by Otter Lieffe
“—Relax, relax! Don't be so defensive, sister!”
“Please don't call me that.”
“Okay, look, I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I didn't mean for you to feel criticised, I just, you know, was curious is all. It's nice to talk to other queers sometimes.”
For Ash, the fact that they both seen by society as queer was most likely irrelevant. Back in her City days, she had often been introduced to random trans people she had nothing in common with except that they were both not cis-gender. She always reminded those well-meaning friends that, although she appreciated the thought, she was so much more than her gender identity. And really, what would she have to talk about with accountants and architects anyway?
She shuffled awkwardly and looked for a way out of the conversation.
Where's Pin gone? I have to find an excuse to escape from this terrible person.
Unabated, Sandy with her loud voice and dramatic urban sign continued to probe into Ash's private life.
“I'm one of the main organisers of the sex work collective,” she announced proudly. “There's a few of us queer folk in the collective. Did you do sex work, you know, before you ran away?”
“No.”
“I see. So what do you do, out there in the forest? You're not a fighter—not at your age.”
“I look after people. I grow vegetables and herbs. I serve the forest.”
“Ah right. Cool. Plants and stuff.
This is going nowhere.
“Well, I've got to go to work now,” said Sandy leaning in to give Ash more kisses. “Let's continue this another time, yeah?”
Ash was finally left alone and sighed with relief.
My God is everyone like this in the City?
* * *
The General had been walking for hours through the forest with nothing except the clothes he was wearing and a vague sense of heading east. He was desperately thirsty. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. In fact, he couldn't remember much at all.
He stopped to drink from the remnants of a stream but as he cupped the water in his hands and brought it to his lips, he noticed it had an iridescent shine to it; an oily, shimmering rainbow. He drank it anyway, but within a minute threw up violently. His empty stomach twisted even more.
He was covered in sweat and his clothes still stunk of his own dried excrement.
Despite all this, the General felt strangely at peace. His only thoughts were about getting to water and food and surviving. His mind was uncluttered, undisturbed.
Nothing else matters. I just have to keep walking.
Chapter fifty-one
The warehouse was busy and loud, and Ash was overwhelmed. Watching the hundreds of people around her coming and going full of purpose, with their blueprints of the prison system, their high-octane meetings, activist vocabulary, and urban slang, Ash began to feel like a different species.
I miss the forest. How did we even end up back here?
She needed to keep herself busy and decided to set up a clinic in a quiet corner to give bodywork to those who needed it. Within an hour, she had a stream of people coming to her with various aches and pains from sleeping on the floor, dislocated shoulders or other injuries from street altercations, headaches, exhaustion—all things she could help with.
Ash was busy doing what she loved, but she daydreamed often about the river, about her home. Surrounded by people, she realised that she felt more alone than she had in a long time.
That afternoon, Ash found herself cleaning a small mountain of dishes, her arms deep in greasy, soapy water. She had already been cleaning for more than an hour and muttered to herself as she slammed the dishes onto the drying rack.
Why does 'punk' always end up meaning 'unhygienic'? Most of these people are young, able-bodied, certainly fitter than me, but they live like poor people—like it’s a damn aesthetic. How did they even survive without me to clean up after them?
She looked up and saw a familiar smile. It was Pinar and she was bearing gifts.
“Ash! You look exhausted. Have you been outside yet?”
“No, not really—”
“—Look, I brought you something! I found real coffee at the illegal market by the motorway. The beans are probably not too fresh, and we had to bargain hard for it, but here, I thought it would make you happy.”
“It's perfect, thank you.”
Ash dried her arms on a small, dirty towel.
“It's a beautiful day out there, and the motorway—or what used to be the motorway—is really nice, lots of trees. We could take a walk if you like, before the mesa this evening.”
“No…I…I have things to do.”
“Hon, I'm not stupid. You're nervous about being in the street. But I also know you're missing the birds and the sky. Let's go out, just a short walk.”
“Okay, okay. Let me just get changed and I'm ready. I'll leave this little disaster—” she indicated the dish mountain. “For the young people.”
* * *
His legs were bound, rope burned against his wrists.
I shouldn't want this, but I can't help myself. This is everything I dreamed of.
Naked but for the layer of mud on his ass and the candle wax covering his nipples, the man was completely blinded by the scarf tied around his eyes.
Each time, the loud snap before the cold and the pain as strips of leather cut deep into his back. His skin tore open and, one by one, his fears were released. He wanted to scream, to tell her how much he loved her, but only moans escaped his taut lips. Snap then pain. Snap and pain. His boundaries broken down. And he was hers.
I love you, Mistress.
The room became empty, the air suddenly silent. Blood pounding in his ears, the man felt darkness closing in around him as he sensed her absence.
This is the perfect moment. This is the moment I see the root of loneliness.
He saw with a vision born in the dark, a clarity of endorphins. And for a moment there was nothing in the world except the sound of his own breath.
Then she was there again, embracing him, scratching him, smothering his skin with hers, absorbing him into herself. And he was ready to share his pain with her once more.
“Thank you, Mistress. That was incredible.”
“I'm always incredible.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
“Lick the other boot clean now.”
Kit was enjoying herself immensely. She hadn't met this client before, but he seemed very willing to please her.
And he has a high pain threshold which is always fun.
“Five minutes left, sub.”
The client gave her a look that reminded Kit of a lost puppy.
“Come.”
She allowed him to put his head on her lap and she stroked his hair. She rarely allowed such intimacy, even if sometimes she wanted to slow down a little and just enjoy the physical contact. He did work hard to please me though and it's a nice way to close a session.
“Thank you, Mistress. It's been such a difficult week, I really needed this.”
Kit didn't want to hear about her client's boring work for the State. Normally she'd just tell him to be quiet—that she was the only person in this room who had anything worth saying—but she was distracted. She was thinking about Nathalie.
“—It's been so hard getting the new recruits trained up,” the client was saying. “My superiors put so much pressure on me. It's impossible to please them—”
I miss her. It's strange. I haven't felt like this about someone for a long time. I don’t think it’s love or anything, but I'm feeling ready to be more vulnerable with her. To open up a bit more.
“—And there's a lot going on this week. Those resistance rats have been fighting us out in the forest—”
Every time we've met so far has been so…violent. I love that of course, I need it. But maybe something more tender would be nice, too, at some point. I should bring it up
with her next ti—
“—And then there's the raid tonight—”
Kit snapped suddenly back to the present.
“What? What raid? What are you talking about, sub?”
“Erm…at an old warehouse down-town, Mistress. We think there's resistance using the space for their meetings and erm…”
“Tell me more.”
Her client blushed.
“I shouldn't say too much about it, Mistress. My superiors would kill me if they knew I told anyone.”
“Then do something more useful with your tongue boy. Lick my boots clean and get out of my sight.”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”
Kit's heart was racing. I have to get over to the warehouse. I have to get everyone out.
She looked unconsciously towards the door.
I just hope I'm not already too late.
Chapter fifty-two
“It is beautiful out here.”
Ash and Pinar walked along the motorway, the concrete valley slowly being reclaimed by the squirrels, birch trees, and primroses.
“I didn't realise the City had places like this.”
“Well, there were always parks for what they were worth,” Pinar replied. “But without cars, there's a whole lot more space for things to grow back. Not everything will, of course, and the concrete's here to stay. Still, even if the State tried to clean it all up, they just don't have the machines to do it anymore.”
“It's beautiful, but it just reminds me how far we are from home,” said Ash, casting a disdainful look down at her jeans and dark t-shirt. “I hate wearing all this masculine crap, you know…”
She had always refused to call jeans 'gender-neutral'. In her opinion, jeans were no more neutral than dresses. Calling jeans, t-shirt and a short haircut, ‘androgynous’, just centred masculinity even more.
“I know hon, I'm sorry.”
“Well, anyway—” Ash lowered her voice. “How are the plans looking? Are we making a move soon?”
“It's not clear yet. There's talk of making this a wider action against all the prisons—there are so many people in there, this could really be—”
Pinar stopped talking and pointed across the motorway where four armed soldiers were walking by, slightly hidden by the trees.
“Just keep walking straight ahead,” she whispered. “And let's sign.”
She switched to USL.
“Oh, I know, it's been so hot recently. I can't wait for winter. They say there might be a storm coming this weekend. I would love some rain. Anyway, we should get back to the office soon, we're probably late…”
“Err, yeah, I have to get some work done…mate.” Ash was signing with male pronouns and felt entirely uncomfortable. “It's so hot in there this time of year. I don’t know how you can cope on the top floor. With the sun and the erm…heat…”
The troopers passed by, uninterested.
“It's okay,” Pinar laughed gently. “Please stop acting—that was truly painful!”
“Uff. I hate this. Why would anyone live here? Let's break Jason out already and get back to the real world!”
“Well, it may not be that simple, but we'll do what it takes. Let's sit here, it's a bit more hidden from the street.”
They sat down on a soft piece of ground under the shade of a young oak with a good view of the motorway forest.
“I miss him, you know? Jason…”
“I know...”
“And I never even got the chance to tell him, that I, um—”
“—That you have feelings for him.”
“Yeah.” Pinar looked thoughtful. “Was it that obvious?”
“After all these years, I should hope I notice when you're in love or not.”
“But it's so fast. I mean, I barely know him.”
“Well, it happens that way sometimes. I'm happy for you…Shh…look!”
Ash switched back to signing silently.
“There's a fox, over there, do you see? Down behind the services sign.”
“Amazing.”
“Yeah.”
They sat for another hour together, watching the fox, the squirrels playing in the young trees, the clouds of nettle pollen exploding into the breeze. This concrete valley wasn't their home, not even nearly, but as long as they were together, home was never far away.
The sun was close to setting so Ash and Pinar headed back to the warehouse building. As they arrived, they expected to see people discreetly coming and going, subtle candlelight flickering inside the windows, a guard from the security collective near the door checking the people arriving. There was nothing at all. The building was completely quiet.
“I don't like this, Pin. This isn't right,” Ash signed in the fading light as they circled around the building together. “Where did everyone go? Was there a raid? My god…was there a raid?”
“Don't panic. Just stay in the shadows, we'll find out what happened.”
Someone appeared out of the trees behind them. Pinar opened her mouth to scream but before she could, the stranger put his gloved hand over it.
Immediately, Ash took a step forward and prepared herself to kick him, bite him, scratch his eyes out—whatever it takes to save my friend.
Chapter fifty-three
As the stranger stepped out of the shadows, his hand still muffling Pinar's screams, Ash realised she recognised him. She'd seen him this afternoon in a meeting at the warehouse.
“Sssh…” He released Pinar. “I'm really sorry to scare you.”
“What the f—”
“My name's Danny, I'm part of the sex work collective,” he whispered. “I think we met yesterday. Ash and Pinar, right? The patrols are still nearby, that's why I couldn't let you scream. I'm really sorry.”
“What happened?” Pinar stepped away from him, her heart still racing. Realising it was already too dark to sign, she whispered as well. “What happened here? Where is everyone?”
“We're not safe. Come with me and I'll explain everything.”
* * *
The music was loud. Louder than anything Ash had heard in years.
I can barely think like this. My head is killing me.
They were hidden in the back of a bar in the small, dark room where Danny offered his special services after a dance. It was the closest place to the warehouse with a discreet entrance.
“Sorry about the noise,” Danny signed to Ash and Pinar who were sat opposite him on a small, cramped sofa. “It's always like this in the evenings. I sometimes wish the solar panels would just die already.”
Pinar replied politely. “No problem. So what happened, back at the warehouse? We were only gone a couple of hours at the most.”
“It happened really fast. My friend Kit got word that a raid was being planned for tonight and within an hour we were packed up and gone. I'm pretty amazed we got out in time. Most of the others went to a different location a bit out of town. I stayed behind to let people know, but I think you were the last ones back.”
“Thanks,” signed Pinar. “We'd have been screwed without you. We actually don't have anywhere to stay in town now. Is it possible for us to get to the new location tonight?” She looked over at Ash who looked drained and overwhelmed by the noise. “We should sleep soon.”
“It's probably too far for tonight. I've been asked to dance, for just an hour. I'm short on food money so I should probably do it. Then, if you like, I can take you both to my place. It's just around the corner. It's very small, but I'll take the sofa, and you two can have the bed. We'll need to avoid the neighbours but you're very welcome to stay.”
“Thanks, that'd be great.” Pinar turned to Ash who gave a tired nod.
“Cool, so I'll go get the dance out of the way, and I'll be back soon.”
“And what do we say if someone comes in here?” asked Ash.
“There's just enough room for Pinar to hide in the bathroom over there.” Danny pointe
d at the tiny cubicle in the corner. “And…Ash, you could say you're waiting for me to come back. That you're my—”
“—client?” Ash signed, frowning. “Because I look like a guy?”
“Err, sorry, I…”
Pinar put a comforting hand on Ash's knee. “We'll be fine, Danny. Go dance and we'll see you in an hour.”
Ash didn't say anything.
I hate everything about this damn city.
Just then, the DJ put on another thumping tune and her headache got even worse.
* * *
There were so many voices, languages and sounds in the kitchen, Nathalie was instantly overwhelmed.
She had just arrived five minutes before, coming straight from work to the busy squatted building barely a kilometre from her workplace and she already regretted her decision.
Why did I say I’d come? Kit won’t even be here tonight. Work. It’s always work, or class, or a meeting. Just about everything is more important than spending her precious time with me.
She looked around at the people she’d be working with this evening.
And now I’m stuck here, with these weirdos.
She had rarely seen so many kinds of people in one place, certainly not since the Improvement. A person in a wheelchair was laying out the tables assisted by someone using crutches. Someone else was balancing on a chair and hanging streamers. Each time she needed to hang up another strand of the streamer, the person was forced to get off the chair and pick up more tacks. Nathalie stepped forward to help out, but then thought better of it.
She’s obese, Nathalie, thought to herself. Not ‘fat’, the word that fat activists had politically reclaimed in the 20s, turning it from a slur into a simple descriptor—like ‘tall’ or ‘slim’ without all the associated judgement. Not ‘weight divergent’ as the State-accepted term had become for a while before divergents of all kind were driven away. She’s obese, thought Nathalie. And probably sick and too lazy to look after herself properly. Repelled, she stepped further away from the person and didn’t offer to help.