Wolf Logic

by Masha du Toit

  A soft answer.

  “I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Yes, captain.”

  He was the oldest of the children, wasn’t he? The one who kept his face to the wall all the time and could move things without touching them.

  “I’m glad to hear that. You made some promises in this letter, didn’t you?”

  Again, silence.

  “Look at me, child. You heard my question. I’m not going to repeat it.”

  Another creaking sound, as if somebody was shifting in a chair. “Yes, captain,” said Joseph, his voice a little louder now.

  “And what were those promises, Joseph?”

  A trembling breath. “I promised,” said Joseph. “I promised that I would be good. And that I would...um... I would try harder.” A gulp. “And that I would stop making things grow all the time.”

  “That’s right. Very good. You remember well. And why did you make that promise, about making things grow?”

  “Because it’s a waste of power, captain. And it’s selfish. And because...because I’ve got to be in control. I’ve got to be in control at all times. I must be in charge, I must not let my power be in charge.” These words were said in a sort of rhythm, as if it was something he’d learnt by rote.

  “That is right. You are the one who is in charge. Your brain. Your decision. Isn’t that right?”

  Another pause. Then, “Yes, captain.”

  There was more rustling of paper. “Now, my boy, I have a problem. And my problem is you. Do you understand that? That you are a problem?”

  The answer came very softly. “Yes, captain.”

  “I’ve got some notes here, from Mrs Solomons. I must say, reading over these, that Mrs Solomons has been very patient with you. Maybe too patient. Do you know what she says, here in these notes?”

  A mumble.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you. And speak clearly.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what Mrs Solomons says in those—in those notes, captain.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you. She says that not only have you made no progress since the beginning of the year, you’ve actually regressed. You are not doing your exercises. You refuse to answer questions unless prompted. You don’t show any initiative, any willingness to do your part, to take control of your talent. What do you say about that. Is this true?”

  A long silence. Then, very softly, “I don’t know, captain.”

  Captain Witbooi sighed and when he spoke again, there was no trace of anger in his voice, but still, the words chilled Gia.

  “So you are saying that Mrs Solomons is lying? She’s making this up?”

  “No, captain, I didn’t mean that.” There was a note of fear in Joseph’s voice now and Gia thought the boy was probably fighting back tears. She huddled back into the cupboard, trying to find a position in which she could stay without her legs cramping.

  “And that’s not the worst thing, Joseph,” said the captain. “On several occasions you’ve caused organic materials left in your room to bud and sprout, against our explicit instructions. And now, Mrs Solomons tells me, as if this were not enough, you’ve started attacking other things as well. Things rust, painted surfaces peel...”

  “But I can’t help it, captain!” The boy was almost shouting now. “I—it happens in my sleep. Or when I’m not paying attention. I don’t know how it happens.”

  “But Joseph, that is the whole purpose of the work we are doing here. To teach you to take control of your talent. Why are you fighting us?”

  There was no answer.

  “What did you write in your letter Joseph? What did you promise?”

  A pause. And then, “That I would be in control at all times, that I would not let my power control me.”

  “That’s right. But it seems to me you’ve forgotten why you made that promise.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath and a sound of a chair being pushed back. “Oh, no, captain, please. I— I’ll try harder, captain. Please, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for ‘sorry’, Joseph. We’ve given you chance after chance, but it seems you have to learn the hard way. We’re going to apply the twitch again. It’s in that cupboard over there, in a leather box. On the bottom shelf. Please get it for me.”

  Oh shit. Gia closed her eyes and pushed herself as far back into the cupboard as she could. The soft sounds of Joseph’s feet came closer, a pause and then the squeak of a cupboard door opening. She nearly sighed with relief as she realised her hiding place was not discovered yet.

  “This one?” Joseph was so close that she could hear the slight catch of his breath as he swallowed.

  “That’s right. Right at the back, in the bottom.”

  There was the sound of something being dragged and then the cupboard banged shut.

  “Bring it over here.”

  A thump as something heavy was placed on the table. Two clicks, as if metal catches had been snapped back.

  “Plug this in over there,” said Captain Witbooi.

  The sound of steps again and something slotting into an electric wall socket.

  “Come over here.”

  There was a pause and then the sound of reluctant footsteps and a chair being pulled back.

  For a while, Gia could not make sense of the sounds she heard. Cloth rustling, the clink of what might be buckles or fastenings of some kind. Then a gentle humming noise. The sound of the “twitch” she supposed, whatever that was. It had to be some kind of machine.

  “Now Joseph. You know I don’t like doing this, do you?”

  “No, captain. I know.”

  “You know how disappointed I am about this, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I was hoping so much that we’d not have to do this again, but you’ve given me no choice.” The captain’s voice had taken on a kind of heavy solemnity.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  The humming tone rose in pitch and Gia found she was clenching her teeth, holding her breath, flinching in anticipation. She felt sick with shame at her own cowardice, longed for the strength to bang open the cupboard door and confront the captain, save the boy from whatever horrible device he was using. But she found she couldn’t move.

  There was a snap like a whip crack, Joseph gave a gasp and the humming dropped back to a low drone again.

  “Once more.”

  The process repeated again, the unbearable humming, the snap and this time Joseph gave several shuddering gasps.

  “And again.”

  Now Gia was biting her knuckles, fighting back her own tears as the process repeated itself. It was all she could do to keep her breathing quiet and all the while she hated herself for being unable to do anything but hide. At last it was over. She heard the boy break down in ragged sobs.

  “Now, now,” said Captain Witbooi softly. “You’re a big boy, Joseph. No need for all this drama. Come, give me a hug.”

  There was a rustle and Joseph’s sobs grew muffled. “It’s not me who’s doing this, you know,” said the captain softly. “It’s not my decision. It’s you, Joseph. You know how much I hate doing this.”

  “I know,” sobbed Joseph. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try harder, I promise I will.”

  “Now that’s a good boy. Come, no more of this. Blow your nose.”

  He must have given the boy a tissue, because Gia heard a snuffling sound and Joseph gave a great, shuddering sigh. “That’s better,” said the captain. “Now, come back to your room and I’ll see if I can find a chocolate for you. Would you like that?”

  There was another hitching breath and then, very softly, “Yes, sir.”

  Gia listened as they left. She stayed in the cupboard until well after she heard the outer door alarm, as the captain left for the last time. At last, she crawled out onto the floor and, shakily, got to her feet.

  -oOo-

  That evening after supper, Gia knocked on Cadet Lee’s door.

  �
�Yes?” The cadet looked tired and as if she didn’t want to be disturbed.

  “I’m sorry,” said Gia. “Could I come in? I’ve got— I need to—”

  “Okay.” Lee opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  There was an open file on her desk and several piles of paper spread out as if she’d been in the middle of sorting them.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “That’s okay. Got something you need to talk about? Sit there by the desk.”

  Gia did as she was told. She’d rehearsed what she wanted to say, but now the words were gone out of her head.

  “Is it Jooste?” said Lee. “I know she’s been giving you a bit of a hard time.”

  “Oh, no! It’s not that. I mean, she’s a bit...but it’s not that.” Gia looked around the room, noticing once again how very neat it was. “I’ve got something I need to ask you. And I want to give you this.” She took a paper-wrapped bundle out of her pocket. “You know I went home the other day? Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I told our domestic— her name is Mandy and she’s been with my family forever, she brought me up, really—” Gia shook her head, trying to find the thread of what she’d been saying. “Anyway, I told her about your arms. About that silver thing.”

  Gia tried to gauge Lee’s reaction to this, but the cadet’s face was expressionless as she took the bundle.

  “She knows about these kinds of things. I mean, she’s not magical or anything, she’s just—anyway. She made you those. She says it might help stop your arms reacting to the silver.”

  Lee looked at the bundle. For a moment, Gia was afraid that she was going to give it back, but instead, she took the paper off and unfolded the contents, two narrow lengths of soft cloth, stitched down one side.

  “Those are sleeves,” said Gia. “They should fit under the bracelets. Mandy put in quite a bit of ease, so if they’re too tight, I can adjust them for you—” Stop babbling.

  Lee was looking at the little jar that had been wrapped in the sleeves.

  “That’s a salve,” said Gia. “Mandy made it. All normal things, just coconut oil and honey and some ash, I think, but she says it will help protect your skin from the silver, when you—when. When you are doing your work.”

  Lee opened the jar and sniffed at it. She dipped a finger in the oily salve, rubbing it between two fingers.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Gia looked doubtfully at Lee, whose silence was starting to scare her.

  “Mind?” Lee looked up. “I, no. Sorry, Grobbelaar, you just took me by surprise.” She started folding the sleeves around the jar again. “This is very thoughtful of you.”

  “I just— I don’t know. I thought it might help.”

  Lee was looking at her with an odd expression, as if she was studying Gia for the first time. “But you said there was something else? You wanted to ask me something?”

  “Oh, yes.” The cadet’s reaction to her gift left Gia feeling unbalanced. Is she angry? She almost looks as though she’s scared of me. The next bit was the real risk, and she was far from sure if she was doing the right thing. “Do you know,” she started then stopped, feeling as if she were edging up to a cliff edge. Too late to back out now. Either I trust her, or I don’t. She took a deep breath and tried again. “What—what is the twitch?”

  Lee stared hard at Gia. “I’m sorry, cadet?” her voice was calm but cold. Gia’s heart was hammering now, but she knew that she had to go on. “I heard something today. In the Children’s Unit. I was helping Nurse Richards there and I accidentally overheard Captain Witbooi speaking to one of the children.”

  Lee was sitting perfectly still, her gaze riveted on Gia.

  “Um. I, I heard something that scared me.” Gia swallowed. “And I wondered if it’s— I didn’t understand what it was. I know I should not have been listening—”

  “Never mind about that,” said Lee. “Who was he with? Which of the children?”

  “It was Joseph.”

  “Go on.”

  “He seemed to be punishing him. With a machine. I think he called it a twitch.”

  “Yes.” Lee’s voice was expressionless but she’d folded her arms tightly about herself. “The twitch. I thought—but never mind. Go on.”

  “Well, that’s all, really. It’s just that it was so horrible. Joseph was—” Gia gestured helplessly. “He was just so trapped. And he apologised. He was the one who was being—hurt—and he kept saying ‘Sorry, sir’ as though he was doing something wrong, but he’s just a little boy.”

  Gia stopped. Lee had her eyes closed and she sat shrunken into herself as if she expected a blow. After a moment she spoke “And this was today. This afternoon?”

  “That’s right,” said Gia. “You didn’t know about this? That this was happening?”

  “No!” Lee’s eyes were wide now and Gia could see the white all around them. “What do you think, that I—” Then she clamped her mouth shut and visibly reined herself back. “I’m sorry, cadet. I’m a little unsettled by this. No. I did not know.” She sat, head bent and Gia saw that her hands were shaking.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go now.” Gia got up and headed for the door. As she was opening it, Lee spoke again.

  “Grobbelaar.”

  Gia turned.

  “Thanks.” Lee touched the bundle of sleeves. “Thanks for this. And thanks for telling me.”

  “Okay,” said Gia and unable to think of anything else to say she left, closing the door behind her.

  -oOo-

  After lights out Gia lay awake, troubled by the day’s events. She was finally drifting off to sleep when somebody shook her. Gia sat up, a little disoriented. Several people were moving around in the dark. One of them stood by the window, wearing a black hood pulled down to hide their face.

  Oh no. Initiation again.

  Gia got out of bed and got dressed, smothering a yawn as somebody handed her a mask.

  “Ready,” said the figure by the window. Jooste, Gia realised. And the person who’d given her the mask must be Govender.

  As before, they climbed out the window, checking for guards before they dashed into the shadows of the building opposite. This time Jooste led them by a different route. Gia could not figure out where they were heading until they reached it—a drab, brick building. The Prison Block. They were at the back, at a door flanked by a number of roller bins. Govender hunched over the lock, shaking the door gently.

  “I thought you had the key!” said Jooste.

  “I do have the key,” said Govender. “Jeez, chill will you? There. See?” The door opened and in a moment they were all inside.

  “Close it, but don’t lock it,” said Jooste. “Just in case we need to get out in a hurry.”

  That doesn’t sound too good. Gia followed the others inside. They were in a small room that smelled of disinfectant and rubbish. Beyond it was a corridor very like the one in the wolf cages, with cells on either side. The lights were on, but spaced far apart and dim, hardly enough to see by. Most of the cells seemed empty, but it was not easy to be sure.

  Jooste turned a corner down a side passage and they followed her, walking as quietly as they could. She came to the end of the passage and stopped in front of a cage. “Okay, this is far enough.” Jooste spoke louder now, as if she was no longer afraid of being overheard. “Where’s Govender?”

  “Here.” Govender pushed past the cadets, sorting through the keys.

  “Wait.” Jooste put a hand out. “Don’t open it yet. Let me say my piece first.” She looked the cadets over, her eyes lingering on Gia. “So we’ve been putting off this particular ceremony until certain people decided to grace us with their presence.” Her gaze touched on Gia and her lips twitched. “This is it. Your chance to show us whether you’re worth anything. Just signing up to be with the Youth Brigade, any idiot can do that. So we have a little tradition. To be accepted into the brigade, each of you has to prove your courage, prove you are worthy of the honour. You chicken out, you might as well go h
ome tonight. We don’t want any chicken-shit moffies in our team.”

  Govender laughed.

  “In this cage here,” Jooste continued, “is a bunch of scattercats. You heard of those? No? Okay, well look then.” She clicked on her torch and directed it into the cell. At first all Gia saw was the moving circle of bright cement, then it centred on a mass of fur with two staring eyes. She felt the cadet next to her—she thought it must be Motsepe—give a little gasp.

  “There’s about twelve of them in there.” Jooste moved the torch onto another bundle of fur. “Came in this morning, fresh from the street. Thing about scattercats is, when they get enough of a fright, they break themselves apart. Into lots of little scattercats. That’s why they’re called that.”

  “Are they dangerous?” came a worried whisper from near the back of the group. Gia recognised Clarke’s voice and wondered what the scattercats would do for her hay fever.

  “They got claws and teeth. Not venomous exactly, but a bite will give you blood poisoning. And they generally like to take a chunk out, if they can get their teeth in. Nasty little things. Once one of them goes for you, the rest all rush in as well.” Jooste drew a stunner from her belt.

  “You’ll use this. Each one of you will get a chance to go in there. Pick one and shock it until the bugger flies apart. Right? Simple enough for you? You hold it like this—” She trained the torch on her own hand, so they could see “—and press both sides like this. Don’t go and shock yourself, it’s bloody painful. So. Who’s first?”

  Gia had been listening with a growing sense of disbelief. You have got to be kidding me. Doesn’t it ever stop? First Lizzie, then that...twitch thing and now this. It’s getting beyond a joke.

  She was shaking with anger and it was all she could do not to simply turn her back on Jooste and walk away. I’m still in danger here. It’s still a really bad idea to attract attention. I can’t afford to antagonise Jooste any further.

  But there was no chance that she was going to just let this happen. Moving slowly, she edged her way to the back of the group. Luckily everyone was so focused on whatever was happening in the cage, that they hardly noticed what she was doing. She heard the clang of a lock opening and looked about her. Where is it? There’s got to be one here too, just like in the wolf cages. Ah! There it is.