Year of the Orphan

by Daniel Findlay

  By the time she’d crossed the System she were stumblin. The Stacksd climbed up an up an up above the ramshackle huts an scrap shacks made outta wire and drums an leavins from the scav piles, now they was loomin over her black like the great burned trees she’d run across now and then. The Stacks ran right up to the town an then spilled back into their own, the old water tower at the middle holdin it up or were it the other way around. As she got closer the light of the hooks an cuts at her back faded an by the time she stood facin the broken wall of tyres an could see the alleys an entrances disappearin into em it were like she was facin the deep dark all over again. Werent many fellas around but a lanky girl an boy stood backs to the stack, watchin her wary as snakes as she came up. The girl called out, uncoilin from her slouch, hands dug deep in the pockets of her too big overalls. You lost?

  The Orphan looked up at her, headache needlin in behind her left eye now. The boy lazily reached up an arm an laid it on the shoulder of the girl whod called to her. He let her hang for a while, lookin her up an down before vouchin her. Shes alright. Been here a while, aintcha.

  A nod were all the Orphan could muster. The girl spat on the ground and slumped back against the curved wall. She passed them into the Stacks, eaten by the dark, lit here an there by glowin paint splashed on the rubber walls an old fireless lanterns. It were easier to let her hands find the way in here than her eyes, trailin along the cracked an crazed walls, sum of them made from tyres three or four metres round an stacked high together, leanin together an closin off the sky at the top. They was caulked with rag an dust an bone an she always forgot how quick the cold dropped on her once she were inside. The narrow path she walked widened out, openin into a wider road an she half felt, half saw others passin her in the gloom. Eyes down, the way of the Stacks. Warrens an burrows on all sides an the scuttlin an calls of creatures she couldnt see. She pushed on further, stayin left, her coat brushin up against others an even with the headache her eyes started workin good and then workin too much. She kept em down anyways, the path openin again into a cavern that here an there showed sky past the towerin blackness. There was more lanterns, sum with flame sittin far from the walls. It were sumthin them livin out in the light couldnt even imagine she reckoned. This were the Stacks market, folk still needed to trade an sleep an eat, even in here. She saw more cornerboys leanin against the walls, cuppin smoke careful in their hands, just canvassin, eyes like glass. They dint even look at her. This were where she were proper unseen, this were her peeps. She walked quick as she could through the market, the smell of old rubber an heat crawlin and curlin inside her, easin her head. Dark doin wonders for her. Down another side alley, draggin her fingers against rubber that time an heat had turned to stone. Rubbish collected like sand drifts against the walls an small creatures scavved in the heaps. She pushed through the gaps, headin deeper, finally reachin the junction she was lookin for. She ran her hand down a stack that sat close, hardenin her hand an pushin it into a nearinvisible cut in the rings of rubber. She wormed her hand in an then pushed her shoulder against it, usin her arm to lever it open an scrapin through the brittle rubber and into the inner rim. Flakes rained down on her head as she felt her way in the total darkness. She walked clockwise a few paces and then felt for another cut in the rubber, peelin back a door, pushin though into more dark, hearin her breathin and then crouchin so she could reach an old casing lighter. She flicked it, castin a shallow glow inside the tyre stack, circles risin up into the darkness above her. She lit a tallow lamp, this were home. A bedroll an a metal box. Old paper an books she’d cadged or kept. Bottles of clean water an a sharpening stone. Her spare billy an a plastic bag of tea. She unhitched her bayonet an stuck it sheath down into the ground. Then she sat in the dust an took off her boots an footwraps, real slow, the stink of her fillin up the small space. She went through her satch, takin evrythin out, shells and the bottle she hadnt left with last, an put it all in the footlocker. She unrolled the swag an lay down, movin the blade justso, close enough. Boots in reach. Too knackered even for a brew. She blew out the lamp, an pulled her coat round herself. She always forgot how cold it got deep in the Stacks, special when ya stopped movin. The heat in the day out past the fences, out past the long boundaries, it always made a kid of her. Were like she couldnt hold onto the feelin of bein real cold out there, no matter what the nights were doin. She rolled her head careful, avoidin the ache an the bump. She were gunna rest, just a little.

  The dream come on her quick. She were little again, sittin in the shade of the leanto with Jon while her mum was makin a stew of leaves an yams an game. It were the middle of the day an Mum was singin real soft as she sat by the fire, stirrin it evry now an then but more often sendin her gaze far out into the flats, watchin the horizon.

  She still looks for him. Jon whisperin to her as they played crosses in the dust.

  Who?

  Dad.

  Dont remember.

  Sumtimes I do. I can kinda remember his face. She tells me about him sumtime.

  She took the game. Jon smiled at her.

  Gettin better at this. Gunna be clever.

  She remembered the feel of him warm an close like a pain. Him an her ma fillin her vision with all them dear things. Stew an crosses an dust an nuthin to tax em in the shadowless midday. Stirrin an stirrin, just dinner to look forwards to. She woke herself lyin on her bedroll in the cold stack, deep dark still an she could near smell the smoke of the cookin fire. She lay awhile eyes open, not tryna think on nuthin, just takin the measure of her thoughts, grateful when sleep took her again.

  6

  Shes back.

  Block nodded. He’d thought so, felt sumthin on the wind.

  She dint have no ship or nuthin.

  Now that was interestin. It wouldnt have been easy partin her from the Wide Open Road. There werent many like that ship and even less in the hands of scavs and orphans. He leaned to the side of his desk and spat on the dirt floor as he thought the word. Old superstitions. Orphans was bad luck back in the day. How many knew that now? Orphans evrywhere.

  She gone to the Stacks?

  Yeah boss. Went in a little while ago.

  Block sucked his teeth. His name carried sum weight there but he still dint send anywun in without a real good reason. Too many dint come back and nowun was ever talkin in the Stacks. He looked at the yungen in front of him, waitin patiently.

  Done good. Go on then.

  He looked past the vanishin kid at Cutter, who leaned against the door frame.

  You want me to go get her?

  Say what you liked about Cutter but he werent afraid of much.

  Nah. Give that littlun sumthin to eat. Ya done good bringin him in, he’s gunna make good eyes an good hands. Sharp tacker.

  Cutter hacked a cough into his hand, the skin on his neck tight an strained.

  Yer a fucken soft touch these days. Hadta work years for ya before ya threw me a crust.

  Block half smiled, lookin at him close. Feelin alright mate?

  Good enough.

  Watch yerself, moren more gettin the waste. Hair an teeth droppin. Seen the Watch draggin em out to the pits.

  I know it. Smell em cookin all night.

  How many scavs we got on the sand right now?

  Cutter thought a moment. Four. Five if ya count the Orphan?

  I do.

  Five then. Two on canvas, three on shanks.

  What about the bald fella?

  Last I heard he had ten out, five on the breeze an five on shanks. Hes sendin out moren more.

  Theyre gettin hungrier. Five on the breeze huh, theyre buildin sum ships, moren they used to. Reckon the Orphan ran into sum of em out past the Boundaries?

  If she did they aint comin back.

  Block nodded. Keep yer wits mate, keep countin em in an countin em back. Make sure our fellas is comin in an if they dont, that we know why. Unnerstand?

  Yeah boss.

  Block smiled. Good, well piss off then, an get that yungen sum f
ood.

  Cutter heaved himself off the frame an followed the yungen out the door. Block looked up from his papers an watched his retreatin back. Was gunna have to keep an eye on Cutter. Plenny was gettin sick an not many was comin good. He werent gunna send him in after the Orphan neither. Fetchin her from the Stacks were his own job. He stared back at his papers again for a while, not seein the words. She’d come.

  7

  Before

  A foot in the ribs woke her. Karra dint look back, knew she would be up and followin him if she wanted sumthin to drink. Water. It were all she’d thought about for months. From sun up each bakin day to the moment she drifted uneasy into sleep she dreamed of cool water. Now and then she could see the smell of it on the breeze and taste the sound of it in the back of her throat. Memories not her own comin to her on the Westerly. She followed him to the front room of the box, sectioned off by blankets draped over braided jute strung back and forth between walls. Day before she’d carried bucket after bucket of water back from the nearest soak. Ground the red saltbush fruit down to paste an then jarred it up. Cleaned the awnin an swept the rooms she were allowed in. Karra gave her a few mouthfuls in an old can and then set the topper back on the jug. It were cool an clear an tasted like soil an rust. She tried to savour it but her body got the best of her an she drank it down fast, cravin more. Karra stood a while, starin out the window to the yard, watchin the heat haze rise off the tin roof of the leanto. She waited for him to decide what she were gunna be doing. Finally he turned an signed to her.

  Inside today. Put the marbles into tens for me an dont muck it up.

  She let her breath out slow. It were wun of her favourites, most of all cause it kept her outta the sun. It were easy work, movin the red desert stones into bundles of ten and then groupin them in ten by ten squares. Dint matter that at the end of it she’d pour em all back into the bucket an start again. She dint muck it up much an it meant he were too busy to come up with anythin nasty for her to do. She knew her numbers well enough thanks to Jon and the work took only a little focus. It pleased him that she could count and he’d hinted that if she did it good and kept her nose clean he would let her count sumthin more and make up weights of powders on the slidin scale. She sat herself down at the table fashioned out of old heavy wood that Karra called sleepers. It were pitted with bolt holes and knots and she reckoned itd led a hard life. Out the window sumthin about the pitiless glare reflectin off the scrap and rubbish scared her and made her think about the destroyed shack out on the edge of the Glows. She werent even sure she could find her way there, even if she was free and healthy and she werent neither no more. No way to find where the Ghosts had cast aside the remains of her brother and mother and left their bones to bleach in the dust and heat. She couldnt feel much right now as she sat in the gloom countin but she knew there was a weight down deep in her, sum eyeless thing that twisted and lurked in the night and tried to wriggle its way up her gullet and out into the world. She was dreaming, dreamin in the day so deep that she dint notice the boss standin behind her, the only sound the dull clack as she counted the countless pebbles into groups of ten and slid them scratchin into bundles across the wood, careful not to lose none of em in the table.

  You can count.

  The boss’s voice soft an low behind her. She dint reckon he’d ever said a word to her. She looked up at Karra sittin in front of her, his hooded eyes givin her nuthin. His fingers spoke.

  Answer him.

  Yes boss.

  And speak?

  Yes boss. I can speak, an count real good.

  There were a soft laugh from sumwhere behind her. She had the sense he were movin around, talkin half to Karra an half to himself. His voice had a burr to it, like he had dust in his throat.

  Yeah, you can count. What about your letters?

  She shook her head. Why would she need her letters? Never did nowun no good, better to know where the water was, or where the game hid in the middle of the day. Jon woulda said different, he was tryna learn his letters. She stopped the thought from goin any further.

  No, boss. No letters.

  There was a long silence. She thought he might have left the room, it were so quiet. Finally he crossed into her view an spoke. When you finish with her tomorrow, send her up to me.

  Karra scribin at the desk in the corner of the room gave nuthin away. Just signed his obedience, looked blankly at her and went back to his ledger. The boss nodded to himself and disappeared into the inner rooms where nowun followed. She watched him go and then looked again at Karra, unsure. He looked back at her again with a flat stare, black eyes in his duststreaked face. He pointed towards her stones. She counted.

  The evenin chores took time. She emptied the bosses shit bucket into the small burn pit, swept the inside of the metal rooms and then swept dust into more dust in the yard. She beat out the sackcloth beds and then stripped naked and beat the dust out of her own clothes. Karra went into the Centre on sum bidding. Travellers an scavs had come and gone durin the day, sum on sand sleds, travellin with guards an cando men, others comin in solo from the waste, stayin a short time but headin back out heavy with trade, leavin papers, satchels an things from the old world with the boss. Sum of em talked about ciphers, plenny talked about the Centre, there were words flyin all over, landin around her, an she prolly only grabbed a couple down an understood what they meant. Today was the first time the boss noticed her she reckoned and definitely the first time he’d spoken to her. Still had a tongue but he spoke the hands like he was born to it. Sum of the fellas comin in that spoke only the hands, she knew they was sumthin to do with the ciphers or mebbe they was born silent. Was that what happened to Karra she wondered or maybe he was wun of them born with sumthin missin or sumthin extra like her mum used to talk about. They was rare. Kids was rare, but those what were born seldom came without sum extra blessin or curse. How did anythin get born out here? And who was them that did the ciphers? She thought of Karras blank gaze whenever she signed him sumthin he dint wanna talk about. He could do a thing with his hands to make em closed like a weathered rock, like sum wadi swept clean of evry scrap. Like just nuthin. Dreamin in the day again. She dint hear him behind her, only felt sumthin hit her hard on the back of her head and heard the ringin in her ears as she sprawled flat and naked in the dirt. She turned over and saw Karras shape standin over her. His hands was fierce and deadly.

  You dont get nuthin for nuthin. Standin there starin inta space and shit to be done. Get yer threads back on an get back to sweepin.

  He spat on the ground with a hack. You got things to do. So do em.

  She crawled to her feet. Yes boss.

  He spat again and signed in short angry stabs. Yes boss is right. You dont work and your throats cut and yer fed to the dogs. Unnerstand?

  She nodded.

  Get to it.

  8

  Block were patient. He thought that mighta been how he got his name but truthtold he tried not to remember. Still, his patience was wearin a little. A day and a half and no visit. The Orphan, he spat, the Orphan counted herself a friend. A friend? He dint know. They was closer than that. She werent a friend. She wasnt, he corrected his thought, she wasnt like any of the admen or the cando men that spouted shit into the air and made promises worth less than their lives. He’d seen her brought off the sand an bought for scraps. No visit though, and her missin her ship and dust knew what else. He sat in the gloom of his work room, at the back of the long tin shed that were once a tool store an now were stacked with bodies yung an old, sleepin at all angles. Workshops where they fit. The tarp that covered parts of the rustin roof strained against an early mornin gust and ropes dragged over the corrugated metal, thumpin in the ruts like the dull fingers of sum giant beast.

  He looked at the sleepers that crowded his floor, the little wuns that worked for him and the even littler wuns he fed that were wun day gunna do the same. He were gunna be patient, had learned the word careful. Werent gunna just make a move and hope for th
e best. You made wun and you already knew what the next ten was evrywun else was gunna make. That was how you kept food in all them mouths. That was how you made a little space in the System. He looked out past the bodies lyin across each other on pallets and hessian and through to where figures darkened his door. He peered into the glare. Werent her. Just Cutter an Gus settin a mornin watch. He stood, bones crackin, an reached up to unhook the cloth that covered the hole in the roof. Sunlight streamed in, lightin up his desk, catchin the dust floatin in the air. He would wait. He was good at that.

  9

  She was dreamin fit to die. Hadnt dreamed this much in her life. She were back bein hunted across the sand but it werent just the Reckoner after her. Them hulkin eyeless things that stalked the deep Glows had come up to the surface an they was followed by mylings an maras, limbed like scorpions an with bludy maws like the Old Man used to tell her about. Trapped on the wrong side of the Sighs an werent never goin home. She came awake clutchin for her blade, thinkin she were back down wun of the deep holes, leftovers of dead scavs hung from the ceilin by the Reckoner by way of blud warning. Seen plenny of things she wished she hadnt. She looked around an she were in the Stacks, her things still scattered around her where she’d put em. Boots akimbo, bayonet stuck in the ground. She sucked down breath an wiped the sweat off her face with her wrap. Fever an hunger was eatin her but her head still rang. The day before she’d managed a bit of water and sum tack she’d had in her locker but then she’d sicked sum of it back up in the corner. She’d been weak, the ache still fierce but she was steadier now, her eyes was sortin themselves out. Hadnt pissed yet an that was always a worry. Thin grey beams filtered in through cracks in the top of the Stacks but she dint need it to see. The rounded walls of her place kept out the noise of passin folk an most of the heat. She figgered it for early mornin, she were close to cold an welcomed it. Starin straight up she felt like she were at the bottom of a tiny spiral. She used to climb the walls of her stack near evry day an look out from her own private eyrie but the urge dint come often anymore. She were more worried about what were goin on down below of late.