“There’s an outsider. He comes and goes, stands and watches. Lucy has seen him every day this week in her croplands. Nobody knows how he gets in and out.” Kevin leaned back in the chair, took Thomas’ binder and drew his eyebrows together. He held it up.
“It’s a binder, Mr Baker. People aplenty wear them.”
“Thomas, you don’t have to keep disguising your body as a man: the people know you’re a tip-top policeman and your being a woman has nothing to do with it.”
“With all due respect councilman-”
“Please, Tom, that’s a later conversation, but right now I need you to investigate this outsider and see what he wants, okay? And should it be necessary, arrest him.”
“Very well, Mr Baker, I’ll get on that tomorrow.”
“Excellent! The people will sleep easy knowing you’re on the case.” Kevin got up and pinched his sharp trouser lines into place, shook Thomas’ hand and was gone. Thomas locked the door and rested his head against it, shutting his eyes. He took a deep breath in and whispered, “you little weasel.”
Dawn wasn’t a glorious sunrise, the sky a piece of yellow layer cake morphing through to blue, no. The haze just lightened a little and settled on eggshell white most days. The only blue skies they got anymore were when the solar winds crashed into the atmosphere, but that’s when the sun would be too hot to handle and people would stay inside lest they develop the sun-sickness.
But that season was still months away, so Thomas rose with the haze-change, ate a cold meal (overnight oats, seeds and a precious yoghurt dollop on top) and got into yesterday’s clothes. They didn’t smell so bad, but he’d have to sort out a washing ration sooner rather than later.
The settlement was still quiet, only Thomas and a growing group heading out to the croplands, greenhouse and polytunnels. He nodded to the only other living souls on his way to work and took a deep breath to mark the new work day, and a new investigation.
But as tranquil as the day had begun, that went out the window as Thomas came up to the police station, a small two-storey glass and chrome building, and he saw that councilman Baker had already spoken to those people who had seen the outside. They were a crowd twenty-strong, and Thomas knew most by name, some by sight. He put on a small, welcoming smile and climbed the short ramp leading up to the entrance. The people all began talking at once and Thomas held out his hands to quieten them.
“I understand there have been sightings, an outside who has made his way into the settlement and you are concerned by his motives. I am, today, opening a new case to determine his intentions and to take the next steps, should they be needed, to keep Settlement 16 in check. But to do this, I need to speak to you one at a time, on record, to stay within the law. So, please make your way into reception and I will call you through when I’m set up, okay? Thank you. Your patience and assistance are appreciated.”
Thomas opened up the station and let the citizens take over the reception area and the brittle plastic scoop chairs in small groups. Somebody had been generous enough to spare precious ingredients to bake a lemon drizzle cake to share, and everybody had a tea canteen. Thomas cleared his desk in interview room two (room one had been turned into a dry goods store) so the interviews might stay on track better. He took another deep breath, this one to acknowledge how patient he was right now, and then called in Lucy Williams to begin.
Lucy wheeled into Thomas’ interview room with a burlap sack on her lap. She was a black woman in her mid-thirties, a wheelchair user since her teens, and the croplands overseer. She wore no-nonsense blouses and dungarees with sturdy boots. They had known each other since they had learnt to read and Lucy had been there when Thomas had chosen his new name.
Lucy placed the sack on the desk, grinning.
“New strawberries, but don’t tell anybody, yeah?” She winked and settled her hands in her lap, all business now. Thomas allowed a small moment to select a strawberry, ruby-red and only a little bigger than his thumb nail, and pop it in his mouth. Lucy let him have a moment to luxuriate in the sweet-blooming across his tongue.
“Thank you, Lucy. Now, tell me everything you think you know about this outsider.”
“I noticed him two weeks ago, in the north-western cropland and each day he moved over one cropland, closer to the settlement. He is average height, almost skeleton-thin. He wore the same clothes, trouser, shirt and baseball cap, so I didn’t get any nitty details. Thomas, I know he’s making people nervous, but he’s just watching. This guy does nothing, doesn’t even wave or smile. I don’t think he’s dangerous, maybe just lonely? I know that’s pure speculation, but I think he would have done something by now.” Thomas scribbled everything down, nodding encouragement. There was a reason he was speaking to Lucy as his opening witness and that’s because she took the time to think things through.
“He didn’t speak to you?”
“No, nothing like that. I didn’t even attempt to approach him: harvest is nearly upon us. But I think he will be in the south-east cropland today, should he keep to the pattern.” She knocked on the tabletop with another grin.
“I knew you’d have something good. What time does he usually appear?”
“Thumbs breath preceding noon.” Thomas underlined his notes with a long line and nodded.
“I’m going to need Luke. Will you indulge me and deliver him here? I’m going to see about having a chat with this outsider.”
With Lucy’s statement delivered and with a little time spare while Luke came down to the station in his capacity as assistant, Thomas called in the next witness. He was scribbling down their name when shouting broke the relative calm in the reception. Thomas bid the witness wait while he sorted out the disturbance and poked his head about the door.
Standing in the reception, beet-red and chest heaving, wearing crumpled clothes, was Carl. Carl was Settlement 16’s original resident, knew it when it had been little more than a tent-city. He knew the place better than anybody. He had dragged in May Stimple, a child no more than nine summers whose whole body was shaking under Carl’s grip.
“Tom! You’ve got to do something about these brats” I caught this one taking a shit in the lake. That’s our water source. I don’t want to be drinking some kid’s shit!” He shook May, but she didn’t cry out, only struggled to loosen his vice-grip.
“Calm down, Carl. Let the girl go.” Thomas held up his hands and took a couple of steps into reception. “I understand your point, I do, but terrorising the children isn’t going to solve this.” All eyes were on him, and a mumbling hush settled over reception. To Carl’s credit, he did release May’s arm and she ran over to Tom, hiding behind him.
“The crystal system isn’t designed to deal with anything more than duck shit, Tom. The water source gets polluted and we won’t last.”
“Okay, Carl, I’ll tell you what I propose to do. I’ll speak to May and her dad and we’ll set up something with the teachers, get them to explain to the kids why the lake isn’t a playground or a toilet. We’ll sort this.”
“See that you do, Thomas. I won’t have our water supply taken away. I remember what it was like when we had to rely on boiling rain water and tablets. And I say, never again.” Carl stormed out, the doors crashing open and shut. Thomas whistled, shaking his head at the outburst but, truly, he understood Carl’s argument: where do you draw the line with little misdemeanours?
He took May’s hand and escorted her out the building. His assistant Luke was sprinting down the road and Thomas gave him instructions to take as many statements as possible about the outsider. He was taking May home to speak to her dad, and then would attempt to catch the outsider in the south-east cropland, “attempt” being the operative word.
May’s dad was a single parent and his little girl was everything to him since losing his partner. He was embarrassed at her actions and swore he would give May a big talking to. He was also pretty cute when he blushed.
“Just make sure she understands she isn’t in trouble, but this
is important. There are other places to use as a toilet.” Thomas shook Max’s hand and gave May a smile and a wink. He just hoped this would be the only incident, otherwise he might have to step in properly.
With a last wave at the house, Thomas began the short trek to Settlement 16’s walls. The place was built in a large grid, with the people and buildings inside the stockade. Outside the walls lay Lucy’s immaculate croplands on three sides and the lake sweeping around in a curve, an untidy horseshoe shape. Thomas climbed the ladder to the ramparts and began a slow walk around the top, nodding to the lookouts in passing. The haze was illuminated by the small sun, a cloudy yellow disk that was nearing its zenith, and a breeze was picking up, bringing with it the singing and industry-noise in the croplands. Thomas took in the outside view and then threw a rope ladder over the side to get into the south-east cropland.
The very edge was a vast greenhouse row, busy with people potting seedlings ready to be transplanted into the croplands’ soil. There were onions, peppers, carrots and broccoli, bean and pea tripods. Some labourers waved at Thomas through the glass, and he smiled and nodded back, making his way across the boards set down as a path between planting sections. He stepped onto the dry earth, already marked out with string and stakes depending on which crop was destined to take up residence, dodging and weaving around the groundwork until he was in the dead centre. It was quiet and there was a glimmer in the distance to mark the lake, where the land dipped into a natural depression. Thomas marked the time by the haze-disc and was relieved he was a little early, that maybe he would spot the outsider’s approach. But he’d been distracted by the lake-shimmer and it was only when somebody stepped up beside him that he realised he wasn’t alone. He startled, took a step back and let his heart calm a little. He hadn’t planned on what he was going to say, but the outsider beat him to it.
“My name is Edith Smith and I am here to warn you. I know my presence over the last two weeks has been suspicious, but you are in great danger. Your walls will not be enough to save you and you will be absorbed into the insatiable thirst that is coming your way.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. Edith, yeah? I’m Thomas Spencer, policeman, and concerns have been raised about your appearances around here. I have some questions I’d like answers to, as I’m sure the people would like too. So, let me ask you this: why are you here?” Thomas managed to get a glimpse under Edith’s hat and wished he hadn’t because her neck and head were puckered with livid scar tissue.
“The Raiding Queen has consolidated all the bands in the west, brought them under her banner, and now she sweeps through the land, absorbing all. My people were given a choice, join her or die. We declined, because it was our land, our right to live under our own rule. She came in the night-death and put our homes to the torch, captured everybody and started to make examples to show the whole land what happens when you deny her will. I was lucky.” Edith looked Thomas dead in the eye, tilted her head back to show him she spoke the truth. It turned his stomach, so he shut his eyes.
“How long do we have?”
“Six weeks, but I have some ideas. Let me help you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because nobody should go through what I did: things are hard enough as they are without being threatened and tortured. I can’t let it happen again.” Thomas mulled her words over a moment and decided it was too big a risk to not believe her - but he certainly didn’t trust her.
“Okay, you’ll need to speak with the council, they’re the decision makers, but go easy: we don’t need a panic.”
“I think a panic will be inevitable.”
The council chambers were the beating heart that made up Settlement 16, and sat at the centre. It was a large enough building to hold every citizen at a rare emergency meeting. Thomas escorted Edith up the back stairs, wooden and creaky, to avoid as many people as possible, at least until the council had made a decision regarding Edith’s plan. He knocked on the council chambers doors and waited, knocked again when there was no answer and decided that this couldn’t wait and opened the door, to councilman Baker’s annoyance. He had been mid-sentence, and he glowered at Thomas.
“What is this, Thomas? Didn’t I give you a job to do?”
“Yes, you did, and here’s your outsider. Her name is Edith and she has a message, a warning and I think we need to listen to her.”
“Yes, you must listen. Your town is in danger, a raiding party is heading this way and you are not in a position to hold out. She goes by the name Bandit Queen and she will show you no quarter.”
“And what evidence do you have?” Baker demanded, still standing behind his desk. Edith removed her hat and tilted her head back so they could see everything, the lips and eyelids hacked away, sick skin blossoming with grey patches, pink shiny burns and the creeping bruised scars that attracted and held the eye.
“Saints alive, she did this?” Baker’s countenance drained, something Thomas had never witnessed.
“With her own hand. Now, listen to me. I think I can help you save your people but we have to act now.”
The council, seven elected everyday people, looked at each other, panicked.
“Thomas, when I’d said to investigate, I didn’t mean bring doom on us,” Kevin whispered.
“Noted, councilman. I’ll send the signal; gather the people and we can make a start.” Thomas straightened his sidearm holster and marched out; hands clenched to stop them shaking.
The signal included lighting a beacon on the town hall’s spire and clanging the bell in the steeple. The noise echoed back, reverberated through the surrounding buildings and caused a great stirring in the streets and croplands. Jobs were abandoned and the people crushed together to get up the town halls steps, to gather in the meeting hall, a muttering, roiling body nervous.
Edith caused a stir when invited onto stage, and there poured anguish and anger as she told her story and outlined her plan. And then complete silence, eerie and haunting as though they had already been slaughtered. The plan was outlandish and dangerous - it had to work otherwise they would be destroyed, but it meant digging up great swathes in the croplands, greatly reducing the harvest later on in the year. The croplands would be lain with great spike traps, pitch traps to be set alight, and huge pits to be dug, deeper than any one man could climb out, unaided.
“And should they get through all that?” Lucy was at the crowd centre, holding her hand up.
“Then you will need to prepare yourselves, but I know that a demonstration like this will be enough to drive her away.” Edith held her hands up to placate the crowd, begging them to listen, to believe her. Lucy caught Thomas’ eye and he nodded very slightly. Trust me.
“Very well, I don’t like it - those croplands took time to prepare - but I volunteer to arrange this upheaval. All my work…” She trailed into silence, shook her head. “Cropland lottery, with me.”
The crowd parted as Lucy wheeled away, out the hall, and she was accompanied by the cropland growers, a good third in the hall. With the populace thinned - nobody had ever thought about just how many people were needed to grow their crops - a slight panic spark was threatening to kindle.
“Settlement 16, you will remain quiet,” Thomas boomed. The panic was eating into his head, making him sweat and nausea rose in his belly. Yesterday had been marked by councilman Baker’s transphobic comments and today all that had changed - everything had changed. He nodded at Edith to continue and she took centre stage again. Thomas hadn’t noticed previously that she clasped her hands behind her back to stop them shaking. Terror at the events to come? Or terror when speaking to so many people?
“I have observed your walls, and I believe they can be adapted, that trenches should be dug at the base developed to splash back murder hole pitch, the same should be done against the gate too.” Not a small task, but the citizens were coming round to the idea that their very lives were in danger: this was real. Several groups volunteered to start the grueling work involved wit
h trench digging. Panic tinged with excitement was spreading throughout the hall.
“The rest, we have the most important task, the task that’ll ensure your survival: stockpiling supplies, water and rations, stock-taking weapons and anything else paramount to survival. And I think your policeman would be best suited.” Edith gave him a small smile and nodded. Thomas stepped to the stage centre and took a breath. This was all a bad dream.
“Right, right, I propose the remnant split into six and elect a spokesperson, you will report directly to me. Decide which teams want to haul and stockpile water, vitals, medical supplies, weapons. The last two teams, you will be on reverse to swap rotas. Once you’re ready, spokespeople to me.” The hall buzzed like a wasp’s nest as the people organised themselves.
“Edith, we’re not the only town you’ve helped, are we?” Thomas caught her eye and she shook her head very slightly. “What happened to the rest?”
“They either chased me away, laughed at me or decided to give in. Nobody has taken a stand until now.”
“I just hope this works. Otherwise this’ll do more harm than good.”
“I believe in you, Thomas. Truly, I do.”
Frantic
Sophia was hauled awake by the frozen submersion of her face, neck and shoulders. Her eyes snapped open, blurry and stinging. She was sprawled on a chilled grille floor, dressed in a grubby grey vest and shorts soaked through. Her feet were bare and going purple with cold. She remembered to breathe and her breath plumed out of her mouth. Her entire emaciated body began to shake.
She managed to climb to her feet, wrapped her arms about her to try and trap what little warmth there was left under her skin. She was in a bleak, metal room with strip lighting and hydraulic doors. There was a hissing, crashing noise and what may have been shouting, screaming. She wringed suspension fluid out of her hair and stumbled up to the bulkhead. It whispered open and somebody grabbed hold of her, wrenched her into a corridor of more bleak grey grilles.
The Duck Pond Incident Page 3