“Let me help,” Judith said. She carefully positioned Hannah on the sofa, then started to carefully remove her clothes. John started to say something before stopping himself, his face pale. “I ...”
She froze as she saw the marks. Hannah’s back was covered in bloody scars, some still bleeding. She pulled Hannah’s underclothes down and saw similar marks covering her buttocks and the back of her legs. Judith had seen horror - she still had nightmares, sometimes, about the man who’d been caught in a thresher machine - but this was unthinkable. Someone had systematically beaten Hannah to within an inch of her life, tearing her skin so badly that there was a very good chance she’d become infected. And her immune system was weak. This could kill her!
“I’m calling the hospital,” she said. “And the police.”
“No,” John said. “They’ll ...”
Judith stared at him. “She needs help,” she said. “And the person who did this needs to be arrested.”
Hannah made a sound. It might have been a giggle. “You can’t arrest him.”
“Yes, we can,” Judith said. In truth, she wasn't so sure. “This is ... this is assault. He could have killed you.”
John looked up at her. “But ...”
“I can't even begin to tend to this,” Judith said. Her medical training was nowhere near sufficient. Hannah needed proper treatment or she’d be carrying the scars for life, if they didn't get infected. Who could do this to a young woman? “What happened?”
“We argued,” Hannah rasped. She shifted, uncomfortably. Being exposed in front of her brother had to be a nightmare in itself. “I told him I didn't want to marry him. We fought. He ...”
Her voice trailed off. “I’m calling the doctor,” Judith said, firmly. “And the police.”
She reached for her personal com and tapped the emergency code. Services had been slow over the past few days - apparently, the extra demand caused by the refugees was overloading the system - but no one would risk interfering with an emergency call. She outlined what had happened, quickly, then put the phone down. The hospital staff would inform the police too, when they arrived. They had an obligation to alert the police if someone showed signs of abuse.
They’ll do something, Judith told herself, grimly. She couldn't tear her eyes off Hannah’s back, even though she knew it would embarrass her friend. Won’t they?
“I’m staying,” Hannah said. She sounded a little stronger, although Judith knew her ministrations had been largely cosmetic. “I won't go back.”
John opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead, he reached out and took his sister’s hand, holding it gently. Judith felt a sudden rush of affection that surprised her. Her brother was too old to be a real friend and playmate, although he had played with her when she'd been a little girl. There was just too great a gulf between them. But Hannah and John were friends as well as siblings, comrades in adversity ...
“My family farm will have room for you,” she said, quietly. Outside, she heard the sound of sirens. “You’ll be welcome.”
“We’ll see,” John said. “I doubt I’ll be welcome anywhere.”
***
The football match had not been a success, despite Joel’s best efforts. He’d hoped to organise a series of games against Outsider teams - it would keep some of the young boys and men occupied - but his teams had refused to play against mixed or female-only teams, leading to a series of bitter arguments. The Outsiders had counterattacked by refusing to play unless the Forsakers accepted female players ...
He scowled as he made his way back to the cottage. It was just another piece of proof that Forsakers and Outsiders couldn't co-exist. They were too different. Women were to be protected, not allowed to risk themselves on the playing fields. He shuddered to think of what would happen if a woman were hurt while playing ...
The door was ajar when he approached. A shiver ran down his spine as he peered through the door, then pushed it wide open. Hannah was gone ... a faint trail of bloodstains pointed towards the door, suggesting that she'd picked herself up and walked out of the cottage. He turned, peering down at the path, but saw nothing. Somehow, she’d made it out of the cottage and ... and what?
He searched the rest of the cottage, just in case. There was no sign of her. Her room - he thought he could look inside, as they were betrothed - was empty. There wasn't any sign that she’d changed her dress or anything, yet ... she couldn't make her way through the estate with a bloodstained dress, could she? Surely someone would have seen her? Unless ... a nasty thought struck him. John could have helped her. No one would have questioned a brother helping a sister.
Someone cleared his throat, behind him. Joel spun around, fists raised. His father stood there, eying him quizzically. Joel hastily lowered his clenched fists, cursing himself for his mistake. A son who turned against his father ... it was not to be borne.
“Father,” he said. “Have you seen Hannah?”
“Director Melbourne has arrived,” Konrad said. He didn't seem inclined to answer the question. “She has requested an immediate meeting.”
Joel was tempted to refuse. He had a major problem on his hands. Who knew what Hannah was doing? And yet, he didn't dare let anyone else handle the negotiations. Who knew what they would do? What did the Outsider bitch actually want?
“I’m coming,” he said. He took one last look around the room, then followed his father out the door. Night was gradually falling, plunging the estate into darkness. There were no streetlights, not entirely to his surprise. “What does she want?”
“She didn't say,” Konrad said. “But she did say it was urgent.”
Joel thought about it as they walked towards the guardhouse. He had no idea if whoever had designed the estate had intended the guardhouse to serve as a reception area as well as a security checkpoint, but it suited him just fine. There was no way he wanted official government officials making their way through the estate. Director Melbourne was particularly stupid - Joel didn't pretend to understand how her mind worked - but even she might notice something amiss if she looked carefully.
He cleared his throat as he stepped into the room. Director Melbourne was sitting at the table, her face grim. Her eyes flickered over him, an unreadable expression crossing her face for a long second before going blank. Joel met her eyes and knew, with a certainty that surprised him, where Hannah had gone. The treacherous bitch had betrayed them to the Outsiders!
Just like a woman, his own thoughts mocked. You should have tied her up when you left.
“This is not a social call,” Director Melbourne said. The arrogance in her voice made his blood boil. “It relates to a very serious matter.”
“That is understood,” Konrad said. “And what is this serious matter?”
“Two hours ago, a young girl was admitted into hospital,” Director Melbourne said, her voice very cold. “The doctors confirmed that she had been beaten savagely, beaten so badly that her life was in genuine danger. It was a genuine miracle that she even managed to reach the hospital before it was too late.”
“I see,” Konrad said, finally. “And this concerns us ... how?”
“The girl is your stepdaughter,” Director Melbourne said. “And her assailant was your son.”
Joel forced his face into grim immobility. His father hadn't hesitated to give him a taste of the lash when he misbehaved. He might not object to Joel teaching Hannah a lesson, after they were married, but they weren't married yet. Perhaps they’d never be married. Hannah had betrayed the entire community. She would be shunned for the rest of her life if she ever returned.
“Such conduct is unacceptable,” Director Melbourne continued. She looked at Joel, her cold eyes staring down at him. “We must insist that your son be handed over for judgement.”
“It is an internal affair,” Joel managed. The rage was back, bubbling below the surface. How dare she? “It is none of your concern.”
“It is our concern,” Director Melbourne said. She looked straight at Ko
nrad. “And as you can see, the beating was serious.”
She reached into her handbag and produced a datapad, holding it out so Konrad could see the images. Joel recoiled in shock. Someone had stripped Hannah of her dignity, not even allowing her an undergarment to cover her most private parts. Who could take such photographs? And the marks ... Konrad grunted, his face expressionless. Joel knew him well enough to understand that he was in trouble.
Director Melbourne kept her eyes on Konrad’s face, even as she returned the terminal to her handbag. “Your son has to come with me.”
Joel closed his eyes for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. His father would fold, of course. He’d never shown any enthusiasm for defending the community against outside pressure. Joel could walk into their arms or be handed over ... unless he took matters into his own hands. The commune wasn't ready to stand up for itself, not yet, but he dared not allow the precedent to stand. They couldn't make such a compromise, not without losing everything. Their future was at stake.
“I must talk to my son, alone,” Konrad said.
“If you wish,” Director Melbourne said. “But I must warn you that time is short.”
Joel followed his father into the antechamber, his mind already racing. It was time. It had to be time. They couldn't delay any longer.
“Joel,” Konrad said. “What were you thinking?”
“She insulted you, father,” Joel said. “I thought to punish her.”
“By beating her so hard she was on the verge of death?” Konrad said. “Joel ...”
“This is an internal affair,” Joel said. It was one last gamble, one last chance for his father to join them. “They have no right ...”
Konrad slapped him. “No right? By God, Joel. What were you thinking?”
Joel touched his cheek, shocked. “Father ...”
“You could have killed her,” his father said. “You had no right!”
“I had every right,” Joel said. The rage bubbled up again. This time, he let it flow. “You and the rest of the doddering old fools will betray us, like you did before. I won’t let it happen again, not here. We will reach out and take our destiny! Do you understand me?”
His father stared at him. “Joel ...”
Joel looked back. His father seemed diminished, somehow. He truly was a doddering old man - and a hypocrite too. He’d beaten Hannah - and John, and Joel himself - for far lesser offences than insulting the family patriarch. And perhaps he’d even beaten his wife - both of his wives. Now ... Joel knew, deep inside, that he would never respect his father again.
“It's time to retire,” he said, quietly. He reached into his pocket and produced the pistol. His father’s eyes went wide when he saw the weapon. “Your day is done.”
His father said nothing as Joel opened a closet and shoved him inside, carefully bolting the door afterwards. An Elder ... Forsakers were raised to listen to the Elders. Konrad wouldn't have an opportunity to subvert Joel’s followers, not now. He shouted for the guards to attend to him, then issued orders. The rest of the Elders would be under lock and key before they knew all hell was breaking loose.
Smirking, he turned and walked back into the meeting room. Director Melbourne was still sitting there, playing with her terminal. She looked up as Joel entered, her mouth dropping open as she saw the pistol in his hand. No doubt she’d believed that the Forsakers were unarmed. Didn't she know better than to trust a manifest?
“What ...?”
“I have a message for your government,” Joel said. “We are going to claim what is ours.”
Director Melbourne stared at him. Joel wrinkled his nose as he smelt urine. She’d wet herself. The stupid bitch had wet herself! He felt a rush of power at the fear and shame in her eyes, the awareness - too late - that she'd been on the wrong path all along. She lifted her hands when he jerked the pistol, his eyes automatically looking for a wedding ring. Of course there wasn't one. What sort of man would marry such a woman?
Her mouth opened, again. “What message?”
“This message,” Joel said.
He pointed the pistol at her forehead and fired.
***
John had never been in a hospital before. Indeed, he’d never been in a medical centre before, unless one counted the nurse’s office at school. He’d always hated going there, knowing that the nurse disliked Forsakers almost as much as they disliked her. But now ...
The hospital felt wrong. It was too bright, too loud ... too many men and women running around. He sat next to Hannah’s bed, holding her hand as she slept. Someone had sedated her, after using a piece of modern technology to heal her wounds. John knew he should have said something, that he should have objected to her treatment, but he knew his sister had come far too close to death. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
And what, he asked himself, does that make me.
He looked over at Judith, sitting on the far side of the bed. She’d had to argue to be allowed to stay, pointing out that Hannah needed a female companion. The doctors had looked too hassled to argue, although they had cleared it with John first. John hadn't objected. He was too busy fretting over his own life. If he wasn’t a Forsaker - and he couldn’t be, not any longer - what was he? Where did he belong?
The door to the ward opened. A pair of police officers stepped through. John felt a flicker of the old fear, backed by grim resignation, as they walked towards him. They looked ... wary, their stances suggesting they expected to be attacked at any moment. It was not reassuring.
“John, Son of John?”
“Yes,” John said, tiredly. There was no point in denying it. “That’s me.”
“We need to take your statement,” the policeman said. “Will you come with us?”
John glanced at Hannah. “Don’t worry,” Judith said. “I’ll take care of her.”
“I’ll be back,” John promised.
He followed the policemen down a corridor and into a side room. It was utterly bare, save for a handful of plastic chairs and a medical device he didn't recognise. He couldn't help thinking that the room belonged in a police station. There was something about it that fitted, somehow.
The policeman motioned for John to sit down, then sat facing him. “Start at the beginning,” he said. “What happened?”
John hesitated. It had been drilled into him time and time again, ever since he was old enough to understand. Outsider police were not to be trusted. They were enemies, just watching and waiting for a chance to attack the commune. He had been told to say nothing, to play dumb ... whatever he knew, he needed to keep it locked in his skull. And yet ...
Joel had battered Hannah so badly that he would have killed her, if she hadn't been taken to a modern hospital. And Konrad - and Hannah’s mother - had let him do it. Joel had nearly killed his stepsister, his betrothed. What loyalty did John owe him? What loyalty did he owe the commune?
No one cared, John realised.
It was a chilling thought. Hannah had to have screamed. She couldn’t have kept her mouth shut, not during such a savage beating. But no one had come to save her. Guilt stabbed through him, tearing at his heart. He was her brother, her ordained protector. What had he done to save her?
Nothing, he thought, dully. I did nothing.
“They were telling her that she would be married soon,” he said, finally. He owed Joel and Konrad nothing. Let them burn. “She didn't want to marry him. I guess Joel didn't take that too kindly.”
Of course, his thoughts mocked. And what will he do when he finds out she’s escaped?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Unsurprisingly, the steady withdrawal of the Empire’s forces prior to the Fall of Earth unleashed a nightmare. Terrorists, insurgents and various militia forces came out of hiding and struck at their enemies. There was no desire for a peaceful end to any of the conflicts, merely a desire to bring them to their end.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.
Constable Alasta
ir Gaffney gritted his teeth as the shouting, from both sides of the street, grew louder. Two groups of protesters, both probably armed to the teeth ... which idiot had thought allowing them to protest together was a good idea? The council should never have given them a protest permit ... although, with so many people angry as hell, they would not have waited for the permit before they began.
He rubbed his forehead, feeling trapped. The police were caught in the middle, watching the protesters warily. They were under strict orders to intervene if the two groups started fighting, but Alastair was honestly wondering if it would be better just to let them scrap it out and get the aggression out of their system. He’d been a policeman for ten years, ever since he’d graduated, and he’d never seen so much rage on the streets. The whole situation had just spiralled out of control.
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