by Terry Tyler
He steps back inside and slams the door shut.
Soft shit, eh? I walk off somewhat huffily, pondering that staying calm in the face of such moronity takes a hell of a lot more strength than slamming doors and telling people to fuck off, but I can't expect his limited intellect to understand that.
I head back out to the courtyard and park myself on a bench for a while, in case of trouble, I suppose, but no bloodcurdling screams reach my ears.
I flick through Indra's books. One is a yellowed, much-thumbed volume called Nature's Pantry; it falls open at a section about mushrooms. The edible, the inedible, and the poisonous.
I glance up at the flat.
She cooks his dinner.
Easy enough to make a mistake. The faded photos illustrate the similarity between the death cap and the regular mushroom.
I don't know if she'd go for it, though.
I bloody would.
I pick up the bag of her sad little belongings, and walk home.
I track Ryder down the next day, after his morning prayer meeting. I am invited into his cosy cabin for tea; he's all smiles, chatting about this and that, but when we sit down at his table and I tell him why I'm here, the smile fades.
"Bloody hell, this is terrible. I don't see what I can do, though; it's a sensitive subject."
"Er, no, it's not. Isn't rape a level four crime? Far as I remember, that's punishable by hanging or eviction."
He doesn't meet my eyes.
"Byron, you'll appreciate that it's impossible to prove; it's only Indra's word against his. Accusing two lieutenants and a second of a crime that could incur the death sentence is not a step to be taken lightly."
I sit back. "So you're not going to do anything."
"I don't see what I can do. If what she says is true―"
"You didn't see her. The state she was in."
"Okay, if it's true―"
"It is. I know it is."
"Do you, though?" He fiddles with the handle of his stupid, dainty tea cup. "I know Indra a little, and also by reputation; she does tend to lurch from one high-emotion scenario to another, and she has a penchant for drama."
"Agreed. But she was so happy to be chosen for the House of Angels, so what would be her motivation? Unless you're an habitual liar, which she isn't, there has to be a reason, doesn't there? Something to gain?"
Fiddle, fiddle, with that cup; he's nervous. Interesting. "Mm-mm. Generally."
"She'd have nothing to gain from making up a story like this, and everything to lose. You don't call a man like Slovis a rapist just to create drama. Not if you want to keep your head on your shoulders. And his reputation goes before him, too. That's before we even get to Ogg and Fisher―"
His eyes meet mine. "Okay. Look. I understand everything you're saying―I totally get it, I do―but I can't go to Wolf and say that the new wife of one of his lieutenants is accusing him and others of gang rape, not without further investigation; I dread to think what his reaction would be. I can talk to both Slovis and Indra, but I'd need to be very careful indeed; if he suspects, for a moment, that she's told anyone―and do bear in mind that might not actually have happened―it'll be seriously bad news for her."
I sigh. "Yeah. You're right there."
"My other option is to catch her alone, and tell her my door is always open to her, and stress that she can tell me anything. I can't see that I can do much more than that, at the moment."
"But meanwhile she would still be in danger. You could tell her that you know, that I've told you, and let her stay here, with you, for a while―Slovis wouldn't dare touch you―"
"I couldn't. It would cause all sorts of problems. All you and I can do is let her know she can come to us, if she needs us."
"Are you sure you can't have a word with Wolf?"
He laughs. "Oh, come on. Slovis, Ogg and Fisher have been his faithful servants for years. Indra's only been here five minutes, and during that time she hasn't done a great deal to further her cause, has she? Who is he likely to believe?"
Sadly, he's right.
"I'll talk to her, and tell her that if she has further problems she must come straight to me, rather than involve you. But whether or not she'll do so is up to her. Some people, you just can't help."
I'm not giving up on her, though. Come tomorrow I'm going back to the House of Angels to see if she's there, and if she's not, I'll go back the day after. The best thing she can do is to leave Blackthorn, and I'm sure I can make a plan to help her, especially with all the to-ing and fro-ing at this time of year. I can hide her in a wagon, then let her take the horse. Say I was ambushed by bandits.
With a few hours' start, he won't find her.
Chapter 24
Evie
It's been baking hot for the last few days, sweaty and stifling, so I wasn't surprised when I woke up this morning to see dark, scary rainclouds rumbling in from the north.
I'm busy filling pastry cases with minced beef and vegetables and the smell is making me feel sick; all I want to do is go over to the woods and flop down by the stream. We've got the doors open, but the air is so still and warm that it's hardly any cooler.
Must be about mid-morning when a guard appears, rapping on the door to get our attention, and says that everyone from Logside and Midshacks has to stop what they're doing and get up to the church for a meeting. No exceptions.
I don't give a shit, I'm just glad to get off work, but all around me are worried faces, muttering about why this meeting has been called.
Why don't they shut up, and just wait and see?
The weather makes me ratty, too.
I smell rain in the air as Dad, Laurel and I start the long walk up through the fields. Wish it'd hurry up―I could do with a shower. I'm only wearing a vest, shorts and sandals but I'm still sweating like a bitch, and my armpits are a bit whiffy.
I look out across the land; guards are shouting to the farm workers to down tools and get up to the church. Must be serious.
"I don't like this," says Dad. "Feels like something bad's going down."
"That's 'cause of the clouds. If the sky was bright blue, you'd just be thinking how awesome it is to get the morning off work."
I make him and Laurel hurry; if we get there first we'll get a seat at the front, otherwise we'll be rammed in at the back next to a hundred bodies with armpits like mine.
We step up the pace, weaving in and out of the folk in front, until we're ahead of them all, and the church is in sight. Poor old Dad's panting by the time we flop down on a bench, three from the front.
Wolf North is standing at the lectern, with Ryder, and Lieutenants Parks, Thomas and Hemsley to one side.
He's smiling, which is scary in itself. Like pictures of the devil, 'specially as his face looks thinner. He's getting old. P'raps he'll die soon. Hope so. He waits as everyone crams in, filling the seats, aisles and the space round the walls. The church is the biggest building I've ever been in, but there's not room for one more person.
He waits for a signal from Byron, who's standing at the side of the stage, and then he starts.
"Welcome, citizens of Blackthorn!"
I yawn; he kicks off with the usual bollocks about how the Light has made Blackthorn such a freakin' awesome place.
"Thanks to our acceptance of the Light, most of the problems we faced a year ago have disappeared."
His problems he faced, he means, 'cause we're not downing tools and marching up to the city centre no more. Can't see how it's made our lives that much better, give or take the odd free lump of cheese.
"We have a more respectful and mutually supportive community. Many who were ruining their lives with alcohol have found their way back to health, the trade in sex is a thing of the past―"
"He's not been round the back of Clem's on a Saturday night," says Ash, who's sitting behind me. My laugh turns into a snort, and Laurel gives me a Star-type look. I stick my tongue out at her. What happened to my cool friend?
"Best of all," c
ontinues Wolf, "our lives now have meaning. Purpose. We live the best we can, every day, knowing that there is yet hope, even in death. Thanks to Ryder Swift―" he sticks his arm out towards him, like we don't know who he is "―we know there is more, for us and our families. Thanks to Ryder, we have experienced enlightenment. Let us all speak with one voice!"
Ryder and the lieutenants on the stage stand; all four of them put their hands on their chests and say, "I live in the Light." They turn to do the palm-press and say, "I share the Light", then we all have to do it too.
Triple yawn.
I think about my 'Fuck the Light' fist bump with Byron; I try to catch his eye, but he's not looking my way.
Old Wolfie carries on. "It has been nearly a year since Ryder was blessed with his vision, and during that year even the sceptics have come to understand that the Light is the way forward for humanity, if we are to avoid Despair. Every day, Ryder and Star bring me news of another heart opened, another life devoted to the Light." He looks around the audience. "Would anyone like to share their own moment of enlightenment?"
Well, bugger me. Vic the logger stands up; he's always been one of the worst piss-takers. But now Wolf's beckoning him to the stage, and he's got that smug Light smile all over his mush.
He looks dead nervous, standing there with all the nobs, but Ryder gives him a quick chest-palm for luck, and he's good to go.
"What can I say?" he says, sticking his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers. "As many of my friends from Logside know, I gave Ryder a lot of stick at first." He gives this lame chuckle that sounds like he's practised it beforehand, but not enough to make it not sound practised. "I was one of the worst hecklers; I even accused him of being on the 'shrooms!"
Lots of people laugh. Don't take much to amuse them.
"But then my girl dragged me along to one of Ryder's prayer meetings, kicking and screaming. And Sandy, she'd written a prayer, asking if I could be shown the Light. Ryder read it out 'cause she was too embarrassed, and they all joined hands and prayed for me while I sat there, feeling like a right herbert."
They all think that's funny, too.
"So we goes home, and I thought, well, that's that, I've done my bit. That night I went to bed early, not thinking no more about it, but then I woke up, suddenly, in the middle of the night. I tell you, it was like a thunderbolt hit me in the head―I wasn't woken up by a dream, or nothing, or a noise; it was dead quiet outside. The room was still dark, but I felt something. It was―well, it was this peace, all round me. Like our little shack was the best place in the whole world, just like Ryder said, in the woods that day. Just for a moment, I felt happier than I've ever felt in my whole life. It was―well, it was bloody wonderful." He touches his hand to his chest and bites his lip, like he's trying not to cry. That looks like he's practiced it, too. "The people prayed for me, and the Light answered their prayers. He showed me. He showed me how it could be." He turns to Ryder. "Ryder, mate, you've got me. Count me in. I accept the Light."
Well, the whole church goes berserk at that. They're clapping and whooping, hugging each other; it goes on for ages, while I just sit there―and then Wolf calls for silence.
"Vic was blessed with this miraculous and very special enlightenment, but I know there are still a few of you left who are uncommitted. Now, hear this. For Blackthorn to continue on the path to our new tomorrow, for us to work together as one people, with one aim, we must all be on board. If you are still uncertain about our faith, I ask you to go to Ryder or Star and ask them to pray for you. Talk to your friends; take time to understand the richness of life in the Light. Once you have accepted, Ryder will bless you, and eternal life in the Clearing will be yours."
And then we get the bad news.
"Because if you are not prepared to live in the Light, Blackthorn is not the place for you. Henceforth, the privileges granted to those who live in this fine city will be available only to those who accept our faith, and agree to live within its guidelines."
Silence.
He's not smiling any more. "This is why I called you here today. From this moment forth, you accept the Light, or you pack up and leave. Believe me, you will not be able to slink around, unnoticed. That is all; now please go back to your jobs, enjoy the rest of the day, and may the Light go with you in all that you do."
There's a hushed buzz going around the room. I glance up to the stage, and I am sure I see Wolf stagger, just slightly, like he's falling; Parks jumps up, and pushes a chair forward.
Weird.
I wonder what's going to happen. Will the lieutenants root out the non-believers? Will people like Star dob us in? I'd better go tell Ryder I accept. What the fuck; the inside of my head will still be my own.
We're just starting to move off, queuing to get out from the benches into the aisles, when I hear shouts at the back―then people are calling out, telling each other to stand back.
"Let her come through!"
"What's the matter, love, are you alright?"
I stand on tiptoe to see what's going on. It's a woman, about my age. I don't know her but I recognise her, from the Wives of the Light ceremony shit show, and she don't look too happy. In fact, as she pushes her way nearer to the front I can see that she's crying; her face is all pale, like she's in shock.
She streams past where we're sitting. A lovely flowery scent floats behind her, fighting its way through the fusty smell of the crowd, to which my armpits are contributing.
Ryder, Thomas and Hemsley jump down from the stage; Ryder is first to leap forward.
"Silver? What is it? What's happened?"
I step onto the bench so I can see over people's heads. He's holding her hands.
"It's my friend―Indra. We were in the woods, just walking, and she went off―"
Damn. He's put his arm around her and I can't hear what she's saying. Star's at the front and she jumps over to console Silver, too, 'cause she's Ryder's right-hand woman.
Lieutenant Parks calls for guards and they start driving us out, hollering at us to go back to our work and never mind all this 'cause it's nowt to do with us―Star is grabbed by the arm and told to go too, and she's saying that Ryder needs her, but all he's concerned about is Silver.
Well, I'm not above a bit of gossip, 'specially if it means avoiding work for another half hour. I nip in next to Star as she goes past, and let myself get swept along with the surge of people moving out of the church.
"What's all that about, then?"
She looks dead upset. "Silver's friend, Indra―one of Lieutenant Slovis's wives―oh, it's awful―she's slit her wrists!"
From what I've heard about Slovis I reckon suicide sounds like a fair choice rather than be married to him, but I'm still shocked. To be so desperate that you would choose not to live―I just can't imagine that.
"Is she dead, then?"
"I don't know. They were walking in the woods, and Indra said she needed to take a pee and wandered off, but she never came back. Silver went looking for her and found her slumped against a tree with―well, blood everywhere, in and out of consciousness. Silver tore material off her skirt to bandage her wrists, and ran to get help at the hospital―they've sent out a party to fetch Indra, and Silver was told to get Ryder. You know, in case Indra doesn't make it. So he can bless her."
We reach the door of the church. Outside it's so dark that it looks like evening, not lunch time; big fat drops of rain splash onto my face. I shiver, 'cause the stifling heat has disappeared, but the rain feels grand.
Star says, "Indra will be okay. We must try not to feel sad. Everything will be fine."
"How d'you work that out? She might die."
She smiles. "She might. But as Silver was bandaging her wrists, she woke up and said, 'I'm going to the Clearing. I'm going to be with Rory again'. That's her brother, who died before she came here; Silver said she looked so peaceful. Like all the trials of her life were over."
As we walk back, no one's talking about the new accept-or-leave rule. Eve
ryone's chattering away about Indra.
I'm not surprised, married to that Abe Slovis.
You know he raped an outlier girl and left her for dead?
She's a Wife of the Light, so the Light will look after her.
Silver said she'd never looked happier, like she was looking into the eyes of the Light himself.
The last one was from Thora, which she must've made up, 'cause she was nowhere near Silver. It'll be round the whole of Logside by tonight, though. That's what it's like round here.
The rain starts pissing down and I hold up my arms to wash away my icky sweat. The wind's up; I'm cold now, in my vest and shorts.
Gale catches up with me. "Hey, this new rule. D'you think it applies to Stinky Bottom, too? 'Cause they weren't at the meeting, I mean."
I laugh. "Don't matter; Wolf would never chuck them out, even if they went around murdering babies."
"How's that?"
"Think about it; who else is going to clean up everyone's shit?"
By the time I get back to the bakery I'm soaked, freezing cold, and my wet shorts are making my crotch sore. I strip off my clothes and put on one of Dad's overalls, but I can't wait to get home. It's so boring, everyone saying the same things over and over about poor Indra, and Wolf's new rule.
There's so much to do, though, that I don't get home till seven. I walk on my own, still wearing Dad's overalls, and get soaked all over again 'cause it's been raining on and off ever since we came out of church. Laurel's gone to Star's special prayer meeting in the Beer Hut to pray for Indra, and I'm glad I'll be alone. Bit of peace and quiet. I can't wait to get some dry clothes on, heat up the substandard meat pie that I made 'specially for tonight (ha!) and curl up in my bed with a book.
When I turn the corner round to our shack, though, there is someone leaning against the door. Waiting for me.
It's Cal. Jay's mate from Stinky Bottom.
He says, "Jay's been arrested."
I say, "No surprise there, then," and let us both in. I'm hoping to get rid of him pretty sharpish, but he sits down, like he ain't going nowhere, and I don't feel I can chuck him out.
