The Society's Demon

by Matthew Lloyd

  She quietly closed the door behind her, stepping into a cool night breeze and a clear sky with a half moon rising. There was no hesitation in her step as she followed the rough track down to the gate, willing herself not to look back. Her heart was racing as she walked between the gate posts and out onto the small road. Still not looking back, Sofia turned towards the nearest town, the farm soon out of sight. She had no regrets and wondered why she’d taken so long to leave. There was no love from her parents, only punishment, control, she was almost a slave, certainly a prisoner. Therefore, no love was given in return. She didn’t hate her mother, there were no real feelings at all, apart from a vague anger at being let down. So, no need to look back, only ahead, keeping her mind busy by planning her new life.

  One of her school friends had married and moved to Bogotá recently. Sofia had been allowed to go to the church ceremony, but not the reception. In the few minutes before her mother had dragged her away, her friend told Sofia she and her new husband were moving to the city to get jobs, and Sofia should come and visit, stay a few days, maybe look for work herself. At the time Sofia had said she would, while thinking it was unlikely. And now here she was, heading in that very direction.

  The village was a fifteen-minute walk away along a narrow and rocky lane. The nearest town with a bus to Bogotá another hour beyond that. And thin shoes or not, she would walk all night if she had to. She would walk all the way to Bogotá if that was the only way to get there.

  At the slightest noise, Sofia nervously looked over her shoulder, expecting pursuit. But mother wouldn’t stir until late morning, and wouldn’t start looking for her until at least noon. The rest of the family, though, particularly her older brothers and their horrible wives, might be out, even at this time of night. She suspected at least one of them, if not both, stole cattle and sheep from remote farms to sell in town. This was night work, and any minute an old farm truck might appear and they’d stop her. They would have no hesitation in taking her home, they didn’t want the burden of looking after mother, so they’d force Sofia to do it.

  So, she walked faster, although fully aware she couldn’t outrun a truck. If she saw headlights or heard an engine, she would have to hide in the thick vegetation beside the track. The curving mountain roads weren’t helping either, a vehicle could appear suddenly around any of the many bends, catching her unawares. Her only hope was she’d see the headlight beams first, which would give her a couple of seconds warning.

  Sofia reached the village without incident, passing straight through it with barely a glance or a thought. Not a single light showed in any window, although a dog began to bark at one point, the sudden noise making her jump and nearly drop her bag. Hurrying on, she left the village behind and began to follow the major road that would lead her to the bus depot. It wasn’t until she was a good way along the road that she realized this was as far as she’d ever been in her entire life.

  On this major road she knew there would be traffic, if only a few cars and trucks. Any one of them could be one of her extended family. This was the most dangerous part, no one could know where she’d gone. Sure enough, only a few minutes later she heard an engine and saw lights approaching. It sounded like a truck. Her heartbeat began to rise, her palms sweated as she clutched the bag. She lowered her head until she was looking at her feet, and tried to will herself to be smaller and less visible. The truck drew nearer, the lights illuminating the road behind her, then drawing closer as if they were searchlights on the hunt. The truck seemed to slow as it approached, the headlight beams shining hot on her back, brighter, closer, louder.

  And then it was gone, the light and sound faded rapidly and the small truck was soon out of sight. Sofia breathed a sigh of relief. That was the first of many, but she felt she’d crossed a line somehow, had dealt with it and moved on. Ignoring the rough tarmac biting at the soles of her feet, and stepping over the many potholes, she lifted her head and walked on.

  So eager was she to get there, the lights of the town were in view after only half an hour or so. Many cars and trucks had gone by, and each one had made her nervous, but apart from a shouted comment from one of the drivers, which sounded like an insult, all of them ignored her.

  It was just after midnight by when she arrived in the town. She’d never imagined it would be so large, with so many buildings, the tallest she’d ever seen. And there was traffic everywhere, even at this late hour, and people walking the streets. It was then she realized she didn’t know where the bus depot was. She carried on walking along the road so as not to draw attention to herself. Asking someone for directions could leave a memory in someone’s mind, but it didn’t look like she had much choice. She looked around for someone to ask, someone who looked at least a little friendly. Most the people were men, some single and some in groups, with one or two couples. Most of them at been drinking, revealed by their unsteady gait and the fact they were talking too loud. She avoided those, and just kept on walking.

  Eventually, she found a bus shelter and stopped in the small pool of light it provided. Then she noticed a map on the wall with all the bus routes marked. It wasn’t easy to follow, nor memorize, but she thought she could at least get closer before she asked for further directions.

  Two hours later she arrived at the deserted depot. It turned out she’d gone too far and missed the night-dark building. A quick and nervous conversation with a 24-hour garage attendant had put her straight. A single light glowed inside the ticket office. She sat on one of the benches just outside the circle of light it created, and pulled her legs up to her chest. In this fetus position, she waited until dawn, when she could catch the bus and be reborn.

  The night passed slowly, she dozed a while, but never for long. The bench was hard, and she occasionally caught the smell of urine on the changeable breeze. The world was a scary place in the dark, a long way from home, especially when you were alone. The first light of dawn finally showed itself, then the first of her fellow travelers appeared, an old man dragging a huge suitcase on tiny wheels. More arrived, and soon the depot came alive. The ticket office opened and a queue formed at the single window. She tried to watch everywhere around her as she stood there. If discovered now there was no denying she was leaving. Sofia tried to convince herself she was an adult now, they couldn’t make her go back. But years of beatings had left their legacy, and she wasn’t sure she could defy her family if they showed up.

  Eventually, it was her turn, after the man with the large suitcase had taken what seemed like hours to make up his mind about which bus he wanted to catch. She almost ran up to the window when man and suitcase moved aside. Then came her first shock. The money she had so carefully saved, that she expected to get her to Bogotá and support her while she found her feet, was barely enough for the ticket. Cursing herself for being a stupid country girl, she reluctantly handed over what she had thought was a small fortune. This meant she would arrive with only a few coins to her name. She hoped her friend was serious about letting her stay awhile, or she’d be living on the streets. Well, it was done now. The small piece of paper in her hand would get her out of here. Whatever came next, she would have to deal with it then.

  She returned to the same bench to wait for the bus, which the woman at the ticket counter said would arrive “soon”. As it turned out, she was forced to wait almost an hour until the dirty bus spluttered into the depot and stopped, it’s engine rattling for a few seconds before falling silent. There was another wait, for reasons she couldn’t work out, and then finally the doors were opened and she was allowed to board with the other eight or nine travelers. The interior was ancient but well maintained and smelled like cheap lavender air-freshener. The seats were covered in blue leather, cracked in places, but mostly intact, polished smooth by the thousands of people who’d sat in them. The hand-holds were brass, not chrome, cold to the touch but solid. She chose a seat right at the rear of the bus as if this would make her harder to find and remove
if she was discovered.

  And then the waiting began again. The driver wandered off somewhere, came back, went again, and finally returned. He then sat in his seat drinking coffee and eating something from a white wrapper. The meaty odor reached her nose a few seconds later, and her empty stomach rumbled so loudly she thought the whole bus had heard it.

  She turned to look out of the window, and there, right beside the bus, was her brother. He was so close she could have reached down and touched him. Luckily, he was facing the other way, so she was able to duck down before he saw her. Her heart was racing now, her mind whirling. Her thoughts churned over the same question, “he can’t make me go back, can he?”

  The driver would stop him, and the other travelers, she was an adult now, and wouldn’t be ordered around. Maybe it was best not to test the driver or her own resolution, and just stay out of sight until the bus left. Not knowing where he was preyed on her mind, so she slowly lifted her head and looked out, her bag over the lower part of her face.

  He wasn’t there, and for a minute she thought he’d boarded the bus. But it was a younger man with a moustache, not her brother. She looked out of the window and looked around the depot. He had to be looking for her, didn’t he? Why else was he here? Sofia realized she didn’t know her brother at all. Apart from the rumors, she didn’t know what he did, even where he lived. She wasn’t even sure how many children he had, or what all their names were.

  She shuffled along the back seat and looked out of the opposite window, her bag still over her face. On the other side of the bus, near the ticket office, stood her two sisters-in-law. They seemed to be guarding it, their eyes constantly on the move. She was convinced now they were looking for her, although how they’d found out she was missing so quickly was a mystery. Sofia looked out again, and one of the women’s questing gazes passed across Sofia’s. She lurched back in her seat, hiding behind the window frame. An urge grew in her mind to look out, to see if she’d been seen. Clamping down on it, she remained out of sight and willed the bus to leave.

  There was a sudden thundering noise and Sofia almost screamed. It was just the engine starting. Her stomach was in her mouth as it revved, the vibrations rattling the entire bus. She felt sick now, her heart racing, her breathing rapid but irregular, convinced the old bus was going to break down and they’d all have to get off. Her vision began to darken as her pulse pounded in her head. Breathe, she thought to herself, don’t spoil it now, just breathe.

  The old bus moved, jerked, moved again, and pulled slowly, so very slowly, out of the depot. It soon stopped again, and she thought she’d been discovered, the bus forced to stop just as it was leaving. After a few seconds, it moved again, and Sofia chided herself as she realized it had stopped at the depot entrance to wait for a gap in the traffic. Forcing herself to breathe deeply and slowly, she managed to reduce her heart rate a little, and steady the pounding in her head. She didn’t want to make herself ill, not now.

  The bus crawled almost at walking pace through the morning rush hour traffic, stopping for red lights, junctions, queues of other vehicles. She’d never seen so many people, or vehicles, in one place at the same time. And the noise was terrible, and the smell of fumes and human bodies made her sneeze. Why, she wondered, did they call it rush hour when it was quite clear no one was moving anywhere fast?

  All the way out of town and a good distance into the journey, Sofia clutched the bag containing all she had in the world to her chest. Then, with every mile that went by, she relaxed a little more, smiled a little more, and hoped a great deal.

  Chapter Eight

  First Contact

  “What are we doing here?” Jonas asked eyeing his surroundings suspiciously. Nico had led Jonas from the market and across some open wasteland much like that where he had been cornered by Riian and his drug addled Bruisers. They were now walking along the main road that ran parallel to Sohalo. This was Bruiser territory. Like lions stalking their prey, they roamed the roadside, and anywhere else that wasn’t claimed by adults.

  Sometimes, when the trucks carrying vegetables from the farms to the markets throughout Johannesburg passed by, if you were lucky, you could pick up the vegetables that fell out onto the road. Once, when it had been safer, Jonas had come here in the mornings and waited. If he came early, when it was still dark, he could crouch in the brush at the roadside, hidden from sight. Sometimes, he’d get only scraps, the odd cabbage leaf, or crushed tomato, but in Sohalo, food was food, no matter what form it took.

  Jonas watched Nico carefully, looking for any signs that he might be setting up an ambush. He was too relaxed. The Nico of old would never have dared venture this far from the safety afforded by the close confines of Sohalo. Jonas felt exposed, vulnerable like a zebra foal stranded alone in lion territory.

  “Why have you brought me here? You know it isn’t safe out here with Riian and his zombies about.” He rounded on the boy, stopping him in his tracks, the anger in his eyes wiping away the smile from Nico’s face. “I thought you were going to show me something to convince me that you and your new friends can be trusted?”

  “And I am.”

  Jonas turned on the spot, his arms raised as he indicated the empty space around them and the road behind him. “There’s nothing here but dust and cars. Either this is a trap, or you’re insane.”

  Nico shrugged. “Maybe I am insane,” he said lifting his palms. “I could have just ignored you, but I thought even you would give this a chance. Maybe I was wrong…” He flapped a hand in the air, grimacing. “I should have just passed you by, knowing you’re too stubborn and too paranoid for your own good.” He sagged on the spot and began to shuffle around Jonas.

  Jonas stared at the ground trying hard to figure out what was going on. Had Nico finally grown some balls, or was he putting on an act? He wrestled with the thoughts speeding through his mind, some driven by the survival mode so prominent in him, others surfacing like dolphins in a bay, curious to see if all they had dreamed of the mysterious world above was real. Nothing he had seen so far gave him any reason to doubt Nico, but he couldn’t help being what Sohalo had made him. He was paranoid and stubborn, but those two qualities had kept him alive. Now he was faced with a choice. Listen to the voices urging him to leave, or let go of them and step into the unknown. He clenched his fists at his sides and wished that for once there was another, wiser voice, perhaps like that old man years before who had warned him about women.

  It wasn’t just Nico. Zeta had told him the same thing. He was too paranoid, too on edge all the time. He needed to have a little more faith in people. That was rich coming from those two. They had parents. They had someone they could go to; someone that would stand by them, and make sure they had a roof over their heads, and food in their bellies. Even then, even with such support, they still relied on Jonas. Had Nico forgotten that? When he had looked like one of those parched trees, standing dead by the river, his ribs protruding through his skin, it had been Jonas who brought him food. And it had been Jonas’ vigilance that kept Nico alive, while he risked his own life stealing.

  But things were different now. He had sensed a change in himself of late. For a long time, it had been about self-preservation. But now he was leaning more towards helping others, not just himself. Whether it was Zeta or the kids they looked out for, or whether it was just that he wasn’t as cold as he tried to be, he wasn’t quite sure.

  “Stop,” he said without turning around. He looked off toward Sohalo across the litter strewn ground, the ugly township buildings crawling into the distance, and the one structure untouched by the ravages of weather and time, the CES tower. “I’ll go with you, but if there’s any trouble…” he paused, thinking about the gun, empty in his pocket. “You know I’ll fight to the death, right?”

  “You wouldn’t be you, if you didn’t, I know that.”

  Jonas turned to face the boy. “So, what are we doing out here? And why are you
so relaxed?”

  Nodding slowly, his eyes fixed intently on Jonas’, Nico said, “I know it looks like a trap or something, but trust me, the Society will come for me in a moment. Then I can show you what I mean about them.” He inclined his head. “Okay?”

  “I don’t trust you,” answered Jonas evenly, he shrugged one shoulder, pursing his lips. “If this is what you say it is; then I’m in.”

  Nico did that little dance with his head; he always did when he was happy, something he said he got from his father. Once, when Jonas had brought him some tomatoes from one of his farms, he had done it as he took the meager offering. When Jonas had looked at him like he needed counseling, Nico laughed and told him he had seen his father do it, and it had stuck.

  Where were his parents? He didn’t remember much about his first years, only brief snatches of memory, nothing clear enough to form an image of what they looked like. He didn’t even know if they were alive, or if they were buried out there in the wasteland, their bones as dry as the dirt packed on top of them. For all he knew he could be sleeping right next to them each night. Turning off his mind for the moment, Jonas looked up the road and asked, “So where’s this ride you mentioned? Do they know you’re here?”

  Nico smiled and turned to look up the road. “Relax, will you,” he said confidently. “You’ll see in a moment. It doesn’t usually take them long to pick up the signal.” He pointed up the road toward the incoming traffic. “Last time they brought me here from Prosperity, I didn’t stay long. I couldn’t handle being back; it brought back too many bad memories…so I came here, and waited.” He nodded to the road. “They picked me up within minutes.”