by Jen Minkman
He moans. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.” The filly takes off after I lightly spur her on. I’ve studied the map of the surrounding area meticulously, and I’m sure I know which way to go to get to Exeter. Fortunately, the weather couldn’t be more beautiful, so I can see where the sun is in the sky. I do get thirsty very soon, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to stop for water. It could be polluted, and besides, if we get off, our pony will make a run for it.
Despite my dry mouth, I genuinely enjoy the trip. The landscape is less barren and hostile than I expected, even though the vegetation is sparser than it is in Dartmoor. Here and there, we hear birdsong. Apparently, some birds survived all the brutal wars. Or maybe they flew in from the islands off the coast of Cornwall to come take a look at the new world. Just like us.
12 – Leia
The sun has passed the highest point in the sky by the time we can make out a large, scorched area in the distance.
“There it is,” Walt says breathlessly as we come closer. “That’s Exeter.”
Not much is left of the place. For just a moment, I feel disappointed, but it doesn’t stop me from dismounting and following Walt toward the edge of the blackened field. Strangely enough, our pony doesn’t even bolt immediately. Instead, she observes our next steps with a glint of curiosity in her dark eyes.
Our next course of action is to get onto the main road leading into the city. It’s still clearly visible, despite the destruction all around us. I try to suppress a shiver when I look aside and am almost certain I see pale, human bones lying by the side of the road. Could they belong to one of the pilgrims who never made it?
Some buildings still stand partly erect – like crooked, black fingers, they reach up into the sky. Desperate, distorted claws raised in a final gesture to beg for mercy. But what immediately catches my eye is the one structure that doesn’t seem affected in the least. A colossal, white building, richly ornamented on the outside. Its tall, blockish tower seems to want to touch the hovering clouds. But the roof of this holy building reaches almost as high, its edges decked out with slender, white pinnacles. My breath catches in my throat when I look at it.
“The cathedral,” Walt mumbles. “It’s like a higher power prevented it from being destroyed. Everything around it is gone.”
He’s right. Was it possible that Jesse protected this cathedral – or Jesus, as they called him here?
The silence grows oppressive, making my ears ring. Here, in the bombed city of Exeter, we hear no birdsong. Nothing stirs, not even a breath of wind. When I turn to Walt, I see his eyes are red-rimmed. This whole situation doesn’t leave him cold, either.
“Everything’s dead,” I whisper.
“Yeah. Because of the bombs.” He takes my hand and pulls me in to plant a soft kiss on my mouth. “But luckily, our ancestors got out in time.”
Together, we stand in the middle of a blackened field that might once have been a park. This city must have harbored thousands of people, maybe more. But no one in the old world respected its beauty enough to spare it and save Exeter for posterity.
“Shall we go in?” I propose.
“Well, it’s the only place we can actually enter, so let’s,” Walt replies with a bitter smile.
It’s a short walk to get to the main entrance. The doors are pretty tall, but completely dwarfed by the arc stretching out above them. Triangles, circles and lines are engaged in an intricate dance across the stained glass windows, which remind me of the windows in the palace dinner hall. A row of statuettes depicting men decorate the ledge above the door. Maybe those are the people who built this cathedral.
When Walt pushes against the right door, it swings open with a squeaky sound. Inside the cathedral it is dark, but once my eyes get used to the sparse light I can see how beautifully the interior is decorated as well. Even the ceiling is ornamented in stripes that fan out and remind me of the cockle shells on our northern beach. And everything is so dizzyingly tall. So vast. If Saul had ever had the chance to do his speeches here, he would have captivated his audience even more.
“Can you imagine what it would have been like if your temple had looked like this?” I ask quietly.
Walt smiles. “It would have been weird, without Annabelle.”
The giant pillars supporting the vault feature tapestries depicting Jesus and a woman who faintly resembles Annabelle. She’s holding a baby in her arms.
My breath hitches when my gaze lands on a bizarre, black construction made of metal tubes. It’s all the way in the back of the cathedral. Somehow, it reminds me of a face – a kind of mask like Dark Father wore in the stories. But it can’t be – the people whom we thought were our ancestors never existed, and they can’t have been important enough to depict in churches and cathedrals of the old religion.
Walt pulls me along to a large table in the back. “The altar,” he says pensively. “We have something similar.”
And then, a small, shiny object catches my eye. It glimmers golden in the rays of sunlight streaming into the cathedral through a clear-glass side window. It’s a cross made of gold, with inlaid red, transparent stones. It’s not on the altar, but lies half-forgotten on the floor behind a large, stone bowl on some kind of pedestal.
As Walt lays his hands reverently on the altar, I stoop down and reach for the small crucifix – that’s what Sonia called them during our visit to the church. It feels cold in my hand when I pick it up, but the stones gleam at me with a warm, red glow. It looks stunning amidst the shambles left of the old order – a thing of beauty in a world capable of mass destruction. I’m taking this. It’s a shame I’ll have to hand it over to Victor, but at least I can keep it with me for a few hours, and feel its weight in my pocket on our walk back to Dunsford. Our filly will be gone by now. Animals usually have a sharp instinct warning them to stay away from dangerous places.
Only then do I realize that I haven’t experienced any physical pain so far. No headaches, no nausea, nothing at all.
“Walt?” I move toward him. He’s looking at the stained glass window above his head, the center piece featuring the same lady dressed in blue holding her baby. She is surrounded by feminine-looking men with wings on their backs. Truly bizarre.
“Yes?” he replies absently.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” He turns away from the window and smiles at me. “Sorry for being so quiet. I’m just sort of overcome with everything in here.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” I take his hand. “Aren’t you feeling sick? No symptoms of radiation poisoning?”
“No, actually.” He blinks in confusion. “Well, that’s odd. But so much the better. Maybe we should go anyway. I don’t want to stick around for hours.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I show him the golden crucifix. “Look, this is what I’m bringing for Victor.”
“That’s really beautiful.” Walt pulls me into his arms and softly kisses me. “Just as beautiful as you,” he adds. “Fortunately, Victor won’t get you as a gift.”
“Yeah, that’s a good thing.” I kiss him back and think back to the moment Walt told Victor off. No one has ever protected me like that, except Colin. It feels good. I sigh contentedly and lean into Walt as our kiss deepens. The silence in the cathedral is broken by laughter bubbling up in my throat when his hands slip down to my waist, and then even lower.
“Walt!” I hiss. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” he asks, perplexed.
“Touching me inappropriately while in a holy place.” I wink at him. “You remember what you did to me in our graveyard?”
His cheeks turn red, but he doesn’t let go. “I don’t mind going somewhere else,” he suggests a bit huskily. When he dips his head, his lips land on mine again. “Maybe I can touch you appropriately, then,” he mumbles against my mouth.
Now I feel my own cheeks getting hot. “I, uhm, have my own room in the hotel,” I stammer.
Walt smil
es. “Let’s go back before it gets dark,” he whispers.
“Brilliant idea.” I chuckle and slip out of his arms, proceeding to the heavy door of the cathedral. We quickly leave the premises and head out of the destroyed city unscathed to get to Moretonhampstead before we won’t be able to find our way back anymore.
Without our filly, the trip back takes considerably longer. Moreover, we have to trudge the last mile uphill. I’m dead beat by the time we get back to the narrow track leading to Victor’s barn. But other than that, I feel fine – no queasiness or headache. It looks like we made a lucky escape. The sickness that chased our forefathers across the sea has left us alone.
“Leia,” I suddenly hear Walt hiss in alarm. “Wait.”
He stops directly in front of me and ducks down. I follow suit as he crawls forward and hides behind a large rock sticking out of the moorland.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart beating in my throat.
“There’s a group of Peacekeepers there,” he replies. “You know, those soldiers armed with needles. I think they may have discovered the hole in the fence.”
“What?” I whisper sharply, crawling forward to look around the rock. Then I see what he means – six men in uniform are standing next to the farm on the other side of the fence. A seventh soldier has gone into the barn and is just opening the secret door in the back wall, staring out wide-eyed.
There is no sign of mother and son.
“They were found out,” Walt says flatly. “This doesn’t look good.”
I shiver involuntarily. Although Victor wasn’t my favorite person in the world, he didn’t deserve this. There is little doubt as to what they will do with him. Or will these people show mercy for someone who isn’t aggressive himself but helps others who are? I don’t know, but right now there are far more pressing matters requiring our attention.
“How are we ever going to get back in undetected?” I ask in despair.
Walt casts a look around. “I guess just showing up at the gates isn’t going to go down well. Maybe we can climb the fence?”
“It’s way too high for that,” I protest. In the distance, I can hear the grumble of an engine.
“Something’s coming,” Walt observes, peeking out his head over the rock. “One of those maintenance vans.”
“I bet they’re going to patch up the hole in the fence,” I say, dejectedly closing my eyes.
“This may be our chance,” Walt says. “Look, they’re parking the van a little ways away from the hole. It’s too bumpy and steep to put it right next to the fence.”
“So?”
“While they busy themselves fixing their precious fence, we can hide inside the van. It will go back to Dartmoor eventually.”
I stare at Walt. “You’re a genius,” I say from the bottom of my heart.
He flashes me his familiar, arrogant grin. “I know, sweetheart. So, are you coming? I’ll go first.”
“Pff,” I mutter, but I’m only too happy to trail behind him. Or crawl, more like. It’s a good thing the moors are overgrown with tall grass, hiding us from view as we make our way to the van that will be our ticket in. The soil around the vehicle is barren, though, so we crouch and run the final few yards to the back doors. They’re unlocked. Nobody is behind the wheel either. The entire team is working on the fence, using obscure tools and big coils of metal wire.
“Hide behind those,” Walt says, pointing at a high stack of boxes. “When they come back to put their stuff in here, they won’t be able to see us.” He pulls the door shut. The only light inside the loading compartment comes from the grimy little window in the back door.
When I slump down on the cold, metal floor and crawl into Walt’s embrace, I realize how afraid I was before. I let out a shuddering breath and try to stop my tears. Pressing my face against his shoulder, I snake my arms around his waist.
“You okay?” he asks, gently caressing my hair.
“No,” I sob. “I put us both in mortal danger. We could have gotten sick in Exeter. And now we might be Purged by those creeps for sneaking out of Dartmoor.”
“Except we didn’t get sick,” Walt says decidedly. “And as long as we manage to get back into Dartmoor County unnoticed, we’ll be fine.” He kisses my forehead. “Hey, I went with you to Exeter of my own free will. I could have said no.”
“Are you happy we went?” I want to know.
“Well, happy isn’t the word I am looking for, but I do think it was good for me to see it.” Walt rubs his face absently. “Before we left Hope Harbor, I was afraid that my people would never again be able to live in peace, because of all the changes in our lives. But I’m convinced it will never get as bad as it was in the old world.”
I nod. “Our island isn’t the worst place in the world. It may be primitive, but our way of life is much more natural.”
“I’d still like to see more of the world, though,” Walt muses. “There has to be more than just Cornwall. Other peoples. Other societies.”
“I don’t know. This may be all that’s left.” I hold my breath when I suddenly feel the van wobble lightly. Apparently, someone has hopped into the car to sit down at the wheel. When the engine roars to life, I can’t suppress a squeal of excitement.
“We’re going back,” Walt whispers. “Thank Goddess.”
After the van stops moving, it doesn’t take long before the driver opens the doors to the loading area to take out some goods. Fortunately, he ignores the boxes we’re hiding behind for the moment, so when he strolls off carrying a bundle of planks in his arms, we seize the opportunity to hop out and slink away.
We turn out to be in some kind of backyard. I can’t make out our exact location, but the building on the right seems to be one of the gatehouses we saw near the exit to the outside world.
I blindly grab Walt’s hand when I hear a gruff voice behind us. “What’s your business here?”
We slowly turn around and stare into the face of a tall man with curly, dark hair.
“Oh, we’re just looking around,” Walt replies oafishly. He gives the man an innocent smile, extending his hand. “I’m Walt, assistant Bookkeeper on Tresco. Tony is giving us a grand tour of Dartmoor, as per President Jacob’s instructions.”
The eyes of the man who was probably the driver of our getaway car soften a bit. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard about that. Well, you’re not supposed to be back here,” he says. “We’ve had some – trouble. People had to be taken away. Pretty awful, all of it.”
I put on my stupidest face. “I hope things didn’t get too violent,” I mumble. “You kind of startled me by snapping at us. It scared me.”
The man visibly pales. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just talking loudly because you scared me. Did I seem aggressive?” He pronounces the word as though it might kill him on the spot.
Walt puts a reassuring hand on the driver’s shoulder. “No worries. We’ve had a mighty good time in Dunsford. Could you possibly show us to the nearest bus stop? We really should be going back to Moretonhampstead.”
“Of course,” the man replies helpfully. He leads the way back to the square near the border gate where Victor furtively addressed us, pointing at a bench under a large chestnut tree before taking off in the direction of the guardhouse.
My heart stars to hammer in my chest when I see just how many soldiers and border guards are patrolling the square and crowding near the gatehouse. Is it a coincidence that Victor was caught in the act just after we used his secret doorway? Or are these people also looking for us – because someone might have seen us talking to Victor and thought it was suspicious?
My hand clasps the golden crucifix in the pocket of my cardigan. We have to get out of here – right this second.
As if Walt’s Goddess is smiling down on us, the bus shows up at that moment. Walt jumps up from the bench just a tiny bit too eagerly and drags me along to the door. “You think anybody saw us?” he mutters under his breath.
“I don’t know. Let’s
sit all the way in the back this time,” I suggest in a low voice.
We both get on, care-free smiles plastered on our faces as we pass the bus driver and make our way to the back seats. It’s only after the bus starts moving and the square full of soldiers slides out of view that I can relax my fingers cramped around the golden treasure from the cathedral.
Tresco
13 – Alisa
After a long journey home, we bring Carl the good news about the new, secret shipyard that the Eldest approved of. Ben immediately declares that he wants to be a part of the red herring team in St Martin, and Carl is fine with that. He has probably noticed too how much our trip to Newexter has affected Ben.
“Would you mind being my messenger?” Carl asks me. “I am going to send my eight trustees on their way east. They’re supposed to stay there permanently, and I want to know how the work progresses. Which means someone needs to travel back and forth to carry letters and reports.”
I nod. “I’m going to be a busy woman,” I grin. “I promised to be the Bookkeeper’s acting assistant, and of course I’m still working for Daryl too.”
“Oh, well, necessity is the mother of a glorious career,” the shipyard superintendent replies, his voice playful and serious at the same time. “Let’s just hope hard times will be over soon.”
I think hard times would be over in no time at all if only the Bookkeeper would adopt a clear position, but strangely enough, he hasn’t yet. Nathan did blacklist all the Phileans who were somehow involved in riots and protest marches, but he hasn’t once organized an assembly in the square to address all Hope Harborers and tell them there is no point in aggressively holding on to the past – with an emphasis on ‘aggressively’.
Mulling over everything, I walk back home, where I find the house empty. My parents are both still at work. I pick up an apple from the fruit bowl and venture back out while munching on my late lunch.