by Daniel David
“Wait!” the boy called out. “There’s something else, something I found before the power went off. Someone here.”
There was a pause as they both stared at the boy.
“I’m not sure,” he carried on awkwardly, looking at Jennifer now, “I might be wrong, it just seemed like…”
“Wait. Jennifer, you need to deal with them,” Matthew cut him off, glancing again towards the large group who were now stretching right across the clearing and crowding around the cave entrance. “I’ll talk to…” Matthew raised his pitch into a question.
“Cain,” the boy replied.
“Cain,” Matthew repeated.
When Jennifer got back to the cave she could see that the group in the entrance were still watching Matthew closely. They hadn’t seen the frail old man she had met, thankfully Matthew had re-buried him, but they were still puzzled, perhaps a little frightened by his behaviour. Matthew was always so solid, so perfect, so justified, a voice of reason, calm and hope that they all leant on in some way or another. They owed him everything and even in their darkest times of crisis or confrontation never questioned his status at the head of the group, but now, perhaps, something irreversible had happened that would make their confidence in his authority waver.
***
That day, the whole group shifted automatically, almost without any conferring or questions, into the role of carer and redeemer of the Metropolis. No one could have ever imagined that they would be called upon to care for the people they had run from days, weeks and years earlier, to offer shelter and sanctuary to the privilege and security they had rejected so completely, but they adapted to it as if it had always been the plan.
The rain ran heavy from the morning into the afternoon, refusing to yield as the humble daylight waned and the evening’s shade drifted wet and dejected into the clearing. With every sheet of rain and blast of the needle-filled wind came yet more refugees, shivering and crying out from the sodden forest into the arms of the Lifers.
Without question, but with a clear understanding of the consequences, the winter provisions so carefully packed away over the past few days were re-opened and offered up to the crisis. Long held stores of dried meat and preserves were gifted, blankets were shared and every spare space was given over to the refugees. Hundreds of them arrived over the course of the day, each with their own story but all telling the same tale. AarBee had turned on the Metropolis, the power had gone out, food had run out and the Drones had slaughtered at will and at random.
The shock of the situation was everywhere. Lifers and refugees alike sobbed and collapsed whenever and wherever the scale of events became too much to bear – while tales were being told, when news of loved ones came, as wounds were dressed, food given out, or in those brief moments alone that could be deliberately found or accidentally stumbled upon.
Everybody dealt with the day’s events in their own way. Some found comfort in the large groups that managed the issue of fresh clothes and finding a bed, others flitted from place to place, helping here and there with a restless energy that refused to let reality settle upon them. A few, like Jennifer and Matthew, brought up the barriers that were always there, to keep the world away from the last remnants of themselves that lay hidden somewhere deep inside. Moving coldly and efficiently through the present, being strong, keeping it together, they sent their emotions off to join the other ghosts and spectres that would shred them discreetly when they slept, bubbling undercurrents that twisted and tore relentlessly beneath the smooth and still layers of skin.
After dark the torrent of new arrivals finally slowed and stopped, the forest claiming any more wanderers as its reluctant guests, at least for one more night in the cold cover of the canopy. Inside the cave activity began to slow as the last arrivals were fed and found a place to sleep. With this new calm, Matthew sent word for all the Lifers to come together in the meeting chamber and slowly, exhaustedly they filtered in until the huge, vaulted space was packed full. When the last few had arrived, bloodied and drained from the makeshift hospital, Matthew dragged a chair into the middle of the room and stood up on it to address them all.
“I want to thank you, thank all of you, for what you have done today,” he turned slowly on the chair to acknowledge every angle. “I know today has been hard, I know we have made some difficult choices, but I have never been more proud of you, of us.”
Every face in the room was fixed upon him. Some smiled back at him, a gentle acknowledgement of their comradeship, a few tears ran down faces still raw with the emotion of the day. They all knew the choices he was referring to, they all knew that everything had changed in just 12 hours, that if the refugees were here then AarBee must surely be set to follow. That no matter what happened, they could not now survive the winter in the Outland Forest.
“We have to go to the Metropolis.”
There was a collective gasp, followed by a buzz of chatter that grew louder and louder. Matthew put his arms out to calm the room.
“That’ll be suicide!” somebody called out.
“Our supplies are gone!” Matthew called back, beckoning the room quiet again and waiting until they finally settled.
“Our supplies are gone. AarBee may well be coming here and besides, if it’s true about the children being taken, we can’t leave them. I don’t see that we have a choice.”
On the other side of the room, Jennifer appeared above the crowd, raised up on the stone steps that jutted out from the far wall, the minerals in the rock glinting slightly behind her.
“Matthew is right,” she called out defiantly to the room, “if we stay here we’ll all starve. There’s not enough for us, never mind our guests. And how many more are coming?? If we do nothing, we’re dead.”
The room watched her silently.
“We’ll go tomorrow,” Matthew spoke again, “I want a small group to head up to the Outpost and let them know. Max, you’ll organise this please. You’ll stay there and help increase the hunting yield.”
He looked across at Max who nodded slowly back, both hands wrapped tightly around his teacup.
“We’ll make for Echo Farm, it's closest to us. I need volunteers for the raid, our hunters and those with skills from AarBee, the rest can stay here to keep the camp running and look after our guests.”
With that, Matthew stepped down and the chatter buzzed back up in the room again as the Lifers talked excitedly about the plan, and what tomorrow would bring.
The Raid
Zoe couldn’t believe that only two days after finding her way to the Lifers, she was heading back to the Metropolis. The blisters on her feet were only just drying out, the pain in her muscles had only just begun to ease off and she had barely even begun to feel that her life with them might be a reality. She had hardly had the chance to feel homesick, to crave toast and pancakes, to dream of a Sunday spent gaming with Sarah, to miss the boulevards and tech stores. She could still smell the Vactrain on her clothes. Worst of all, she knew that some of her friends wouldn’t have known that she had even gone yet. Her personal rebellion, her singular leap from AarBee into the unknown, would be lost in the crowds of refugees and clouds of turmoil that were now the norm.
After Matthew’s announcement the night before, she and a few others – old hands and newer arrivals – had talked long into the night about the raid. Although nobody came right out and said it, they all shared their fear and uncertainty, secretly bundled up with their annoyance at the inconvenient arrival of the refugees, the arguments about the best way back to the Metropolis and the bravado of how to kill. Apparently, there was a secret way back that only Matthew knew about. This would spare them the four or five-day journey through the forest and instead get them there in a day, if they walked at speed. Zoe was happy about that. Although she had enjoyed her solo wander through the maze of trees and thickets and hidden streams, her feet still felt swollen and sore, and the need to climb back into her travel pod in this weather was one she'd avoid at any cost. The rain would su
rely pile on the discomfort, even during the shorter journey, but her outdoor gear was almost new and she could deal with the wet weather if she was zipped and clipped up.
Yesterday’s downpour had continued relentlessly through the night and was still drumming down in the clearing this morning. Zoe shuffled silently over to the cave entrance, picking up a mug of chocolate as she passed the kitchen and wrapping her fingers tightly around its warm curves, before staring out at the waterlogged scene. The sky was brighter today, with slim peels of lemon and crystal light cutting through the deep grey cover. Zoe thought the rain might even be slightly lighter, although she wasn’t sure whether she was just being optimistic.
She glanced to her left, following the trees as they climbed gently away towards the distant mountains, and spotted a dozen or so tiny figures shrinking with distance on the dark brown forest path as it cut in and out of the emerald and black hillside. Max must have gotten away early. She wondered who had gone with him and strained her eyes to make out some recognisable features on the silhouettes as they moved at speed along the track. But they were already too far in the distance to give themselves away. She marvelled at how fast they were moving, almost sprinting away from her, crouched down low and moving like a pack, before they disappeared into the deep and dense foliage that swallowed the path for good.
She wished he had picked her for the trek up to the Outpost, and thought how exciting it would have been to be running with them through the forest, carrying just enough provisions to get there, foraging what they could along the way. It was exactly what she had dreamed of from the safety and comfort of her bed back in the Metropolis. For a moment, she was tempted to grab her things and race off after them, but she thought better of it, she would never catch them now and didn't want the rest of the group to think she was running away from their march to Echo Farm.
As she stared up at the distant mountains, lost in her thoughts of wild freedom and camaraderie, she forgot about the hot chocolate in her hands and it fell suddenly with a crack onto the floor, spraying chocolate onto her feet and legs as it did.
“Clumsy,” came a voice from behind her. It was Jennifer, already dressed with an open pack slung untidily across one shoulder.
“I hope you're better with a gun, otherwise we'll all be dead before we get there.”
“Bloody chocolate everywhere,” Zoe said, brushing her legs down and picking up the two perfect half-mugs. She looked up at Jennifer and saw that her clothes were patched and dotted from the rain.
“You’re wet,” she frowned and tilted her head, “out already?”
“The boy from yesterday. Max found him in the willow tree by the river. Hanged himself. I had to cut him down.”
“Oh no, that’s sad, he'd only just got here.” Zoe felt her words sounded foolish, a little empty, and gazed back out across the clearing to hide her awkwardness. She thought she should have felt sadder about it than she did, but with everything else that was happening it seemed a disrespectfully minor piece of news.
“I saw Max and the Outpost group, I think.” Zoe pointed up to the rising forest.
“Quick aren't they!” Jennifer smiled.
“Like crazy. I wish I was going with them, really.”
“What and miss all the fun at the Farm? You'd regret it. Besides, I kind of want you there, I think you'll be handy.”
Zoe smiled at Jennifer, she knew she didn't really mean that, but it was nice that she’d even bothered to say it. Perhaps she was right, perhaps going up to the Outpost would be missing out, perhaps she owed it to everybody to prove herself at the Farm. Her heart beat a little faster at that thought and butterflies flew briefly around her neck and middle. She had been brought up to fear and steer clear of the Drones, so going back to the Metropolis on a raid guaranteed to result in a fight with them sat uneasily in her thoughts.
“Hello?” Jennifer's voice jumped Zoe back from her daydream again, “Blimey, don't you start being weird as well, enough of that going on already! Come on, you need to eat some breakfast.”
With that Jennifer grabbed her hand and pulled her towards her, wrapping an arm tightly around her neck and leading her almost bent double towards the kitchens.
The enormous chamber was buzzing. The Lifers going on the raid were all up and dressed in all-weather suits, with packs scattered around the floor and hung up on chair backs and hooks in the walls. Here and there, small groups of refugees sat together, picking at breakfast and drinking tea whilst trying to have a conversation over the huge noise of excited chatter and clattering plates that reverberated around the hall.
Zoe and Jennifer queued briefly at the service counter, with Jennifer’s arm still limply slung around Zoe’s neck, and picked out eggs, toast, berries and great mugs of steaming tea to fuel them for their trip. Jennifer picked out a couple of extra hard-boiled eggs and some toast and shoved them into Zoe’s pockets.
“You’ll be glad you’ve got these later, when all the greedy bastards eat everything else!” she laughed.
They shuffled on to the end of one of the long tables and tucked into their food, joining in the loud and cheerful conversations that bounced up and down the rows of laughing faces, eating frantically. Zoe watched for a minute and was struck by how animated and happy everybody now seemed. It wasn’t that she had found the Lifers unfriendly or downcast in the first place, they had welcomed her with open arms and had become like family almost immediately, but something had definitely changed in the last 24 hours. This morning felt more like a birthday party than the eve of conflict. It was as if the previous day’s events hadn’t occurred at all, or they had been joined by long-lost family, rather than hordes of strangers. Perhaps, after so long seeing themselves as the outsiders, the renegades who ran away from the world, they had suddenly been presented with the opportunity to be heroes, saviours of the people, and they were all ignited and united by their new-found status.
They sat together like this for almost an hour, sharing stories and silly jokes, eating their fill and, for Zoe at least, drinking way too much tea. Her heart raced and her mind jittered, sped along by whatever stimulant was contained in the foraged Lifers’ blend tea. When Matthew appeared at the entrance, the room slowly fell to a hush and all heads turned towards him.
“We need to go,” he said in a gentle voice.
After the slightest pause, which allowed his words to hold grandly in the moment, chairs grated back and plates were hurriedly stacked as the group made ready for their long march. There were hugs and slaps on the back, kisses and smiles, but no tears.
Zoe had no one to say goodbye to. Her Lifer friends were all going with her. So, once they were out of the kitchen she took her coat and pack from her bed, zipped herself in and tightened the straps around her shoulders. Jennifer disappeared briefly and returned carrying her bow and a short, stubby gun.
“This is for you,” she said, holding it out to her with one outstretched arm, “don’t put your finger on the trigger until you need to.”
Zoe took it from her and looked at it cradled in her hands. It was lighter than she thought it would be.
“Here,” said Jennifer, slinging the strap around her neck and adjusting it so it hung across her middle with the muzzle pointing to the ground. “Well, you look the part and that’s half the battle!”
Jennifer eyed her like a proud mother on the first day of an apprenticeship and then turned around to head for the mouth of the cave. Zoe followed just behind her and when they joined the others outside in the morning air, their march to the Metropolis began.
They talked enthusiastically at first, the rain clattering down through the leaves and onto their hats and coats as they walked three or four abreast through the forest. They walked on a well-worn path for the first mile or so, but then cut down a steep ravine and picked up an almost invisible animal trail that descended gently downwards. Oaks and beech trees gave way to rigid lines of pine, a sweet smelling memory of a managed past that was now wrapped in the reckless twine
s of rhododendron and bramble. Here they moved to single file to avoid the relentless tripping and snagging that was inevitable when stepping even slightly away from the laser thin path. As their heads dropped to watch their feet, so too the conversation fell away and they walked in a collective silence to the rhythm of their pace and the constant rain.
After three hours of almost continual descent, they finally broke clear of the trees and came upon an old steel railway track that cut a deep path between the forest and a bleak and rocky bluff on the other side.
“We’ll rest here for a few minutes,” Matthew called out after scrambling a few feet up the rocks opposite. “Drink some water, eat some food. These tracks will take us all the way to the Farm, we won’t stop now until we’re there.”
Zoe dropped her pack and gun, which had been cramping into her shoulder muscles almost since they left, and rocked her arms backwards and forwards with a bliss and lightness that made her head feel as if it was about to float right off her neck. She sat down on a dry looking patch of moss, with a curved rock to cradle her back and loosened her boots slightly. When her muscles were recovered she reached into her pack and pulled out her water bottle, bread and preserved meat and began to tuck into them hungrily.
After a few minutes, Jennifer arrived and sat down next to her.
“How you doing?”
“I’m good. Starving!” Zoe said still chewing on a large mouthful of bread.
“Make sure you save a little for later. We might have to wait it out depending on what time we get there.”
“Sure. What is this railway?” Zoe nodded down at the rusted steel track as she asked.
“Apparently, it’s an old freight route that used to link the Metropolis to some quarry or something. Years ago we’re talking. It’s all forgotten about now, hasn’t been used since before AarBee. It’s the route that Matthew used to escape, before he found the cave.”
“Wow, he was lucky,” Zoe smiled, “five days in the forest for the rest of us!”