The Territory Truth

by Sarah Govett

  We stopped at twenty. Like we were in the Bible or something. A score of rabbits and two score of reed torches.

  Me and Raf are on trading duty. Nell’s drying more reeds and plaiting them into torches so when the time comes we can keep travelling by night. Lee and Ella are working out which bit of the river is going to be the easiest to divert and Jack’s going to be our resident beaver and collect logs, the biggest he can carry, for when we get to the damming stage.

  Ella took a bit of convincing to get on board with the new plan. OK most of the others did to be fair.

  ‘If water can turn the Fence off then how come it’s not down every time it rains? Why isn’t it shorted all the time by the water on the ground?’

  I dug into my brain’s store of chemistry facts leftover from the TAA and launched into an explanation about rainwater being reasonably pure and how you need the impurities in the saltwater; and then went into how there might be the occasional puddle near the Fence but the Fence itself was built on slightly raised ground and it’s not that wet right next to it. We weren’t talking about a little bit of water. We were talking about a directed torrent of saltwater aimed straight at it.

  We, me and Raf that is, left at midday. There was a settlement we could make out on a hill to the north-east and we reckoned we could make it there by sunset if we really went for it. They should let us stay the night – that’s the normal etiquette with traders anyway – but we made sure we had mosquito repellent, nets and plenty of dried food and water in case we were turned away and had to kip out in the open. There was obviously no guarantee that they’d have spades but most settlements seemed pretty well equipped and as there were no houses left standing anywhere near us it was not like we had a million other options.

  Lee shot us an instruction as we left.

  ‘No extras.’

  My confusion must have shown on my face.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone what we’re doing or they’ll want to come with us. We can’t take anyone else. The more of us there are, the greater the risk of being caught.’

  I nodded my agreement. It was harsh and my heart rebelled against it. Against depriving others of a chance to leave this malarial graveyard. But this wasn’t about rescuing a few souls anymore. There was more at stake here. This was about bringing down an entire system.

  Walking was slower going than I’d expected, probably because me and Raf were loaded up like beasts of burden. On top of our usual backpacks, over our shoulders balanced a thick stick from which hung ten skinned rabbits on one side and twenty reed torches on the other. We were like freaky deformed versions of the scales of justice statue outside the Justice Building back home. Home. The word sounds weird now. Foreign, somehow.

  Anyway, walking was hard going and, to make things worse, our initial attempts at conversation all went horribly wrong too. I’d asked Raf how he was feeling, whether his head hurt, whether his vision was pixilating and instead of answering properly he just snapped back that I had to stop asking that and start trusting that he was OK. Which seemed terribly unfair as I was only being concerned, rationally concerned I might add, given the circumstances and his regular headaches. Then he commented that Jack seemed really well now and there was something about the way he stressed the word really, so that it came out as R-E-A-L-L-Y, that got my back up and we ended up having this malc argument that went a bit like this:

  Me: ‘Don’t do that. We’ve resolved everything. Jack’s not an issue.’

  Raf: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Me: ‘So why the R-E-A-L-L-Y then?

  Raf: ‘You’re being paranoid.’

  Me: ‘I’m R-E-A-L-L-Y not.’

  There was about an hour of uncomfortable silent marching after this as we both focused inwards. Turns out carrying a massively heavy load is even harder if your muscles are an extra bit clenched from anger.

  It was all beginning to get a bit too much for me, so I stopped and started doing something really mature like repeatedly kicking a molehill.

  ‘Noa.’ Raf’s voice just behind me. Slow. Quiet. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I’m really sorry. The headaches freak me out too. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know that. And, as for the whole Jack thing, you’re right, I probably was trying to make a point. Maybe subconsciously even. I’m an idiot. It’s just he’s all recovered now. And so tall. And so strong! And good with children. I mean, if I was a girl I might…’

  And then he did this little pretend shiver of excitement, accompanied by his toothiest lopsided grin and all my anger melted away.

  ‘Denser,’ I laughed, turning my back to him. ‘Absolute, total denser.’

  In response I felt a tap on my shoulder and span round to see the front leg of a stripped rabbit moving along to a whispered voiceover from my loser boyfriend.

  ‘I am the ghost of the dead bunny come to haunt you. Run little rabbit, run.’

  I shot about a metre up in the air – a dead skinned rabbit’s face is particularly horrific close up – and then kicked him in the shin.

  ‘That makes no sense at all!’ I shot back. ‘Why would a rabbit even say that?’ dissolving into laughter despite myself.

  ‘You’re very sexy when you laugh, Noa Blake. We should never fight. Never again – deal?’

  And then he stuck out the dead rabbit’s paw again for me to shake and I swivelled away just in time and set off running across the marshland, Raf’s intentionally malc, ghostly ‘whoo whoo hoo’ chasing at my heels.

  We reached the settlement just as the sun was starting to bleed into the evening sky. I was worried that it was going to be like the first one we’d come across in the Wetlands, the one that had refused us entry, the one that didn’t trade anymore. But when we knocked at the outer fence and called out our presence we were met with an open door and two pairs of friendly eyes, eyes which lit up at the sight of fresh rabbit.

  We were taken to their leader, a less friendly, wiry man with flint grey eyes and a totally bald head, who smelt the rabbits (to confirm if they were fresh, not because he was a complete weirdo) and then readily negotiated an exchange. Four spades and a night’s accommodation for the rabbits and torches. He produced the spades for us to inspect from a corrugated iron lean-to near the entrance and then replaced them to ‘keep them safe till morning’. Safe from what exactly, I don’t know. Maybe just so we didn’t try and do a runner with the spades and the rabbits.

  Luckily enough for us, animals seem to be scarce in this area. The land must be really low lying as, even though it wasn’t that close to the sea, it was pretty flooded. This was the first fresh meat they’d had for weeks. The thin but happy, visibly salivating faces round the communal fire later were testament to this. Spades and general equipment on the other hand were plentiful as the settlement was near this old, half-submerged town, which they’d fully stripped.

  Talk waited until plates had been licked clean and all that was left was a pile of small white bones. Then we felt all eyes swivel in our direction, curious, expectant. It took a few seconds before I realised what they wanted from us. Then it clicked. We were supposed to be traders. Traders brought news. Clarity must have hit Raf at the same time.

  ‘So…’ he began. ‘We bring news.’

  I get it – neither of us could remember how traders began their news sharing spiel. It felt right that it should have some formality or ritual to it. But this! Raf sounded like he was reciting lines from a terrible play. He might as well have gone all the way with an oh yay oh yay, we here be town criers. There were a couple of badly covered-up sniggers and Raf flushed red but forced himself to continue.

  ‘The Raiders have been defeated.’

  Sniggers were forgotten and in their place rose up a loud hum of indistinct chatter that rippled outwards like water in a disturbed pond.

  ‘So it’s true then,’ a voice came from the other end of the table. A guy in his thirties, or maybe younger. People age pretty badly out here.

  ‘A trader came by a co
uple of days ago. Said he’d come across their settlement burnt to the ground, but we weren’t sure we could trust him seeing as no one knew where their settlement was. How can we trust you?’

  Raf hesitated but I could see the need in their eyes and understood it. The need to know that you’re safe. That your children are safe.

  ‘We were there,’ I said. Raf kicked me sharply under the table and I bit back a yelp.

  ‘But,’ a woman’s voice this time. I sought her out. She was young with a couple of wriggling toddlers in her lap. Worry lines creased her gaunt face. ‘But you’re traders?’

  ‘There was a group of us,’ I clarified. ‘A battle. The Raiders are gone though, I promise. That’s all that matters.’

  Raf was shooting daggers at me, but what did he want me to do? I couldn’t take back what I’d already said. And these people deserved to know.

  ‘Which direction did you come from today?’ The leader’s voice was raised but tightly controlled. Cold. His eyes narrowed to flecks of steel.

  I opened my mouth, but Raf answered first.

  ‘The east.’

  A lie.

  ‘No they didn’t,’ piped a child’s voice from behind. From the mouth of babes. ‘I was playing with Sam and we saw them come in from the west, over Ridges Marsh.’

  The leader’s face darkened. He ran a hand over his smooth head as if massaging his thoughts into alignment.

  ‘You’re breaking out, aren’t you?’ It was an accusation rather than a question.

  Sixtyish pairs of eyes now bore into us. I could feel the heat of them, probing for the truth.

  ‘No.’ Raf’s voice was hard.

  What had I done? Denser. Denser. Denser.

  ‘No,’ I echoed firmly, trying to undo the damage.

  The leader put his head on one side and tapped his upturned ear aggressively, as if trying to shake out the lies.

  ‘You expect us to believe that a group of you, a group that is big enough to defeat the Raiders, a group that’s based to the west, where the Fence is, just happens to want spades?’

  ‘Take us with you!’

  ‘Take me!’

  ‘Take us all!’

  The air was ripped with plaintive cries. I stared at the ground, wishing that a spade was in my hand now so that I could tunnel my way out of there. But I couldn’t. We were here. Trapped.

  The air felt static from tension, that heavy sparky quality you get just before a thunderstorm. Raf stood.

  ‘Give us the night to decide.’ It came out as more of a command than a request and the confidence with which he spoke must have given him a measure of authority as people made space for us to get down from the table and retreat to our shack. We were conscious of being followed every step of the way.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Raf,’ I whispered as soon as we were inside.

  ‘There’s no time to think about that, now. We need to focus on what we do next.’

  Raf’s face was a mask of concentration. I know I had no right to expect forgiveness, comfort, but I felt cut up inside and a few kind words would have helped stop the guilt haemorrhaging out of me.

  ‘We can’t tell them. We can’t take them with us,’ I said, stating the obvious.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘We leave when everyone’s asleep.’

  ‘What if they’re guarding us?’

  ‘We use what Megan taught us,’ came the grim reply.

  But we couldn’t, could we? Couldn’t kill good people. Innocent people. What was it that Annie had said back at the Peak, the first settlement that had really welcomed me and Raf in the Wetlands – never lose your humanity. Was anything worth that?

  The hours dragged by in slow motion as we waited for total darkness to fall. For the noise and chatter of the settlement to still. And then waited some more just to be certain. My ears felt like they were vibrating, tingling, they were so alert to our surroundings. The tiniest creak magnified a hundredfold.

  Raf called it.

  ‘It’s time.’

  I went first. Maybe to prove something, to compensate, I don’t know. Tentatively I pushed the rusty door. It opened a couple of centimetres with a squeak that sounded like a fanfare. A bugle announcing our presence.

  ‘Hello?’ A voice. Male. Our sort of age.

  I was right. They’d put a guard on our door. Sometimes being right sucks.

  I fought down the panic that was spreading through my body, liquefying bones. I wanted to sob, to ask Raf to fix it, but I knew this was my fault. My problem. I had to silence him. The boy. No, the guard. That was how to do it. Objectify the enemy. See them as a thing, an ‘it’ not a ‘him’. The mantra, Megan’s mantra for silent killing started playing in my brain – a tune on repeat. Wait until the target was three metres away then: arm, wrap, neck, squeeze.

  Arm

  wrap

  neck

  squeeze.

  ‘Please could you come in a moment?’ I didn’t recognise my own voice. Didn’t want to.

  The door creaked open further and a red-haired boy appeared in the doorframe, semi-silhouetted in the light of his reed torch. His eyes were wide, his smile genuine. He reminded me of Jack and the resemblance was a kick to the kidneys.

  ‘Sorry to be guarding you and everything,’ he said with an apologetic grin.

  Stop being so nice. Stop being so nice.

  He started to enter and I was watching the distance. 4m, 3.5m…

  My legs were propelling me forward. My arms ready to grab, twist and spin.

  ‘NO!’ Raf grabbed my elbow just in time.

  ‘Stop Noa,’ he hissed. ‘You’re right. We can’t do this. This is wrong. Some things are just too wrong.’

  The boy’s face was a collage of confusion and fear.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  The next word out of his mouth was going to be help. A loud, yelled help. I knew it. I acted instinctively.

  ‘Put your hand over his mouth,’ I hissed at Raf. This could work for a few seconds at most but we needed a longer-term solution, a proper gag. The boy was already wriggling out of Raf’s grip. There was no time to reach my pack. Without thinking I whipped off my t-shirt and then removed Raf’s hand for the split second needed to stuff it into the boy’s mouth.

  It stopped the scream. Instead it was nearly Raf that gave us away. This loud snort laugh erupted out of his mouth. I guess I looked pretty ridiculous standing there in my grey bra, stuffing a t-shirt into the mouth of a strange boy like some special type of pervert.

  Raf managed to pull himself together enough to tie the boy up and secure the gag, using the rope we’d used to hang the rabbits and torches.

  Then we flung our backpacks on and were off. Zigzagging down the paths that ran between the shacks. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. We were back at the main entrance. Raf was about to push open the gate when I yanked him back.

  ‘We’re forgetting something. Spades.’

  We raced the few metres to the lean-to and Raf pulled out six spades.

  ‘I know we agreed four,’ he said between pants of breath, ‘but now we’ll each have one. And I figure the deal’s kind of broken anyway!’

  Something caught my attention at the back of the lean-to and I reached in behind Raf, pulling out two pairs of hedging shears (‘For cutting,’ I hissed at Raf’s surprised face. ‘Wire cutting’) and a couple of reed torches as well and we then were off for real, racing down the hill and into the shallows, water obscuring footprints.

  We stumbled into camp before sunrise. We were both wet, bedraggled and exhausted. We’d probably walked the longest, wettest route possible, having only dared light the reed torches when we had put the settlement far behind us, meaning that we’d splashed through or fallen into mile upon mile of swampy marshland first. I kept thinking I heard noises behind us – footsteps, the occasional twig snapping – but Raf said I was being paranoid, that the stress had fried my nerves. I was so grateful to see the familiar lay-out of slee
ping bags and mosquito nets that a massive smile spread across my face. Well, spread until it was wiped out by a hard karate chop to the neck and I hit the floor.

  ‘Wh—at?’ My voice came out all weird and squeaky from my very probably permanently damaged windpipe. My assailant straddled me and hissed a dire, blood-curdling warning about what she’d do to me if I made another noise.

  I knew that voice.

  ‘Ella?’

  Ella apologetically climbed off me, and I instantly forgave her, obviously. She’d been on guard duty. On look out in case anyone from the Ministry came back.

  ‘Remind me never to cross you for real,’ I squeak-laughed through sore, crushed ribs.

  Our scuffle had woken the rest of the camp.

  ‘Why are you back so early?’ came Lee’s sleep-infused voice as he lit a reed torch so we could see each other properly. ‘Didn’t they have any spades?’

  ‘No, we’ve got them. Six in fact,’ Raf was quick to answer. ‘There was some hostility, though, so we thought it was best to get out of there.’

  I reached towards Raf and squeezed his arm to say thanks. Thanks for not ratting me out as the loser who nearly ruined the whole mission.

  There might have been more questions if it hadn’t been for Lee’s next comment.

  ‘Noa, why are you just wearing a bra?’

  ‘Long story,’ I replied. ‘I’m kind of down a t-shirt.’

  ‘Take mine. Cover yourself up,’ from Jack, anger seeping into his voice. Like I’d flung off my shirt in wild abandon during some big love-in session with Raf rather than used it to gag a guard. I didn’t like being judged. Not by anyone. Especially not by someone who was supposed to be my friend, so I clammed up. He didn’t deserve an explanation. He could think what he liked. And keep his t-shirt.

  Lee went to fetch me his spare one. He’d been using it to wrap round the satellite part but figured that a millimetre of cotton probably wasn’t offering that much protection and, in all probability, the circuitry was damaged beyond repair anyway.