by Abby James
My defense was my glare, but it glanced off his smile.
I was not going to give him the pleasure of seeing me back away from his striding toward me, so I stood my ground, even though my legs twitched to move and my heart picked up its pace. He halted inches from me, using his finger to lift my chin so our eyes could meet.
“If you continue to fight, you will suffer. You will be broken, it’s inevitable. But we’ll allow you to retain enough of yourself to make the rest of your life tolerable. If you change your attitude, you may even enjoy it.” He glanced down at my bag. “That’s enough. You won’t be needing much more. You’ll be supplied with everything you need in the future.”
He spun and marched out the door. As he retreated, I collapsed onto my bed, weighted by inevitability. For the first time, I became like Mum, accepting of my fate, my emotions drowned away by her tears.
This was the last time I would be here. The view sucked, a few hardy shrubs, clothesline and desert as far as the eye could see, but it was my view. I would be looking through the eyes of a slave when I next looked out of a bedroom onto the view. And I would be alone.
I zipped my bag before allowing myself one last look around me, just one.
In the lounge room, I found my farewell party. Marion threw herself at me, her already red eyes spilling more tears. I dropped my bag and cuddled her.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“You knew it would come at some point.”
“But why does Seb have to go as well?”
Seb stood across from us, his stance solid. His moment had finally arrived. Mum’s smile quivered when I met her eyes, so I looked away. The faces of the intruders looked flat, devoid of emotions, the devastation missing them entirely. This scene no doubt played out in front of them over and over again in dozens of homes in dozens of communities.
I’d always assumed the soldiers had emerged from the amorphous mass that was the capital as precision-cut fighters. When the soldier had placed his arm on Seb’s shoulder and decided to take him early, I began to think differently. Recruitment.
We all thought of them as separate beings, not as common people etching a living in the desert settlements. I didn’t want to think of Seb as someone at the helm of the harvest utility, arriving in another town and stealing people’s children, tearing families apart or rearranging the population to suit the capital’s desires, with an emotionless face and a heart of steel.
“It’s time.”
Both men disappeared out the lounge room door, without a backward glance, leaving the echo of their boots smacking on the tiles. Seb hauled his bag over his shoulder and followed, already looking like a solider. Mum placed her hands on Marion’s shoulders. “Come, honey.”
Marion spun and wrapped herself in Mum’s embrace, burying her face into Mum’s shoulder. Feeling the constriction in my throat, I disappeared out the door.
Outside, the soldiers stood by the gate. “You may say your last farewells.” Both of the men stepped onto the dirt street and waited for us to become messy with our goodbyes.
Seb was the first to move, wrapping his arms around Mum’s neck and hugging her close. He stared over her head, off into the desert. For the first time, I saw emotion infect him. His lips quivered, crumbling the armor he’d fashioned. Finally letting her go, he ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. Was his desire to escape filling him with guilt?
Marion cried hard as he swept her up, but they turned to background noise as I moved close to Mum.
“Don’t forget the paper,” she whispered in my ear. “You will be protected.”
I reared back. “Protected? From what?”
She pulled me into a fierce hug. “Don’t fight it. I promise you, you will be all right if you listen to what you’re taught. I love you.”
Bam, just like that she sent me spiraling.
“Finish up now,” barked one of the soldiers.
Marion flung herself into my arms, forcing Mum away. I squashed Marion to me as I watched Mum back away.
“Why do you have to go?” Marion cried into my ear.
“Take care of Mum, now.”
She shook her head, wiping her tears across my clothes, breaking the dam inside of me.
“I’ll come back to you. I promise.” My voice wavered, but my conviction had never felt so strong. “I love you.”
I repeated myself, saying it louder as I looked at Mum. After giving Marion a kiss on the forehead, I left, not daring to look back.
Seb and I followed the soldiers through the dusty streets to the vehicles. A line had formed at the back of the utility, not very long, about six boys of age and— I slowed—Norella, but no Shacks.
From shop fronts, people appeared to watch us depart, this year’s unlucky, or fortunate—depending on who was telling the story—few who’d reached maturity and were deemed, by some unknown measure, good enough to take.
Our escorts moved to the front of the utility, where four other men gathered, a move that both Seb and I knew was not meant for us to copy. We were to join the queue waiting to board. Mayor Myles stood in the huddle of men, laughing the loudest, even slapping one of the soldiers on the shoulder as if the joke was truly amusing, which I doubted. Besides, Myles had no sense of humor. His position was not through our choice. Positions of authority were too important to be trusted with the choice of the people.
After what seemed like a deliberate delay, just to have us wait in the heat, the soldiers decided it was time to depart after one of them consulted his watch. The eight of us had formed a line, which bent crooked around the side of the utility so we could all watch what was happening at the front, but as they headed our way, we all shuffled back in a straight line.
I stared at the back of Seb’s head, with Tanner in front of him, one year his senior and a head shorter. In front of him, Phillip, who was three years older. And so on down the line. All the boys I knew. All the boys I’d grown up with, and Seb standing taller than them all.
“No time to stand around, boys, unless you want to be traveling the desert in the dark.”
The first, Hunter, sprung into the utility with agility and the rest followed, swinging their bags up first to give them both hands at the ladder. Hunter came to the back of the truck to offer Norella a hand, but a soldier intercepted and motioned for her to step aside and wait with him. I shuffled up last. Seb turned to catch my bag, but before I could throw it up, the same soldier stepped in front of me.
“This one isn’t your ride.” He motioned toward Norella. “You can wait over there.” I glanced up at Seb, who looked down at me with pursed lips but said nothing.
For once Norella kept her verbal barbs to herself. I was surprised to see her so miserable, given she spent most of her day complaining about Ladec and how much she couldn’t wait to get away from the place. No doubt it had everything to do with Shacks being overlooked, which surprised the hell out of me. He’d likely kicked up a fuss and that was why he wasn’t present for our departure—the soldiers probably threatened him to stay away.
Once all the boys had boarded the truck, a soldier broke from the huddle and waved Norella and me toward him. “This way.”
He marched toward the scout vehicle and the soldier waiting by the door, the same man who’d come into my bedroom. He held out his hand for Norella’s bag, then stepped aside for her to climb in before repeating the task with me. Just before I disappeared inside, he placed a hand on my arm. I froze and turned to face him.
“We don’t have to be the enemy.”
To me, they were the enemy. I didn’t see how that would change.
I slid along the seat to the far side and stared out the window, ignoring Norella, sitting opposite me. I felt no kinship in our adversity.
After a few moments, the soldiers got in, one in the front and two in the back with us. One sat next to me, the other with Norella. Since the seats in the back faced inward, the solider sitting next to Norella ended up staring at me. So I went back to staring o
ut the window.
Soon we were retracing the steps of their arrival, down the main street, no doubt coating everything with a red film again. At the end of the main street, I looked to catch a glimpse of our house, the last in the row of old but neat homes. No one stood on the veranda to watch the vehicles go. Perhaps Mum had forbidden Marion or perhaps Marion was too distraught and had hidden in her room as we rolled out of town. It was for the best.
We headed out past the rows of green crops—thriving thanks to the designated farmers like Seb, rather than supplies from the capital—past the stockyards and orchards and into the desert, with little to break up the horizon but the odd shrunken tree or dust-covered shrub. And then on farther to no view at all but the ever-shifting dunes. These I had seen from Parky Hill, but only at a distance. I was now the farthest I’d ever been from home. Unable to look anymore, I distracted myself with the soldiers.
With enough surreptitious glances, I was able to discern differences in the two indistinguishable men sitting in the back with us, one with high cheekbones, the other with thin-lined lips and a deep-set forehead. Both wore sunglasses, shaved scalps, and uniforms buttoned up to the neck. Unless they were staring out the window with their heads turned in an obvious direction away from me, I couldn’t tell if they were scrutinizing me, until the one soldier’s head jerked forward suddenly before he righted himself again. He shifted his backside forward, allowing himself to slouch farther back in his seat, resting his hands in his lap. This was going to be a long drive.
Norella was looking out the window, her face a ball of misery, but it was unlikely to stay that way. Norella wanted out of Ladec as much as Shacks, only she’d imagined they would go together, perhaps as a resettled couple.
God, Mum’s note. No one paid me any attention, so I rummaged in my jeans pocket, then unraveled the folded note. Seeing two words scribbled across the paper, my body felt weighted. What had I expected? A revelation of the reasons for all the years that kept her sewn tight within herself? A heartfelt plea of forgiveness for being emotionally absent? The story of my father? I’d been stolen from my home, my family, and forced into the world alone and all Mum could write was a name, one single name. Miss Tule. I balled it up and shoved it back in my pocket.
Chapter 5
Sargon held the scope for a moment longer before handing it to Chett.
“This is the third lot we’ve spied this week.” Chett used the eyepiece to scratch at his chin. “Supply vehicles?
“Too far to say for sure, but I’m sure you’re right.”
“That makes three so far.”
“I want scouts up there ASAP. I want to know what’s been stored. But no disruption. They’re not to know we’re watching them.” Sargon headed back to the vehicle and leaned inside to retrieve the netbook. It took a little while to pick up a signal, but once it connected, he punched in the coordinates. “They’ll be crossing the line at Shades Fine since it’s one of our weaker points.” On the netbook, he pulled up a map of the northern district. “I’m not convinced that’s the only place though. It would prove best for them to load on a few different fronts. That way they have multiple retreat points if needed, and we’re weakened if we have to defend multiple fronts.”
Sargon laid the netbook on the bonnet. “I want men east and west, moving in pairs to determine any new activity in the area. Head as far as the crossing if need be. They can start in vehicles, but once at the ridge, it’s camel or foot. The scouts can be supplied by Mettricup and Perrideth.” He pointed out the positions on the map. “It’s likely their intention at this point is to bring supplies to designated sites. Although it is possible they have reached the farthest towns already. The men will need to enter with caution. We’re looking for disturbances, truck tyres, cachets of goods. We’ll plant overnight crews at vital points to watch for nighttime activity.”
Sargon turned to look out over the desert. “There’s too much in the town sites for them to capitalize on, so at some point I believe we’ll have to strip the towns and move the people farther in.” He blanked the screen while his eyes roamed over the baked terrain. War was coming, no doubt about that. It was just a matter of time.
Sargon slid into the driver’s side and started the advance tracker, then rested his wrists on the steering wheel and surveyed the desert one last time. Chett jumped in beside him and waited in silence. From their park at the top of a ridge, Sargon’s territory lay before him. The resultant land formations hinted at a lush past, when rain and wind had carved out deep gorges, leaving small, rugged mountains, honeycombed with caves, and scattered rock formations. The ideal place for undetected movement.
The sun was moving low on the horizon, making this time of day bearable after the heat. Already a cool breeze was working its way under his clothes. But there was no point being out here any longer. Another four hours’ ride to the south, they would hit Sandfire and a warm meal and comfortable beds.
Sargon swung the vehicle around in a one-eighty reverse spin while Chett took control of the tunes. A heavy pulse of base drowned out the silence of the desert and the spitting gravel. The advanced tracker chewed the gravel as they descended into darkness on the other side of the ridgeline, riding over saltbush and other hardy shrubs. Sargon sprayed a jet of water over the windscreen and cleared the dust with the wipers before switching the lights to high beam and cranking the music. At least they had some form of entertainment for the monotonous drive to their beds.
In the distance, hours later, the lights of Sandfire were a welcome sight. With no clouds acting as a blanket, the night air cooled the land. The music was killed long ago and they’d covered the remaining miles in silence. The company of others, a place to stretch horizontal and a drink with bite, firing the throat all the way down, would be a welcome relief from the long drive. Sargon drove through the settlement, heading straight for Padoo’s at the southern end.
Sandfire had been erected long before, when the military needed an outpost south of the Craggy Desert, the areas that were near impossible to navigate unless on camel or foot. Long before Sargon’s time. Back then, the wars created the territories, resulting in scraggly lines drawn north, south, east and west, dividing the nations.
The only people in Sandfire were those needed to sustain the community’s transient population of military personnel who passed through on their way to the outer reaches. From here you needed another day to reach the sea.
Sargon swung in next to a utility. Chett dipped his head to look out Sargon’s window. “Looks like a harvest’s on its way to Fortescue.”
“Let’s hope they’ve found some good blood.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one. We’ve been getting nothing but garbage collectors from the outer settlements for years.”
“Someone’s got to do it.”
“Well. At least we know our streets will be clean.”
Sargon smiled as he opened his door. The aroma of cooked food sent a grumble through his stomach in an instant. This was a miserable place to be, especially through the winter freeze, but at least he could get a hot meal.
Sandfire was a vital security post, especially now with the northerners venturing across their borders. “We’ll need more workers moved here to adequately supply the operation. Perhaps some of the new harvest won’t be going much farther after tonight.”
Conversation, punctuated with the occasional laughter, followed Sargon to the doors of Padoo’s. Being so far east of Fortescue, anyone punished to the outpost of Sandfire for a lengthy term, spanning more than a couple of weeks, turned rabid at the arrival of fresh faces. Before the northern movements, the place had remained near deserted. But over the last few months, more crew were moved into the area. The place was now beginning to regenerate itself. It had accommodated only a small group of people at any one time, but tonight the laughter and music gave the impression of a thriving metropolis.
Sargon pushed through the doors into a room full of military and requisitioned personnel. Th
e warmth from the internal heating and packed bodies created the right atmosphere Sargon craved after the near solitary journey he’d embarked on today. They’d traveled a long way and what they saw on their journey did nothing to settle his head. Here at least he could, perhaps for one night, block out the inevitable and play at being someone other than the decision-maker.
He headed for the nearest table and slapped the guy closest to him on the back. The guy jumped and swiveled his head. “Sargon.”
He stood and they grasped palms. “Coming from or going to the north?”
“Coming from.”
“I’m not going to ask about the view.”
“Best you don’t. I’ve got nothing good to say. It’s much the same as that last time I was there. They’re moving slow, being cautious.”
“For now.”
Sargon nodded his agreement and sat down next to Cregan. “You get much?”
“Some promising. The rest will be destined for the garbage round.”
Sargon chuckled at the idiom coined by Chett for those left once the best had been sieved through. Sargon took a look for himself, surveying the civilian kids sitting in a row on the bench seat at the other table. One sat a head taller than the others, obviously the boy Cregan was referring to.
“How old?”
“Seventeen. A year younger than allowed, but we figured on taking him now to save us another trip since there were no others in the place to warrant a return trip any time soon. He’ll be put out to pasture for the year, no doubt.”
“No, I want him.”
“Thought you might.”
“He could learn a lot in one year.”
Sargon ran his gaze over the boy’s features. “Why do I feel I’ve seen him somewhere before?”
“Wondered if you would recognize him. That’s Rayce’s kid.”
Sargon started at the revelation.
“His sister is on the other side of the table. Of age.”
Sargon leaned forward enough so he could see her down the line of people on his side. The resemblance was there, to each other and to their father, although she was missing his height and her hair was darker, but he had the olive skin. She stared down at her food. Her plate, from his distance, appeared untouched. Sargon stared at her before being interrupted by Chett, who had brought him a plate of food.
