by Stephan Wul
‘A hundred days,’ replied Terr feeling a little intimidated.
‘A hundred? What does that mean? I’m two times ten hands of ten day hands, plus two’, retorted the young boy proudly throwing back his long hair. ‘Let’s see how strong you are.’
As he said this he shoved Terr who almost fell off the nest. Brave intervened and slapped the attacker’s face.
‘Stop it, Valiant, Terr’s not used to the life we lead.’
‘Did you look after the baby, Faithful?’ enquired a statuesque female Om.
‘Yes, young lady, your baby has all it needs.’
‘I’ll go and have a look,’ said the female Om as she hopped from branch to branch towards the top of the tree.
She came across Brave who had gone up to put the headset in the nest set aside for Terr. Brave dropped down onto a nearby branch. He raised his arm and said:
‘Listen, all of you. I want everyone to be nice to Terr. For a while he’ll make do with staying in the tree and helping Faithful sort what we bring back. This luxury Om has got to get used to effort and grow some muscles. Then I’ll take care of his education.’
He turned towards Terr:
‘As for you, as I’ve already told you, you’ll obey me at all times. I brought back the headset to make you happy but you’ll only be allowed to play with it once your work is done, understood?’
‘Yes,’ said Terr timidly. He felt sad and missed Tiwa and the nature room. He felt quite cold and bloated by the unfamiliar sap. In short, he was as unhappy as can be and wished he was locked up in a comfortable omhouse, faraway from these caring louts.
‘Come with me,’ said Brave.
Terr followed him obediently, climbed branches, crossed difficult spots by pulling on flexible offshoots until he reached an enormous branch. He watched as Brave disappeared into a hole in the branch and he followed him inside a kind of cavern roughly carved into the wood.
‘I can’t see a thing, it’s pitch-black,’ said Terr.
‘Just wait here’, Brave’s voice said.
Terr heard a loud grunt and the cavern suddenly lit up. Brave was proudly pointing at a huge stone resting on a metal pole.
‘But it’s…’ hazarded Terr.
‘Yes’, said Brave, ‘it’s a Traag light; the others aren’t strong enough. You see, I place the stone on the switch. To turn it off I remove the stone.
Terr looked around him. He was in a vast storeroom filled with odds and ends. Tins of all sizes were piled up on the floor in a jumble.
‘There’, said Brave, ‘you’re going to sort all this out. You’ll stick the boxes with other boxes, rolls of wire with other rolls of wire, and you’ll do the same with the rest.’
‘But’, said Terr pointing at a pile of boxes, ‘must I sort the ones already piled up?’
Brave looked at him as if he was dealing with a complete idiot.
‘Can’t you see they’re already sorted?’
‘No, you’ve put boxes of food with boxes of medicine. There’s even a box of powder for treating Traags’ membranes.’
Brave looked at him silently.
‘AH these boxes have the same shape’, he said at last. ‘How can you guess what’s inside them?’
‘It’s written on them… there, these small signs, they’re meant to be read.’
Brave ran his fingers through his beard, a gesture familiar to him. He whispered:
‘So, reading means guessing what’s inside the boxes thanks to these small signs? I could never understand what “to read” meant… Well, if that’s so, do as you like. It’ll stop us spending hours opening the boxes which are no use to us.’
‘All right!’ As he was leaving, Brave hesitated:
‘Tell me, little one… is it thanks to instruction headset that you learnt to read?”
‘Of course.’
Brave left, scratching his head.
6
Within a few days Terr was totally familiar with the gymnastics his new arboreal life demanded.
He had somewhat grown and his muscles were more defined beneath his tanned skin. Brave took him to run more often in the neighbouring gardens, teaching him to hide, to crawl without being seen by the Traags, to steal fruit and vegetables bigger than himself.
One day he gave him a collar intended to conceal his illegal status and he took him to the town.
‘Don’t forget’, he said, ‘you must never let the Traags know you can talk. Amongst other things this will allow you to act stupid whenquestioned about your masters or why you’re here or there. As for the rest, I taught you enough tricks for you to manage on your own.’
They were walking one behind the other in a grassy ditch.
‘What is it we’re going to do exactly?’ asked Terr.
Brave chuckled at the idea of what laid ahead.
‘I took you because you can read’, he said. ‘We’re going to steal. You’ll read what’s in the boxes, that way I won’t waste my energy stealing something useless. Can you swim?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘You’ll see. Now shut up. We’ll continue in
silence.’
They entered a conduit which vanished into the depths of a concrete wall. Terr was walking comfortably, but in front of him Brave’s large silhouette was bent double.
They branched off several times in the thickening shade. Fearful of getting lost in this labyrinth, Terr stayed glued to his guide. After a while the latter stopped and whispered in his ear:
‘Now it’s going to go up. You’ll climb easily with your back and knees. Let me go ahead so you won’t slow me down.’
Sweating and puffing, they climbed slowly up a vertical tube. Soon, faint but increasing daylight glowed above them. It came through a small grate closing the duct.
His knees and back propped up against the sides, Brave slowly lifted the grate and peered outside. Reassured by his observation, he came out of the pipe and held his hand out to Terr to help him out.
They were in a massive room where metal scaffolding propped up machines which were purring quietly, under no surveillance whatsoever. Everywhere giant wheels, cams and bearings were dancing an intricate ballet.
Terr caught sight of rows of cylindrical tins jerking along on parallel running lines. These lines disappeared into a dark tunnel towards which Brave pointed his finger.
‘We’ve got to go through there’, he said taking along his young companion.
They climbed up metal lattice work and got on top of a tin each. Shaken every time the line pulsated, Terr held on as if on the roof of a rolling carriage, as Brave was getting ahead by jumping from tin to tin. Pride made Terr get up and he followed as fast as he could, guided through the shade by vague silvery glints of light from the lids under his feet.
They reached a second room where more machines were grabbing the tins one by one, rolling them along and printing on them assorted Traag letters before releasing them into a second tunnel.
Aping his guide, Terr jumped on the ground before the machines caught him and ran to the other tunnel.
The third room was much bigger than the others. The noise was more bearable. Guided by the line moving one notch at a time, the tins were piling up along the walls in multicoloured colonnades.
‘Here we are’, said Brave. ‘You can read. Tell me which tins to take.’
Terr read the inscriptions but they did not tell him much. He got nearer a pile of boxes and read:
ENERGIZER MX
Young mammal liver extract
Associated to micro-elements 1 and 2
In form of tablets
‘This one is good,’ he said.
‘Good’, said Brave, ‘we’ll steal ten tins.’
Terr looked anxiously at the tins which were as big as him.
‘How will we take all this?’ he said, ‘it’s not possible.’
‘I’ll explain. Come near this window.’
Terr moved nearer docilely. Brave showed him a stream of dirty water spewed out by t
he plant.
‘We’re going to drop the tins in the water. They’ll float far away from here pushed by the current. I know where. All we’ll have to do is collect them with other Oms.’
‘But then, why only ten tins?’
‘Because it would get noticed! They’d get wary and put the factory under surveillance. We wouldn’t be able to come back without getting caught. Whereas with ten tins every so often they don’t notice a thing; you understand now? Come on, lay them on the ground one by one and roll them towards me, it’s not hard. I’ll lift them and push them out of the window.’
Terr grabbed a first tin with his arms, pulled with all his strength, managed to tip it over and with a shove sent it rolling towards Brave who bent down, clutched the bottom of the tin with his fingers and pushed it up the wall groaning. He hoisted it up to the window ledge and sent it falling into the empty space.
During that time, Terr was sending him a second tin and was already turning around to grab another when a Traag’s voice froze him to the spot.
‘Caught you, ruffians!’
‘Jump,’ shouted Brave, ‘jump out of the window!’
Stricken, Terr saw the angry Traag’s huge stature coming towards him. As the giant’s hand stooped down towards the ground, the little Om jumped and ran to the window. Brave held him under the armpits and sent him down to the furrow running half a stadia below.
Terr dived into the dirty water, came to the surface, got swept along at high speed but managed to look back and see Brave falling into the water. He swam with all his strength against the current but was soon caught up by his companion.
‘I thought he was going to catch you’, said Terr.
‘He did catch me’, Brave smiled through his beard, ‘he caught me by the hair, but I bit him and he let go.’
7
At the entrance to the park where the free Oms nested, a rectangular shape could be seen shining in the night.
It puzzled Terr. Even though Brave told him the rectangle was a sign for Traags and that their business was of no interest to the Oms, the young boy let his companion go back alone and wandered cautiously near the Traags’ entrance.
He soon understood. The sign was saying:
Park closed tomorrow - Deomisation.
Terr ran through the shaded parts of the park as fast as his legs could carry him. When he reached the bottom of the tree he had to rest a little to catch his breath back before climbing.
He finally jammed his fingers in the bark’s ridges and rose amongst the branches.
When he emerged at camp level he found his companions laughing and feasting in the moonlight. ‘Well Terr’, asked Brave, ‘has the entrance fee gone up?’
They all burst out laughing, but Terr stood still, his arms dangling.
‘The park will be closed tomorrow’, he said simply.
‘What dreadful news!’ yelped Valiant in between more laughter.
Terr was not moving. He added: ‘Closed for deomisation.’
The laughter abated. Three children babbling in their nest were quietened down.
‘What are you saying?’ enquired Brave, ‘deomi…’
‘Deomisation’, repeated Terr. ‘It means they’re going to try to eliminate all the Oms in the park.’
He rested his arm on the leader’s hairy arm. ‘Brave, one day you told me two other tribes of free Oms lived in the park. They must be warned.’
Brave stood on his branch and spat in the open. ‘You’re mad! This is a good chance to be rid of them! The Red Bush gang has the best spot in the park. We’ll take their place once the alert is over. As for the others, they’re nothing but a bunch of disorganised stupid vagrants. It’s because of them the Traags are de-om… deomising.’
‘How do they go about it?’ asked Charcoal looking worried, ‘by laying traps or what?’ ‘I don’t know.’
‘Me neither, I’ve never seen it before. I’ve never even heard of it: deo-mi-sation. Are you sure it means… what you said it did?’
‘Absolutely sure’, said Terr. ‘The best thing is to go and…’
Brave tapped him on the head.
‘Keep quiet! I’m the leader here.’
He looked at his group majestically and said:
‘Here! First we’ll sleep a little to gather some strength. The night is only just setting and we have plenty of time, but in order not to be caught out we’ll post some lookouts. I need one hand’s worth.’
He rose his hand fingers stretched out.
‘Who’s had enough rest to be a lookout?’
Several Oms volunteered, including Terr. Brave counted them, closing his five fingers one by one and Terr was included in his choice.
Brave told the others to sit down and said:
‘Charcoal will station himself by the lake footpath, one hand of double hands of steps from the tree. Valiant will stay in the gravel by the stream. Terr, you’ll be at the Red Bush fork. You two, at the other end of the main path. I’ll stay awake in the tree. Go! Whistle if anything happens. When it’s time to leave I’ll whistle to call you to the foot of the tree. As for the rest, get some sleep!’
The lookouts climbed down the trunk. Once on the ground, Terr left the others and made for the Red Bush fork where the path splits in two leading to the main Traag entrance and to the Bush over a mossy rockery.
He climbed on a pile of stones overlooking the fork and crouched in a gap in the rocks.
Listening to the breeze’s every sigh through the leaves, his eyes wide opened in the twilight, he stayed still for a long time. But he was young, and soon his guard duty irritated him.
He left his hideout and went up the Red Bush path to widen his field of vision. He reached a small grassy terrace which made an ideal lookout point. From there he could see as far as one hundred and fifty steps. (Brave would have said three double hands of double hands, had he been able to count without getting mixed up).
After what seemed like a very long time, he lost patience again and turned around towards the top of the rockery. His curiosity prompted him to go higher, the excuse being he would be able to see further.
He followed his instinct and heaved himself up amongst the climbing plants.
With some effort he set foot on the top of the mound. Once there, half afraid, half happy, he could sweep over the part of the park forbidden to his group: The Red Bush territory.
Looking hard, he could just about make it out, purple in the starlight and bristling with sting like leaves. Then, forgetting all his fears and pushed by a vague but powerful feeling, he hurtled down the other slope, ran through the meadow and screamed:
‘Oh! The Red Bush gang! Beware you Oms! Tomorrow the Traags are going to deomise the park!’
He repeated his call, turned around to run away and fell sprawling onto the ground, his head full of the painful echoes from being bludgeoned.
A big black Om was leaning over him sniggering, before throwing him over his shoulder like a feather and running towards the bush.
Other silhouettes came to meet them. Questions were coming from all sides.
‘What did he say?’
‘Is he from Brave’s group?’
‘I couldn’t understand a thing.’
‘What shall we do with him?’
‘Tell the Old Lady!’
Terr was vaguely aware of being carried from hand to hand. He landed up brutally on a heap of straw. A spurt of water in his face brought him back to his senses.
He sat up shaking his head and found himself amongst unknown faces. In front of him was a hunched shape. An old black Om lady with lean limbs and white frizzy hair was sizing him up with little consideration. A flurry of hoarse questions rained down:
‘What were you doing in our territory?’
‘I… came to warn you.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of tomorrow’s deomising. The Traags…’
‘Well well! And who told you to warn us?’
‘Nobody. It was my own personal idea
.’
‘A what idea?’
‘Personal. My own idea.’
‘You talk like a Traag, little one. Why is it you talk like one?’
‘I’ve already been told that. It’s because I spent my childhood with Traags, and because I learnt a little.’
‘Yeah right… Don’t laugh, you lot, let him make himself clear. So you were coming over to warn us of… of what?’
‘The Traags are about to deomise. They’re going to kill all the park’s Oms, or capture them, I’m not sure… It’s written on the sign at the park entrance.’
A big Om with red hair interrupted him:
‘Don’t listen to him, Old Lady, it’s a trick from Brave’s group to make us leave the bush!’
‘Shut up, Redhead’, said the old lady. ‘You, little one, how do you know what’s on the sign?’
‘I read it. I learnt to read with the Traags, which is very useful.’
The old lady scratched her head with both hands and then, bored with looking for lice, waved to the black Om who’d knocked Terr out.
‘Scratch me, son.’
The black Om curry-combed vigorously her head with his nails.
‘That’s enough’, said the old lady. ‘And now…’
She drew her son over and whispered something in his ear. The black Om went away beneath an archway of branches.
‘Now that you’re informed’, hazarded Terr, ‘I wouldn’t mind going back to Brave. I…’
‘Shut up!’ said the old lady.
And as he was insisting, the redhead Om slapped him sending him tumbling into the hay.
Infuriated, Terr got up slowly with a threatening stare. All of a sudden, without any warning, he jumped on his opponent and head-butted him in the stomach, causing him to double up in pain. The others joined in. Blows rained on him and cut short his victory, and as he lost consciousness he could feel his hand clutching a throat, his teeth biting an arm.
***
When he opened his eyes, he found himself bound hand and foot with metal wire. Facing him, the old Om lady was doubled up with laughter.
‘True enough! Ha, true enough, you messed up three of my people, little one! Hey you guys, ha ha, the little one caused you problems, isn’t that so? He’s young still, but once he’s grown in a few days time, he’ll be quite a lad!’