by Terry Tyler
He reaches over and takes her hand. "I did, darling, yes. I was cold, sometimes hungry, but I never felt sorry for myself. I needed that time alone, to get in touch with my own weaknesses and strengths, and think how I could guide the people of Blackthorn. Sometimes―honestly, I felt like I was on a high. Like I'd stripped my life down to the basics, and found that I had all I needed."
"So how did you eat?" asks Darius. "You don't look as if the Light kept you very well fed, if you don't mind me saying."
Ryder lifts his jumper and exposes his torso; the lamplight highlights the pattern of his ribs, but this is nothing unusual. During hard times, we all get thinner.
"I found enough. I've been doing this all my adult life, remember?" He pats his stomach. "Meal times don't exist outside Blackthorn; as a traveller, you eat when you find food, that's all. I made traps, caught rabbits, ate nuts, roots, I made a line from branches and caught fish in a river, begged at the odd settlement―I survived, like I always have."
"So it was you, not the Light, who kept you alive." Laurel sounds disappointed.
"Not always." Ryder brings his knees up, hugging them. "This is what I'm coming to. I was saving the best until last."
He leaves a dramatic pause, just time for his audience to urge him on. I, too, sit in anticipation; I can't work out if I am waiting to pick private holes in whatever he is about to tell us, or if I want to be convinced.
"It was about five nights ago. Winter's on the horizon, isn't it? The fish had become more sparse, I hadn't seen a pheasant for a few days, and I was beginning to think that even the rabbits were staying at home in the warm!" Engaging chuckle. "I hadn't seen another living soul for two days, and I was walking down by a river in what must have once been a village. I was so damn hungry I'd decided to dig up some worms just to get protein, then find some shelter, make a fire and try again in the morning. Which is when I met him. Peter. He said his name was Peter."
All eyes are on him. Mine, too.
"Who was he?" asks Laurel.
Ryder smiles at her. "He was a traveller, like me. Sitting there, amongst the trees, roasting two plump pheasants. I literally stumbled upon him; I saw the fire, and as I got nearer I smelled that food, too, and I almost fell into his little camp, I was that weak. If he'd been a dangerous type, I wouldn't be here now."
"He was a good guy, then?" says Evie. "That was a stroke of luck."
"Oh yes." He stares at the floor. "Oh yes. It was. He shared his food with me; he even had bread. He made me tea, gave me a blanket to sleep under."
"What was he like?" That's Evie's dad. "Was he old, young? What was his story?"
All travellers have their story; how, why and when they left their last settlement, and what adventures and dangers they have encountered on the road.
"He was a bit older than me. What struck me about him most, though, was his aura. He seemed totally at peace with himself, and the world. I felt good, just being in his company. Honoured even."
I ask, "So where was he from?"
Ryder nods at me, acknowledging my question. "Ah, that's the thing. I asked him, but he was evasive; when I asked where he was going, he said, 'wherever I end up, and then no doubt I'll move on again'. We talked about Central, about this place, about the village settlements in Norfolk and the southwest; about what we knew of the old world. Everything. It was a wonderful evening. I was fed, warm and in good company; what more could you want?"
"Did you tell him about the Light?" Evie's face is so pretty in the lamplight; her eyes look bigger, darker.
Astra, sitting next to her, is looking fairly luscious, too.
That's the trouble with being such an antisocial bastard; I've been without a woman for too long.
"I didn't tell him, no. I know I need to spread the word, but at the same time―and this sounds crazy―I felt like he already knew. Like he was already the person the Light wants us to be. Apart from that, though, there was never a time during the whole of that late afternoon and evening when I felt it would be appropriate to mention it, and I didn't want to hamper the easy flow of our conversation. But he did say something strange to me, just before we went to sleep."
"What?" asks Evie.
"He said, 'Always be aware that what is easy is not necessarily right. You'll know in your heart what is right; follow that instinct'. I can still see his face now, lit up by the firelight against the black, starless sky. I felt such warmth from him. I knew that as long as I was with him, I would be okay."
The room is silent, as we contemplate the tale of Mysterious Peter with the Magical Aura.
"So what happened?" Evie asks. "Did you walk with him, the next day?"
Ryder strokes his beard as if it feels unfamiliar to him. "No. This is what was so strange. I woke up in the night and he was asleep; I was expecting to feel cold, but the fire was roaring away, with fresh logs―"
"Could be he'd just put them on then gone back to kip," says Darius.
"Yes, it could, but he was snoring. In a deep sleep, I'd say. And in the morning the fire was still going, but he'd gone."
"What, just fucked off and left you without saying ta-ta?" asks Darius.
Evie says, "Had he left you owt for breakfast?"
"No. There was just me, the fire, and my blanket. No trace of him at all."
"What? What do you mean?"
"There were no pheasant bones on his side of the fire, no indication that another person had been asleep opposite me. Nothing to say he'd ever been there, apart from the fact that my stomach still felt full."
Darius rests his head back on his hands. "D'you think you dreamt it, then? 'Cause you was delirious with hunger?"
"Du-uh," says Jay. "The fire and the blanket."
For a moment everyone is silent; I watch Ryder, expecting him to speak again, but I can see that he is waiting for one of us to comment, instead.
It is Star who breaks the silence, and, as she does so, she presses her hand to her heart. "Peter was the Light, wasn't he?" I notice, again, the soft, compelling quality of her voice; she and Ryder make a good team. She turns to look at us all. "The Light kept him safe, fed him, gave him warmth and comfort at his most desperate hour."
It's so quiet in that little room; the only sound is the logs crackling in the stove.
"Do you think it was?" Evie's dad asks.
He nods, slowly. "Yes. I do." The lamp beside him flickers, and I'm struck once more by his resemblance to those images of Jesus Christ. "I needed a couple more days to get my thoughts together but, like he'd told me to do, I trusted my instinct; it was time to come home. I'd tested my belief that the Light would not let me starve or die outside the walls of Blackthorn. And yes, I tested the Light, too, so that those who still doubt―and I can see why they do―can allow themselves to believe, because all of us should know the peace that I felt during that night I spent with the man who called himself Peter."
But Ryder is a traveller, thus no stranger to survival in all climates and landscapes, and it's only November. It's not even that cold yet.
"My body had become weaker," he continues, "and I can't do the work I must do here, if I'm not well-nourished and properly rested―or if I fall ill. So yes, it was time to come home."
Home. No longer a traveller, then.
He does seem changed; there's an air of serenity about him. As though there is no doubt left about his mission; this is not the fearful guy I talked to on the wall, that night in September.
Evie's mum reaches forward and takes his hand. "You went through all this, to test your belief, and his truth, for us. You went hungry, you slept in the cold, you risked danger, to show to us that the Light would keep us safe."
Darius's gruff voice echoes around the room. "Well, I had my doubts at first, I don't mind admitting, but I'll say this for you: if you're delusional, it must be a fucking good delusion, and I'm all for it."
The next minute they're touching their hands to their chests, and hugging each other; Evie's mum, Jay and Star are tearful. Eve
n Joe shakes Ryder's hand. And, bloody hell, Astra; she smiles at Raven, then at Chase, and puts her hand to her chest.
"Okay," she says, "I'm in. I accept. I accept the Light."
They're all smiling and hugging, except me.
And Evie.
She catches my eye, and gives me the merest hint of a smile.
I wonder if she's thinking the same as me―that it was Ryder who kept Ryder safe and well. Just like he always did, on the road.
That we still only have his word, for any of this.
"All the time I was out there," he says, bringing everyone's attention back to him, "all that time, I thought about how I missed you all, and where I go from here. Because it's not enough just to say that you accept―we need to live in the Light, too. We need to better our lives, so we deserve to live forever in his world. I was thinking about this on the last night, when I only had one more day to travel―which was when the Light came to me."
"What, did that Peter geezer turn up again?" says Darius.
"No―the Light spoke to me when I was asleep, except I wasn't asleep―" He shakes his head, frowning. "It's so hard to explain. It's like―it's like those few moments before you fall asleep, when your thoughts muddle―no, that's wrong, it's clearer than that. It's like being in another dimension. As he talked to me, I was looking down at myself, asleep in the ruins of an old house, covered in Peter's blanket that kept me warm for the rest of my journey. I saw myself―I was standing above, with the Light at my side―and, at last, he gave me the words that will help me show us all the way forward."
"What did he say?" asks Joe.
Ryder puts his palms together, like he's praying, then pulls them apart, his palms facing us. Like he's blessing us.
Just for a moment, I want to say, who the hell do you think you are?
"You won't have to wait long, I promise. I'll go to see the governor in the morning, because gatherings must be organised. I have to deliver the Light's message to the whole city."
Star gives a little squeak of excitement. "Isn't this a wonderful day?" She clutches Joe's hand and beams round at us all. "Isn't it? Isn't it just the best?"
"It is, but―" Evie's mother looks concerned. "Ryder, I hope you don't mind me asking, but it's been on my mind for ages―"
"Go on. You can ask me anything. Always."
"Okay―thank you." She swallows. "It's just that―well, when I die, if I get to your place in the clearing, do you think I'll see my little Morning again?"
"I know you will, Rosy. I know you will."
I've had enough of this.
I nip out to use the night bucket, and when I get back they're all at it again. Only Evie notices me come back in. She stares at me for just a moment, then gives me a brief, almost imperceptible nod, and I know.
We're the only two.
I walk home up the long path between the fields, mulling the question around in my head. Is Ryder delusional? Or does he have an agenda?
That's what's so frustrating. I can't work out a motivation for a lie, but neither does he strike me as insane.
Which leaves the other option―that it's true. And that's what I can't get my head round.
Chapter 13
Evie
This morning Laurel is like a dead weight. She was so pumped up after last night, and carried on being pumped up into the early hours, tossing and turning and talking about the Light and Ryder (but mostly about Ryder), and in the end I had to tell her to shut up so I could get some sleep.
I'm not waiting for her. I walk out into the cold, dark morning, and the first person I see is the man himself, fully dressed―not in guard gear, though, so he's not heading to the wall.
I don't call out to him like I would have before all this Light stuff. I don't know why.
He calls to me, though.
"You're up and about early," I say, walking towards him through the dark. "Thought you'd take a couple of days to recuperate."
"I've got to see Wolf. I feel so restless; I thought the walk up there might calm me down, and if Wolf isn't up, maybe Angelo will make me some breakfast!" He puts his hand on my shoulder. "I've got to start the ball rolling, you know?"
"Oh. Right." We walk on, down the paths between the shacks, saying 'Morning!' to a couple of people stepping out to start their day, but I feel awkward. That wretched Light is standing in the way of our friendship. Finally we get to the parting of the ways, me to go straight on towards the bakery, and Ryder to turn left, up through the Ag Zone.
I'm just about to say a casual 'bye when he takes my hand, and pulls me closer to him.
For one crazy moment I feel like he's about to kiss me. But he doesn't; he just stares into my eyes. We're standing under a waylight; his face is all lit up, and his eyes look dead intense.
"Evie, you have faith in me, don't you?"
"Yeah. Course." Well, what am I supposed to say?
He's still holding my hand. "It's important to me, because you're important to me. But last night―I felt you didn't fully understand the significance of my meeting with Peter."
"I did. Do."
"I need you to. Because it was the most profound experience of my life, in some ways more so than what happened in the clearing."
"It's okay. I get it. I do." And I need to get a move on.
He relaxes; we hug and I wish him good luck.
I feel a bit annoyed with him, to be honest. I know why. It's 'cause he told Mum she'll get to see Morning again when she dies. How can he promise that?
I hurry on, to the bakery.
Got to get there early so I can nick food for Jay―unlike Ryder, Jay doesn't have a Peter to make him a fire, bung him a blanket and cook him a nice, juicy pheasant for his dinner.
"The Light will never ask more of you than you can give," Ryder says.
The church isn't anywhere near ready yet, so Ryder's delivering his message in the Town Hall, with Governor North and Lieutenants Parks, Hemsley and Lincoln on the stage with him, and today is Logside's turn.
The hall isn't heated but it feels warm 'cause there's so many of us packed into the place. It doesn't smell too choice, neither. In winter people don't wash their clothes so much 'cause it's hard to get them dry, so there's a fusty fug in the air.
No one cares, though. They're gazing up at Ryder, with love.
"Long ago, God was said to have given a man called Moses a list called The Ten Commandments, to which all should adhere. But it's different now. What the Light has given me is not rules, but guidelines."
"Same difference, ain't it?" Vic the logger shouts out, and Ryder asks him to be patient.
"But I thought the Light was God," calls out Ivy the beehive lady. "I'm confused!"
Ryder smiles down at her. "The Light is the creator, of which there is only one. Back then, over two millennia ago, he presented himself in such a way that the folk of the time would understand, but what was written down and known as 'God's word' was actually conceived by men. Now, we live in a more enlightened time. What I am about to tell you comes from the Light himself; it is a blueprint for our new world, and for life everlasting."
That shuts 'em up, 'cause they all want life everlasting.
"I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't, but I will help you to be at peace with yourself. Once you live in the Light, you won't need to take refuge in drink, gambling or illicit affairs, or find yourself making petty judgements, becoming embroiled in conflict―all activities that, ultimately, cause nothing but pain.
"Wake up each day with one thought in mind: the health and happiness of all who live in our great city. Whether you are baking bread, chopping logs or tending bees, remember this: the more you put into a job, the more you take back. Don't think of work as merely a means to pay the rent and buy food, or to buy beer or shine to escape the drudgery of your days; think of it as your contribution to a happier life for all of us. Work for your love of our city, of your family and friends."
Well, that seems fair enough. Common sense, really, Ligh
t or no Light.
"We are all so lucky to live in Blackthorn, where no one will ever go hungry."
Unless you're trying to keep yourself and your pisshead dad fed, warm and healthy on one cleaner's wage. Then, not so lucky.
"If you're standing here now, your ancestors were the survivors of the Fall. They were hardy individuals who did not give up, but gathered together and fought to put down roots, to rebuild civilisation. Every one of us here comes from this background of incredible strength. We have reaped the rewards of their struggles―and now we must do all we can to ensure that our lives have meaning, that we are putting down roots for our children, and teaching them how to live not in Despair, but in the Light."
Oh, for that he gets a round of applause.
"I reckon he should be the bloody governor, not Wolf North," says my dad.
Ryder waits for the clapping to stop, then continues. "When you close your eyes to sleep each night, do so knowing that you have done a productive day's work, have not allowed anger to triumph over understanding, have faced your weaknesses and sorrows rather than drowning them in drink. Know that you have spread warmth, not angst. If you do this, each day, rest assured that you are one step closer to finding the true joy I experienced on that day in the clearing, right here on earth―and one step further from Despair."
I glance at Laurel. She's nodding, her hand pressed to her chest, and she's got tears in her eyes. I dunno; everything he says is an awesome idea, but I don't need some rando up in the clouds to tell me about it. Like I said, it's common sense.
Why can't anyone else see this?
He's not finished yet.
"Be kind to each other. Learn to express your feelings; if you feel frustration towards a fellow worker or friend, do not hit out, either physically or verbally. Communicate. At work, if you consider yourself unfairly treated, write a list of your grievances and take it to your foreman or manager―and I ask the decision makers, too, to honour you with the same consideration. If a worker is late for his shift, ask him why. Does he or she have health worries? Problems at home? Can you help?"
