Gia had taken some discarded printouts from a bin in the data capture room. The paper was much nicer to draw on than the glossy brochure had been. It was a comfort to let the pencil wander where it would, drawing without conscious direction.
She’d taken her lunch break with Nurse Richards. The woman was friendly and talkative and seemed only too glad to answer Gia’s questions.
There were other children, as it turned out, but Richards did not know where they were kept. “Probably at Groote Schuur Hospital, with Mrs Solomons,” she’d guessed. Most of them were what she called “day patients,” who visited the hospital to be observed, but stayed with their families the rest of the time. They were only minimally talented, and didn’t interest the captain much.
Nurse Richard was proud of the five children in her care and seemed quite fond of them. When Gia asked whether their parents ever came to visit, she shook her head. “It’s all part of the agreement, you know. The parents sign them over. The children are wards of the state now. I suppose you could say that the captain is their legal father. Not that all of them have living parents anyway.”
Mienkie was an orphan, although apparently she did not know this yet. “Always asking after her mother, poor little thing,” Nurse Richards had said. “Captain says she’s too young to understand, so we just tell her that her mommy and daddy have gone somewhere far away. The captain knows best, I suppose, but it doesn’t seem quite right to me. The kiddies understand much more than we give them credit for. But well—the captain and Mrs Solomons are much more qualified about these things than me and Cadet Lee.”
Lungile was another one who did not have parents. He’d been a street child when he was discovered. “Although, he sometimes talks about his mommy too. I don’t know if he could really remember her. I think he just makes up stories to comfort himself.”
All of the children had a magical talent of one kind or another, with Mienkie being by far the strongest. She could project her voice directly into another person’s mind, talk to them even over a considerable distance. Joseph could move objects without touching them, although this only worked with natural objects like twigs or shells. “Nothing that’s been made. Coins, buttons, things like that, he can’t do anything with.”
Lungile had an affinity with animals and could get them to obey him without any apparent effort. “It’s quite something to see,” Nurse Richards had said. “Cats and dogs, they just come to him. Birds too. But he’s a very shy, that one. The least bit of pressure and he just curls up like a little bug.”
Peet and Patrick were brothers. “They’re very strange. They can’t really do anything when they’re separate, but when they’re together and holding hands, they answer questions. You know, about things that they can’t possibly know the answers to. The captain’s been testing them about all kinds of things. Politics, things like that, and they come up with people’s names, dates, places they’ve never been to...it’s uncanny.”
Gia found that she’d drawn a face: a small face with large eyes and long, black hair. Mienkie, looking out at her from the page among the other doodles.
At least Nico’s got me looking for him, wherever he is. And Dad too and Mandy. Granny, the caretaker, all of us willing to do whatever it takes to get him back. How can somebody give their child to Special Branch?
Maybe it was worth having a look at these children’s files. She might learn something more about them. Something worth knowing.
The nurse had confirmed what Cadet Lee had said about the tenuous future of the Children’s Unit. She’d told Gia about the rumours that the captain’s projects were losing funding from “the higher ups”. Doctor Scubbe was having more success with his technological approach.
“The doctor wants to shut us down,” Nurse Richards had said. “But he can’t do it while the programme is still showing results. And the captain’s not going to let it go without a fight.”
Gia blinked. The pencil had wobbled in her hand. She must be nearly asleep—it had felt almost as if somebody had reached out and tapped on the pencil. And now the point was digging into the page as if she was pushing too hard.
She frowned down at the pencil, but when nothing else happened she decided that she must have imagined it.
There it was again. A pulse and a wriggle, as if she were holding something alive. It took an effort not to simply drop the thing. It can’t bite you. But her heart was beating fast, now. Nobody was watching her. The other cadets were sitting on their beds, chatting, or brushing their hair, going through the familiar evening routine.
The pencil twitched in her fingers again, bucking quite strongly, now, as if it wanted to jerk free.
What would happen... She relaxed her hand, hardly holding it now. The pencil, balanced on its point, rested lightly in the circle of her thumb and forefinger. Gia held her breath. Nothing.
Then there was the slightest twitch. And another. It was moving completely by itself now. She moved her hand to keep up with it, following its laborious track down the page. Then it gave a little jump, moved up the page and then down once again.
Gia found she was holding her breath as the pencil dragged its way across the paper. The line was wobbly and a little skew, but the thing was moving with increasing confidence. It hopped to a new spot and drew a straight line down. Then a shaky oblong. At last, it jumped in her hand, making a little double hop that communicated quite clearly: Finished now.
Wondering, Gia looked at the marks it had left. It wasn’t a drawing. And the lines didn’t look quite random, either. They almost looked like crude letters. That first one was could be a “C”, or was it a “G”? And the next one could only be a “i”. If the last one was—
Gia. It spelt Gia.
Gia stared at the page. There was no denying it. The letters were wobbly and over large but it was definitely not her imagination. She found that she was rubbing at the hand that had held the pencil as if to wipe off a stain.
Okay. I don’t understand this, but nothing...bad has happened so far.
She thought of the little dark-eyed girl she’d seen earlier that day. The tapping against her temples as Mienkie had reached out with her psychic fingers. Was this, somehow, her doing? But how could she get past the metal shielding on not just one, but two doors? Maybe the fact that Gia had been drawing her face had something to do with it.
Swallowing down the fear, she forced herself to pick up the pencil again. At first nothing happened and she was not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Then it gave a twitch and started moving again.
G...i...a...
And then, h...e...r...e...t...h...i...s...m...e...
Gia frowned at the wobbling letters. Herethisme. Here this me.
If Mienkie could read her thoughts, did that mean she’d sensed Gia’s realisation that this was a message from her? But the pencil was moving again.
tired now
It gave another twitch and then it lay quite still.
Gia sat on the windowsill until she was forced into bed by lights out. Even then she lay awake for a long time, staring into the dark.
-oOo-
“Daydreaming, cadet?”
Gia felt the doctor’s hand on her elbow and forced herself not to wince away from his touch. It had been a long morning and she’d already earned several reprimands for not concentrating on her tasks. Her thoughts kept returning to the messages she’d received last night. Now, under the doctor’s gaze, she felt as though she’d finally woken.
“Sir?”
“We need you again.” Doctor Scubbe tapped his clipboard. “Doing another test on the werewolf just now. And Kemp said you were to be there.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Lizzie came into the workroom, flanked by Kemp and Pienaar, it took Gia a moment to recognise her. She’d known Lizzie would be in her human phase, but she’d still at some level expected to see her as she’d been before, with her aquiline dog-head.
Now that she was fully human, Gia realised how tall L
izzie was, how broad her shoulders were. Her body was lithe as a cat’s and she held herself with the unconscious grace of an athlete. It was clear that she was a werewolf. Her jaw was a touch too strong, the slant of her cheekbones too extreme. Her eyes were hidden behind a tight black blindfold, but she turned her head slightly this way and that, as if responding to scents or sounds.
“Strap her in,” said the doctor as Kemp and Pienaar led the girl to the chair. She did not resist. As Pienaar tightened her chest straps, she turned her blindfolded face towards Gia.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice was low, with a scratch like the rasp of a cat’s tongue. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Gia felt her face heat up as she blushed. “Uh?” she managed.
A smile flickered for a moment on Lizzie’s lips. “Joking,” she mouthed then she lay back in her chair. Gia saw how tightly she held the arm rests.
She’s terrified.
“You going to give us trouble, wolf?” said Doctor Scubbe and Lizzie’s head turned towards him. “As long as the girl stays here, I’ll behave,” she said softly.
The doctor’s eyebrows went up. “Really? And why is that?”
Lizzie shifted herself in the chair, as if she were getting comfortable. “Oh, I don’t know. So I can fool myself that there are still good people in the world?” She licked her lips and Gia saw the swift pulse beating in her neck. Why doesn’t she just scream? But she was grateful for the werewolf’s calm, strained though it was.
“I’m here,” Gia said, touching Lizzie’s arm. For some reason she felt shy of doing so. It was different, somehow, now that the werewolf had her human shape.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” said Lizzie.
“Gia,” said Gia and then blushing again, added, “Um, I mean, Cadet Grobbelaar.”
“Nice to meet you, Gia,” whispered Lizzie and turned to receive the gas mask Mantjies was lowering towards her face.
-oOo-
It was worse than the first time.
Gia wasn’t sure if it was because Lizzie looked human now, or whether Mantjies was trying out different gas combinations. Or maybe the substances they tested were the same, but Lizzie was more sensitive to them in her human form. It took all Gia’s self control to stay in the room and watch as Lizzie laboured to breathe and her body arched in pain. At one point they had to undo the mask and chest straps to allow Lizzie to vomit into a bucket.
Sergeant Kemp watched in chill disapproval. “You’ll end up killing her.” She glared at Doctor Scubbe. “And I don’t have an endless supply of high-functioning werewolves you can mess around with.”
In that moment, with everyone’s attention focused on the sergeant, the werewolf took her chance. The bucket went flying, clipping Gia painfully on the chin. The chair rocked as Lizzie got herself half upright, her face set in a snarl of concentration. She grasped the strap around her hips, neck muscles cording as she twisted. Time seemed to slow and Gia heard the creak of the strap and the grunt as Lizzie took another breath. A bolt popped loose with a twang. Then Pienaar reached across, shoved Gia against the counter, and pressed something against Lizzie’s neck. The werewolf bucked once, eyes rolled backwards and she collapsed limply back on the chair.
Kemp ordered Gia away. “Go wash your face, cadet.” She obeyed, grateful to be out of the sour-smelling little room. Afterwards, she went to find Mantjies and Lee out on the courtyard steps.
“Jissie, you look bad,” said Mantjies. “You sure you can go on with this?”
Gia nodded, privately thinking Cadet Lee looked more in need of reprieve than she did herself. Her bracelets must be burning her, but Lee would not want this mentioned in front of Mantjies.
After some time, Pienaar came out to them. “Doctor says we’ll carry on tomorrow. Sergeant Kemp won’t let him do any more today. You guys, I want to show you something.”
Back in the room, he pointed out the strap-anchors all along one side of the chair. “There’s no way she could have broken that strap once-off,” said Pienaar. “But see how all of these are worn and bent. She’s been working on them all along. Bearing just in the right direction, wearing away at them...” He shook his head. “Clever girl.”
“But why?” said Mantjies. “What’s the point? Just to get loose and kill one of us? We’d get her again in a moment. Like you did. She’s got to know that, right?” He looked at Gia. “You still think you can be buddies with a werewolf, cadet? If she’d felt like it, she could have snapped your neck and none of us could have done a thing to stop her.”
Pienaar shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in a were’s head. We’d better get busy replacing these before the doctor comes back.”
-oOo-
Gia didn’t eat much at lunch and was still feeling a little bit shaky on her way to the data capture room when a young constable intercepted her. “You’re Grobbelaar, aren’t you? Captain wants to speak to you.”
She followed him, hoping she did not look as guilty as she felt. What could it be this time? The constable knocked at the captain’s door, then gestured her to go inside at his “Come in!”
Captain Witbooi stood with his back to her, looking out the window. He did not turn as she entered, and Gia stood uneasily by the door, unsure of what to do.
“Come in and sit down, cadet.”
Gia chose one of the chairs facing the captain’s desk, sitting on the edge of it.
“So. You have some interesting friends, don’t you, Cadet Grobbelaar?” Captain Witbooi’s tone was cool and the set of his shoulders showed his tension.
Gia licked her lips uncertainly. “Sir?”
He turned and looked at her. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Luxulo Langa?”
“I’m—sorry, sir? I don’t—”
“Cadet Grobbelaar, I’ve just received a most interesting letter. Requesting your presence, tomorrow evening, at the residence of Luxulo Langa’s fiancée.”
“Captain, you mean—Kavitha? Kavitha Pillay?”
“That is correct.”
Gia’s thoughts raced as she stared at the captain in bewilderment. “Why?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that, cadet. But maybe this will clarify things. This letter. Which I was ordered to deliver to you unopened.” He pointed at his desk and Gia saw a small, blue envelope lying there. “I don’t have to explain to you, cadet, that this is most irregular.”
“No, sir. I mean, I understand that, sir.” Gia looked from the captain back to the envelope, unsure what to do.
“Go ahead, cadet. Open it.”
The envelope was delicately scented. Gia did not recognise the handwriting, but her eye went first to the bottom of the letter, which confirmed her guess. Kavitha Pillay.
Very aware of the captain’s scrutiny she read the rest of the note.
Dear Gia
As you probably know, the gown is now finished, but I won’t feel truly comfortable that it is perfect without your final say-so. It’s your design, after all! Your father tells me that you are a cadet at Valkenberg but I’m sure you will be allowed home for one evening, so that you can do the final check on the fit. In fact, your father has been quite insistent on this point. So be sure to come!
Yours
Kavitha Pillay
Trying to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips Gia folded the note and slipped it back in the envelope.
This must be Dad’s idea. He made her write this note, just so he could get me home and speak to me. She felt a sudden up rushing of longing to be home again. Then the ever-present worry came back. What if he has bad news, something about Nico, or about Mom? Whatever it was, she would have to face it.
“I won’t ask you to show me that letter, cadet,” said Captain Witbooi. “But I must ask you in what capacity you know Luxulo Langa. There is nothing in your file to suggest any such thing.”
“I don’t know Mr Langa,” Gia said. “I’ve not met him, or anything, but I have met Kavitha a few times.”
; “And how is that?” Captain Witbooi moved over to his desk and sat in his chair, swivelling to face Gia. “I would not have thought that you moved in those circles.”
“Well, no, I don’t, captain.” But how much can I tell him? The whole wedding thing is supposed to be a secret. Surely if Luxulo didn’t mind the captain knowing that me and Dad are the ones designing Kavitha’s wedding gown, he’d have told him.
“Um,” she said uneasily, “I—I’m sorry, captain, but I was told that Mr Langa would not want me to tell anybody how I—why I—met Kavitha, I mean.”
The gathering frown on the captain’s face told Gia she was not going about this in the right way. “I wish I could tell you, captain, but—um. If he wanted you to know—”
“He would tell me himself. Is that what you want to say, cadet?”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Witbooi pushed his jaw from side to side, staring at Gia as he considered this. Then he gave an abrupt nod. “Very well, cadet. I must tell you that this does not make me happy. I don’t like cloak-and-dagger stuff, particularly among my own cadets. But I suppose that I cannot ask you to divulge secrets that Mr Langa himself has ordered you to keep. Very well. You have my permission to accept this invitation. I was told that a car will be sent to pick you up on Wednesday afternoon. That will be all, cadet.”
Gia got to her feet so fast that her chair rolled backwards. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir.” Then she left as quickly as she dared.
-oOo-
Late for data capture, Gia once again took a seat at the back of the room. She’d been worried about Warrant Officer Naudé’s reaction to her late arrival, but he was not there. Instead an officer Gia had not seen before led the session, a young woman called Sergeant Abrahams. She did not seem much older than most of the recruits she was teaching and she took Gia’s late entrance in her stride.
“You haven’t missed much so far, cadet,” she said as Gia took her seat. “I was just explaining that we’ll be doing some more skills training today, so I’ll be taking over the next couple of sessions.” Abrahams turned to the rest of the class. “So far, you guys have been inputting data manually, right? Reading off paper and typing stuff in. But that’s not always the best way. Today I’m going to show you how to use our scanner—” She nodded at a boxy shape against the wall. “—to capture data from printouts and then we’ll also look at how to print things out. You guys will soon learn that if there’s one thing in this place that’s sure to be f— Um, to be messed up, it’s the printer network. So be prepared to be really patient.” She grinned at her students and Gia found herself returning the smile. It was difficult not to like the enthusiastic sergeant.
Wolf Logic Page 17