Pulse Point

by Colleen Nelson

  Raf gripped the walking stick in both hands, raised it above his head and plunged it deep into the animal’s neck. A gurgle of blood spilled from its mouth. It spasmed once. Twice. And then lay still. My breath came in short bursts and I started trembling. “Is it dead?” I could smell my own piss.

  Raf yanked the stick out of the animal. The pointed end was covered in blood. He wiped the blood on his fingers and rubbed them together, then smeared it across his cheeks. I watched him, horrified. He held his stick up in ready position and peered across the stream into the forest. There was no movement. “This one is.”

  I pointed to a rip in his suit. “Are you hurt?”

  He glanced at it, pulling the fabric closer for inspection. “Didn’t puncture the skin. These suits are tough. We better keep moving. They’ve got our scent now. They’ll be back.”

  Panic rose in me at the thought of being tracked. What if the pack grew? What if next time, it was ten against two?

  “They wanted to kill us.”

  “They want us off their Mountain. I told you they were territorial.”

  I grabbed my pack with shaking hands. If they came back, the knife I’d brought wouldn’t suffice. I needed something ready, something that could bludgeon. I grabbed a branch from the ground. It was heavy, the diameter of my calf and as long as my forearm. Strips of wet bark peeled off the sides, uncovering the wood underneath. As I took a few practice swings, I felt the weight of it rip through the air. If those beasts came at me again, I’d be ready.

  Raf grunted his approval and started walking. I gripped the club in my hand and a thought flickered in my mind. The club wasn’t just a weapon against a beast; a blow across the back of the head could kill a man too.

  Kaia

  “You let her sleep in your hut?” A female’s shout woke me. I didn’t know how long I’d been sleeping, but when I tried to sit up, my back and legs were so stiff, I groaned. I pulled back the covers and lifted the bandage to look at my throbbing knee. I was relieved to see infection hadn’t spread. The poultice must have helped.

  I stood up and hobbled to the door.

  Outside, the red-haired Prim named Nadia stood glaring at Gideon as he sat on a stone, calmly tending to a small fire. “Where should I have let her sleep? In the garden?”

  “She could have slit your neck in the night,” Nadia hissed.

  I cleared my throat and pushed the door open further. It was at least midday, the sun was high overhead. The girl stared and I stared back. “I couldn’t slit his neck,” I said, wryly. “He has my knife.”

  Gideon shot me a look. “That’ll put her mind at ease.”

  I turned to Nadia, noticing how her skin was covered with speckles, like a bird’s egg. In the sun, her hair glinted a fiery orange. “I didn’t escape the City to hurt you.”

  It took her a second to find her voice. “You could be a spy and the rest of them are waiting in the forest to attack.”

  With an exasperated sigh, I turned to Gideon. “Tell her how you dragged me into a cave.”

  “It’s true,” he admitted. “We didn’t give her much choice.”

  “Much choice,” I snorted. “No choice.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I thought you were weak and injured. You look fine to me.”

  I held up the hem of my tunic so she could see the bandage. “Well, I’m not. And from what Akrum said, I’m just waiting to die anyway, so you won’t have to worry about me coming after Gideon, or anyone else, in their sleep.”

  She looked at Gideon with an arched eyebrow as if he was the traitor and marched off.

  “Are all Prims so welcoming?”

  “You’re in a fine mood,” he said.

  I gave an exasperated sigh. “The woman I came to find is dead. I’ve been accused of being a murderer. The cut on my knee will likely kill me and the person who could help me, your healer, is gone till nobody knows when. What kind of a mood should I be in?”

  Gideon didn’t reply. Instead, he reached for a shiny pot and a cup. “Tea?”

  I sat in a huff across the fire. “I’m also cold.”

  “One of the elders, Josephina, brought you some clothes. They’re on the chair inside.”

  I went back into the hut and found them, folded neatly. Goosebumps prickled across my skin as I took off my ripped, mud-spattered tunic and put on a pair of pants and a roughly woven shirt that billowed around my arms and torso. The pants were an unaccustomed weight, but warm. There was also a cloak made of dead animals like the thing Gideon had had on his bed. I turned away at its unfamiliar, tangy odour.

  “Warmer?” Gideon asked when I joined him outside. He passed me a cup of tea.

  “It was kind of her,” I said. “To bring me the clothes. And nice to know they don’t all think I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

  “It’s not Nadia’s fault she doesn’t trust you.”

  “She doesn’t even know me.”

  “She knows you’re from the City. That’s enough.”

  I blew on the tea to cool it. Tea in the City was drunk cold. I guess on the Mountain any source of heat was welcome. I thought it was a waste of energy to heat a drink, but didn’t say anything to Gideon. “I still don’t understand why they hate me.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” I bristled at his reaction. “You’re the ones who want to attack the City. Maybe not lately, but—”

  Gideon shook his head. “That’s not true, Kaia. We want nothing to do with the City. We know what really goes on there. We know what your people want to do to us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The underland. We know what goes on there.”

  I gaped at him. I didn’t even know what went on in the underland. “How could you know?”

  He gave me a long look, his face serious.

  “What is it? I pressed. “What do you know about my city that I don’t?”

  Gideon shook his head again. “It’s not for me to tell you. Now that you’re rested, my grandfather can explain it. He asked me to bring you to him when you woke up.”

  “Who’s your grandfather?”

  “Chief Ezekiel.”

  I heard the pride in his voice.

  As grouchy as I’d been to him, I realized that he was my only friend on the Mountain. The thought of being in anyone’s company besides Gideon’s made me nervous. “Will you stay with me?” I asked.

  “Yes, if you want me to.”

  The hot tea melted away some of the chill. Gideon entertained me with stories of the annual solstice party they held for the longest day of the year and how the whole camp celebrated when hunters returned with fresh meat. It sounded disgusting to eat an animal, but I hid my revulsion. He explained that at their celebrations there was dancing and singing, two things that weren’t done in the City. “You make it sound like it’s a happy place,” I said.

  He gave me a funny look. “It is.”

  He wasn’t telling me about the dangers though. Or the rough living conditions. I knew those things existed too. How could anyone think they were truly in a happy place when safety was always a concern?

  As soon as I’d drained my second cup of tea, Gideon stood. “We shouldn’t keep the Chief waiting. Ready?”

  I didn’t think ‘no’ was an option, so I put my cup on the ground and followed him. My stomach dropped when I realized we’d have to walk right through the camp to get to Ezekiel’s hut.

  In the daylight, the Prim camp didn’t look as gloomy as it had when I’d arrived. The men all looked like Gideon, with beards, muscular bodies and broad shoulders. Together, they were an intimidating group, hairy and wild-looking with weathered skin. I tried to ignore their suspicious looks and the occasional hiss. I guessed that since Gideon was still breathing, they assumed I wasn’t a murderous villain. They were clearly talking about me
and had no shame in staring me up and down as I walked towards Ezekiel’s shelter.

  If they could stare at me, I’d stare right back, I decided. I noticed the women walked with a side-to-side gait, their backs bent from years of hard work, long braids swinging over their shoulders. The ones of child-bearing age had soft curves discernible even through their loose clothing. One, sitting by the fire, stared at me with naked curiosity. Her long hair, bleached blond and matted, reminded me of a filthy, unkempt version of Sari.

  I’d been expecting to go to the same hut I’d seen Ezekiel at the night before, but instead Gideon led me to the largest shelter in the camp. Metal siding and dome-shaped windows covered one side of it and layers of other materials had been stacked haphazard. A trail of smoke coiled into the sky through a hole in the roof.

  Suddenly the door opened and a male walked out, prodded forward by Akrum, who carried a long stick. The male’s hands were bound and his head hung down. As he walked towards the centre of camp, people stopped their work and stood still, hissing. Anyone inside a shelter came outside glaring at the male, teeth bared in an angry jeer. Akrum egged the crowd on, lifting his arms until the cries of derision were deafening.

  I turned to Gideon, panicked.

  “He’s been accused of something. And found guilty by the looks of it.” He was unconcerned by the raucous calls and spitting of the other Prims.

  Akrum raised the stick above his head. The noise stopped. Ezekiel walked past me, hobbling on bowed legs, and stood beside Akrum and the male. “Rufus,” his voice rang out, “you have been found guilty of stealing from another camp and sentenced to public shaming and twenty lashes.”

  The male closed his eyes and took a shaky inhalation.

  “On your hands and knees,” Akrum said. The man bent down.

  I looked to Gideon with alarm. “What is he going to do?”

  “Twenty lashes,” Gideon said simply. “His punishment for stealing.”

  I’d never seen harm inflicted this way. I turned away, horrified. “Why do you do that?”

  “It’s how we teach right from wrong. You see,” Gideon pointed to a group of children. Their elders stood beside them. The children’s wide eyes were glued to the stick in Akrum’s hand. “They must see what happens to those who disobey the rules of our camp.”

  Akrum’s stick came down hard across Rufus’s back. I winced as the slap of the stick on flesh echoed in the silent camp. Rufus arched his back and gasped, but the next blow came quickly and the one after that, quicker. Rufus’s arms shook with effort, his face contorted with pain. When the final five blows were to be delivered, the Prims began a countdown. “Five,” they shouted out, “Four,” their voices rang loud in the camp, “Three,” there was excitement, “Two,” Akrum paused and looked at Rufus’s chewed-up back with satisfaction, “One!” a feverish glee followed. Rufus collapsed on the ground, his back covered in red welts, some wounds open and raw.

  “You have been punished. The crime is forgotten and will not be mentioned.” Akrum spun around to take in the many faces watching. “Agreed?” he called out.

  “Agreed!” The Prims responded and then began clapping, as if it was a celebration.

  Akrum held out a hand to Rufus. “It is done,” he said. The man staggered to his feet, leaning on Akrum. A female and two young children ran to Rufus. His family, I assumed. The boys had stood watching, perhaps even counting, while Akrum had delivered the blows.

  The rest of the camp returned to their work as the woman led Rufus to his shelter. I looked at Gideon. “That was horrible!” I sputtered.

  “This is how things are done.”

  “They beat him! He could barely stand!”

  Gideon tugged on my arm and pulled me aside. “It seems inhumane to you?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “So what do they do in the City?”

  “I…I,” I stammered to answer him. The truth was, I didn’t know.

  “If someone needs to be punished, we all see it.”

  Rufus and his family had left the clearing, but Ezekiel was still there, playing a game with some children. They laid their palms on his and he tried to slap their hands before they could pull them away. The children shrieked and giggled, clamouring for a turn.

  Rufus’s beating was already forgotten as parents laughed at their children who jumped up and down desperate to be next in line to play the game. Other adults had gone back to their work, cooking or tending to the fire. A female sang as she hung clothes to dry.

  I had to admit, the Prims seemed content. There was laughter and happy chatter. “I guess we seem primitive to you? Living up to our name?” Gideon’s tone was light, as if he didn’t believe it anyway.

  I frowned. “I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. I left the City so quickly, all I thought about was getting away, but not about where I was going.”

  “Will you tell me now? About why you left?”

  Ezekiel tousled the hair of one child and waved goodbye to them, moving towards the hut. He gestured for Gideon and me to join him. Other elders who had come out to watch Rufus’s punishment followed. Gideon and I stood to the side while Akrum, Ezekiel, and three others sat in a semi-circle on the other side of the small fire. I recoiled when I saw what hung above them: a bird, its wings stretched, the feathers dull and oily. Not as big as the one that had tried to attack me, but still creepy.

  “It’s not real,” Gideon whispered. “My great-grandfather followed a raven to this spot and that is why we settled here.”

  “So he killed it?” I whispered back.

  Gideon shrugged. “He wanted to keep the luck around us.”

  A fire crackled in the middle of the shelter. Even with the hole in the ceiling, the air was thick with smoke and my eyes burned because of it. Ezekiel gestured for us to sit and fixed me with a penetrating gaze.

  Finally, he spoke. “So, Kaia, tell us why you have come.”

  “I came,” the words stuck in my throat, “to find my birth elder. My mother.”

  They exchanged looks.

  “Her name was Raina. She left the City sixteen years ago.”

  Ezekiel peered at me. “And your father?”

  “He stayed behind with me. Raina left alone.”

  He shook his head. “We have no Raina here.”

  The hope that Akrum had been lying to me or keeping Raina’s whereabouts a secret was dashed.

  “Since I have been Chief, we have had five refugees. All but one died. She is our healer, but her name is not Raina and she did not leave alone.”

  A great pressure built up in my chest. What was I going to do? Stay here with these people, these Prims? Or try to return to the City and face whatever punishment awaited me.

  Ezekiel scuttled over to me and sat so close I could see his nose hairs quiver when he breathed. I leaned away, but he grabbed my hand in his and examined my pulse point. “You know this must be removed.”

  “I told you, it’s broken.”

  “How can you be sure? How can we be sure?”

  I could tell him about the overseers in the valley. They’d have found me by now if the pulse point was still connected to the City. But telling him I’d been followed wouldn’t build any trust. It would do the opposite.

  But Raina wasn’t here, which meant I had no reason to stay with the Prims. I could go back. And then what? How would I explain my absence? Or a missing pulse point?

  “How can I be sure you won’t try to kill me?” I fired back.

  Ezekiel’s face split into a grin, his yellow, rotted teeth exposed. “You can’t.”

  “Looks like we both have to trust each other.” I held Ezekiel’s gaze for a long moment. “What about infection? It can’t be safe to remove the pulse point without your healer.”

  “We can wait for the healer to return,” the female elder said. The others no
dded in agreement.

  Ezekiel dropped my hand. I clutched it to my chest, grateful it would stay intact for a while longer. Or maybe forever. I could leave their camp, go back to the City and beg forgiveness. Tell the overseers that grief had made me act crazy. I could make up a story about wandering the Mountain until I came to my senses.

  “Tell me, Kaia,” Ezekiel said, “What do you know of us?”

  I hesitated. The truth would offend him, but anything less and he might distrust me. “You live a simple life. Primitive. Genetics don’t matter here.”

  Ezekiel took a deep breath and rocked back on his feet. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. How could all of us have survived out here unless genetics did matter?” He gestured at the female elder. “You see Josephina? Her sister died young. Barely made it out of childhood. But Josephina, she has already lived a long life, eh? Why is that?” Ezekiel looked at me with wild eyes. “Do you know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Bah!” he swatted at me, exhaling rancid breath in my face. “Of course you don’t. None of you do.” Ezekiel clapped the tips of his fingers together and bounced on his toes. He reminded me of Sy during one of his manic episodes, the ones where Mae and I would squeeze into her sleeping capsule and wait for it to be over. “She doesn’t know,” he muttered. “Why doesn’t she know?”

  A male elder spoke up. “She doesn’t know because they don’t want anyone to know.”

  “Yes!” Ezekiel hissed. “Your City is built on lies! You are taught to fear us, that we are dangerous. That we live a miserable existence on the Mountain. Tell me, Kaia, do we seem miserable to you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “It is your people who are not to be trusted. Once we asked for help and the City betrayed us.”

  I looked at Gideon, but his eyes were trained on his grandfather.

  “Tell her, Zacharias. Tell her what the City wants to keep secret.”