The Thousand Steps

by Helen Brain

  “I told you the High Priest was a good man,” I say, ignoring her jibe.

  She snorts. “He’s got an ulterior motive,” she says.

  “Where is Jasmine going to stay?” Leonid asks. “Is she going to be a full citizen, like you?” He sneers as he says the word “citizen”.

  I blush. “She’s not allowed to stay in the house with me …”

  “So she’s being elevated to be another one of your servants? Lucky Jasmine.”

  Aunty Figgy pats his arm. “It’s better than nothing, Leonid,” she says. “Let’s be grateful to the Goddess for small mercies.”

  THE NEXT EVENING the army wagon pulls up at the front door and Jasmine climbs down, holding a small duffle bag. She’s looking bewildered, and when she sees me, her face goes white.

  “But you’re dead!” she exclaims. “They sacrificed you.”

  I grab her in a hug and lift her right off her feet. “I’m alive!” I shout. “I couldn’t get a message to you, but I’m alive.” My body can’t hold all my feelings. I want to laugh and cry and spin her around and throw her into the air.

  “I thought you were dead,” she says again. Then she pulls away from my arms and looks up at me. “Are you sure this is you? You don’t look like you anymore. Your hair is funny, and what are you wearing?”

  “It’s me,” I laugh. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  Leonid and Aunty Figgy are standing on the stoep watching us. Aunty Figgy comes over and takes her hand. “Welcome,” she says. “I’m Aunty Figgy. Thank the Goddess that you’ve been released from that hell.”

  Jasmine’s overwhelmed. “But they told us it was dangerous above,” she keeps saying. “They told us we had to stay inside the mountain or we would die of radiation sickness, or malaria, or influenza …”

  “They’re lying bastards,” Leonid says, shaking her hand.

  “Welcome to the real world – or what’s left of it.”

  I don’t know what to do next. Is she allowed to use the front door? What did the High Priest say again?

  “Come inside,” Aunty Figgy says, leading her up the stairs. “You must be tired and hungry. It’s almost suppertime. Ebba, show her around the house.”

  Is that allowed? I check for the wagon. It’s halfway down the driveway. Nobody will see.

  “What is this place?” Jasmine asks, pausing on the doorstep. She points to the date carved on the curly gable. “It was built in 1697? Why are you here?”

  “I inherited it. When the High Priest saw me in the colony, he realised I was Ebba den Eeden, and that I was a citizen. He sent a message just in time. I was literally hanging on the edge of the ventilation shaft, about to be pushed out.” My stomach lurches at the memory. The thought of how close I came to death makes me feel sick. “You have no idea, Jas. It was so scary …”

  But she’s not interested in hearing about the sacrifice. She looks around the hall and her mouth drops open. “This is all yours? Everything? Just the house, or the land too?”

  “Everything,” I say. “The farm is huge. It goes right up to the mountain. Those Year Fives he selected? Two of them had already been sacrificed, and I saw their bodies and everything,” I begin, but she’s not listening.

  “And those people,” she interrupts, peering through the door into the sitting room, “Aunty Figgy and that good-looking guy?”

  “They work for me.” I straighten the edge of the carpet with my foot. I can’t look her in the face.

  “Your servants?”

  How do I tell her that she’s my servant too? She’ll hate me. Luckily she’s distracted by my bedroom and the big wooden bed with curtains. “Who sleeps here?” she asks, jumping onto it.

  “Me.” I feel awful. She’s going to be sleeping in a tiny room far from the house.

  “This bed is so soft,” she says, lying back among the pillows. “I feel like a kinetika star. Will I share with you or can I have a room all to myself? When are Letti and Fez arriving?”

  My face is burning. I can’t tell her they’re not coming. “I’m sorry, Jas,” I mutter. “They’re very strict up here. You’re not allowed to sleep in the main house with me.”

  She sits up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “The only way I could get you out of the colony was if you came to work for me. To help on the farm.”

  “I’m working for you? I’m a servant? I’m your servant?” Her voice rises.

  My face is hot with shame. “I’m so sorry. I don’t make the rules,” I stutter. “I have to do what the High Priest says.”

  When Aunty Figgy calls down the passage that lunch is ready, Jasmine cheers up. “Still,” she says, “at least you’re alive, and I’m out of the colony, and the world isn’t destroyed.” She digs me in the ribs and lowers her voice. “And there’s a handsome guy in the kitchen for us to fight over.”

  I link my arm in hers and give it a big squeeze. She’s going to be so excited to taste real food at last.

  And she is. She has two helpings of Aunty Figgy’s stew and a big slice of apple pie and cream. “To think that all the time we were eating protein pellets and dehydrated vegetables, and thinking the world up here was nothing but ashes,” she says, licking the cream off her spoon.

  “They lie about everything,” Leonid says. “My dad taught me that when I was a kid. He was one of the heroes of the resistance.”

  Jasmine looks at him admiringly, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. She’s my best friend, not his.

  “What’s the resistance?” she asks.

  “Well,” says Aunty Figgy, “it was formed about five years before the Calamity, when the High Priest and his followers took over the city council. This was the old city still – the sea was rising, but it hadn’t risen enough to cut Cape Town into three islands. Things were changing fast, though. When the last rainforests in the Amazon and Indonesia and Congo were chopped down in 2035, the weather went haywire, and terrifying storms wiped out whole cities, across the globe. There were hurricanes, tornadoes, floods – and the heat! Raging hot summers that destroyed crops, animals starving to death. Food cost a fortune. People were starving too, and hungry people are angry. There were wars breaking out everywhere, refugees were pouring into the countries that still had food. It was only a matter of time before someone somewhere deployed nuclear weapons.

  “The High Priest saw this coming. There were rumours that the icecaps could melt entirely so he built the wall around the city to keep out the sea and underground bunkers to store supplies.”

  “But that’s a good thing,” Jasmine says, wrinkling her nose. “Why would someone resist that?”

  “If he had shared, it would have been wonderful, yes. If he was doing it to keep everyone safe, it would have been perfect. But instead he started passing laws. Only certain people could stay in the city; people who followed Prospiroh, people who had enough money to build their own bunkers and stock up their own supplies. That’s what Ebba’s great-aunt did here. And everyone else had to take their chances outside the wall as the waters rose and their homes disappeared under the ocean. The resistance formed to fight him. They wanted the city to be a safe haven for everyone. Ebba’s mother was one of the leaders, along with Leonid’s father.” She gets up and starts clearing the table, her face grim. I’m beginning to recognise that look, the one she gets whenever she talks about my mom.

  I put the plates in the sink. Leonid carries hot water over from the kettle on the stove and fills the sink. I watch the plates sinking under the water and try not to think of the ocean rising until houses, shops, roads – until whole cities – are beneath the sea. The same sea that I can hear breaking against the wall at the end of the forest, that I can smell on the evening breeze.

  Jasmine finishes drying up, and asks with a yawn, “Where do you sleep, Leonid?”

  “In the loft above the stables,” he says. “But you’re not staying there. You’re with Aunty Figgy in the old slave lodge.”

  There’s an awkward silence. The word �
�slave” hangs in the air.

  “I’m a slave?” she says slowly. Her voice is cold.

  “Of course not,” Aunty Figgy says firmly. “The last slaves were emancipated over two hundred years ago. It’s just the name of the building. You’ll be paid, just like me and Leonid. Now come along. If you’re finished, we can go and sort out your room. Ebba, bring the broom. Leonid, fetch a bucket of water from the pump. This way, Jasmine.”

  I follow them out the back door, across the yard, through a gate and into the orchard. Jasmine’s walking briskly, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. In one hand she’s carrying the small kit bag. I can guess what’s in it – two changes of clothes, her memory box and her passbook. The sum total of her possessions.

  All our lives, Jasmine has been the one who made sure everyone got their fair share. Once, on the Feast of Prospiroh, we were each given a bag of sweets. It was the most exciting thing ever. We were small – about five years old, but we got the same share as the older kids.

  But then Tanaka tricked Letti and stole hers. Letti was too short-sighted to see what had happened, but Jasmine went crazy. Tanaka was four years older than her but Jasmine didn’t care. She marched into the Year Two sleeping cell, opened Tanaka’s locker, grabbed her memory box and ran to the bathroom. The toilets were holes in the floor that dropped straight down to the composting level along with all the other waste. It stank down there.

  “Tell Tanaka to give Letti her sweets or I’m dropping this down here!” Jasmine shouted. Tanaka was there in three seconds flat. By then Jasmine had taken out a painting of Tanaka’s parents and was holding it over the pit.

  Tanaka grabbed Jasmine’s hair, but Jasmine had had her cornered.

  “You can pull as much as you like,” she snarled. “Give back the sweets you stole.” Tanaka handed over the bag of sweets to a dumbfounded Letti and slunk off, holding her memory box so tight I thought it might break.

  As I follow Jasmine, Leonid and Aunty Figgy through the rows of orange and lemon trees, my feet drag. I feel like Tanaka. I’ve snatched Jasmine’s share of everything.

  “Here we are,” Aunty Figgy says as we reach a long white building with five doors running along the front, and a series of poky windows. She opens the second door and gestures for to us to enter. “This is your room. We share a bathroom – it’s the last room at the end of the stoep.”

  A single bed stands against one wall. There’s a small wooden cupboard, a plain chest of drawers and a threadbare carpet on the floor. The room is about a quarter the size of my bedroom.

  Jasmine takes one look and turns to me, hands on her hips. “How is this fair?” she demands. “How can this be right?”

  I bite my lip, my face burning. “I … I know it’s wrong, Jas, but I can’t help the rules.” My voice sounds pathetic, like I’m pleading with her. And I am. She has to see this isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this. But as far as she’s concerned, I’m no better than Tanaka.

  “Here you are,” Aunty Figgy says, taking sheets and blankets from the cupboard. “Help me make the bed.”

  Jasmine turns her back on me. I start sweeping the floor, wishing all the bad feelings could just get swept out with the dust.

  “Do you know my family?” Jasmine asks Aunty Figgy as they throw a sheet across the mattress and start tucking it in. “My parents’ names are Jeremy and Beverley Constable. They used to live in a place called Mitchell’s Plain. Maybe I can find them.”

  Oh no. She wants to leave Greenhaven. If she finds them, I’ll be all alone again.

  Aunty Figgy shakes her head. “Mitchell’s Plain is long under the sea,” she says. “It was one of the first places to go.”

  “So where did the people who lived there go?”

  “To the mainland, or maybe to Boat Bay, but it’s unlikely. We’d know them. We know everyone in Boat Bay.”

  “They could be on Silvermine Island too,” Leonid says. “I’ll try and find out when next I go to market.”

  Jasmine gives him a warm smile, and my heart shrivels.

  “I’ve got a headache,” I say. “I’m going to lie down.” And I slink off back to the house.

  I’m miserable as I lie in my comfortable bed in my enormous bedroom. Has this been a terrible mistake? Jasmine hates me because I’m a citizen. She was my best friend. I don’t want to lose her, especially not to Leonid.

  AUNTY FIGGY MUST have talked to Jasmine because the next morning, she’s friendlier. Things are still awkward, but I’m so relieved we’re not fighting. I ask her to come with me to the new land that I want to develop. We set off through the orchard, Isi running ahead of us between the rows of apple trees.

  We keep off the subject of the old slave lodge. Instead we talk about the plants and what we can grow and which vegetables will bring the best prices. I’m starting to feel optimistic. We can find common ground. Maybe we can build a new relationship up here.

  We’re on our way back to the barn to find the seeds and potting bags when we see a wagon rolling up the driveway.

  It’s the staff Lucas promised to send. I stop behind a tree and watch three men getting down. I bite the skin around my thumbnail and wonder if it’s too late to back out. How am I supposed to be boss of six people? And Jasmine is going to be so angry when she finds that we’re taking on new staff while the twins are stuck in the colony.

  I feel like running into the forest and never coming out.

  But then I think of my mother, joining the resistance at my age, and standing up against the government. So I start walking, and when I reach the kitchen, I take a deep breath, straighten my back, lift my chin and greet them, hoping I sound like a confident, mature woman.

  “Hello,” I say. “I’m Ebba den Eeden. Welcome to –” Then I stop dead. The guy with the straight black hair.

  It’s Micah. Micah, the boy I loved.

  Jasmine is staring at him too. “Micah?” she gasps. “I thought you were dead!”

  His eyes widen briefly. But he recovers quickly. “Dead? Hardly,” he says with a grin. “You’re thinking of someone else. I’m Mike Patel. I come from Bellville settlement, on the mainland.”

  “But before that,” she babbles. “How did you …”

  I know that chipped-tooth grin. But before I can argue with him, I catch Aunty Figgy’s frown. She gives a tiny shake of the head and her eyes flicker to the other two men standing in the kitchen, caps in hand.

  “Must have been your doppelganger,” I say quickly and shake his hand. “Don’t take any notice of Jasmine. We once knew a guy called Micah who looked a bit like you. Welcome to Greenhaven Farm.”

  “You can call me Micah, Michael, Mike,” he chuckles. “I’m easy.”

  Next in line is a short little guy. He’s kind of round – his face, his belly, even his eyes, are big and round like a baby’s and his hair is blond and downy like a duckling.

  “Good morning, miss,” he says in a squeaky voice. “I’m very excited to be joining your staff. My name is Troy Julius, but everyone calls me Shorty, you can see why. The High Priest sent me to do your books.” He gives a strange, nervous giggle.

  “Thank you, Troy,” I say. From the corner of my eye I see Jasmine and Leonid exchanging glances. He’s the one to look out for, the one the High Priest has sent to spy on us and report back if we break any laws. The third guy seems nice – he’s shy, and he keeps his eyes down as I shake his hand. “I’m Victor,” he mumbles.

  “The first thing we have to do is find somewhere for you to sleep,” I say. “Leonid, the empty rooms above the stables – do you think you could clean them up?”

  He sighs like it’s so much trouble, and I clench my fists. The last thing I need is Leonid making me look stupid in front of my new staff.

  “Can you three get going on that today?” I nod to the new guys. “Jasmine and I will start working out a plan for the new plantings.”

  As soon as they’ve gone, Jasmine leans close to me. “I swear that’s Micah. He’s got a new scar o
n his cheek, and I think he’s broken his nose, but it’s the same guy from the colony. The one you used to drool over.”

  “I did not drool over him,” I exclaim, swatting her away. “But that’s definitely him. Remember when he broke his tooth? Jarrod was bullying one of Micah’s sabenzis so Micah jumped onto his back and tried to throttle him.”

  “You thought he was such a hero,” Jasmine laughs.

  We’re getting on like old times again. I decide to take a risk. “Hey, Jas,” I say, leaning forward and dropping my voice. “There’s this guy I’m seeing – his name is Hal.”

  “Really? What’s he like?” She’s ready for a good gossip. Her eyes sparkle. “Have you kissed him?”

  “Jasmine!” I exclaim, swatting her away. “Of course I

  haven’t.”

  “You have!” she laughs. “I can always tell when you’re lying. Is he good-looking? Is he more gorgeous than Leonid?”

  “Leonid!” I make a face.

  She scowls. Damnit. She thinks I don’t like him because he’s not a citizen. “Leonid’s too grumpy,” I say quickly. “Hal’s lovely – he’s always cheerful and he’s totally positive all the time. His dad is the High Priest.”

  “Wow,” she says. But her voice is flat and she’s turned back to the planting plans I’m drawing on a piece of paper.

  We stick to work for a while, deciding where to plant what, and trying to work out how long we’ve got before the winter rains begin.

  “I wish the twins were here,” she says, after a while. She’s biting the pencil. “I worry so much about them.”

  I’m doodling on the edge of the paper, worrying about Micah. Is it him? I’m sure it is. He must have escaped somehow, and he doesn’t want Shorty and Victor to know. But he’s a farm labourer and I’m a citizen so …

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s two years since he disappeared. He’s probably got a girlfriend … and I’ve got Hal. But if I had to choose …