Copyright © Curtis Bausse 2014
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. No part of the contents relate to any real person or persons, living or dead.
Raoul Wiener’s Common Sense
By Curtis Bausse
Security Incident Report
At 3.22 p.m., Thursday November 10th, I was alerted by telephone of a disturbance occurring in Sector 5 of the Hinterland. The speaker identified himself as Josh Melkin, a Zoner staying at the home of Craig and Molly Swift, three miles south-east of Checkpoint 19. When I requested further information, Mr. Melkin stressed that it was urgent and that in his view there was a risk of violence. I asked him again to be more precise. He said a group of people had broken into the property of Mr. and Mrs. Swift and that several more were threatening to do likewise. He estimated the number of intruders at well over fifty. All of them were from the Zone.
I pointed out to Mr. Melkin that all the security guards had been mobilised for the World Water summit. Furthermore, in accordance with the Council’s ruling of April 2022, the Hinterland was no longer patrolled by municipal forces. Only in the event of a serious breach of the peace could a guard be despatched, not in order to intervene but to obtain first-hand information prior to writing a report. When Mr. Melkin protested, I informed him that Hinterland residents were authorised to form their own militia, if need be, to protect themselves from intruders.
Mr. Melkin said that Craig and Molly Swift had arrived quite recently in the Hinterland and were not part of any organised group. Indeed they were friendly with many Zoners and had no intention of harming them. He believed, however, that the situation was getting out of hand and he begged me once again to come as soon as possible. I told him that I would have to wait for a colleague to replace me and that I would be there in about twenty minutes.
*
However good the party was, she couldn’t help thinking it was also good in the way that funerals are, giving you a chance to say good bye, to draw some sort of line. The difference being that now, of course, you could cherish the hope that it wasn’t for ever, but like everyone else – though nobody said it – Molly wasn’t sure about that. She promised they’d visit, but something about the separation made her feel it was permanent.
There were plenty of toasts and speeches, hugging and tears, but most of all there was laughter, stories recalled yet again, going right back to the things they got up to as kids. The Zone was not a place you’d want your child to grow up in, but if you’d grown up there yourself, and managed to avoid the dangers, you had friends and support and loyalty that made the whole thing bearable. Life without dirt and disease would be easy enough to embrace, but life without Vicky and Josh, Hank and Thomas and Pam and Kelly and… the list was too long, but people who were part of your very being, not to mention the neighbourliness, scores of others you could talk to, rely on, who’d lend a hand when needed – well, that would take a bit of getting used to.
“Of course,” said Vicky with a sigh. “But then, think of what you’re getting in our place.”
“Well, it doesn’t exactly compare,” said Molly. “How could it?”
But somehow it could and it did. Wasn’t that why they were leaving? Why, as soon as they knew she was pregnant, Craig had tried his luck in the first place?
*
His job was to polish the plaques, of which there were many. Artists and writers and scientists and philosophers – so-and-so had lived here, such-and-such had eaten there, people he’d rarely heard of, but the Town was a place of learning and beauty and history, and even the pavements had plaques to commemorate this or that pioneer. It took a week to cover them all and then he’d start over again. Thanks to this job, he quickly came to know the Town well: the manicured parks, the winding streets, the cosy squares where people passed the time of day on the terraces of cafés.
When he finished his work he would catch a bus to Checkpoint 19, where the guard no longer bothered to look at his permit. They struck up a form of acquaintance, though one which was careful to maintain a distance. The guard, of course, knew Craig’s name, but Craig was aware that it wouldn’t do to enquire after the guard’s, so he thought of him, obviously, as Charlie. Something picked up in an old school book, which he’d bought in the market years ago, and now knew off by heart.
The house was a further three miles away, and Molly would also have been working hard, scrubbing and polishing too, though nothing there could ever shine quite like those plaques. After dinner, Craig would unzip the canvas bag in which he’d lugged all the stuff from the tradesmen’s store and work on the house till the early hours, clearing out rubble, plastering cracks, putting up cupboards and shelves. Come the end of the month it was rainproof, even habitable, with plumbing and wiring that worked and rooms that each had acquired their own identity. It was then that Molly, her attention turning to the overgrown land, saw that the answer to her promise was right in front of her. “We don’t go there. They come here.”
“What?”
“Vicky and Josh. They’ll help us clear the garden. If we want a greenhouse by spring, we’re going to need some help.”
“What, and stay with us here in the house?”
“Well, there’s only two of us. It’s a waste to leave it empty.”
“Molly…” Craig put his arm around her. “Things are different now.”
“How do you mean?”
“You bring Josh and Vicky here, how will you stop them telling everyone else?”
“They won’t do that. They’re not stupid.”
He shook his head, but it wasn’t quite in the way he wanted. “They won’t be able to go into Town.”
“Of course not. But then,” she added, allowing herself a hint of petulance, “Neither can I. They’ll keep me company.”
“You’re a resident. Your permit will come through any day. But Josh and Vicky, they won’t be considered residents.”
“I know.” Why was he turning it into an issue? “It’s just to see them. To stay in touch, that’s all.”
“Fine. But we’ll have to make that clear. Just in case, you know…” He cast an appreciative glance round the property. “Just the two of them, OK? We’ll write a letter. Make sure Josh knows if he tells that brother of his, they’re going straight back home.”
*
“Couldn’t keep him back.” Josh was making cringing faces of apology. “Trotting behind us like a stray pooch. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. What could I do?”
“Curiosity,” said Curt. “Had to see how their Highnesses are living, didn’t I?”
“I told you not to tell him.”
“He was there when the letter arrived. Could hardly pretend it wasn’t there, could I?”
“And the business?” Craig frowned at the brother. “Everyone here’s got phones of their own. It’s not like the Zone. You’ll not be getting any custom here.”
“No big deal.” Curt took out his phone, looked at it almost tenderly, then shrugged and replaced it in his pocket. “Might come in handy, anyway. If you ever need it, just give a shout. Till you get your own, that is.”
*
A fortnight later, the land was almost cleared. Trees were disposed of branch by branch, ivy and bindweed ripped out by the roots, brambles killed by chemicals, and the tall, parched weeds of summer toppled with a scythe. Not only that, but Craig and Josh had smashed a hole in the sitting room wall, giving them not just light in the morning but also a view of the Town, its promise decorated with a skyline of glittering g
lass.
Before the autumn chill set in, the hole was due to be filled by a window, but this was not done when Molly, one day, was startled by a voice. “Hey, Missus!”
He was young, no more than fifteen perhaps, but leaning forward and leering, cocky as could be. “Can I ’ave some water?”
“Of course.” What else could she say? “Go round to the front. I’ll bring you some.” Then suddenly turning, “Don’t I know you?”
“What?”
Hadn’t she seen him hanging around with Curt? “Are you from the Zone?”
“Sorry to bother you. I was walking past. It’s dead hot today.”
“Of course,” she said again.
But when she’d filled a glass and opened the door, there was no one. She walked round the house to meet him, just in time to see him clamber through the hole and run away.
*
“My permit,” said Craig. “That won’t go down very well, now, will it? Six weeks here and I get my permit stolen.”
“Could have happened to anyone. Besides,” said Curt, “he won’t be able to use it, will he?”
“Unless he can falsify it somehow. But that’s difficult.”
“He was only a kid,” said Molly. “But such a nerve! He knew I’d recognised him, he went straight ahead.”
“He had no cause to be here.” Craig, needing to piece it together, find a cause, suddenly turned to Vicky. “Did you tell people where we were? Did you tell them all in the Zone?”
“Oh, come on, Craig! All?”
It made Molly laugh, and Craig glared at her. “Oh, come on, sweetie,” she said. “What difference does it make? We can hardly keep it secret forever. Besides, we’ve got nothing more worth stealing than we had before. A few power tools, maybe.”
“That’s not the point. You know the Hinterland. It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean? I’ve walked through it loads of times.”
“Before you lived here, sure. Don’t you get it? You’re a resident. You’re on the inside now.” He snapped his fingers – “I know!” – then clenched his fist, making the decision firm. “We’ll get a gate. Everyone here’s got a gate. Twelve-foot fences and a gate.” He glared defiantly. “You live in the Hinterland, you have a gate. That’s how they do it. That’s what the Hinterland’s all about.”
*
It took a few days to get the new permit and of course he lost the deposit he’d paid for the first, but the good news was that when he picked it up, Molly’s was there as well. She got up at six the next morning to accompany him to work, fearing Checkpoint Charlie would find some reason to refuse her. Not smart enough, hands too rough from the garden. But no, she was a resident, and could come and go as she pleased, and though at first she stuck close to Craig, marvelling at the zeal with which he polished, she soon felt bold enough to strike out on her own. Apart from the supermarket, she didn’t dare enter any shops, but just to look at the window displays was to get a glimpse of heaven.
“You shouldn’t have given me that permit,” she laughed. “I’ll be going in every day!”
“Did you enrol at the library?”
“I didn’t have time, I just…” She’d been so busy gawping, she hadn’t been inside anywhere.
“The hospital, though? You saw it?”
“Walked past. It looks like a four star hotel!”
“If you want, you know, an ultrasound thing, like we said. You should have gone in and asked.”
“Just like that? For free?”
“You’re a resident. I told you.”
But she’d decided she’d rather not know. They hadn’t given much thought to names. Deborah. Was that too posh? Chris would be fine for a boy.
“It’s not just for that,” said Craig. “It’s standard procedure, you know, make sure everything’s all right.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.” Somehow she found it hard to admit the real reason: it may be a right, but really, she’d done nothing to deserve it.
*
What he hadn’t said about the gate was that it would be electric. Molly had her doubts: just because all the neighbours’ were didn’t mean theirs had to be, because frankly it was way beyond their means. And what was the point in any case when they didn’t have a car?
Craig pooh-poohed all that. He’d taken out a loan at an excellent rate. There’d be no trouble repaying because he was earning a bit on the side. Doctors and solicitors liked their plaques to gleam as well, so he did it during his lunch break.
She told him off for working too hard, but she had to admit that the gate, in fact, was stylish. Nothing fancy or imposing, not like some that looked better suited to a prison. No, this one definitely smartened the place up no end. It came with two remote controls and you could also open it from the house by a button next to the interphone. But what she liked most was the photoelectric beam that you just had to cross as the gate was shutting and it would swing open again. She and Vicky had great fun playing with that.
“Don’t you think, though…” said Josh. “I mean, isn’t it a bit small?”
“Small?”
“Well, anyone could climb over. Get a foothold half way up. Easy as pie.”
“That’s not the point. It’s a deterrent. People don’t climb over a gate the way they’d stroll up the drive because everything’s wide open.”
“Oh,” said Josh. “I see.”
*
With a summit of world leaders due to be held in Town, Craig tried his luck again, and something about his eagerness and humility went down well. “It’s only temporary, but it means I’m on their list. When a permanent place comes up, I’ll be in with a chance.”
For two weeks, then, he trained to be a guard, which was not only better paid but also a lot less work. Swagger, look mean, and be good to your rifle was basically all it involved. He had a bit of trouble with the swagger, but none at all at the firing range, where he pulverised a beetroot from two hundred yards. Not that he’d ever have to demonstrate his skill at the summit. Like all the others drafted in for the occasion, he’d be there for show, that’s all, because no one was going to demonstrate, were they? Last time someone threw a pie at a head of state, they ended up dead on the pavement. No, they weren’t expecting any trouble at all.
*
Josh and Vicky had spoken to Checkpoint Charlie. They’d spent all afternoon watching the coming and going, the cars, the people, the system, and they’d even discovered that his real name was Raoul. At first he thought they were trying to sneak a way in, but they said it was curiosity, that’s all, and after a while he told them what was brewing.
“Really? You know what that means?” Craig had never spent all afternoon at the checkpoint, but he wanted more proof than a chat with a security guard.
“Surely he ought to know,” said Josh. “I mean, he’d be the first concerned.”
“He’s a guard, Josh. All the roads leading into town, there’s maybe a hundred like him. Do you think I’m told when a new plaque’s planned? First I know, it’s there to be polished, that’s all.”
“OK, so call it a rumour. All I’m saying is what he told me. Sounds plausible to me.”
The boundary of the Town was going to change. Be extended to include the Hinterland. The current boundary was twenty years old, maybe more. Policing the Hinterland was impossible. Extending the boundary was a matter of common sense.
“Well, that’s what Raoul said, anyway. Believe it or not, it’s your choice.”
*
Josh was right. The gate was easy to climb. That in itself surprised no one – what was surprising was the number who chose to climb it. Six weeks without a gate at all, they’d had a single intruder; two days after the gate was installed, eighteen Zoners were setting up home in the garden.
“We’ve got the space.” Molly seemed unable to grasp the concept of private property, saying how could it be private if the people staying were friends? “I mean, it’s not as if they’re bothering us in any way.”
“But it’s pointless. What do they hope to gain? On account of some rumour which even if it’s true… They don’t become residents just because they’re sleeping in our garden.”
“Try telling that to them,” said Curt. “As soon as the boundary changes, they’ll be inside so they’re residents. That’s what they think.”
Craig eyed him sharply. “Bet that’s what you think too.”
“Me? Hey, I was here before there was ever any talk of changing the boundary.”
“You know things, Curt. With that phone of yours. Know them before anyone else, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Well, if that’s the way it is… Looks like I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
Molly caught his arm as he turned to go. “You’re not going to leave like that, young man. There’s a greenhouse to build, remember?”
“Spikes,” said Craig.
“What?”
“The way things are going there’ll be no space for a rabbit hutch, let alone a greenhouse. Only one thing for it. The gate’s too easy to climb? Wait till it’s got a load of spikes.”
*
Did word get round? Was Curt some sort of Trojan horse whose intention all along had been to trick them? Not that it made any difference now. You could blame who you liked, it wouldn’t go any way to undoing what happened. Events he could only imagine, not being there to see, but now they were gouging his brain like a wound that keeps getting deeper.
She was coming back from the library. They knew how to read but there weren’t many books in the Zone and the library opened the door to worlds they’d never dared imagine might exist. She was carrying two, one called Treasure Island, another called 1984, chosen not quite at random: the first because she liked the title, the second because she wanted to know what the world had been like back then.
When she rounded the bend and saw the rabble walking towards her, she thought at first it was some sort of demonstration. Only when they branched to the left did she realise where they were going. She should have held back, waited as long as it took for all of them to climb over, but sometimes you don’t think clearly and it simply seemed wrong that she should be stuck outside her own house, watching a horde of Zoners scale the gate.
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