The Perimeter

by Shalini Boland

  The only problem was, they looked too placid, lying in the barn resting, tongues lolling. Some were badly injured, whimpering and licking their wounds. I felt a pang of sympathy before I remembered how they’d surrounded Liss and Annabelle. How they’d gone in for the kill. No matter how cute and harmless they looked now, they were potentially dangerous creatures. And this was what I was banking on.

  After our day’s work, Denzil had gone straight back on duty. I was just about to head home to see my parents and check whether Luc was back yet, when Pa showed up at the livestock pens.

  ‘You did it then,’ he said, startling me.

  I turned to greet him. ‘Is Luc back?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry. No word yet.’

  My stomach lurched. ‘But they’ve been out for the whole day. It shouldn’t have taken that long. It’s almost dark.’

  ‘They’ll be back any time,’ he said. ‘Might even be coming through the gates right now.’

  ‘Well, if they’re not, you need to send out a search party.’

  ‘Eddie doesn’t need me chasing after him. These things always take longer than planned.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘If they’re not back by morning, we’ll do something. Rita isn’t worried, so you shouldn’t be either.’

  I highly doubted that. Rita was probably always worried about her husband and her son, just as they must worry about her. She just did a better job of appearing calmer than my mother, who was liable to make a fuss if I wasn’t wearing a warm enough sweater.

  ‘So, are things serious between you and Luc?’ Pa asked, shoving his hands into his pocket, eyes cast down to the ground.

  ‘Huh?’ I replied, not wanting to talk about it with Pa. It was . . . weird.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said, clearing his throat. Obviously not comfortable with it either, to my intense relief. ‘Luc’s a good lad.’ He coughed and changed the subject.

  ‘Nice work with the dogs today. But they look a bit tame for what we’ve got in mind.’

  ‘I know. I’m worried about that too. They were vicious out on the heath though.’

  ‘We’ll give it a go,’ he said. ‘It can’t hurt to try and it’s a good idea in principal.’

  ‘Thanks. What’s the plan for this evening?’

  ‘More preparations. Come on. We can’t hang around. Stuff to do. FJ’s supposed to be making his trade tomorrow. When Liss doesn’t show up with you, he won’t be happy.’

  We walked back in the direction of the house, the setting sun a yellow scorch behind us. Pa put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I hoped to God I’d find Luc back at the house.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Jamie

  Jamie was ushered into a room on the ground floor. A dining room by the look of it. Candles flickered in bronze candelabra, casting wavering shadows on the walls. At the head of a dark wood table, in a sparsely furnished room, sat The Voice of the Father. He wore a utilitarian warrior’s cloak and a hard look burned in his eyes. Jamie had heard a rumour that he too had been captured along with Grey, but had somehow managed to escape. He wondered if that was true.

  Once again, Jamie couldn’t help the treasonous thought that this boy was way too young for the power that had been thrust upon him. What was he? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen at the most. He was still confused as to why The Voice should be talking to a nobody like him, especially at a time like this. As Jamie stood in the warm room, his cheeks and hands afire from the contrast in temperature, he waited to hear if he was to receive a punishment, an accolade, or something entirely different.

  ‘Jacob, you are to be awarded a great honour.’

  Ahh, an accolade then. But he couldn’t for the life of him think what he’d done to deserve it.

  ‘You are to become a favoured disciple of the Church.’

  Jamie clamped his jaws together to stop his mouth from hanging open in shock.

  ‘You will carry out Our Father’s sacred duties. You will live here in The Close with us and be privy to our most revered secrets.’

  Instead of revelling in this honour, Jamie felt suspicion. Why should he become a disciple? What was the real agenda here? It was just him and Matthew in the room. If he was really to be made a disciple, why wasn’t there some kind of public ceremony? There was always a ceremony for these kinds of things. Every time someone moved up a rank, it was done before an audience, with prayers and thanks given to God. Jamie knew he didn’t deserve such a privileged position. What was the catch? Or was he being too cynical? Had years on the outside left him incapable of trust? He realised Matthew was asking him a question.

  ‘Do you have anything to say?’

  ‘I . . . I’m honoured, of course. But, I don’t understand. Why me?’

  ‘You do not need to understand, or ask why. You only need to accept. To become a true disciple of Our Father, you must prove you are worthy. Sometimes through faith or good deeds, other times through some kind of challenge or hardship.’

  Okay here we go. Jamie’s senses became hyper-alert. He was about to discover what was in store for him. What this boy-priest really wanted from him. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything easy.

  ‘Does this mean I’ll miss the battle?’ Jamie asked. ‘My brothers are leaving already.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Matthew said. ‘We will be joining our brothers in arms in a few days.’

  Jamie didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Matthew sat up straighter in his chair. His voice turned more serious.

  ‘From the thousands of trainees, teachers and warriors, you alone have been chosen to carry out this defining task that will bring you great honour. Know that you will be doing God’s work.’

  The boy was selling it to Jamie. If he needed to sell it, it definitely wasn’t going to be good.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘You have been training for this holy war. Your trainers tell me you are a good student. You have learned well. You are . . . exceptional. And so, you will therefore have the honour of killing the one who has taken Our Father.’

  Jamie let the words settle for a moment. Matthew wanted him to kill someone. This didn’t sound like a battle situation. This sounded like an execution.

  ‘I want to serve,’ Jamie said carefully, ‘and I’m honoured that you’re happy with my training. But . . . just because I killed once before, doesn’t make me a murderer. It was just a really shitty, er, terrible accident. Sorry for my language.’

  ‘You are forgiven. And of course the girl’s death was an accident,’ Matthew soothed. ‘I know you are not a cold-blooded killer. You have become a warrior and that is why you are suited to this. This is not murder, this is survival. We are fighting a holy war and you will kill this evil-doer as a soldier kills his enemies. It is what you’ve been trained for and it is a great privilege to be selected.

  ‘Our country lies in darkness, Jacob. There are those out there who seek to keep it that way. They have stolen the light from us. You will end the darkness and the bloodshed with the death of the one who has done harm to our beloved Father.’

  ‘Why was I chosen?’

  As Jamie realised what was being asked of him, he wondered for the hundredth time how he’d ended up here, in this religious settlement. He was Jamie the loser-vagrant, not Jacob the warrior.

  ‘It will become clear,’ Matthew replied. ‘There is a purpose to this as there is a purpose to everything. Sometimes that purpose is hidden, and we must try to discover it for ourselves, but other times we are lucky enough to be shown the way. By coming here, you have allowed yourself to be guided along the right path and earn God’s forgiveness. Forgiveness is a journey, Jacob.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Jamie asked. ‘Who attacked Our Father? Why did they do it?’

  ‘These are people who, if left unchecked, will never leave us alone. They will continue to attack, to try to destroy our peaceful way of life.’

  ‘Y
es, but, forgive me, who are they? Are they raiders? Or just random outsiders?’

  Matthew leant back in his chair and steepled his hands together. ‘They are a much greater threat than that. These are people who live a decadent life in a world of poverty. They do not deserve to have so much, when the rest have so little. They hoard their wealth and their resources with no thought for the rest of us. Not content with their lot, they also feel the need to come here and attack us in our home.’

  Jamie marvelled again at how such a young person could speak with so much confidence and certainty.

  ‘Jacob, you seek peace and an end to the haunting images in your mind,’ Matthew continued.’ You doubt everything around you. You question your reason for being here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jamie replied. ‘How can you know so much about how I feel?’

  ‘Because I too had doubts when I first came here. But God has a plan for us all, and your plan, Jacob, is very clear to me. It is part of the greater purpose. You were sent here for a reason.’

  ‘Can you tell me the reason? The purpose?’

  ‘You will discover it in time. You must trust me. Can you do that?’

  Jamie nodded. He had to trust Matthew, or what else was there for him? He had come here to give his life to this place, to be absolved from sin. To heal and move forward. He had never expected that murder would be asked of him. But perhaps Matthew was right. Perhaps this was a holy war and they were fighting for good. Casualties were part of war. These people, whoever they were, had attempted to harm their way of life. They had tried to kill James Grey, and that wasn’t right.

  Jamie was still no wiser as to why he specifically had been singled out, other than his prior confession. He didn’t buy the reason that he was an ‘exceptional’ fighter. Sure, he was pretty good, but there were other, far better warriors than him.

  Nevertheless, he would try to accept this responsibility and carry it out without hesitation. He had to. He was a favoured disciple now. After this, he would live in the main house and truly belong here. He’d never belonged anywhere in the whole of his adult life.

  ‘As one of Our Father’s warriors, you are bound to kill our enemies,’ Matthew said. ‘It is what you have been training for. We say these words to remind us of who we are: We are of God, and the whole world lies in wickedness. The wicked shall be overthrown and the house of the righteous shall stand. Jacob, we are the house of the righteous. Scimus quoniam ex Deo sumus et mundus totus in maligno positus es. Verte impios et non erunt domus autem iustorum permanebi.’

  Jamie recited the chant along with Matthew and as he spoke the familiar words, he felt a renewed confidence and the knowledge that they were right in what they were doing. They were blessed by God, and to carry out His work truly was the highest honour.

  ‘Deus lux mea est. Dum vivimus servimus.’

  ‘You will march south,’ Matthew said as Jamie continued to mouth the chant. ‘You will kill the one who holds Our Father. You are destined to kill this unholy murderer.’

  ‘I will march south,’ Jamie repeated. ‘I will kill the one who holds Our Father. I am destined to kill this unholy murderer.’

  Jamie stood infused with purpose and power as The Voice of the Father rose from his chair and walked toward him. He kissed his new disciple, Jacob, on his left cheek and embraced him.

  ‘We leave in three days,’ he said.

  After a night spent in The Close, Jamie was woken by the peal of bells. Yesterday’s events came rushing back to him and he briefly wondered if it had all been a dream. Opening his eyes, his surroundings told him otherwise. Gone were his quarters at the training ground, to be replaced by a comfortable bedroom, a dim lamp burning on the dresser. Brown drapes hung open at the window, the sky still dark outside. Jamie was in a proper bed, in this small cottage next to the big house. But there was no time to enjoy the unexpected comfort. His two roommates were already out of their beds and Jamie’s mind was bright and alert. He rolled out of bed, stretched and reached for his clothes, which were folded on his bedside table.

  Selected as one of Grey’s favoured disciples, he had been brought a robe to signify his rank: black with a crimson trim. Out of thousands, he was now one of the chosen few. It was hard to believe. Jamie felt self-importance swell within him, even though he knew it was a sin. The other two men were also of the same rank and he wondered if they were newly promoted too. If they had been charged with similarly important tasks.

  Right at this moment, Jamie was unsure what he was supposed to do and where he was supposed to go. He had learnt enough during his time here not to ask questions. Had grown used to following orders. So he followed the other disciples’ lead, dressing and then leaving the room. They walked down the narrow stairs in silence and entered a small dining room with eight places set. Jamie and his roommates were the last through the door. None of the others had raised their hoods, and so their faces were clearly visible, heads shorn like his own. The men appeared to be in their twenties and thirties, apart from one who appeared much older.

  Now that all eight men were seated, including Jamie, breakfast was brought in by serving men. Jamie hadn’t eaten a breakfast like this for years: toasted bread, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon, sausages and fried eggs. The only thing missing was the baked beans. The smell, this delicious smell, was a dream of long ago. The memories hit him hard. What was it called, this breakfast? A Full English. His dad’s favourite.

  He remembered, as a kid, strolling down the road to the local caff with his dad on Saturday mornings to have their full English breakfast, while his mum stayed home to have a lie-in. How could he have forgotten such a wonderful memory? The mugs of tea. The men with their newspapers. The sizzle of the frying pans and the tinny radio playing the hits of the day. His dad pretending to steal a crispy rasher of bacon off his plate. Their chatter about what he’d done in school that week. His friends. Sports. The latest video game.

  Jamie didn’t want this memory. Not now. Not when he was about to do something so far removed from that time. The image of him and his father in that café produced such a physical ache beneath his rib cage that he couldn’t enjoy a single mouthful of food. It stuck in his throat and he had to force it down. He seriously worried he might cry. Everyone ate until their plates were empty. Jamie just about managed to do the same, pushing away the distressing memory.

  The men left the table before their plates were taken away. No time for ceremony. They would be marching to battle in a few days. Jamie’s first battle. Would he be at the front with The Voice of the Father? He hoped so. It would be a good feeling to be at the head of things. Respected. Playing an important role. He wasn’t a loser anymore. He was going to make a difference. Rescue their leader. Eliminate a threat so their people – his people – could live without fear of attack.

  The eight disciples left the cottage without their weapons. The morning air was dark and damp, the tramp of boots the only sound as they walked the few hundred yards to the huge house which was The North Canonry. Entering through a rear door, they crossed the hallway and made their way into what appeared to be a small chapel. The room was almost full, with rows of warrior disciples seated on polished wooden pews. Jamie and the others took their places at the front. The Voice of the Father walked in and everybody rose to their feet.

  The morning was spent in prayer and then, after a simple lunch, the men were sent back to their rooms to sleep. In a couple of days’ time they would be leaving The Close, travelling by night, and so they needed to reverse their body clocks to become fully alert. For the next two days, they prayed and slept during the day and trained at night. Sword practice and hand-to-hand combat. It wasn’t anywhere near as rigorous as the arena training, and Jamie breezed through it all without breaking a sweat. His fitness and reflexes far surpassed his fellow disciples.

  On the third day, waking after his final afternoon nap, Jamie felt ready. He was up before his roommates this time. Dressed before they’d even opened their eyes. He opened the window a
nd looked up into the black sky, the cold air heightening his senses and catching at the back of his throat. He felt strong and brave. Purposeful and worthy. He smiled.

  As he descended the stairs and gathered his weapons from the armoury, Jamie thought of his brothers from the training ground. They would have left the arena several nights earlier, as he was originally supposed to have done, before Matthew had summoned him. They would already have completed three nights’ march. He wished they could see him now in his black robes with the crimson trim. Pity his hood was raised so no one would get to see his face.

  To Jamie’s surprise, he and his new brothers weren’t to travel on foot or on horseback. The Voice of the Father and his elite disciples were to drive down to the south. Rows of jeeps, AVs, trucks and 4x4s cluttered grassy area at the front of the North Canonry, as well as two massive fuel tankers.

  An uncloaked man approached Jamie as he stood on the grass with his brethren.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, head lowered. ‘I’m to escort you to your vehicle.’

  Jamie gave the man a nod and followed the man to a sleek black AV. The man opened the front passenger door and waited while Jamie removed his sword and AK47. The man took them from Jamie and slotted them into a rack fitted along the side of his seat. Once his weapons were secured, Jamie got into the vehicle. He didn’t recognise the driver, another warrior. The back doors opened and closed as more soldiers got in.

  This was it. They were going to war.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  It was half three in the morning before I got to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Two hours later I was still staring at the ceiling, my brain spooling back over everything that had happened and projecting forward to everything about to happen.

  That evening, I’d worked flat out without stopping. Shifting supplies and checking weapons, trying to keep busy and not think about what was happening to Luc and Eddie, who were still out there somewhere. Once more, I had begged Pa to send out a search party for them, but he wouldn’t do it. Said there was nothing to be achieved by sending guards outside at night. That it was better to wait. That Eddie had years of experience. That he and Luc would be fine.