… on my break, you know for coffee… would you like some actually? Coffee that is.” Nathalie offered her the cup. It had barely cooled at all in the midday heat.
“I quit a few years back. No point being addicted to something so expensive.”
“That makes sense…”
“But maybe just a sip.”
They locked eyes as the stranger took a long, slow sip of the bitter liquid, shamelessly smiled and licked her moist lips.
“Damn, that's good.”
Nathalie felt naked again under that unwavering gaze and she looked down at the ground, searching for something to say.
“I…we…have plenty at the office. I could bring you a cup tomorrow if you like.”
She looked up to see the stranger—she still hadn't learned her name—giving her just the hint of a smile.
“I think that's a very good idea, N.”
Chapter twelve
“You took a big risk leaving that flyer, boy.”
The General was back at the toilet, same cubicle, same worker. He hadn't planned on coming down here. He wasn't even supposed to be in this part of town. And somehow, here he was.
Maybe this is an addiction. Maybe I should do something about it.
The General wasn’t prone to self-doubt—a man with his responsibilities couldn’t afford to be. But there were moments when coming to the toilets felt like a weakness, the only thing in his life that made him vulnerable. It felt dangerous. But a man needs what he needs, and I want to use the rat again, I deserve it. Once I’ve reminded him of his place.
“What flyer, Sir?” the sex worker asked sweetly.
“Cute, boy, very cute. I could take you out and have you locked up right now, you dirty verger.”
Verger was one of the General's favourite insults. For a while, 'divergent' had become an empowering term to describe people who 'diverged' from a common group. Neurodivergents for example were people with less common neurobiology such as people on the autism spectrum. Reframing it in this way was intended to put such groups on an equal level so although there were 'neurotypicals' and 'neurodivergents', neither of these groups were seen as better or worse. Within a few years, the terminology had expanded to gender divergents, sexual divergents and ability divergents amongst others.
But school children quickly corrupted the new terms and 'divergent', 'vergent' and 'verger' became the go-to insult for anyone seen as unusual. Some divergents, in turn reclaimed the insult, but these days it was still mostly heard as a pejorative.
The sex worker gave the General a coy look.
“You could try, Sir. But I don't think you will.”
“What makes you so confident?”
“Let's just say I have some insurance, Sir. Certain photographic evidence that you wouldn't want falling into the wrong hands. All the toilet boys do it, of course, Sir. I thought you knew that.”
The General was stunned but tried to hide his surprise.
“I knew about that. Of course I did. Still, don't forget your place you dirty…” the General was running out of insults “—faggot. Dirty fag…boy.”
“Of course not, Sir,” replied the sex worker. “Would Sir like to stand on me again today and have His boots cleaned?” Mike, the sex worker—who had a beautiful wife and two children—said as he offered up the scanner.
The General shifted from one leg to the other as he weighed his options.
This is probably a bad idea. Is he blackmailing me? What 'photographic evidence' anyway?
He looked at the cubicle door and he looked at his boots. Well, I'm here now and it'll be nearly a week before I'm back at the station. What the hell?
He took the scanner.
Chapter thirteen
Pinar and Ash chatted as they pumped water out of the well and filled their buckets. This summer was so hot that the well was almost dry and Ash was worried that they might run out completely soon. They barely had enough today to fill the coal filter at the cabin as it was. Pinar took a turn on the pump. Above them they could hear thrushes, finches and pigeons calling each other in the forest canopy.
“What do you think?” asked Pinar over the sound of the pump. “About Jason, I mean.”
“He seems pretty messed up,” Ash
replied, switching the bucket under the pump. “I didn't particularly appreciate being attacked, for example.”
“It was the fever. And the trauma—”
“Yes, yes.”
“He's post-traumatic. We could try the cleansing.” Pinar thoughtfully flicked her long hair out of her face and continued pumping. “I think it might help.”
Ash allowed herself a small smile.
“Well, we have to at some point, Pin, otherwise people will think I'm a delusional old lady instead of just a temporally divergent one.”
Temporally divergent was Pinar's term for Ash's special trait of moving through time, but Ash had never really approved of it. She was already considered divergent in so many ways, the last thing she wanted was another marginalised category to be put in.
Pinar smiled, her face radiant in the dappled forest light.
“You're the sweetest temporally divergent old lady I know. Shall we do it tonight?”
“Okay. But let's eat first. I'm starving!”
“Just to make a change.”
Ash stuck her tongue out and they both laughed and headed back to the cabin with their buckets.
* * *
“Get me that report on the wells, Lieutenant. I said today and I meant today. Not tomorrow, not next week.”
“Yes Sir. Right away Sir.”
“Bring the rest of the squad here and then get the hell out of my sight.”
The General poured himself another glass of State vodka and drank it down in one go.
Fuck these idiots.
He was in a worse mood than usual since he got back from the toilets an hour ago. He was overseeing a military campaign in the forest to destroy the fresh-water wells that the resistance depended on but was finding it hard to concentrate.
Without the wells, the resistance fighters and villages would either die or move away. At least that was the plan.
Somehow though, even with all the power of the State behind them, these vergers haven't managed to locate a single well.
The campaign was a year old and the forest resistance was as strong as ever. And it's always me who gets shit for it from my superiors. I shouldn’t even have superiors. No-one’s better at this than I am.
The door to his office squeaked open. His squad came in and lined up in front of him.
“I think you know why you're here,” said the General, leaning back in the chair and putting his boots on the table in front of him.
They nodded in silence.
“Well? Why are you here?” he shouted at the nearest Lieutenant.
“It was the annual review yesterday… Sir. And erm… we didn't meet the project deadline. Sir.”
“You messed up, in other words.”
“Yes Sir.”
The General turned to one of the other men. A new grunt who had only been on the base for a month or so.
He's cute, the General noticed, hot in a barely-out-of-his-teens way. He's also an insubordinate little shit and he's been winding me up since the day he got here.
“And what do you have say about this failure, grunt?”
The General never learned the names of his inferiors. They were all 'grunt' or 'lieutenant' to him, or if he was particularly angry: 'verger'.
“Perhaps the parameters of the mission were too optimistic for the resources available,” replied the soldier.
“In English!”
“Nothing, doesn't matter.”
“Nothing, doesn't matter, Sir!” the General shouted despite himself. “You will show proper respect for my title or you'll be disciplined, grunt.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Get out, the lot of you. Go do some work for a change.” The General turned to the cute one. “Not you. You're staying with me.”
When the others had left and closed the door, the General barked:
“A hundred push ups, right now!”
The soldier didn't move.
“I said now!”
Taking his time, the soldier got down and started doing push ups on the office carpet.
The General poured himself another glass of vodka.
That’s better. He looks good down there, working up a sweat. Under my control.
Even shouting and giving out his little punishments wasn't helping the General's mood today though.
I know why. It's that toilet rat's fault that I'm feeling like this. I've been blackmailed and all the other toilet rats doing the same damn thing, apparently. Vergers—the lot of them.
I'm in no danger though; no-one's going to suspect me of being a 'sexual divergent' or whatever. I'm a General. Sure, I've been going there on and off for the last two years, and sure, I've probably already done most of the rats in there, but my record's impeccable.
The General was well-respected, and well-feared, which amounted to the same thing in the State military. There's no way I'll get caught. No way.
Just in case though, he'd left the sex worker an extra-large tip. The General knew the dangers. His Life Account record must be full of those little suspicious transactions.
But I'll be fine. I always am.
The recruit finished the push ups and, panting heavily, he tried to stand.
“Fifty more.” The General was beginning to feel better. “You're not done yet.”
* * *
Pinar's arms burned as she carried the heavy pot out of the cabin and placed it down next to where Ash was clearing a circle on the ground. She was panting from the effort.
“Who needs a gym when you live in the forest!” she joked.
“Who needs gyms in general?” said Ash. “Horrible, stinky places.”
As someone who, for many years, people assumed was a gay man, Ash had spent quite some time in San Francisco gyms, trying to build up, trying to look good for the guys. Cruising, protein shakes, the whole deal. It didn't take long for her to stop trying though. As she had said many times to herself at that time, if they couldn’t deal with who she really was, why would she even want them? They were all into guys after all, and I was never a man. Gays make the worst misogynists…
The smell of rose and lavender brought her back to the present. Pinar dropped the crushed herbs carefully into the hot water and the air filled with their heady scent.
Ash looked up at the reddening sky.
That looks familiar. It must be nearly time.
“You can come out,” she called to Jason, who was inside the cabin. He emerged, slowly, using a stick to keep the weight off his ankle.
“Strip, please.” She saw his expression and tried to reassure him. “Don't worry, we're very, very old—well, at least I am. I promise we won't look.”
Shyly and without making eye contact, Jason stripped down to his underwear. Although Ash had explained the whole process to him over dinner—the sacred cleansing to help him recover from the trauma he had experienced, the herbs to help draw out his pain—Jason looked intensely awkward as he stood in the cleared circle and waited for the ceremony to begin.
“Ready, Ash?”
“Ready.”
As she always did, Ash called upon the memory of her teachers to guide her.
This man needs our help. This land is distant, this forest would be foreign to you, but if you can, please help us to heal Jason. To help undo the damage the State has done to him. Spirits of this place, we ask you for help tonight…
Pinar was burning the wood of an old tree which had been struck by lightning years before. As the smoke enveloped him, Jason's eyes began to burn and water. Ash coughed and together with Pinar, she lifted the pot over Jason's body.
* * *
It was already getting dark outside when the recruit finished his push ups.
“Done,” he announced as he stood up and grinned smugly at the General.
Ever since he arrived on base, he'd been distracting the General from his work. The way the uniform hung off his torso when he was doing the morning exercises. The s
hine of his boots after inspection. The sweat on his back when he was running in the yard. This soldier had something about him that intrigued the General and it was just making him more frustrated and more horny.
“Done, Sir!” shouted the General, immediately angry again. He was losing control; he could feel it. This guy knew just how to get under his skin.
“Shall I do another hundred?”
“ANOTHER HUNDRED, SIR!” the General yelled. He noticed some of his other subordinates watching him through the office window.
Fuck. I’m losing it. I need to get my control back. It’s because I want to fuck him. And I haven’t been sleeping well and—
The General could hear his subordinates talking on the other side of the window. One said something and another started laughing.
They’re laughing at me. I need to do something. I need to make an example of this guy before I lose control completely.
Without another thought, consumed with his frustration, the General grabbed the soldier by his collar and dragged him past the other recruits.
“Get back to work you fucking vergers!” he yelled. “I’ll show you what happens when you disobey me.”
The communal shower room was in the next building and the General dragged the recruit through the Officer's tent, and into the shower, slamming the door behind him. He pushed him against the wall and gave him a good, hard punch in the gut. The recruit bent over in pain but refused to cry out. Another punch and he fell down on the cold shower floor.
* * *
The first drops of hot water fell, but they'd barely touched him before Jason collapsed. His embarrassment completely forgotten, he curled up on the ground and allowed his tears to come. As the water poured over him, Pinar called Jason's name over and over to help him find his true self beyond the trauma that had invaded him. Unable to hold them in any longer, Jason's cries carried out into the dark forest.
This is how it was, thought Ash. I'll be here soon.
Only rarely did she journey into her future. It was the strangest feeling to relive something she'd already seen, and felt, before. As she had once explained to Pinar, it was kind of like a very intense sense of déjà vu but more real. She had experienced PTSD most of her life, and the flashbacks she used to have, the sudden nightmares that would grab her, kicking and sweating back into the past were similar. But the journeys went both ways through time and not everything she saw was bad.