‘Baseball bats,’ Dawdle informed us. ‘The kind made fae reclaimed plastic. Tough, smooth and very, very hard.’ The flag was white with a yellow circle crudely painted on its centre.
‘What the snaf?’ I said.
‘Thur just kids,’ Reinya snapped.
‘Yeah,’ Dawdle said, quickly stowing his bag in the provisions box below his seat. ‘But we dinnae ken what’s behind them.
‘Maybe thur orphans.’ Reinya’s face was soft and I guessed she was thinking about Kooki.
‘Who cares?’ Dawdle reached down into the water and pulled the remnant of the net into the boat.
‘Oi,’ the girl said with a booming voice that belonged to someone much older. She pointed to the net. ‘That property Sun Court.’ The way she said it gave the words upper case status.
‘Ah dinnae gie a snaf who it belongs tae,’ Dawdle shouted. ‘Let us through.’
‘What’s Sun Court?’ I asked.
‘We Sun Court.’ The girl said, spreading her arms and twirling in a circle.
‘Oh no. Look,’ Reinya said pointing right and left to the escarpment. The skyline began to blot out as ragged children appeared. Hundreds of them aged between about four and twelve years of age. Each carried a crude weapon. Catapults, slings and more of those plastic bats.
‘Jupe sake,’ I said.
‘Who’s boss?’ Reinya shouted to the girl.
‘I boss,’ the girl answered and her little bodyguards nodded in agreement.
‘Who cares? Let us past.’ Dawdle’s face pulsed with boiled blood. He was beeling.
‘No! Ransom,’ the girl said rubbing her fingers together to denote the need for credit.
‘We don’t have anything to give you,’ I said in the most reasoned voice I could muster.
‘Liars,’ said she of few words.
Dawdle looked at the bags under our seats that contained all the goods we had to last the journey.
‘We’ve nuthin tae give,’ he said. The girl narrowed her eyes at Dawdle. The kids on the ridge stretched their slings. ‘Look, if ye let us past we won’t tell anybudy yer here.’
Reinya sniffed. ‘Yeah and that’ll work. Look at thum, they don’t care.’
‘You’re little kids, should be in a reservation,’ I said. ‘We can help you. We know a good one where you’ll be safe.’
‘What’s wrong wi you two?’ Reinya started. The girl moved down the barricade, held her hand up.
‘No look…’ Dawdle said holding up his hand in peace. The girl dropped her left arm and a rain of pebbles fell on us from the left flank. I cowered and held my arms over my head, but a rock the size of a builder’s fist bounced off my shoulder and a searing pain shot through my wounded arm. I could hear Reinya yelp as she was being pepper-dashed by chuckies.
The girl held up her right arm. ‘This side – boulders, rocks. Give us ransom.’
‘Just give them the bloody stuff, Dawdle. You’ll be able to get more,’ I said, wiping blood from my hand. Dawdle stood up in the canoe, setting it rocking.
‘Ah’m Noiri, nae kid’s stealing fae me.’
The girl began to let her arm fall.
‘Stop!’ Reinya shouted. And miraculously she did. ‘Dawdle, we won’t tell. Just give thum the stuff.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘We’ve no choice,’ she said.
‘OK.’ He turned to the girl who still had her arm ready to fall. ‘You win, hen,’ Dawdle said through gritted teeth. ‘How bouts we gie ye half?’
The girl jumped onto the boat, rocking it violently.
‘All,’ she said.
The throb on Dawdle’s neck bounced in jig time as he handed over the supplies. ‘Know what, wee hen, ye’ll come a cropper wan day.’
She spat in his face. ‘Animal.’
‘Cheers hen,’ he said, wiping the gob off.
Reinya held her hand up as if asking permission to speak. ‘’ow long ‘ave you been on your own?’
‘Always,’ the girl said.
She passed the bundles to the two small boys who now stood in the water at the canal edge, but after the first bundle they began to fight over a can of beans. The girl pulled a sling from her back pocket and with lightning speed fired a pebble into the older one’s shoulder blade. The boy sank down and started to cry. The other went to pick up the bundle. ‘Leave,’ she shouted and signalled to another boy to come and help.
‘’ow many o you are thur?’ Reinya really wouldn’t let it go.
‘Too many.’
Reinya turned to Dawdle. ‘Can you not ‘elp thum?’
‘What? The thievin bint just spat on me.’
‘They’re starvin.’
‘No charity, remember.’
‘Can we at least tell The Prince about thum? Maybe we can get ‘elp to thum.’
‘Aye and maybe you can just blow them up.’
Reinya threw a discarded pebble at him. ‘Unfair.’
‘Aye, Dawdle,’ I said. ‘Can we please let it go?’
The girl finished unloading the loot and left them. She signalled to a couple of kids on the barricade who began to move some duckboards aside.
I pointed to them. ‘Look Reinya. They’re doing OK.’
‘What if someone exploits thum?’
‘That’s life,’ Dawdle said. His cruel sentiments stunned me but he was looking behind him so I couldn’t see if he really meant his words.
Soon a small gap opened in the barricade and the girl was true to her word. ‘Sun Court bids you farewell.’ There was pomp in her words that definitely did not suit her rough exterior.
‘Bloody highway men,’ Dawdle said through gritted teeth.
We had only just passed through when the barricade closed behind us.
‘It really is a clever structure. Resourceful.’
‘Aye well, you tell yer Pa, Sorlie. Get him tae set up a school fur thieves here. Ah’m sure they’ll serve him well.’
As we rounded the next bend I looked back and noticed the girl still stood watching us from the top of the barricade, a baseball bat in her hand and a weary look in her eye.
‘They won’t last long,’ the prophet Dawdle said.
‘Uh’m coming back to ‘elp thum when this is over.’
‘It’ll never be ower enough fur them,’ Dawdle said with something like regret in his voice.
A few kiloms further on we passed the ramparts of a ruined city where the same yellow sun flag tattered in the breeze. The Sun Court. This sun had rays coming from it like a child’s picture.
‘At least they’re optimistic.’
‘Uh wonder ‘ow they survive.’
Dawdle pointed to the bank. ‘There’s yer answer.’
Along the canal bank crude plastic hutches held grey rabbits, crammed in with only a few cents living space each. ‘Being fattened fur the pot. They must trap them.’
‘I expected something more gruesome,’ I said.
Dawdle stopped paddling. ‘What dae ye mean?’ he snapped.
‘I don’t know, what’s wrong with you? What did you think I meant?’
‘Nothin.’ But it was obvious he’d been rattled.
‘What did you mean, Sorlie?’ Reinya asked.
‘I don’t know. Rats or something.’ Why were they picking on me? Everyone knew the Noiri dealt in contra meat. What was the big deal? ‘Sorry I mentioned it.’
The Noiri van was where Dawdle said it would be. Of course it had been ransacked but a secure floor compartment was still intact and soon we were tucking into tinned beans and oat crackers.
‘It isn’t right,’ Reinya said with her mouth full.
‘What?’
‘We’ve so much and they’ve so little.’
‘Oh here we go.’ Dawdle sat back on his heels. ‘We just gave them aw our stuff.’
‘Still.’ Was all she could reply.
‘And how long ago was it you wur in a reservation wi yer junkie maw and then on a stinkin prison ship? Yer life’s been shit so far, Reinya. Dinnae feel sorry fur them.’
‘Uh can’t ‘elp it.’
‘Let me tell ye. Ah’ve busted a gut fur this stuff here and that stuff back there that they stole. The Noiri is nae charity. They kids’ll be aw right. Well, the lassie will onyway. Did ye no see her? Man, what a brute.’
‘But still.’
‘Nae buts, Reinya. That’s the way o the world, wee hen. Always hus been, always will be, nae matter how many wars and revolutions there are tae change it. Survival o the fittest.’
‘Then why are we embarking on this mission?’ I had to ask.
Dawdle sat back and picked something out of his teeth with a splinter. ‘Because sometimes the fittest aren’t at the top tae begin wi. We’re just gonnae change the stakes some.’
Ishbel
The forest was dense. She ran through already woven, well-trodden paths, to avoid breaking branches and giving away her route.
She didn’t stop until her lungs felt as though they were bursting through her ribs and her head was dizzy from lack of oxygen. Before she checked her communicator for co-ordinates she sent out a silent prayer to her ancestors that they had sent her the right way.
She checked – they had. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered into the past.
She’d put twenty kiloms between her and the death camp. If she had gone wrong she would have had some catch up.
She climbed a tree and sat in the branches to plan her next move. She’d lost two days since landfall but she was now alone so reckoned she could travel quicker. The Prince had wanted a landing party, safety in numbers, but if she was honest she always worked best alone; all she needed was her communicator that was now recharging in the dim daylight. She’d find water and she could live off roots; she’d done it before. The thought of food cramped her stomach. She reached out her hand to the branch and grabbed a fistful of snow and sucked it. It nipped her nose and lips. She held it to her mouth, tingling her teeth especially around her new-filled molar where they had replaced the pill Dawdle had ripped from the mouth at the tower. She had wanted to punch him back then but if she had she might well have used it and wouldn’t be here today. She hoped Dawdle was taking good care of Sorlie. She knew their mission was connected to hers, but The Prince’s paranoia had kept the details from her. She would find out soon enough.
She placed more snow on her tongue. Even though she knew the snowfall was not safe without purifying first she had no choice. Once in a while wouldn’t do her much harm. She always reckoned the State propaganda machine pumped up the danger of rainwater ever since the tree-hugging Land Reclaimists got in power. More paranoia meant more for the people to worry about, which led to fewer protests about their lot and the State had a nice little earner on puri tabs.
She checked her pockets. She did have puri tabs but didn’t want to waste them on a handful of snow. She also found her clicker. She used it now, just a couple of SOSs to try it out. In this wasteland anyone around would be either Resistance or local. Locals would probably think it was some weird birdcall. Only the Resistance knew the real call. There was no return. She took another handful of snow and sucked. Her head stabbed with brain freeze. This would have to do her for a while, she had too many kiloms to tramp. A clump of snow fell from the tree and dropped under her collar. The wind was picking up and her comms told her soon a gale would howl through the trees. At least the snow had ceased for once and a weak sun was struggling through white clouds; the light on the trees looked almost pretty. She heard a growling close by and thought again about the Big Foot. But the noise came from her belly and a cramp followed. Time to move.
Memories are the one thing the State cannot take from you. Her sister Kathleen’s mantra ran through Ishbel’s mind as she squatted in the snow to relieve herself for the fourth time in an hour. Eating snow was maybe not so good for her after all. She would squat for a bit longer just to make sure her bowels were completely empty. Memories are the one thing the State cannot take from you. Kathleen had instilled it in Sorlie’s head as if that was all that mattered. And he believed her and carried the memory of his mother and her death like a badge of honour. But Kathleen had been wrong. There were other things the State couldn’t take. Integrity, loyalty and love. Kathleen should never have allowed herself to be sacrificed in her Hero in Death suicide mission. Ishbel now knew that Kathleen and The Prince had been working, scheming, to take over Vanora’s operation long before his disappearance. Why hadn’t they taken Sorlie out of the Military Base before things had escalated to the point where he had to flee? There must have been somewhere safe. Ishbel felt her anger towards them bubble like the acid in her stomach. Maybe the State could take love from her after all because all she felt for Sorlie’s parents at this point was hatred. Instead of protecting her son, Kathleen had allowed herself to be martyred and with The Prince’s subsequent disappearance, Sorlie had believed himself orphaned. Ishbel had been left with no option but to take him to Black Rock and deposit him into the hands of his grandfather, Davie. But of course that had been in The Prince’s plan all along. The poor boy had been yanked from his cosseted life, an innocent who spent his days working through his Academy lessons at breakneck speed so he could get to virtual wrestling with his pal, Jake. He became a man almost from the minute he heard of his mother’s death.
Ishbel spat in the snow, trying to rid herself of the memories. The State could have them. She looked back at her tracks in the snow. She should have tried harder to muddy them to prevent the cannibals following her. The sky held no trace of a further snowfall that might help camouflage her footprints; soon they’d freeze and the trail would be etched onto the path. The sky, for once studded with stars and satellites, the clouds dispersed. She checked her compass and pulled herself to standing, fastened her breeches then set off east. As long as she kept to the bearing she knew she would eventually hit the Bieberville border. The wind gusted, picking up and throwing snow into her face. Good, she thought, some of that would obscure her tracks. She pulled her hood over her head. The wind tugged at it, trying to tear it from her. When she tightened the string the sounds from outside became muffled, like a cocoon. Something flapped by her head, made her jump. A goose flew across her path, inches from her face, warning her off its territory. She wished she had a net, she could do with some food. The thought of food made her stomach bubble again, she picked up a clean handful of snow and sucked it away knowing it was wrong.
She hit a wide track – a logger’s trail – and was tempted to follow it to make the going easier. There were deep ruts and her footprints disappeared into them. She ran on the track for a couple of kiloms, south east. She would pick up her bearing further down the track, once she’d made up some lost time. Her breathing settled into a steady rhythm. She felt good running, despite her upset, better than she had in years. Her arms worked as pistons and with each stride she cast off another of the bitter memories that had claimed her. She wanted to run to the ends of the earth but knew there was no such thing and eventually she would need to stop and face her responsibilities.
A light flashed through the trees but she knew it wasn’t a settlement. It moved, the track bent to the left. A vehicle was approaching. She ducked off the trail and climbed a tree. It was a Military Jeep. The cab light showed the driver. He was alone. Maybe she could ambush him, take the Jeep. He was just a boy, she could easily overpower him. There was something familiar about him. He reminded her of one of Sorlie’s friends. Normally he hung out with his friends in a virtual world but now and again one would risk the Infections Avoidance Act and come visit in person. He was like the one who disappeared after he’d asked an awkward question of his tutor. She remembered Sorlie asking his parents and they had shut his question down in click time. The tutor had disappeared too.
As the Jeep crawled past, skidding in the deep rut, she managed a better look. It was so like him, but he was bound to be dead by now. Boys of that age all look the same.
The Jeep drove on and Ishbel suddenly felt weary. The tree she nestled in had wide branch junctions. It would be properly dark soon. The sweat she had worked up on her run now chilled her. She unclipped her belt and tied it around the trunk and then fastened it to her tunic buckle. It would hold her while she slept. She huddled into her jacket, trying to forget the cold. A power nap would be enough to give her the strength to get through her night journey. She would rest again at daybreak. She had a long way to go, she should pace herself.
She woke to the sound of the goose returning from its flight. It was still too dark to watch it settle on its feeding ground. It was not the season for breeding so she washed the pleasant thought of eggs from her mind. There would be no eggs.
Dark crept through the western forest. She’d slept too long. When she moved her limbs they were stiff. She was only twenty-one winters old and yet often these days she felt like an oldie. She unclipped her belt, swung down and walked off the track into the forest. Crusted snow was broken by prints. Huge distorted paws, twice the size of adult feet, bigger than the diameter of the huge Steadie porridge pot. The prints had a strange ridged pattern that ran from toe to heel. It was a most peculiar sight and like no animal she’d seen before. The sky clouded over again and she could smell fresh snow on the wind. The tracks led away from her in the direction she was heading. Could this be the Big Foot the boy told her of?
Far off in the distance she heard a roar like a bear from her homeland before they disappeared for good. A knot of bad told her to stay where she was but she had her mission and time was running out. Big Foot or bear would have to be faced if she was to get to Bieberville on time.
Star of Hope Page 10