by Sara Grant
The sky is painted lavender as the sun ebbs away. Finch remembers in a flash – Atti’s Walk of Enlightenment. He runs around the Mountain, instinctively taking the shortest route. As he approaches Forreal, he hears the low rumble of voices.
He strides into the Mall. The murmurs thin to silence and all heads turn. When they realize it’s Finch and not Beckett, they return to their conversations. The crowd would part if it were Beckett. Cheerleaders would reach out to him as if even his skin were special. Why can’t they see that Finch is the one that’s protecting them? Beckett is conspiring with someone from Out There. Finch vows that soon Forreal will realize that he is the true leader.
Umph! Atti collides with Finch, reaching one arm around his middle. The other clutches the thin pine slab that is her Facebook.
How can two such opposites be siblings? Her short, stumpy legs; his long, skinny ones. Her boundless enthusiasm; his stoic, stand-offishness. He wants to feel something more than irritation with her. He should. He tries, but he doesn’t understand her.
‘Finch!’ she shouts, her voice a blend of relief and joy. Atti’s hair looks like the matted fur of a wildcat. Her dreads are more like bumps, growing only an inch before they break off. ‘I knew you wouldn’t forget. They said you were too busy patrolling the Mountain, but I said, “No, Finch is my brother and he will come. He will be here”.’ She squeezes him harder and he pats her on the top of her scraggly head.
‘You know I wouldn’t miss it.’ The stickiness of skin touching skin sets his teeth on edge. He grabs her shoulders and holds her at arm’s length. ‘This is a ginormous day. You will be a Cheerleader.’
‘And I will be the best Cheerleader in the history of Forreal.’ Her too-big, droopy eyes sparkle. ‘Well, second best, next to you, or third best if you count Harper. I will make you proud. You’ll see. I have been studying my Facebook and the Just Sayings.’ Harper walks up and Finch’s attention shifts to her. ‘Harper has been helping me . . .’ Atti keeps talking in the way she always does, until her words blend into a constant hum that Finch tunes out.
‘Harper.’ He acknowledges her with a nod. He’s still baffled by seeing her double with Beckett.
Atti is chattering away: ‘. . . there hasn’t been a walk in so long. I hope everyone will remember what to do . . .’
‘We all remember,’ Harper reassures her, but Atti doesn’t stop talking. Harper whispers to Finch, ‘Have you seen Beckett?’ The hairs on the back of his neck quiver at the near touch of her lips. ‘Finch,’ she snaps, ‘do you know where Beckett is?’
He shakes his head. He doesn’t know any more. She’s so close that he can smell the sweet mixture of sweat and dirt that lingers on her skin. He doesn’t know what Beckett is doing. Beckett has never ever kept secrets before. Or maybe he has. Maybe he’s been lying and sneaking around all the time.
Harper’s eyes scan the Mountain. What would she think of her precious Beckett if she knew about his secret meeting?
They can’t start the ceremony without Beckett. He’s not here and yet he still commands the attention of Forreal. As Harper paces the perimeter, Finch sees an opportunity to sow seeds of suspicion. If they begin to doubt Beckett then it won’t be long before they hail Finch as their leader. He circles the crowd, asking one Cheerleader after another if they’ve seen Beckett. Atti nervously twists her dreads.
‘Whatever!’ Beckett calls, as if nothing is strange about him arriving late. He steps onto the platform in the centre of the Mall. Bodies shift and faces lift to greet him. Sweat drips off Beckett’s body. Lucky races up and knocks her head against his leg.
‘Let’s make the sacred symbol,’ Beckett calls, and takes his place between Harper and Finch. Two loops of people fan out on either side of Beckett. Lucky dips in and out of the circles as if inspecting their formation. Atti stands in front of Beckett and presents her Facebook. Like everyone in Forreal, she has created her own tribute to the Great I AM. She has drawn one face to represent each of the Great I AM’s Just Sayings. It will give her guidance and comfort for her life as a Cheerleader.
Finch studies the rows and rows of wobbly round faces Atti has carved into her Facebook. She has shaded the lines with the ashes from Storytime. These simply drawn faces smile and frown. Eyes squint and wink. Thin eyebrows arch and slant. There’s even a face with a stuck-out tongue.
‘Your Facebook is wonderful, Atti,’ Beckett says.
‘Thanks!’ Atti’s fingers fumble from one dread to another.
‘We are going to start with a reading from the CQ,’ Beckett says.
Cal, the Twitter, walks to their makeshift altar, which is made of rusty parts salvaged long ago from the Black River and hammered together to create a four-foot-high altar. Fragments of sacred texts have been preserved between scavenged sheets of plastic. The image on the cover has faded but Finch can make out most of the old headline: Cheerleader Quar. There are also smaller pages with ragged edges, as if these sheets have been ripped from another book. Interspersed among the plastic is handmade paper with Just Sayings and stories of the Great I AM. They were committed to paper years after the Great I AM became one with the Mountain. Each Just Saying is numbered and corresponds to a face. Each story has been given a title: The Saviour and the Serpent and The Knock on the Door.
Cal opens the slippery pages of the CQ with her gnarled fingers. She uses her knuckles to flip to a page written in glittery green ink. The Journey to the Heart. She pauses dramatically and then recounts a story they each have committed to memory.
When she is finished, the crowd choruses, ‘Whatever.’
She closes the book. ‘Let’s meditate on number one hundred and eighty-eight.’
All the Cheerleaders and rockstars bow their heads, except Finch. He stares at Beckett. The sun has set but it’s as if Finch can see clearly now. He sees through Beckett’s holy facade.
The Timekeeper whispers a countdown from ten. ‘That’s enough,’ he shouts when he gets to one.
‘Atti has turned twelve. We are pleased that she is ready to become a Cheerleader,’ Cal says, and takes her place in their human symbol.
Beckett takes Atti’s Facebook. ‘First we will test your knowledge of the Great I AM’s Just Sayings.’ He catches Harper’s eye and winks. Their connection feels like a slap in Finch’s face. Even though he is in the inner symbol, he’s an outsider. How has he not realized this before?
Beckett points to the twin smiley faces on Atti’s Facebook. Atti bounces on her tiptoes. In a shaky, squeaky voice she begins, ‘Just Saying . . .’ She clears her throat and tries again. ‘You can’t really know somebody until you consider things from their perspective, like slipping under their skin and seeing stuff through their eyes.’
She glances at Finch and he forces a smile on his lips. She’s not quoted it verbatim, but she’s got the idea right. She beams at Finch’s approval. Beckett will never have that. Atti is all Finch has. Beckett may have Harper, but Atti is Finch’s flesh and blood.
Beckett whispers in Atti’s ear, ‘Really fab, Atti.’
Finch cracks his knuckles. He won’t be sidelined any more. Finch steps out of formation and places his hands on Atti’s shoulders. She squirms under his grasp. He has broken protocol. Wide eyes focus on Finch, and he likes the way that feels. Beckett doesn’t seem to notice.
Beckett points to one image on Atti’s Facebook and then another. Each time Atti picks a different spiky dread and rolls it between her fingers and then recites the correct Saying. ‘Can you tell me Just Saying one ninety-two?’ Beckett points to a smiley face with two arrows for eyes.
‘I know this one.’ Atti grins at the real faces smiling down on her. She lifts to her tiptoes and practically shouts, ‘“Your attitude determines your altitude!”’
Everyone cheers. Finch gives his sister’s back one swift, sharp pat.
Atti lunges and wraps Harper in a hug. ‘We did it,’ she says, not realizing that her action has stifled the applause.
‘You did it,’ Har
per says, and quickly pushes Atti away. Atti gives Harper a confused, almost hurt, look, but Finch understands. Forreal is watching and Harper doesn’t want Atti to be tainted by their connection. She doesn’t want Atti to feel the half-hearted acceptance she’s always felt. He wishes Harper would care about him as much as she obviously cares for Atti.
Finch thinks he should hug his sister. He pulls her in and she falls the rest of the way. ‘Congratulations, sis,’ he says loud enough so everyone can hear.
‘Atti, are you ready to lead us on your Walk of Enlightenment?’ Beckett asks.
Atti nods.
‘Onwards and upwards,’ Beckett says.
‘Whatever,’ Atti shouts and then takes off up the Mountain. Atti is moving as fast as her awkward short legs will take her.
Each Cheerleader raises a torch to light the way. Lucky meanders among the Cheerleaders and rockstars, who reach down to pet the cat. They form a snake of fire, winding their way up the Mountain. The torches flicker and make the trees dance. Finch is always the last in line so that he can protect Forreal from whatever lurks in the darkness.
Atti waits at the sacred spot half way between the Mall and the Crown. She strokes the pale patch of wood on the tree trunk. The actual indentions have long since disappeared, but the Great I AM marked this tree. The patch is worn smooth from so many Walks of Enlightenment.
Beckett rests his hand over Atti’s. ‘Whatever,’ he murmurs. The procession continues.
By the time Finch reaches the Crown, everyone has gathered around Atti. He can hear her chattering non-stop. He fights his way through the crowd. Atti is standing with her back to the thorny hedge with Beckett at her side. Finch kneels down and turns her to face him.
‘I am very proud of you,’ he tells her.
‘You’ve never said that before,’ Atti says quietly. ‘Mum said it. She told me before she disappeared.’
Finch doesn’t want her talking about Mum. Finch told everyone that their mum vanished from the Mountain. But he saw her go. She walked down the Mountain and just kept walking. He should have tried to stop her. He kept thinking she would turn around. But she never even looked back. No one can know that his mum deserted Forreal. What would they think of him if they knew his mum abandoned not only her family but everything he holds sacred? Atti hopes she’s Out There somewhere. Finch hopes she is dead.
‘Congratulations to you both!’ Beckett says. They stare up at him, Atti with admiration and Finch with a new suspicion.
Atti shuts one eye and tries to peer through the Crown’s tangled mass. ‘Why can’t we cross?’ she asks.
‘You know why, Atti,’ Finch chastises her. She asks too many questions.
‘Yeah, I know. The Heart’s up there somewhere. Don’t you want to see it? Don’t you want to know what it is? I mean, is it an actual beating heart or some sort of jewel or a—’
‘Secrets are OK sometimes,’ Beckett says, talking over Atti. Finch feels powerful knowing Beckett’s secret.
‘Yeah, yeah, but why . . .’ Atti thinks about it for a second. ‘And how will we die if we cross the Crown?’
Everyone huddles around, listening for Beckett’s answer. Finch itches to expose Beckett’s betrayal, but he must use this knowledge carefully.
‘We can’t always understand the ways of the Great I AM. We trust and believe,’ Beckett replies to those gathered. ‘Atti, you memorized the Just Sayings. You’ve made your Walk of Enlightenment. You are now a Cheerleader.’ He faces Atti. ‘Do you promise to protect the Mountain and live by the Just Sayings of the Great I AM?’
Atti nods. ‘Oh, I mean, yeah.’
Beckett extends his hand, palm up, and Cal rushes forwards, presenting Beckett with the ceremonial knife. Its shiny red shell and white cross seem magical in this dull desert. Finch thinks he should wield the knife. Beckett flicks open the blade. Atti presents her wrist without being asked. Beckett closes Atti’s hand into a fist and holds it still. She chews her lower lip and looks away. He uses the tip of the knife to trace a thin figure in the same place and shape as his birthmark. Beckett’s precision is almost surgical. He must leave a scar, but not cut too deep. Atti’s face is pinched tight with pain.
When Beckett is finished, he places his wrist on top of hers so their infinity symbols are pressed together. ‘Whatever,’ Beckett says, and the audience repeats the one-word Saying.
Finch remembers six years ago when he, Harper and Beckett stood together and took the oath. Beckett didn’t have to be marked. He was born with the Mountain’s symbol. From that day on, Beckett was proclaimed Cheer Captain. He took the ceremonial knife for the first time and carved the mark on Finch. His touch was too light, only a scratch. Finch had to deepen the mark later.
Beckett raises his arm over his head, exposing his wrist, covered in Atti’s blood. Every Cheerleader does the same.
‘Let us repeat the Saying of Dedication,’ Beckett says.
‘Whatever! Whatever! The bad, the good. Whatever! I put my faith in the Great I AM. The Great I AM alone.’
‘Please join me in congratulating Atti on becoming a Cheerleader,’ Beckett says. Finch forces himself to applaud louder and longer than anyone else.
They linger at the Crown and enjoy this break from the normal routine of Forreal life. Only the patrols are allowed this high up the Mountain at night. The moon is full and seems to direct its light on the Man-Made Mountains.
Finch notices it first – a bright light glowing at the heart of the Man-Made Mountains.
Atti elbows him. ‘What is that?’
‘Is it . . .’ someone starts. Finch knows the end of the sentence. Everyone must be thinking the same thing: Terrorists.
‘Remain calm,’ Beckett says, stepping up to block their view. Everyone re-adjusts his or her position to see the tiny points of light that are now dotting the Man-Made Mountains.
‘There are more than last time,’ Finch tells Beckett.
‘Last time?’ Tom says. He pulls at his misshapen earlobes.
‘You’ve seen the lights before?’ Cal asks.
And then everyone is talking at once. Finch steps towards Beckett and watches the line of Cheerleaders move with him. The small rockstars tuck themselves behind the Cheerleaders. Finch leads them closer and closer to Beckett until he is surrounded.
‘Terrorists,’ Finch whispers to no one and everyone. He interjects the word again and again. Until the crowd is buzzing with it.
Beckett raises his hand, exposing his birthmark. ‘We do not know who or what it is.’
‘Could it be Mumenda coming at last?’ May asks, gathering the smallest rockstar in her arms. Her hunched back curves lower under the weight.
‘Don’t be crupid,’ Finch mutters. ‘Mumenda will journey to the Mountain and then we will be free. Mumenda will join us on the Mountain, not appear as flashing lights in the distance.’
‘Let’s return to Forreal and ask the Great I AM for guidance.’ Beckett walks away from the lights. Harper is right behind him but no one else follows.
‘Do you think it’s Terrorists, Finch?’ someone asks.
Finch assumes Beckett’s place in the centre of the crowd. ‘I think we need to be prepared. I have increased my patrols but I will organize a new rotation of Cheerleaders to guard the Mountain, beginning tonight.’ Finch finds Cal’s face in the crowd. ‘Cal, you take the rockstars back to Forreal and pick one or two other Cheerleaders to help you.’
‘We are only to protect the Mountain,’ Beckett says.
Who is this girl he’s protecting?
‘It could be other Survivors who are trying to make contact,’ Beckett adds, glancing at Harper.
Atti’s tugging on her brother’s arm. ‘Maybe it’s Mum.’
‘It’s not Mum,’ he says, and elbows her aside.
‘She’s Out There,’ Atti shouts, twisting the root of each dread. ‘Maybe she wants to come home.’
‘Mum is never coming back,’ Finch blurts, and Atti bursts into tears. The faces around them
soften from fierce determination to concern for Atti and a slight fear of Finch.
Harper scoops up Atti in her arms, glaring at Finch. ‘I survived Out There,’ Harper tells Atti. ‘Your mum could too.’ Beckett and Harper usher Atti and the other rockstars down the Mountain. A few other Cheerleaders follow.
‘Mum is so coming back,’ Atti calls to Finch. He tries to ignore her and the ache the word ‘mum’ triggers inside him.
He gathers the Cheerleaders around him. They make a schedule to patrol the Mountain, but he secretly makes a plan to investigate and extinguish that light.
Chapter Ten
As we walked along the highway towards the mountain, I told Marissa everything – about the alleged bio-attack, the bunker and my plans to hide out there until it was safe to emerge. Saying it out loud made it sound even more outrageous and somehow less possible than when my mum told me. I felt guilty for sharing Mum’s secret and really, really terrible when I saw the look of pure horror on Marissa’s face.
‘Damn, Icie!’ Marissa exclaimed when I’d finished. ‘Are you sure? I mean, that’s crazy.’
‘You don’t have to come, but please don’t tell anyone about the bunker, OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah. I mean, no, I wouldn’t. I won’t. I’ve got to think about it.’
The two lanes heading away from Vegas looked like an endless parking lot being drawn slowly forwards on a conveyor belt. The two lanes on our side of the road were vacant. Every once in a while a car would zoom by at some ungodly speed. The sound and the gust would shove us towards the ditch on the side of the road, but we kept walking. We didn’t seem to be making any progress towards the mountains.
Up ahead I saw a biggish lump on the side of the road. I wasn’t used to seeing animals that were my size on the roadside. I hadn’t considered that there would be wildlife when I jumped out of the taxi. I scanned the landscape. What scary creatures lived out here? Bears? Lions? Tigers? Man-eating gorillas? I didn’t know. I’d napped or sneak-texted through most of biology and geography. I was starting to think I’d slept through most of my short, insignificant life.