by Lily Herne
‘We only go once a week, Lele,’ Ginger said. ‘Unless we get a special order.’
‘Right. So what do you do the rest of the time?’
‘We train,’ Saint said.
‘Train for what?’ But then I remembered what Ginger had said the day before about the Hatchlings.
Saint gave me a savage grin. ‘You’ll see, Zombie Bait.’
Hester clucked her tongue at her. ‘Be nice, Saint,’ she said. ‘But Lele, you must eat up. You will need your strength. You have a busy day ahead of you.’
‘Doing what?’
‘We’re going to teach you how to handle yourself, girl,’ Ginger said. ‘We’re going to teach you how to give the zombies a good arse-kicking.’ He stood up and lashed out an arm, almost sending the honey pot flying.
Hester sighed and shook her head. ‘Ginger, for that, you are to do the washing up.’
‘Aw, what?’
‘No arguments.’
I felt the weight of someone’s eyes on me, but when I glanced at Ash, he was seemingly lost in his book again.
14
‘That’s for blindsiding me in the Deadlands,’ Saint said.
I glared up at her, fighting to get my breath back. She’d swept my legs from underneath me and I’d fallen hard. Anger surged through me, and I leapt to my feet and rushed at her. She sidestepped gracefully, almost casually stuck out her right leg, and sent me sprawling onto my back again. This time I hit my head, and when I closed my eyes silvery stars danced in front of me.
Now I was really angry, the tears seconds away from falling.
I stood up and brushed myself down, Hester, Ginger and Ash watching from the sidelines.
‘Ready to go again, Zombie Bait?’ Saint asked, grinning.
Every inch of me was itching to lash out at her, but I was done. I hadn’t signed up for this kind of treatment. ‘Screw you!’ I shouted at Saint and stalked towards the door.
‘Hey! Where’re you going?’ Saint asked.
‘I’m out of here!’ I yelled back. ‘You don’t fight fair.’
‘Hey! You think the Hatchlings fight fair, sweetheart? Well, do you?’
‘But you’re supposed to be training me! Not beating me up!’
‘Then go,’ Saint said. ‘Walk away. Cry your tears like a spoilt baby.’
‘That’s enough, Saint,’ Hester said. She walked over to me. ‘Lele. You have to learn to control your anger.’
‘I can’t do this,’ I said.
‘You just going to give up, Zombie Bait?’ Saint asked. ‘It’s an easy thing to walk away. It’s the easiest thing in the world.’ She shook her head in disgust and walked over to Ash and Ginger. ‘Told you,’ she muttered to Ash.
I ran up behind her and pushed her, the force of my fury giving me added strength. Saint stumbled forward, and I tried to lash out with my leg, but she was far too quick for me. She whirled around, grabbed my arm, forced it back and sent me spinning on to the floor again.
‘That’s enough, Saint!’ Hester said.
Now the tears were flowing freely. With difficulty, Hester sank down on her haunches and took my hand. ‘Lele,’ she said, ‘the anger you have, you must learn to use it, to control it. It is just as much a monster as the things we fight outside.’
‘Whatever,’ I muttered, wiping my cheeks.
Instead of looking annoyed at my rudeness, Hester smiled. ‘You have a lot of spirit,’ she said. ‘You are strong. Come . . .’ She held out a hand, but I remembered how she’d struggled even to walk without wincing in pain, and I didn’t want to cause her any more discomfort. I got shakily to my feet without her assistance.
‘Here is a trick for you,’ Hester said, reaching out and wiping a stray tear from my face. ‘When you feel the anger starting, try to picture something in your mind that you love or that you hold dear. Try to replace the anger with that image.’
‘I’m not cut out for this, Hester,’ I said.
‘You think that the others are? They all had to learn, just like you.’
‘Yeah, Lele,’ Ginger said. ‘Ash, like, totally beat the crap out for me for weeks till I got my chainsaw.’
‘You think you could give it one more go?’ Hester asked.
I hesitated. Saint was watching me carefully. I knew I couldn’t let her win. ‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Try and focus this time, Lele,’ Hester said. ‘Don’t let the anger blind you.’
‘And when you fall,’ Ginger said, ‘let your body go limp, or try and curl up into a ball.’
Saint sighed. ‘This is going to be almost too easy.’
I was hit with another surge of anger, but this time I took a deep breath and thought about Jobe, concentrating on an image of him playing with Chinwag.
Saint ran at me, and I held my ground until the last moment. Then, copying her movements from before, I stepped to the side and kicked out, catching her on her thigh. I caught her unawares, but she was still too quick for me. As soon as she’d regained her balance, she hooked her right leg around mine and for the third time that morning I landed on my back. I’d forgotten to allow my body to go limp, and it hurt, but without the anger taking up most of my energy it didn’t feel quite so bad.
‘You okay?’ Saint asked, looking down at me as if she expected me to burst into tears again.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Let’s go again.’
She blinked in surprise, but then she turned and made her way back to her starting position.
This time when she ran at me I managed to leap back in time to avoid a sideswipe, but she still caught me with a follow-up kick.
‘Nice try though, Lele!’ Ginger said with a grin.
Saint shrugged. ‘Not great. Better, though.’
I glared at her but I actually felt that I’d achieved something. And, surprisingly, the anger had abated.
‘Now,’ Hester said, ‘we will take a breather. Lele, there are things you should know. Let’s begin with the basics.’
‘Can I do the zombie talk?’ Ginger asked.
Hester sighed and then waved her hand in Ginger’s direction. ‘Go on.’
‘Cool!’ Ginger turned to me. ‘Thing is, Lele, there’s only one way to kill a zomb. It’s not like in the movies, you know, where you’ve got to destroy the brain. That’s not going to help. These ones are different – you’ve got to disable the spinal cord.’ He touched a spot at the back of his neck.
‘Why there?’
He shrugged. ‘Not sure, innit. We think it’s got something to do with splitting the spine, which is where the spaghetti stuff gets its energy or whatever.’
‘That’s a bit vague.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not a zombie scientist, mate. The best thing is to separate the head from the body. That does the trick.’
‘Gross.’
‘Yeah, I know, right? But before you can get them into a position to do that, you’ve got to fend them off. See, zombs move quickly, ’specially the newly hatched, and they’re going to come at you with everything they got. Teeth, nails, arms and legs.’
‘They cannot feel pain, Lele,’ Hester said. ‘They move extremely quickly. Far quicker than they could in real life.’
‘How is that possible?’ I asked, remembering the horrible speed of the Hatchlings Ash, Saint and I had encountered in the clearing.
‘Think about it. Imagine if your body could no feel pain. Imagine if your nerve endings were dead and that you couldn’t feel your muscles taking strain. Nothing would stop you, nè?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Right,’ Ginger said. ‘I’m going to pretend to be a zomb, ’kay?’ He stuck his arms out in front of him, rolled his eyes back in his head and lurched towards me. ‘Braaaaaaiiiiiiinssss,’ he mumbled. ‘Braaaaiiiinssss.’ He looked ridiculous, and I tried not to giggle.
Saint sighed. ‘That’s a Hollywood zombie, Ginger. Not a Hatchling.’
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever, Saint,’ Ginger said, winking at me. ‘Now, say I was comi
ng for you, Lele, what part of my body would you go for?’
I stepped forward and lightly punched him in the stomach.
‘No, Lele,’ Hester said. ‘If you find that you are without a weapon, and a Hatchling is attacking, always grab the throat. Keep the head at arm’s length. You don’t want the teeth anywhere near you.’
‘Yeah,’ Ginger said, ‘if they bite you, they can infect you with that spaghetti stuff.’
‘The curse of the deadly pasta,’ I said before I could stop myself. And suddenly I was giggling. I couldn’t help it. It just sounded so ridiculous. Ginger joined in, and even Saint and Ash cracked a smile.
‘I know, I know,’ Ginger said, still giggling, ‘Mental, right?’
‘Try again, Lele,’ Hester said, smiling at me.
This time when Ginger approached, I planted my feet firmly and shot out my right arm, grasping him around the throat, and doing my best to keep him at arm’s length. He stumbled backwards, and although I knew he was faking his lack of strength, I began to feel slightly more confident.
‘Well done, Lele,’ Hester said. ‘You are a very fast learner. Now we will move on to a few basic defensive moves. Saint, Ash, demonstrate, please.’
Saint and Ash moved to the centre of the room, and I watched as they took it in turns to block punches and kicks. They both moved gracefully and smoothly, making hardly a sound.
‘She’s just like Lara Croft, innit?’ Ginger whispered to me.
‘Huh?’ I said.
‘Saint. She’s like . . . so totally cool.’
His skin was turning bright red and I hid my smile behind my hand, wondering if Saint had any idea how Ginger felt about her.
‘But it is not just the Hatchlings you need to watch out for, Lele,’ Hester said.
‘It’s not?’
‘The Resurrectionists can also be tricksy,’ Ginger explained. ‘You run into a border patrol, you could be in hot water.’
‘I don’t get it? I thought the Resurrectionists wanted the stuff you collect from the mall?’
‘Yes, Lele, but we cannot risk them catching us leaving the enclave,’ Hester said.
‘But they must know you do?’
‘They do not know for sure. And think about it: someone with your skills, or Ash’s, Saint’s or Ginger’s, would be very valuable to them.’
‘Go on,’ I said.
‘I think you can imagine what kind of stuff they would want you to bring back into the enclave to keep any . . . rebellion down, Lele.’
‘You mean like weapons?’
‘Yes.’
‘But the Guardians banned weapons after the War, didn’t they?’
‘Because they did not want another uprising. But think about it. Ot would suit them to have us fighting amongst ourselves.’
‘More bodies,’ Ginger sniffed, ‘means more Rotters.’
‘The Hatchlings may be dangerous, Lele,’ Hester said, ‘but someone who can think and plan can be even more deadly.’ She paused. ‘Ash, you’re up next.’
Ash approached me. ‘Grab hold of the collar of my jacket with both hands,’ he said to me, face expressionless.
‘What?’
‘Just do it,’ he said.
I grabbed the lapels on his jacket. ‘Now what?’ I asked.
‘Now, what I’m going to do is use your weight to spin you around. Watch carefully.’ He crossed his arms, took hold of my wrists, and spun me around. It happened so quickly that I lost my balance, but he caught me around my waist before I fell. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks.
‘Now you try,’ he said. He gripped the front of my jacket and I grabbed his arms and tried to whirl him around. He didn’t budge an inch.
‘You’re way too heavy!’ I said.
‘You must use my weight against me,’ he said. ‘And move faster to unbalance me. Concentrate.’ He looked straight at me, and I stared into those strange eyes of his. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, thinking about Jobe. The sooner I learned, the faster I could try and get my brother back to the Agriculturals.
He grabbed hold of my jacket, and this time I crossed my arms, grabbed his wrists and managed to swing him around – not all the way, but it was a start.
‘See?’ Ginger said. ‘She’s, like, a natural. You’re a regular Bruce Lee, Lele.’
‘Who’s Bruce Lee?’ I asked.
Ginger shook his head slowly and grinned. ‘I can see there are quite a few other things I have to teach you.’
‘Later, Ginger,’ Hester said. ‘Let’s go again.’
15
‘Can I stop now?’
‘Ten more minutes,’ Hester said from her place on the low padded bench. ‘You are doing very well, Lele.’
‘Yeah, come on, mate,’ Ginger said, looking up from the comic book he was reading. ‘You can do it!’
I groaned. My thigh muscles were screaming, and it took all my energy not to topple over. Along with the daily fight schedule, Hester had started me on strength training, which involved me standing on one leg for minutes at a time, or crouching in a half-squat, a position that was almost unbearably painful after just seconds. It seemed like there was always something new to learn, another technique to master, fitness regime to endure or meditation to practise to help me control my anger. I now knew that striking upward with my elbow was the best way to disable an opponent, that I had to keep my elbows tight into my sides before punching anyone (or anything), and that if I was desperate, a forceful head-butt was another effective means of attack. But no matter how hard I tried, Saint and Ash always seemed to trip me up effortlessly and send me flying. It was clear I still had a long way to go.
At that stage I wasn’t exactly sure how long I’d been in the Mall Rats’ lair. That was the thing about living underground: without the cues of nightfall and sunrise, the days bled into each other. But despite the daily bruises, the aches and pains and endless repetitive tasks, part of me was enjoying it. It was strange how naturally fighting came to me.
Although I’d never actually seen her fight, according to Ginger, it was Hester who’d taught the Mall Rats all their moves. He’d filled me in one morning while I practised defensive blocking.
‘Hester used to run her own dojo before the War,’ he’d said.
‘Dojo?’
‘Like a fighting school. She taught summut called ninjutsu.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘It’s the Japanese art of killing someone, like ninjas, you know?’ Right then I’d remembered Thabo calling me Ninja Girl, but it’d seemed so long ago that it was like another life. ‘Ninjas are like the coolest fighters ever. Got a few movies to show you on that score,’ Ginger had continued. ‘But after the War she adapted it to work on the Hatchlings.’
Hanging out with Ginger made life easier. I spent the little free time I had with him, mainly watching DVDs. He had a massive collection of movies – most of which the Resurrectionists would have approved of: Violent British and American gangster films, slasher horrors, weird Japanese animation movies. He especially loved anything with zombies in it.
I stretched my back, feeling the muscles pop. Ash and Saint padded through from the training room where they’d been practising their chain/panga dance, grabbed a couple of litres of milk out of the fridge, and slumped down on the couch next to Ginger.
‘So,’ I said, needing something to distract me from the fact that my left leg now felt like it was on fire. ‘I have a question.’
‘There’s a surprise,’ Saint said. She was still somewhat stand-offish towards me, but had thawed slightly. Ash, on the other hand, was still barely acknowledging me (except during training, of course), and I’d become quite good at blanking him back. I still hadn’t figured out why he seemed to loathe me so much, but I put it down to the day in the Deadlands when I’d managed to lose him and Saint. He was obviously someone who liked to nurse a grudge.
‘What’s with your names?’ I said. ‘I mean, no offence, Saint, but . . . Saint? Seriously?�
��
‘Ask Ginger,’ Saint said. ‘It’s his fault.’
‘Well?’ I asked him.
‘Named her after this dead cool spy series starring Roger Moore. Ever seen it?’ Ginger always asked this, even though he knew there was no way I could have possibly seen a fraction (if any) of the movies and series in his collection. ‘Anyway, the series is called The Saint, right? And so I thought it was funny. ’Cos, like, the Roger Moore character is like the dead opposite of Saint. He’s like this debonair white guy, and like Saint is like this straight-talking black chick.’
Saint rolled her eyes. ‘Hilarious,’ she said.
‘Yeah, but that was before I knew you properly. I would have called you a different name, otherwise,’ he said, a blush of colour blooming under his freckles.
‘Okay,’ I said quickly, wanting to spare him any more embarrassment. ‘And Ash?’
‘Well,’ Ginger said. ‘That’s from my favourite zombie movie ever. Evil Dead II. Seen it?’
‘No.’
‘Well, see, I haven’t been able to find a copy. Looked everywhere. Anyway, the main dude in that was a fella called Ash, and he has this big mega fight against these dead things that are totally evil and possessed, right?’
‘Hence the title.’
‘Yeah. Hence the title. Anyway, his hand gets possessed –’
‘Wow, Ginger!’
‘Yeah, I know. Mental, right? So, anyway, he cuts it off and attaches a chainsaw to the stump. So, like, I got the name from him, ’cos Ash is like the coolest dude in the movies, and our Ash is totally cool in real life.’
I kept my face neutral. ‘And Ginger?’ I asked.
‘That’s his real name,’ Saint said.
‘Yeah,’ Ginger said. ‘Don’t think my folks had that much imagination.’
‘You think?’ Saint said with a grin, nudging him in the ribs.
‘And I got Ripley’s name from the . . .’ Ginger’s voice trailed away, the blood rushing to his face for the second time in a matter of minutes, turning it bright pink. Next to him Ash and Saint had stiffened, and the atmosphere had suddenly become charged. ‘Sorry, guys,’ he said.
Of course I was dying to hear more about Ripley, who was obviously the Mall Rat Saint had mentioned on that first day, but I kept quiet.