by Beth Goobie
Whistling, she leapt off the store’s front porch and swaggered down the street, munching contentedly on a bread roll.
Chapter 4
SHE HAD ONE MORE GOALfor the day—to buy a metal canister for food storage. Digging out a candy bar, Nellie swung the grocery bag over her shoulder and slipped into the busy street. Already the corner store theft was fading from her thoughts. One last memory of her shapeshifting, knife-carrying double crossed her mind—now that had been a real rush, a double that made her think for a change—and then she ditched the incident completely and focused on the surrounding crowd.
On all sides street pedlars bartered with women who were keeping sharp eyes on the children that darted shrieking about their knees. Eagerly Nellie’s gaze flicked over the scene, taking in everything she saw and filing it as information that could be used to shore up her shrinking store of memories about her own mother. These related mostly to the time they’d spent in the Out-backs before her mother disappeared, for Nellie could recall very little of their life in the Interior, and the urge to fill those missing years with some kind of story had her continually searching her environment for details from the lives of other children. Had her mother, for instance, ever grabbed Nellie’s arm and yanked her out of a spit fight like the mother scolding her seven-year-old son across the street? Probably. Had she braided her daughter’s hair with red ribbons and bells like the small girl seated next to the vendor selling animal-head balloons? Probably not, and it seemed like a surefire way to drive a kid crazy, but still Nellie followed every twist and turn of the little girl’s head, listening as the bells sent out their faint tinkle. This would make a lovely bedtime story to tell herself about her own mother, she decided wistfully—the two of them walking through a bustling market, Nellie’s hair tinkling down her back, her small hand engulfed in her mother’s large palm.
A new thought struck her. Why not buy a few ribbons and braid them through her hair? Thoughtfully Nellie tugged at the ragged tendrils hanging over her ears. Generally she attacked the stuff on her head with a pair of rusty scissors when it got too long, but today she had enough money, more than enough—and there was a barbershop nearby. She could get it done professionally. Grandly Nellie played with the word on her tongue, tasting its importance. Already she could see herself sitting in the barber’s fancy chair, pretending it was actually her mother cutting her hair, or better yet, that her mother had sent her there to get her hair done professionally. Yes, that was what she would do. Excitement mounting, Nellie headed toward the barbershop, sketching out the scene in her head. She’d just come home from school. My dearest darling, her mother had said lovingly, stroking Nellie’s lovely waist-long locks. I think it’s time you had a haircut. You’re the star in the school play tomorrow night, and you’ll need to look your best. Here’s some money. Go get it cut and come home quickly, so I can see how beautiful you look
Yes, that was it—her mother was at home right now, waiting for Nellie to return with her professionally cut hair. Cheeks flushed, breathing anticipation, Nellie pressed against the barbershop window. As far as she could see there were no customers in the shop, the barber standing alone in front of the mirror, rearranging bottles of shampoo. Why not go all out and get her hair washed too? Her mother would like that. She would pull Nellie close, bury her nose in the fresh shampoo scent of her hair and say, Nellie darling— “Where ya going, Bunny?” a voice sneered behind her.
Nellie whirled but the Skulls had already surrounded her, breathing heavily as if they’d been running for blocks. Hornets of fear swarmed her brain but she managed a frantic head count that took in everyone but Deller.
“Barbershop, eh? Think you’re going to get pretty?” jeered Pullo, a large heavyset boy who seemed to be Deller’s second-in-command. Slit-eyed and intent the boys pressed closer, staring at the blobs on Nellie’s chest. With a grunt she shoved the nearest one. He shoved back and she coughed, winded.
“Look, she bought us dindin,” yelled the boy next to him, a kid with a mean yellow squint called Snakebite. Snatching Nellie’s grocery bag, he opened it.
“We’ll eat later.” Ducking down, Pullo grabbed Nellie around the knees and upended her over his shoulder. Immediately she exploded into a frenzy of kicks and punches. Someone shoved her face into Pullo’s back, muffling her cries. Enraged, she bit deeply into his T-shirt, worrying the flesh underneath until a punch to her head dissolved her into a whimpering mass. The ground arced dizzily beneath her, taking a pendulum swing as Pullo rounded a corner. Coins rained from her pockets, the boys pushing and shoving to get at them.
“She’s got money?” grunted Pullo. “Check her pockets.”
She was ransacked, the boys whooping as they brandished fifty-dollar bills.
“All right,” said Pullo. “Let’s keep going.”
She tried clawing her way up Pullo’s ponytail, but her head was punched a second time and she sank into a jarring upside-down swoon. Blood collected thickly along her eyelids and pounded in her upper lip. She thought she could feel Pullo starting to tire, a stagger creeping into his walk. Maybe he would set her down soon and she could make a run for it. Tendrils of an upside-down plan began to form in her dizzy brain, but all thoughts of escape vanished as Pullo passed through a doorway, banging her knee carelessly against the doorjamb. Dumping her onto the floor he sank, gasping, beside her. A door slammed shut behind them.
“You got her.”
Still swaying inside the darkness of her head, Nellie recognized Deller’s voice. Someone kicked at her back. She didn’t move.
“What, you kill her already?” Deller demanded.
“Playing dead,” panted Pullo.
“I’ll give her dead,” said Deller. “Dead meat.”
This time she rolled to avoid his foot and the room danced a half circle, skittering as she tried to sit up.
“She was going to get herself pretty at the barbershop,” jeered Snakebite.
Nellie squinted, fighting the swing in her head. So this was the Skulls’ headquarters, a dim shabby room lit by a single candle that burned on a nearby table. Several broken-down chairs leaned at various angles against the opposite wall, and the single window was covered with cardboard. Turning her head slowly, Nellie scanned for exits. Immediately behind her was the doorway through which she’d been carried, and to her right was another that led further into the building. The only other exit was the black cave that loomed inside her head, threatening to engulf her completely. Should she try tuning into the molecular field to locate a gate to another level? No, too dizzy. Wait a bit.
Sinking carefully into a three-legged armchair, Deller watched her survey the room. A tiny thrill of satisfaction shot through Nellie as she saw the heavily bandaged hand in his lap, and she let go a tiny grin. “Shake and make up?” she asked softly, and a collective gasp rose from the boys behind her. Deller’s eyes widened, but he raised his good hand as someone grabbed Nellie’s shoulder.
“She needs kicking,” Pullo protested.
“She’ll get kicking,” Deller promised, “but first she gets a haircut.” Pulling some money from his pocket, he held it out. “Snakey, fetch some shaving cream and a razor.”
Nellie’s eyes narrowed, darting between Deller and the rest of the gang. “They got money,” she spat contemptuously. “They stole a hundred and forty off me.”
Deller’s gaze shot dangerously toward the other boys.
“We were going to show you,” whined Snakebite, giving Nellie a swift kick in the leg.
“Show me?” Deller hissed.
“Give it to you.” Reluctantly the boys handed over the money and Deller made an awkward one-handed count.
“You got your own private bank account, Bunny?” Deller asked, granting her a curious glance.
“Found it,” she said tersely.
“You got real lucky. Then we got lucky.” Grinning, Deller handed Snakebite a bill. “And bring back the receipt,” he ordered, giving the fidgety boy a long stare.
> They came at her without warning, and once they’d grabbed her there was no longer any chance of tuning into the molecular field. She needed calm for that kind of focus, a moment separate and breathing at its own pace, not screaming wild in her face like this one. Once their hands were on her she became a cyclone of fear, biting, scratching and kicking, and they had to work to get her into one of the chairs, then tie her sloppily to it with a few odd ends of rope. Finally they backed off, muttering and nursing their bruises. Immediately Nellie fixed on Deller, riding the thin electric vibe she could feel humming between them. Tilted in his three-legged chair, he’d watched impassively as the other boys tied her up. Now he sauntered over to inspect her fastenings. Though his eyes never quite met hers, she felt him watching her like she watched him. If that vibe faded between them, if he lost interest, she was a goner. Not even the Goddess would be able to save her then.
The outer door slammed open and Snakebite rushed in, flourishing a receipt. Handing a paper bag to Deller, he demanded, “Who’s going to do it?”
“I am,” Deller said calmly.
“But your hand’s wrecked,” Pullo protested.
“I got my best one left.” Pulling out the can of shaving cream, Deller leaned into Nellie’s face and grinned. “Just don’t make any sudden moves, and there won’t be no accidental brain surgery, right Bunny?”
The gang dissolved into raucous laughter as he squirted a mound of foam into her face, then covered the rest of her head. Blinking hard, Nellie fought to keep her eyes open, but the sweet-smelling foam was liquid fire and she was forced to sit in searing darkness as the razor tugged at her hairline. Her heart lurched at every sound and she tried to track the circling boys by their voices, but the shaving foam crept into her ears, its bubbles popping madly. Pain slivered her scalp as the razor snagged. Someone’s arm brushed her ear, wiping away some of the foam, and sounds came back into focus, Deller swearing as the razor snagged again.
“Should’ve cut it with scissors first,” muttered Pullo.
“Now you tell me,” Deller snapped. “Anyone got scissors?” When no one responded he changed his shaving technique, asking Pullo to hold up Nellie’s hair while he sawed it off in small bunches, then went at what remained with short harsh scrapes. Gradually the last of her hair began to give, the cool air nuzzling her scalp.
“C’mon Deller, give her a slash,” someone jeered. “Something to remember us by.”
“She’ll remember, all right.” Tiny nicks of pain dug into Nellie’s scalp as Deller worked his way across her head. Every now and then he would pause, as if contemplating his handiwork. The last pause had been the longest, and then he’d started scraping at the left side of her head. Pausing again, he let out a long whistle.
“Sweet sweet Goddess,” someone whispered.
“Where’d she get that?” asked Snakebite.
“Lobotomy, man,” muttered Pullo.
They spoke in awed whispers then fell silent, intent as a cat licking its hind end. Fear sang through Nellie’s skin. Something weird was being uncovered on her scalp, something she didn’t know about and yet she did too—a long ago secret that had something to do with the bright rooms of the Interior. Even though she couldn’t remember the details, the fear of it was like a sickness gnawing at her gut. Whimpering, she tugged against her bindings.
“Hold her,” snapped Deller and someone grabbed Nellie’s head, holding it fast. Scraping carefully, Deller worked his way across the secrets on her scalp. Tears slipped through Nellie’s tightly squeezed eyes, moans twisted her mouth. Finally the razor clattered to the floor and a T-shirt was rubbed roughly across her face and head, clearing the foam. Opening her eyes, she focused on the raw blur of Deller’s face hovering inches from her own.
“What happened to you, Bunny?” She could hear the airy hook of fear in his voice. “There’s scars all over your head,” he said softly. “Like you’ve been ... cut open. Like they siphoned out your brains.”
No one snorted.
“Let me see,” she choked, avoiding his gaze.
“Get the bathroom mirror,” said Deller. Feet pounded out of the room and Snakebite’s voice came hollering down a hallway.
“It won’t come off the wall.”
“Smash it,” Deller yelled impatiently.
A crash followed and then Snakebite called, “There’s a hundred pieces. Someone come help.”
Two more boys ran from the room. Returning with various-sized fragments, the three gathered around Nellie, holding the glass to her shorn scalp. The air pulsed with their damp breathing. She thought she was about to pass out among the scattered images that danced around her head.
“Hold still!” she grunted, and her scalp’s scattered reflections slowed their giddy weave, merging into a discernible shape. What she saw then was unrecognizable, her head a bare bulb decorated with tufts of hair and streaks of blood, but it was the scars that sucked her breath away—four thick worms that angled across the top, down the back and along one side.
“All right,” she whispered finally. “I’ve got it.”
The boys stepped back, the air growing immediately cooler.
“So,” said Deller, leaning in again. “What happened to you, Bunny? Who did it?”
Wordless she stared, and his green eyes glinted. “You don’t know, do you?” he said. “Someone’s been digging in your brain and you don’t know why.”
“Yeah, I do.” Thoughts ricocheted through Nellie’s head. “I’m just not telling.”
A corner grin tugged at Deller’s mouth. “Well, I’m telling you something, Bunny. This is payback for my missing finger. Pain for pain, a bit of your body for a bit of mine. Not a bad deal, really. At least this time you’ll know who did it to you, and why.” Pulling a jackknife from his pocket, he waved the blade in her face. “I’m giving you a new scar for your head—the letter D, for Deller. I’m putting my mark on you. You’ll be branded.” Straightening, he raised the knife.
Fear exploded across Nellie’s brain and the words burst un-checked from her mouth. “Okay, I’ll tell you what they did,” she blurted. “It happened when I was little and lived in the Interior. They put a bomb inside my head. That’s the kind of experiments they do to kids who live there.”
In a single motion the Skulls drew back, their mouths sucked in, their bodies taut. Everyone in the Outbacks knew someone who’d disappeared into the Interior. Every Outbacker had heard of the experiments.
“You’re joshing,” Deller challenged cautiously.
Nellie fought to keep hope from surfacing onto her face. A way was opening before her, the tiniest chance at escape. This time her eyes didn’t skitter, she nailed Deller with a raw red stare. “A secret code will set it off,” she said, fixing on the lie, growing more certain. “I just have to close my eyes and think it, and the bomb’ll explode. It’s nuclear.” As slowly as possible, she lowered her eyelids.
With a hiss, Pullo began shuffling toward the door. “I’m outta here.”
“No one leaves until I’m untied,” Nellie snapped, jerking against the ropes. “You can’t get away by running. The blast from my brains’ll take out the whole city.”
“Let her go, Deller,” whined Snakebite. “I don’t want to get blowed.”
Deller stood, his green eyes in slits, the jackknife still open in his hand. “You’re fibbing,” he sneered.
“Walk out that door and see,” she invited.
His eyes flicked to the exit, and she watched every rumor he’d ever heard about the Interior flash across his face. He didn’t believe her, she knew this, but he wasn’t willing to gamble on common sense, not with those scars sitting thick and ugly on her head.
With a loud snort Deller cut her free, then backed with the others against the far wall. Hunched and slit-eyed, they waited in silence as Nellie straightened and stared at them. She was free and it was so unbelievable she wanted to laugh, throw back her head and crow. Instead she got to her feet and stared significantly at each Skull in
turn. “From now on, you just watch your step around me,” she said menacingly. “Now you know my secret, I won’t have no mercy.”
“Give her back the money, Deller,” whined Snakebite, peering over Pullo’s shoulder. “Don’t let her leave mad.”
“C’mon, Deller, give it to her,” Pullo urged hoarsely.
“She’s lucky to walk out of here alive,” snarled Deller, his good hand creeping protectively toward his pocket.
Nellie took a step toward him. “Kaboom, Deller,” she whispered. “Kaboom.”
Deller’s face leapt with panic. “Okay, okay.” Digging into his pocket, he handed her a wad of money. She thought about counting it, but decided not to push her incredible luck.
“Keep the change,” she said grandly, stuffing the money into her pocket. “And remember.” She traced her fingers slowly across the scars on her shorn scalp. “I’ll be thinking my own special thoughts about each one of you.”
Drawing out the thrill of a last meaningful glance, she turned and walked out the door.
Chapter 5
CROUCHED BY THE BROOK that ran close to her shack, Nellie traced her fingers slowly over the top of her head. Tiny hairs bristled and a scattering of scrape marks smarted, still raw, under her touch. Deller had shaved her scalp with deliberate carelessness, leaving erratic tufts so her hair would grow back ugly and uneven. Not such a major penalty to suffer, thought Nellie, scowling at her watery reflection. If you considered his missing finger. Obviously he blamed her for that, and maybe it was partly her fault. With a shiver of unease, she recalled the snarling dog and Deller’s eerie moonlit scream. Tit for tat ruled Dorniver’s streets, and no one who’d been violated like Deller could have rested until he’d claimed his revenge. The shaving of her head had been a matter of honor, she understood this. But if the Skulls hadn’t found the scars on her head, and if she hadn’t come up with the lie about the bomb, what would have happened after Deller had carved the D into her scalp? Would they have set her free? Would they?