Becoming

by Chris Ord

  The shivering eased, and the girl looked at Gaia, a smile crept on her lips, but it was awkward and forced. She still looked petrified.

  ‘Thanks. This is my first attack. I’m scared.’

  ‘It’s OK. Stay focused and you’ll get through it.’

  They lay together, waiting. Gaia could feel the girl’s tension, her stiff body gripped with fear, her frantic breathing. Then it came, the sound of the low rattle, rising as they neared. There was something different to the sound though. It was broader, more intense than usual. It could mean only one thing. The shrieking came, like none Gaia had heard before. It was deafening, chilling, blood curdling. The girl began to shake. She was curled into a ball and covering her ears, pushing Gaia, fighting her, struggling to break free. Gaia held her tight, wrestled with her, pinned her to the floor. Breaking ranks would make her prey. The rats would see her, sense the vulnerability, weakness, and would attack. Gaia whispered.

  ‘Try to be calm.’

  The girl began to scream, a loud, wailing cry, a siren. Gaia placed her hand over the girl’s mouth and tried to muffle the cries, but she continued to wail, fight and kick. The moment came, the trigger, the turning point. The girl bit Gaia’s hand. Gaia pulled her arm away in shock as the girl flung her off, jumped to her feet, and hurtled down the dune towards the beach. Gaia lurched forward, and went to make after her, but something clicked, took over, stopping and composing herself. Gaia wanted to follow her, save her, but something prevented her. She froze, as though a switch had been flipped. Her mind was racing, willing her to move, but she could not. Everything told her to stay with the others, focus on the task. A voice inside was barking at her. They were a team. They were stronger together. It pounded like a drum inside, the rhythm of all their training, their programming. This voice, the belief, it was the difference between living or dying. If Gaia tried to save the girl, she would die. Heroes were noble fools. They died. That is what defined them. Gaia ducked back down in the grassy dunes, and watched as the girl fled alone.

  The rats were lightning quick. In a split second a group saw their victim, broke out, pursued her, and pounced. The leader lunged towards her jugular like an arrow. Its dripping jaws, and razor sharp teeth exposed. Ready to plunge into the neck and rip her throat. The rats’ jaws hit their target, and with one flick of the neck severed the artery and tore away a chunk of flesh. Blood spurted from the wound, the shock rendering the girl helpless. She fell to the ground, writhing in agony. The rat was upon her. Its long, fleshy tail flapping. Its head ripping and wrestling with her throat.

  That was the signal. The others smothered her body in seconds, tearing it to shreds in a series of frantic bites. The creatures were swift and surgical, with seldom time to feast, little window for them to savour, knowing an attack would be upon them soon. The rodents exploited vulnerability, but were at their weakest as they fed. There was a flurry of frenetic bites as they seared her warm flesh, clutching the few seconds available to ease their hunger. These were the brief flashes of savagery, before the rats would move onto their next victim. The next piece of prey felled by one of their own. They too were stronger together.

  It was all over in an instant, and the rats moved on, back towards the front line where the main attack had begun. The girl lay in a heap. Only her bloodied, dismembered torso remained. The flesh from her front had been stripped, leaving bone and entrails. Gaia turned away in disgust and shame. It was over. It was done. The girl was weak. There was no way to save her. Any attempt would have killed them both. The girl panicked, broke free, and paid the ultimate price. Staring at the crimson remains, a shiver of horror and sorrow ran through Gaia’s body. She had done the right thing, but hated herself for it.

  Gaia focused back on the main onslaught. Watching and waiting, looking for where and when, ready for the moment of their attack. Kali would give the signal. It was always the same cry. Kali looked for the point where the frontline were struggling, where they needed help to bolster numbers and split the rat lines. Either that or wait for a moment of weakness, the point at which the rats were suffering heavy losses, when they were faltering.

  The swarms of rats were met by each frontline team, where they were slaughtered and eliminated. The teams worked together as one. Everything ran as planned, as taught, drilled, and programmed. Each plunged spears into the creatures, severed throats with knives, thrust axes into skulls, and crushed them with hammers. The central lines, where the main onslaught was taking place were coping well. They were the primary line of defence, with the bulk of the young. The rats were drawn towards them, to the critical mass, but this was where the creatures were weak.

  The rats saw food, but what waited were skilled assassins. The rodents had become hunters through necessity, but were still scavengers by skill. The creatures had speed, but were crude, impulsive, and lacked stamina and resilience. They were desperate, not courageous, and would retreat as soon as there was a sign of danger or defeat, or they were slain in any numbers. There was always a tipping point. Hunger drove them to attack, but the instinct was to run. The community knew this, and that they had to hit them with intensity and ferocity. Both the leaders and young people were brutal, slaying without prejudice, without thought, without emotion. They were a unit, a killing machine. Their aim was to bludgeon the creatures with an onslaught of terror forcing the rats to crumble and flee.

  Gaia noticed something from the corner of her eye. So focused on the main onslaught, and death of the girl she had not seen them coming. There was another wave, fewer than the first, but still significant in number. This had never happened before. Either the creatures were becoming braver, or more desperate. The rats were learning from the mistakes of previous attacks, and their confidence was building.

  The second wave swept over the corpses of the first. Almost all the dead were rats. A few of the community had bites and lacerations, but none were down or dead. None except the girl. The teams met the second wave, but they were tiring and surprised by the fresh onslaught. Now was the moment. It had to be. Kali must respond soon. Gaia waited. The tension and anticipation smothered her. Her chest was pumping and her heart pounding. The speed and frenzy of the carnage below seemed to be in slow motion. There was the flailing of arms, the hurtling of spears, and the flash of daggers. Black lurching bodies leapt and were flung away, the blood of the slain rats splattering on clothes and faces. It was a quilt of crimson death, spreading across their bodies like a disease, staining them in its fleeting warmth. Gaia and the others on the dune were locked in limbo, hanging, waiting. They were like a coil ready to spring, a bullet about to be fired, a wild cat waiting to pounce. They were locked on their target, their eyes fixed and ready, waiting for Kali’s cry.

  It came. Without a thought Gaia and the others leapt to their feet and cascaded down the dune. Kali was at the front, followed by Gaia. Kali leapt forward like a panther and in an instant she had reached them, the others close behind. They had caught them off-guard. The element of surprise had worked. Kali took the first kill. She was cold and clinical, deadly, plunging her spear into its back, then her dagger through its head. Without hesitation or thought Gaia moved onto her next victim. With two movements it was all over, then another, and another. One by one they were butchered. Instinctive and unrelenting, without any emotion, leaving a trail of carnage in her wake.

  Gaia mirrored Kali, and launched herself at them. The first was a straight kill through the head with her dagger, the second crush of the skull with a hammer. Blood shot from her victim and sprayed across her face, feeling its warmth as it touched her lips. The tumbling onslaught continued. Rat upon rat, victim after victim. Together Kali and Gaia swept through the sea of rodents, each slain in swift succession. They were like a dancing duet, choreographed in a ballet of brutality, smooth and sweeping. The rearguard attack was proving decisive, and the second wave of rats were being swept aside. One by one they fell, but did not crumble, nor flee. Instead, the creatures fought on in an attack that was intense a
nd relentless, the most vicious to date. The rats were different, more of a match and threat. They were growing stronger.

  Gaia saw someone struggling, a boy, a few feet to her right. He had fallen, knocked off his feet by the force of an attack. Seeing the opportunity, a couple of rats had moved in for the kill. He was managing to fend them off, but wouldn’t hold out much longer. Gaia hurtled across to save him, diving at one of the rodents, and with one swift movement slitting its throat. Casting it aside, she launched a fierce blow to the head of the other. Stunned, it rolled over, as her knife plunged in its chest twisting, jerking, and removing the blade. The boy jumped to his feet, his face smothered in blood, eyes ablaze, a mixture of fear and relief. He staggered backwards.

  ‘Thanks! I owe you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  Gaia recognised him, had noticed him before. It was number eighty four, Aran. His face lit up with alarm.

  ‘Look out!’

  Aran grabbed a spear and hurled it over her shoulder. Gaia turned and rolled away, looking back to where the rat lay impaled by the spear. Its dark body was still writhing, clamouring to reach them, its jaws slavering in desperation. The same jaws that had been aimed at her throat, and within a second would have reached her. It fought and flailed, struggling in the last moments of imminent death. Dark blood oozed from the fatal wound. The spear had penetrated its heart, ripped through its soft flesh, the spear that had saved her.

  ‘Now we’re even. Let’s see if we can break them.’

  ‘Do you think we can hold out?’

  ‘They’ll crumble and turn. They always do. Come on.’

  Aran reached out his hand and helped Gaia to her feet. His blue eyes caught hers, the sun flashing through her red hair. For a moment there was a connection, brief and awkward, but enough. They both looked away. He was tall, fair haired, attractive. His grip firm and arm strong as he pulled her up from the ground. Like all on the island he had been bred and nurtured to be trim and athletic. Gaia noted his sparkling eyes and the faintest hint of a grin. Eyes which had been admired by her before.

  They fought on together, despite being weary and jaded. After several more decisive kills the rats broke ranks and began to flee. One after another they turned and scurried away, their coarse, black hairs stained with the fresh blood of the others. The creatures scattered and fled into the fields beyond, but the community knew the rodents would be back. Next time they would be bolder and stronger again. For now the victory belonged to the community. They would savour it. For now the community remained safe and intact.

  Gaia looked around, the boy still by her side, sitting, head in hands, exhausted. It was all sinking in now, how close they had been to death. They were alive, and that was all the mattered for now. Gaia surveyed the carnage, the festering aftermath. There were corpses everywhere, mostly black and red, steaming rodents, their thick hair and long pink tails soaked in death. Most lay still, but some still heaved, death not yet upon them. The leaders and young people each made their way through the remains and finished off the near dead. Nine, maybe ten of the community were injured. They were tended to by the medical specialists. Two lay dead. Two, in addition to the girl who still lay away from the main group, alone on the edge of the dunes. Kali crouched next to one of the slain, head bowed in honour and respect. Her hands reached down and closed their eyelids one by one, lifeless eyes now locked beneath.

  Gaia moved back to where Aran was resting. She sat down, and put her arm around him, a gesture only, there were no words. He knew what was meant, and appreciated it. For a moment they sat together, sharing a rare moment of tenderness and warmth. Something they both needed, a reminder of their humanity, a reassurance of life. He tilted his head towards her and whispered.

  ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘It was nothing. We got through it, and we’re still here. That’s all that matters.’

  They sat for a while, wrapped in the blanket of each other’s warmth, their thoughts locked together. Gaia was not accustomed to this. She had little interest in boys, at least not in the way that some of the others did. To her they were shallow and childish, trying to impress with their lame jokes, and puerile shows of physical prowess. The boys in the community all looked and acted the same. Most of the other girls seemed to disagree. They would roll their eyes, and let out giddy laughter, flick their hair and flirt. Each loved to play the fool to attract the boy’s attention, but not Gaia.

  Physical liaisons were frowned upon, but it happened. There were attempts to conceal them, but with little success. It was tolerated by the leaders, monitored and contained. As long as it was discreet the young on the island were fine. Open shows of affection or contact were forbidden. This was never a concern for Gaia. Her icy disdain was apparent, and boys made no attempt to thaw her. However, Aran was different. She had noticed him before and made a point of finding out about him. This boy did not act the same as the others. There were no jokes, no attempts to show off. He was quiet, shy, kept to himself. There was a distance from the others, and most left him alone. Aran was on the fringes, much like Gaia, respected for his skill, but not courted. There was a mystery, something compelling, and for some reason Gaia had been drawn to him. There was a story with Aran, something more. He intrigued her, made her want to find out more.

  Aran and Gaia rested for a while, drifting in the comedown, the aftermath. The community would regroup soon and consider the attack together, looking at lessons for the next time. The rats would return, and the community must be ready.

  3

  Gaia lay in her bed staring at the base of the bunk above. The wire supports stretched across the metal frame bulged and creaked. She had looked at them a thousand times, studied every detail, reached up and traced the weaving line as it spread across the divide. Hooking her fingers under each, Gaia would allow the wire to take the weight of her arm. She had threaded string through to create ornate patterns, turning the cold, grey metalwork into a sea of colour, like an exotic snake. This was her nightly view, her routine and shell. This was Gaia’s moment alone, her time to think.

  It was a large dormitory with twenty bunks, filled with thirty nine girls. The room was dark and silent, oozing a damp and musty odour. The building was made of timber, and had a varnished, wooden floor and high pitched ceiling. Each bed had a table next to it and a wardrobe at its base. Clothes and belongings were few, so their was ample room for storage. The dorm had been an outward bound centre in the old days. The island was popular with holiday makers. They would come in organised packs, tribes of young people in uniforms and ties, singing bizarre songs, and performing strange rituals. Gaia had found a magazine behind one of the wardrobes and read about the world before, the now lost and distant past. The dorm had toilets and shower rooms at one end. At the other was a doorway to the entrance hall, and a room where the leader slept.

  Gaia was having trouble sleeping. This was not unusual. Her mind would not shut down, often bursting alive in the last few hours of the day. In that time just before sleeping when you are meant to unwind, a charge would shoot through her, like an electric current. Thoughts would race through her head, pounding from all angles. She would try and catch them, order and contain them, make some sense of them. Sometimes there would be moments of perfect clarity, where the light would blaze, and everything would slot into place. Those rarest of moments when everything would make sense. More often there would be the demons and darkness, the anger and hatred, the hunger and thirst for revenge. There were often thoughts of conflict, a longing to strike out against those that wronged, controlled, and oppressed her. Gaia longed to destroy the ones that prevented her from breaking free. There were often visions of the pain she would bring upon those who stopped her from finding herself, and the parents never known. She often thought of killing.

  Most of the mental venom was thrust towards Kali. The one that pushed her, ordered her, commanded her, dictated to her, and abused her. It was often the smallest of things, the looks, the things said and
even unsaid, the body language. Gaia knew Kali hated her, and always had to put in extra effort to impress her, never managing to. At least Kali never acknowledged it. The day the rats attacked, Gaia had killed far more than the others, and had saved Aran from certain injury and possible death. She had fought as hard as ever, maybe harder. Kali wandered around in the aftermath, and laid reassuring hands on weary heads and shoulders. There were whispered words of comfort, and thanks. Yet when Kali came to Gaia all she could ask was what had happened with the young girl, the one who Gaia had allowed to die.

  Gaia explained everything, but it was not enough for Kali who moved on. There was no comfort or reassurance, no thanks or commendation for the bravery Gaia had shown. All Kali said was that they needed to talk, and that Gaia was to go and see her tomorrow. This was Kali through and through. Plant the dagger, then twist and watch you wince and writhe.

  There were several incidents that had nurtured Gaia’s hatred. Instances when Kali would show her power and dominance, her willingness to inflict the severest pain. The first time was when Kali made Gaia stand in the snow in only a T-shirt and shorts until close to dying. All because Gaia had questioned her in front of the others. Soon after on construction duty Kali made Gaia drag the heaviest logs alone through thick mud. One by one, through the driving wind and rain. Worst of all were the quarantines. This was time in the shed where community members would be locked in solitary confinement for acts of disobedience. Kali had sent Gaia there more than anyone. One instance was during a sweltering summer when Gaia was locked inside for days without food and just enough water to survive. She was half-dead when Kali released her.

  When Gaia was not hating Kali her thoughts were locked on Aran, his smile, his blue eyes. Such thinking was discouraged. The phases of their lives were functional, each with a purpose. The leaders had a role, and their ultimate goal was to shape the community, to turn them into productive members, to be the best that they could be. There was no room for sentiment, emotion, or shows of affection. Each stage of Gaia’s life had felt like a cold, relentless march towards a manufactured outcome. The community had moved away from machines, but had become a machine itself. It was little more than a piece of engineering, an engine, a factory. The young were treated like parts within it, the cogs, the pistons, and the fuel. When they had become each would be given a separate role and function. Each would be honed and shaped, polished and finely tuned. Each would be necessary to the overall functioning of the machine. Emotion clouded rational thought and function, it was water in the oil. It served no purpose, but to complicate and confuse. There was something missing for Gaia.