Watershed

by Jane Abbott

  Alex screamed into her gag, straining to get to her brother, the Guard behind her struggling to hold her down. Cade bowed his head, unable, or maybe just unwilling, to watch. A couple of spasms, a last heave, Ballard sighing out, then not breathing in any more and, just like that, his dreams were over. Alex was crying, bent over her knees, her shoulders heaving, and I watched, helpless, because all I could think about was Tate, and how badly I’d let him down.

  Fuck!

  ‘Why?’ I said to Fenton. ‘Why are you even bothering? You fucking know everything!’

  ‘I warned you to start listening, Jeremiah. Perhaps now you will answer our questions. Tell us how you intercepted Quinn’s message and what you’ve done with it.’

  ‘Not even if I knew what you were talking about,’ I said, crying out when Reed’s boot slammed into my thigh, splitting the wound Garrick had stitched so deeply.

  ‘We had the messenger followed, but he was killed before they could get to him. They also found three other bodies. Their tags had been removed.’ He paused, maybe for effect, maybe to give me time. Either way I was glad because I needed that time – every fucking second of it – just to realise what an idiot I’d been.

  You were there.

  ‘Tell us what happened, Jeremiah. What you saw and what you did,’ Fenton urged.

  You give up even a single word, I’ll do that bitch. And then I’ll kill her.

  Sucking in the air, welcoming the chill on my tongue, in my throat, I bowed my head and steeled my body. ‘I went to the Hills and I came back again. I don’t know anything about any fucking message.’

  I wasn’t given another chance. The burning pain from the white-hot iron bar, searing my skin and scorching it, finally forced a scream. I twisted away but Reed pulled me back, onto the point, holding me there, and I felt my flesh melt, heard it hiss, smelled it smoulder.

  Oh! Shit! Oh, fuck!

  ‘Again, Jeremiah,’ Fenton’s voice, louder than mine. ‘What happened?’

  I wheezed, high and hoarse. ‘Walked a few miles, had a few laughs –’

  The Guard slammed the rod into my side, holding it there, rolling it hard and slow so the sizzling stench of cooked flesh seemed to fill the room, mingling with terrible screams. But not just my screams. Through a thick pink haze I saw Alex fight to stand, heard her angry muffled cries before the Guard cuffed her hard across the head, knocking her down. Beside her, Cade didn’t move, just kept his eyes on me, watching and shaking his head, none of it helping.

  We all have a safe place inside that we crawl into when the pain’s too deep or the hurt too great. A sanctuary we can escape to, for protection or to heal. But as I battled to breathe, and felt the wash of pain, waves of it lapping and sucking, and that freezing air fanning the fire on my skin, I knew if I crept into mine now there was a real good chance I’d never come out again. So I held on, swaying on my knees, dribbling blood and spit and looking past Ballard’s still body to focus on Alex, breathing her in, hold on, and out, hold on, and in again, oh fuck, hold on –

  Iron clanged on iron, the bar back in the brazier, and suddenly I couldn’t see Alex any more. There was just Reed, crouching dark and cruel and eager, and me kneeling before him, sore and sorry and so fucked-up. Everything else had slipped back to shadow.

  I’d known all kinds of cruelty, had seen what cruel men do, had thought I understood what fuelled their desires. Garrick’s was brutal and honest; the Guards who’d raped Marin and cut off Connor’s hands had been lustful and savage; Fenton was cold and crazed with power. But Reed was something else, evil and sinister and scary as shit. His eyes were dark, but bright too, alive and keen like his smile and, when he spoke, his voice was soft, beguiling.

  ‘My turn,’ he said.

  ‘Won’t change anything,’ I muttered, wasting my breath; nothing was going to keep him from his fun.

  ‘You don’t look so cold any more, Jem.’ He scraped my skin with the edge of his knife before holding it up, waiting for me to focus; the blade was wet. ‘In fact, you’ve worked up a real sweat there. You must be getting thirsty. Am I right?’

  I was. I could’ve swallowed the Sea, fucking salt and all, but I shook my head.

  ‘Thirst is a terrible way to die,’ he said. ‘Surprisingly painful. But there’s no need to tell you, is there? You’ve seen your fair share. We all have. I wonder, how many people have you watched die of thirst, Jem? Hmmm? Ten? Twenty? Not many, really. You’re too young to remember when it happened by the hundreds. Or the thousands. You weren’t around then, were you? But we were.’

  Just what I needed: another idiot hooked on the past. ‘Fuck’s sake, get to the point,’ I said. He scraped again, and flicked droplets of my sweat on the floor.

  ‘The point is the only thing worse than dying of thirst is the anticipation of it,’ he said. ‘The fear. It does crazy things to a person, Jem. You take away someone’s water and there’s no knowing what they’ll do. How they’ll react.’

  I stared at him. ‘What are you on about? There’s plenty of water.’

  His smile was wide, as he got busy with his knife again. The scratch of the blade was sharp, a hard caress of steel that took my attention from the burning sodden mess on my side. ‘Let’s talk about Quinn,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk about what he didn’t do.’

  ‘Go ahead. You talk. I’ll listen.’

  Just the slightest change in pressure, and his knife scored my flesh, drawing blood. Jerking away, I gasped when I felt a wet tearing of blistered skin. Something oozed. Shit!

  ‘It’s very simple, Jem. We think Quinn saw something he shouldn’t. That attack on the Catchers was the key to everything and when it didn’t happen, the rest panicked. We need to find them. We need to find Quinn. Or at least the message he sent. You give us that, and this will all be over. C’mon. It’s no use to you now.’

  ‘Why the fuck do you even care? You have what you want. The Port’s safe. The Disses are done for. What difference does it make if a few of them slipped through?’

  ‘We need to find them, Jem.’ His voice had hardened, and the knife with it. Another cut, shoulder to elbow, just opening the skin. This time I tensed, but kept still.

  ‘That’s what the Watch is for, shithead. And maybe if you’d used us in the first place you wouldn’t be wasting everyone’s time trying to find what you lost.’ Not that I cared too much any more, but what’d happened downstairs, Garrick’s fury and Taggart’s concern, was suddenly starting to make a lot more sense.

  ‘Defending the Watch? Even now? That’s admirable, Jem. Real admirable. It’s a shame they never did the same for you when they had the chance, eh?’

  My scalp prickled. ‘What d’you mean?’

  A high laugh, and nasty, before he glanced up at the table to receive Fenton’s sharp nod and faced me again with sudden glee. His blade pressed my chest and I raised feeble hands to knock it away, but the Guard just reached down and grabbed them, pulling my arms straight, stretching my body and forcing another deep groan. Another wash of sweat, hot then ice cold.

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ Reed said, pressing the knife harder. ‘You’re the chosen one, Jem. All that loyalty you’re feelin’ for the Watch? You can thank us for that.’

  ‘Fuck you, Reed.’

  ‘Not just you. There were others, of course, in case you didn’t make it through. But you were always our first choice. The fucking anointed one. And Garrick made sure of it, didn’t he?’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘You’ve always been ours, Jem. Our guarantee. We knew the Disses would get to you. We were counting on it. Because you see, in a way, this is all your doing.’ The knife began to move, up over my stomach to tease my chest, up, and up. ‘Which one was it, I wonder?’ he murmured. The tip of the blade stopped just under my right shoulder, and there was the sickest sense of been-there-done-that. But I was fairly sure this time it’d be a whole lot worse.

  Turning the knife just enough, he did what Ballard had only threatened, slicing quick and
strong, carving skin and flesh. But I didn’t scream this time, clamping down and groaning through gritted teeth. When I opened my eyes again, blinking away sweat and tears, Reed was grinning.

  ‘Or maybe this one.’ He did the same thing again, gouging into my left shoulder and cutting out my guilt, and I could feel myself slipping again, retreating, my body begging for any kind of relief. But there was just that groan again, wet and guttural, tight and desperate. Fuck me!

  My hands were let go, my arms dropped, and this time, when I opened my eyes, he wasn’t smiling.

  ‘You know what I think, Jem? I think we’ve underestimated you. Garrick did too good a job and you are one fucking hard rock, aren’t you? We can keep cutting and burning all night, and you won’t give up a thing.’

  ‘I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Yeah you do,’ he said, making a show of wiping the blade clean of my blood. ‘You like to sing, don’t you, Jem?’ He smiled again when he saw my sudden panic. ‘Yeah, that’s right. ‘How does that song go again? Something about a frog and boys and girls? Catchy tune. Yeah, you were banging it out, weren’t you? Right before you banged her.’

  I stared at his face, unbelieving. ‘You –’

  He laughed. ‘There’s a tunnel down there. Runs along behind the rooms. Cobb says it’s so he can keep an eye on those chains, make sure they’re working right. But really I think he’s just a sick fuck who likes to watch. And you two put on quite the show, didn’t you?’

  ‘Glad you enjoyed it,’ I said. I didn’t care what he’d seen, only what he might’ve heard.

  He looked over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze. Alex’s eyes were wide with anguish; Cade’s had narrowed. ‘Yeah, she’s quite the little mover, isn’t she? D’you like the improvement I made?’

  ‘No,’ I said. Not one bit.

  A few seconds, and he gave a shrug. ‘You know, it’s funny what men say when they’re fucking a whore. The strangest things.’ He stroked my arm with his wicked knife. ‘But you? Promising to kill everyone, just for her? That was something else, Jem.’

  He kept stroking with the blade, down one arm, across my stomach, up the other, gathering blood and sweat, teasing and taunting, and I let him and said nothing.

  ‘See, we could drag old Cade out here and carve the flesh off his bones, but something tells me you wouldn’t give a shit. Bit like poor Ballard. You don’t really care that he’s gone, do you? Not really. But her? I think she’s the key, Jem.’

  ‘Leave her alone, Reed.’

  ‘Can’t do that.’ Then, still watching my face, he called, ‘Bring her over.’

  Alex was hauled to her feet and shoved across. She didn’t struggle or cry out, not even when her husband finally showed some spirit, surging up and yelling through his gag until he was beaten back down. She just stood there, bare feet to cold stone, holding that cloak close around her, hands tucked inside and out of sight, just the tips of her fingers gripping the edges. And I reckoned I knew why. But that little knife wasn’t going to be much use now, to either of us.

  ‘She’s real pretty, Jem,’ Reed said. ‘Maybe we need to make some adjustments, huh? What d’you say?’ He turned his knife again, scratching my skin with the point, scoring and pricking it. ‘And when we’re done with her, we’ll get started on Tate. And we’ll keep going until you tell us what you know.’

  I stiffened. Tate was alive? ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Not here,’ he murmured, tracing another long welt, drawing more blood. ‘One at a time. We’ve got him stashed away safe, ready for when we need him.’

  ‘Where?’

  He smiled, and edged back a little, still pressing the knife, still watching me. ‘See? I’m right. This is the way to get what we want. All this hurt, but all you care about is her, and your friend. Which makes me wonder just how bad you’re going to feel when I tell you we also have the boy.’

  My heart kicked out for a couple of beats, stopping dead before jerking back into an uneven rhythm.

  ‘You’re full of shit,’ I said. But that didn’t mean he was lying.

  Digging in a pocket, he pulled out a tag and held it up. ‘Found this on him. Belonged to a Guard called Fletcher. You know anything about that?’

  ‘Fuck! He’s just a kid!’ I found the strength to knock Reed’s hand away and I didn’t even feel the thud of the giant’s boots, or his fists on my head.

  Reed scrambled to his feet, triumphant. ‘That’s it! That’s the one, Jem. Now, you tell us what we want to know, or we’ll kill them all. Just like we did Ballard. And we’ll save the boy for last.’

  Feelings are what fuck us up. Every fuckin’ time.

  Had Garrick known? Had he been trying to warn me, and I’d just been too stupid and too stubborn to get it? Everything I’d touched, everything I’d thought to call my own, those I’d left behind and those I’d come to care for, I was bringing them all down.

  ‘Go to hell.’

  His smile dissolved, melted on his face, replaced by a deep scowl. ‘You stupid prick. You think I’m joking? You think we won’t do it?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I know you will. Whether I give you what you want or not. So fucking do it, shithead. Kill us all and see where that gets you.’

  He growled and slashed, the knife biting skin and muscle, etching my rows of marks, making me cry out.

  ‘You sure about that?’ he said, his smug hate rising up and drowning me. ‘Coz maybe we won’t kill them. Maybe we’ll make you do it.’

  ‘Go ahead. Give me a weapon and see what I do with it.’

  ‘Oh, we both know what you’ll do, Jem. You’ll do what you’ve always done.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yeah, you will. Coz you’re one sick piece of shit, aren’t you? You’ll do it. If you have to. You know you will.’

  Do what needs to be done – let him do it – he’s the only one –

  ‘Stop. Just stop,’ I whispered, shaking my head to clear the horror, trying to find that middle place like I’d been told. But it was so, so hard.

  ‘It’s a strange old world when we start killing the ones we love.’ Reed poked me with the knife, his eyes slitted and evil. ‘I know what happened, Jem. And I gotta wonder, what sort of man are you to do something like that.’

  You call yourself a man? You’re no man, Ballard’s voice taunted. No man, no man, no man –

  No! I wasn’t just no man. I was much worse than that.

  ‘Huh?’ Reed jeered again. ‘What sort of man does that make you?’

  Fighting every hurt, pushing through every lie and betrayal, I fought against the hand that held me and straightened to face him. ‘A Watchman.’

  ‘Not any more!’ Reed snarled. ‘Now you’re just another fucking Diss.’

  ‘I’m both, arsehole. And I reckon that makes me twice the man you are.’ And ignoring his furious hiss, I looked past him at Fenton’s gaunt face. ‘I lied. I did get that message. And it said fuck you all. Sir!’

  Excerpt ~ Letter #13

  The smallest force can defeat a whole army if they’re clever and patient enough. If they understand that to fight fire with fire the wind must be in their favour.

  Tee had disappeared; no one knew where. Someone panicked and called a meeting, the message passed in secret. And when they gathered it wasn’t the quiet, determined order of all the meetings before. It was angry and fearful, resolving nothing; the room began to empty long before it was over, bodies slipping away into the dark. Sarah was one of the last to leave, clinging stubbornly to the sanctuary their shared cause had provided. Because without it – without Tee – she was just a lonely old woman again, waiting for death. Had it all been for nothing?

  She paused at the door. A woman blocked it, gripping the frame. Perhaps like Sarah, she was scared to let go, afraid to acknowledge her mistake. When she sobbed, Sarah patted her shoulder, making her jump. The woman wiped at her face and, with a muttered apology, moved aside to let Sarah pass.

  It would be all right, Sarah assur
ed her. Everything would be okay. The woman stared at her, not hearing.

  He promised I’d be safe, she said. Her hand shook as she brushed back her hair. She had a son, she told Sarah. What would happen to him if they took her? But Sarah couldn’t answer that. At least the woman had family; Sarah didn’t. And hadn’t Tee told her the same thing, offering friendship and guaranteeing safety?

  How had the woman met Tee? she asked suddenly; she’d never asked any of them before, but now he’d gone and so had any need for secrecy.

  The woman sniffed back her tears. In one of the market squares. He’d been sitting all alone, like he was waiting for somebody he knew wouldn’t show. She’d felt sorry for him and they started talking. He told her about his family, about what happened. The woman shrugged, and sniffed again. It wasn’t like his story was any worse than anyone else’s, she said. But for some reason it just struck a chord.

  Then she shook her head, and apologised to Sarah because it all sounded so stupid, didn’t it?

  No, said Sarah, slowly. It wasn’t stupid. Because that was how it had been for her too, she thought. Exactly like that.

  What if they tortured him? The woman sobbed again. What if he told them everything? He knew her name! God, she was so scared for her son. And, gathering her cloak around her, hooding and hiding her face, she ducked out the door. Sarah never saw her again. She never saw any of them again.

  For the next few nights, she lay awake and afraid, thinking of that woman and of her son. She thought about all of them, their stories of loss and their longing for hope. And she thought about Tee, about everything he knew, and his story: the one that had struck a chord and netted them all.

  But perhaps it wasn’t his story after all. Perhaps it never had been.

  19

  If you stare at a scene long enough, hold the image in your head, then come back and look at it again from the exact same spot, you’ll always notice changes. Little things. Maybe a shadow’s got longer or shorter, maybe the light is softer or brighter. Maybe the clouds have scattered, or the sand has shifted on the ground. Or maybe people who were in one place the first time have moved to another, or disappeared altogether. It’s the same scene, but timeworn.