Compulsion

by Perrin Briar

  They walked past gardeners, tending to small patches of fruit and vegetables in an allotment.

  “Do you have any unique abilities?” Quinn said.

  “I don’t have green fingers, if that’s what you’re asking,” Siren said.

  “No problem,” Quinn said. “You probably do have some, but it takes a while before you realize how valuable they are to us here. If you spot something you can do, just let us know.”

  Quinn led Siren into the accommodation building. The main entrance was used as a lounge. The rooms on either side were packed with bunk beds, children running to and fro, playing games and screaming with joy, sometimes sadness.

  Siren got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She felt like it was the first day of school and there was no one there that she knew. And the thought she would be stuck surrounded by screaming kids…

  “The kids sleep down here,” Quinn said. “The rest of the community live upstairs. Don’t worry, it’s much quieter up here.”

  He gave her a comforting smile. She didn’t mind admitting she was relieved.

  Quinn led Siren to the room at the end of the corridor. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Again, he waited for Siren to enter first.

  It was a small room, but far more comfortable than anything Siren had been in recently. She eyed the bed with hungry eyes. She hadn’t had a really comfortable bed all to herself in a very long time. She couldn’t wait to use it.

  Siren moved to the curtains and pulled them open. Below was the main courtyard, the council building just across the way. The sun was already beginning to dip. People were moving slower than when she had seen them earlier.

  Next, Siren moved to the wardrobe. She expected it to be empty, but was pleasantly surprised to find some clothes hanging inside.

  “I didn’t know your size, so I had a variety brought up here,” Quinn said.

  Siren fingered the dresses, jeans and T-shirts, from a time when fashion had mattered. Could it ever matter again?

  “Thanks,” Siren said.

  It was a word that was not easy to wring out of Siren. She was never the gushing type, but saying those two words was precisely what it felt like to her. Quinn seemed to understand.

  “Is it okay?” Quinn said.

  “It’ll do,” Siren said.

  Footsteps behind Quinn. Siren tensed, sensing something bad was going to happen. It turned out to be a boy with curly golden hair, carrying a tray of food. Quinn took it from him and put it on a side table.

  “I thought you might be tired tonight and not want to socialize much,” Quinn said. “So, I had some food brought up for you. The community will still be there tomorrow, so there’s no rush.”

  Siren smiled genuinely. She hadn’t had anyone be so kind and thoughtful to her in a very long time. No one except Wyvern, in any case.

  “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it,” Quinn said. “The bathroom and showers are just down the corridor. There are locks on the doors. No one will bother you.”

  He left, closing the door behind himself. Siren moved to the door and put the lock into place right away. The lock was small and wouldn’t have stopped much, but it meant a lot to Siren. A little privacy.

  She tore into the food like a wild animal, not savoring, not relishing, just filling her belly. After demolishing the food she crawled back on her hands and feet until she met her bed. She started, forgetting it was there.

  She appraised her surroundings and remembered where she was. She was safe, at least as safe as she could reasonably expect to be in the modern world.

  Then she imagined how Wyvern would have thought, about how there weren’t nearly enough exits. She felt enclosed, trapped. Suddenly the haven didn’t feel like a safe haven at all, but a place to keep her locked in, one she could not hope to escape. A prison.

  She rushed forward and opened the window. She breathed in a deep gulp of sweet oxygen. She could hardly breathe. Her hair was plastered to her face. There was a slight chill. It felt good. She didn’t open the window for the air, she realized, but for the knowledge that if she wanted to, she could escape through it.

  The drop was far, to be sure, but there was no reason she couldn’t scale down it, or up to the roof for that matter. Figuring out escapes was always Wyvern’s strength, not hers. But now she had to make it hers too.

  “We’re here, Wyvern,” Siren said out loud. “We’re finally here.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  BREAKFAST the next morning was a heady affair. There was still a chill in the air, and steam rose up off the food in the middle of the table like a long lost friend. It was delicious, tasty, and best of all, there was plenty to go round.

  Everyone else seemed to know where they were going and what they were doing. Siren felt a bit like a fifth wheel. Luckily she had eaten a lot the night before and wasn’t particularly hungry. Her stomach must have shrunk over the course of the past two years, what with the lack of food she put into it.

  But now that she could smell the delicious food in front of her, she couldn’t wait to dig in. That was something else you developed while you were surviving on the road—the knowledge to know when to dig in when you had the chance. She knew that this could well be her last meal in this place. She was going to take advantage of it every moment that she could.

  The kids lacked the leggy zip they had possessed the previous day. They moved with slow groggy movements of early morning rises, some of them leaning against their hands and almost nodding and falling into their cereal.

  There were entirely too many kids to have all come from these community members. They must have taken them in long ago from elsewhere. It was a fact Siren filed away for later perusal.

  There had to be six or seven hundred members in the community, total. It was difficult to tell exactly, as many of them were not here. There must have been a rota system so they would get their meals later, or earlier. There certainly weren’t enough chairs to cater for them all.

  “You must be new here,” a middle aged woman with flaming red hair said. “Quinn described you, but he didn’t do you justice. Men never do I’m afraid. I’m Meryl.”

  She extended her beefy hand. Siren couldn’t take it as she was holding the tray from her room the night before. Meryl took Siren’s available hand with her offhand. Siren almost felt her shoulder dislocate. Meryl was as strong as an ox.

  “Follow me,” Meryl said.

  She led Siren to the long dispensing tables. A series of trays were constantly being taken and wiped down by others, who replaced them back on the stack in order for others to take. Siren took one and slid it along the table, picking up whatever food he wanted.

  “It’s well organized here,” Siren said.

  “It has to be,” Meryl said. “Otherwise nothing would ever get done.”

  Meryl spooned a little of everything onto her own plate. It all looked good to Siren. She wasn’t sure where to start.

  “There are a lot of kids here,” Siren said.

  “That there are,” Meryl said.

  “Where did they all come from?” Siren said.

  “From my loins, of course,” Meryl said.

  Siren blinked.

  Meryl burst out laughing and slapped Siren on the back, sending her sprawling into the mashed potatoes. Meryl straightened her up.

  “Sorry, love,” she said. “I forget my own strength sometimes. They were orphans. We came across them in a school bus. Some of them managed to escape the city and drove all this way. A miracle, if you ask me. They were fighting off the Grayskins when we come across them.

  “Some of them were lost to us, of course. There’s no way to fight that many Grayskins and not lose some of the little fellows. My heart weeps every time I think about their little bodies, lying there, lifeless. They left us too soon, much too soon. But we took the rest of them under our wing. We take care of them now.

  “They can be a handful at times, but they are our future. If we can just hold out long enough, give them the food and educ
ation and learning that they need, they will take us places, back to the way things were, or as close as is possible, at least. They will take our place.

  “But until then, we have to be their mothers and fathers. We have to be their aunts and uncles, their grandparents. We’re blessed to have this opportunity to raise them, and we’re all working hard not just for our own sake, but for theirs too. And every other generation that will follow.”

  They were nearing the end of the dispensing table now. The chefs were working on the other side of it, cooking the food just as fast as they could. Siren’s plate was still empty.

  “What’s the matter?” Meryl said. “You’re on a funny diet, or something?”

  “No,” Siren said. “It’s just… I haven’t seen this much food in one place in a long time.”

  Meryl’s nod was of a caring mother.

  “Too much choice,” she said. “I can understand that. I was the same when I got here. But you’ll be working hard today. Believe me, working is a lot harder than I remember it was before all this crap happened to the world. But now that we’re here, we have to deal with it. And you’re going to need your strength, so make sure to load up on calories.”

  Meryl leaned over and ladled some scrambled eggs, toast and bacon onto her plate.

  “There,” she said. “That’s a start. And get some coffee while you’re at it. I made it myself this morning.”

  Siren did. Meryl waited for her off to one side while she filled her plate. Then she led her to an empty pair of seats. They sat across from each other. Beside Meryl was another woman, of a similar age, but hefty with round face and features. She had glowing red cheeks.

  “This here is Bess,” Meryl said. “She’s in charge of trying to educate these little whipper snappers.”

  “‘Try’ being the operative word,” Bess said.

  “She’s also one of the most educated people we have here,” Meryl said. “Hence the use of the word ‘operative’.”

  “And you, with your fancy ‘hence’!” Bess said. “It would hardly suffice for me to be the teacher and not be among the most educated, would it?”

  “She’s got a biting tongue and a sharp sense of humor,” Meryl said. “Watch her.”

  “My advice is also to be careful, and watch your waistline,” Bess said. “I was as slim as you when I first got here, and then I started eating all this food…”

  She shook her head, as if it was the worst thing she had ever had to do.

  “You love it,” Meryl said.

  “That’s the problem,” Bess said.

  “You’ll be working with Bess today,” Meryl said. “Assisting her with lessons.”

  “I’ve never taught anyone before,” Siren said, suddenly feeling nervous.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Bess said. “It’s a piece of cake. You just need to smile and nod a lot. The kids will be like putty in your hands.”

  Greer paced across the space, a man on a mission. He picked up a tray and slid it alongside the others. He was approached by a dozen people as he made his way across the breakfast table.

  Then she spotted another figure. Rafael. He was hunched over and dark. She couldn’t say why, but she thought he had a dark cloud over his features, like there was something on his mind and he couldn’t shake it. It seemed to grow darker every time he looked in Greer’s direction…

  “Siren?” Bess said.

  Siren started. They were all looking at her expectantly.

  “Yeah?” Siren said. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

  “No you weren’t, you are right here!” Meryl said.

  She smacked the table with her palm and snorted through her nose, some of the sweetcorn popping from her nose. Bess gave Siren a flat look.

  “You get used to her sense of humor,” she said. “Or lack thereof.”

  Greer turned and headed back inside the council building, to safety. It must have been tough, being the man who everyone looked to to solve their problems. She shrugged. It was none of her concern.

  But the cloudy look over Rafael’s sloping forehead, like a storm developing right there in plain view, looked to be a concern much closer to hand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE KIDS were a handful, but they were great fun. Hard to believe they would represent the future of mankind, what with some of them shoving things up their noses and screaming at the top of their lungs.

  Bess had the patience of a saint, or else she was totally used to it. It was easy for Siren to ignore because compared to what she had seen over the past two years, there was nothing to worry about here.

  The kids she took care of now were anywhere from three to seven years old. The older kids were in another room. These kids were painting and learning the alphabet. Many of them didn’t even know their birthday. These were the lucky ones. Anywhere else in the world and they wouldn’t have survived.

  During the slow moments—of which there were very few—Siren glanced out of the window. It was a beautiful sunny day and the people were going about their chores. It was like a regular town, and Siren was surprised to find herself almost feeling like she had found a place to call home.

  Rafael and Meryl marched across the community grounds. They were carrying rifles and daggers, fully loaded with weapons. Siren frowned.

  The youngest kids were just settling down to nap, the older kids taking a break by going outside to play soccer for a while. Siren approached Bess.

  “Hey,” Bess said. “How’s your first day going?”

  “Slow,” Siren said. “Long. It’s hard work.”

  “Nobody ever said teaching was easy,” Bess said. “But there’s a lot to be grateful for. You get to see the kids growing up, learning. There’s nothing quite like seeing that spark go off in their eyes when they finally understand something. That’s what I think a lot of people don’t realize. Everyone learns by themselves. I don’t really teach them, I just point them in the right direction, and they go and learn by themselves. That’s the best way, I find. And some kids learn some things faster than others, and other times they’re slower with certain subjects. It just depends. And I’m lucky because I get to see that little spark in their eyes every day.”

  “I looked out the window earlier and noticed Meryl and Rafael wearing weapons,” Siren said. “I thought no one was allowed to carry them in Whitegate?”

  “We’re not,” Bess said. “But they’re about to head out of Whitegate.”

  “What for?” Siren said.

  “Patrols,” Bess said. “They keep watch over the town in case of Grayskins and Raiders. They lead the Grayskins away if they can. It’s a risky job, and sometimes the scouts don’t come back. Trust me dear, you’re better off in here.”

  Still looking out the window, Siren made out another scene taking place. Greer and Quinn were talking, arguing. They were quite far away. Siren couldn’t hear what they were saying, but there was no denying they were fighting.

  Greer was calm, relaxed, and it seemed to infuriate Quinn that he couldn’t get a rise out of Greer. It was like watching the sea roar and beat against an unflinching rock. Eventually the rock won, and Quinn threw up his hands and turned and headed back to town. Greer continued on his heading, leading an empty cart and horse, and left the town.

  “Best to leave family disputes to the family, I find,” Bess said. “You don’t want to be getting involved in anyone else’s mess.”

  She pulled a cord and the slats slithered down over the window. She smiled, grinning at the kids and clapped her hands together, joining them as the kids began to wake from their nap.

  Siren peeked through the slats, watching Greer’s fleeting back. She hadn’t noticed they were father and son before, but now that she watched them, the way they moved, it was obvious. One wanted more responsibility, the other refused to give it. It was as old as any dispute.

  It didn’t seem like a family dispute to her, but a disagreement between a leader and subordinate. And just like that, Siren had found the lever
age she was looking for.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SIREN was exhausted. The kids had taken it out of her. She filled her tray just as high as Meryl had in the morning, just about strong enough to carry it to her table, and set to demolishing it.

  The evening meal harbored far fewer people gathered around the tables. Quinn came out of the accommodation building, picked up a tray and began filling it. Once he was fully loaded, he turned to the dining tables, caught Siren’s eye, and then headed over.

  “Mind if I join you?” he said.

  “Sure,” Siren said.

  “How was your first day?” Quinn said.

  “Fine thanks,” Siren said. “Busy.”

  “Yes,” Quinn said, distracted. “I’ve heard it can be.”

  He played with his food, never once spooning it up to his mouth. He kept darting glances over Siren’s shoulder. Each time he did, Siren checked what it was he was looking at. There was no one there, save the road that wound out of the town and down the hill. In the direction of…

  Of course.

  In the direction of where his father, Greer, had gone. But there was evidently no sign of him. Clearly Quinn expected his imminent return any moment.

  “I saw you earlier,” Siren said. “With Greer.”

  Quinn looked at her, and then turned away.

  “Sometimes families can be so difficult,” he said. “He looks at me and sees the young boy I was ten years ago. He doesn’t see the man I’ve become.”

  Siren smiled at the kitchen sink-style drama that was taking place before her. There was no way to suppose human nature would change, even after the tumultuous experience and shake up it had experienced recently. Humans were the same and always would be.

  Quinn shook his head, tossed down his bread roll and pushed his tray away. People were starving in most of the world and he wasn’t even going to finish his meal?