Kay recalled the last time she had seen her. How could she be alive? Had Kay not let her fall into that ravine? It had to have been at least one hundred feet deep. No one could survive a fall like that…
Yet a part of Kay had known she would see her again. Loka was no ordinary woman, Kay understood that much. She healed fast. There had been that incident when Loka had tried to pick up the flaming sword and burnt her hand severely. Then a few days later, it had been as if it had never happened, all sign of the injury gone.
A cartoon speech bubble was drawn coming out of billboard Loka's mouth:
Come to Edgewater if you think you're man enough! Drinking competitions held daily! First prize is a VIP ticket to Legend Resort! Your legend starts here!
Somehow, coming from Loka’s sly mouth, the words seemed menacing, not light-hearted as they had been intended.
Kay had seen this place advertised elsewhere, but she had not known Loka was part of it. Legend Resort. Just seeing the name of the place written down made a knot form in her gut, a heavy feeling she had come to recognise as dread, but she didn’t know why.
You do know why. You know what lies in Legend Resort. The very thing you are so desperate to avoid.
Instinctively, Kay reached for her half bottle, twisted off the cap and took a slug.
You can’t escape me, Khaos. You know that. Sooner or later–
‘Shut up! Shut up, shut up!‘ Kay muttered under her breath, through clenched teeth.
A hand clapped on Kay’s shoulder.
‘That must be your idea of Heaven, eh, Kay?’ Barden said, pointing up to the billboard, not noticing or perhaps ignoring Kay’s dismay.
‘Huh… What?’
‘An island where you do nothing but drink all day? Must be your dream vacation.’
‘Ew. So commercialised.’ Georgi wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t even want to think about how much garbage that place produces.’
‘That’s my Georgi,’ Barden grinned, embracing her, one-armed. ‘Mind always on garbage.’
*
It seemed almost everyone in the neighbourhood was pitching in with the preparations for the Ministry’s latest rally. Nearly everyone from church had arrived at the church hall to help make banners and placards. All the mamas, including Melody’s, were preparing food and stockpiling bottles of water for the trip, while Pastor Jack and Melody’s father were making sure the church minibus was in good working order for the two-day drive ahead. Their destination was Edgewater, the east coastal sea port where the boat that set sail for the so-called “Legend Island” docked.
A billboard advertising the place had been spotted just outside of town, and everyone who had seen it knew that it was an evil place even before Pastor Jack had announced it in his last sermon.
‘Children of the Ministry, I have had a calling. A calling to our next destination, the next place we are needed. This “Legend Island” is none other than Hell on Earth, and surely run by the servants of the Devil! The sinful heathens of the world gather there, they are drawn to it like moths to a flame, for what? For greed, for gluttony! They pour alcohol down their throats until they are sick and stuff their faces with food all day long, until their insides explode! There are people in the world dying of starvation. There are people in the world that are dying of thirst. And in this place they eat and drink to excess, not because they are hungry or thirsty, but because they can! The island is nothing more than a drunk’s paradise! We must help them, my children! We must go to this place and try to save the souls of the heathens before it is too late.’
Melody had seen the billboard and had found herself filled with a strange combination of fear and disgust. Everyone else who had seen it also proclaimed they had felt this way. The marks of the Devil were easy to spot if you were looking hard enough.
‘Babel. The place should have been called Babel. For that is what this Legend Island place is, my children; a place of evil, a place that is damned to Hell for its wickedness. Look at the woman in the picture! She is surely a servant of the Devil, you can tell by her smile!’
Pastor Jack was the only person in the Ministry who owned a computer. He used it purely for researching the evils of the world so that the Ministry would know more about the evil that they rallied against. Melody recalled a time a while back when she had snuck onto the computer. She had been good friends then with Pastor Jack’s daughter, Mary, and they had secretly used the computer one day back in the fall, when Pastor Jack had been out on his daily visits.
Googling on the World Wide Web (the Devil’s instrument of evil, for it led to too much worldly knowledge and temptation for men), Melody had looked up pictures of an evil painted jezebel named “Lady Gaga”, who was frequently mentioned in the preachings of Father Jack. The image she saw was burned into her memory forever. An almost naked woman, her legs, midriff, and arms (and practically breasts as well) all showing, a demonic skeletal face, and wearing spiked high heels and talons like the dragon Apolyon from the story of the pilgrims’ progress.
Melody was horrified. Disgusted. Sickened. And yet, also curious. The image was provocative, strangely sexual, inviting. Much like the picture on the billboard, on a far greater scale, and the same provocation had been there too. And Melody was curious. She wanted to see more pictures.
She hated herself for these thoughts, of course, and spoke of them to no one but the Lord. Pastor Jack and her parents would definitely not understand.
She had never been caught for the usage of the computer, but sometimes when Pastor Jack was preaching in church, she was sure he was looking right at her, accusing her silently.
In any case, though she could not speak of it to anyone, she had more than one reason for volunteering for the rally.
A tiny, shameful part of her wanted to see this white-haired jezebel from the billboard in real life.
*
The meat made it back to camp and Georgi did not wait around to cook it. Without a fridge or anywhere to store it, food went off very quickly out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the blazing desert heat.
Kay lazed under the shade of a makeshift shelter they had cobbled together from locally gathered flat pieces of corrugated iron and wood. Midday was not a good time to try and do anything physical, like walking around, tidying up, or indeed, making a meal. It was much more pleasant to watch Georgi and Barden fuss over it, hacking at the meat, which turned out to be chicken, with a blunt old knife they had found, scrabbling around for firewood to burn. The inevitable hunt for the matches to light it. And when they finally got it going, they were rewarded with smoke in their eyes and even more unbearable heat.
Kay smirked a little through her stupor. She had been able to control fire once, before she had been poisoned by Loka. She could have easily started the fire for them, if she could ever remember how. She dozed off into the slumber of the inebriated, one of the bottles she had procured earlier clutched, now half-empty, in her hand.
Her sleep was beautifully dreamless. Like being comatose again but more fluid; she drifted in sweet nothingness, tiny whispers of thoughts and memories tapping at the surface of her mind like annoying little flies, small and insignificant. There was also the spider, the voice crawling through her subconscious pool, trying to get to her with urgency…
‘Kay! Wake up!'
'Go away, spirit.’
‘Kay!’
‘Go away. Just a little longer. Please,' Kay murmured, reluctantly becoming more conscious.
'Kay! Wake up! You've been asleep all day! Pull your weight for once and help!' It was a male voice, but not like the Spirit Voice's. Kay blinked and realised Barden was standing over her, kicking her shoe lightly with his own boot.
‘Huh? What?' Kay sat up groggily, stretching.
'I said get up, Kay. Georgi needs water for the soup! Go get some!'
'She's making soup?'
'Yes, we've been prepping the vegetables and chicken and getting the fire going all day. I'm guessing you'll want some, so you could
help out by getting some water. Really it’s the least you can do. You sleep and drink all day, that's all you ever do.'
'Ok, all right. You made your point. I'll get your water!' Kay stood up, aching all over. Sleeping rough and drinking alcohol was a terrible combination; how had Bottle managed it for so long?
'Take the bucket and get on with it.' He dropped it beside her and stomped off, muttering. Kay did not take offence. Barden could be quite gruff without meaning to be; it was probably the heat that aggravated him apart from anything else.
The plot where they camped had once been some sort of farmstead; that much was apparent from the concreted ground, severely dilapidated barns, and broken down agricultural vehicles that dotted the surrounding area. Of the barns, which had once been huge storage containers, not one had a complete roof on it, but rather jagged holes like mouths opened at random intervals in the iron canopies.
The one thing on the farm which did still work, after a fashion, was a water tank, a huge rusting metal tub the width of a small swimming pool, set high up on stilts. A system of gutters fed into it on the odd occasion there was a downpour, and the drifters used the water frequently enough for it to not stand too long and get stagnant. Kay dragged herself slowly towards this, bucket in hand. The tap had long ago rusted solid; the only way to get to the water was to climb to the top and lift off the cover. Kay clambered stiffly up the little ladder, the bucket swinging from one wrist, occasionally knocking with a dull metallic sound against the side of the tank.
The water was as flat as a millpond, and Kay could see right to the bottom; nothing much to see, but there was something pleasing about so much pure, clean water. Calming, even. She pulled a glove off and reached out her hand over the water, the palm hovering inches above but not touching it. She concentrated. A few silent moments passed, and then, the slightest of ripples formed in expanding circles out from under her hand, as if a very small stone had been dropped in.
Kay smiled. She had tried this once or twice before, and this was the best result yet. She had mastered making earth move, solid matter that could hold its own shape and be moved around. She knew that the same could apply to all elements; water was no different. But in practice it was much more difficult. Water was so fluid, so slippery, the best she had managed so far was to splash herself in the face.
She knew she shouldn’t do it, should just leave well alone. Forget what she could do. But it was hard to have these powers and not use them. As long as the others didn’t see, it was doing no harm, was it?
She sighed and dropped the bucket into the water, letting it fill up.
The headaches that followed didn’t help. Using her power took it out of her. Then there was the Spirit Voice to deal with…
She realised suddenly that she had let go of the bucket. Being a metal bucket, it promptly sank to the bottom of the tank.
Damn.
Her first thought was to climb in to the tank to reach it. Then she thought better of it; the sides of the tank were sheer and slippery, she’d never be able to get out. Go back to the camp empty-handed and face Barden?
‘I don’t think so!’ Kay retorted to herself. She stretched out her hand again over the surface of the water, shut her eyes, and concentrated, willing the water to push the bucket back up. Her hand shook with the tension. The powerful energy of the water had dragged it to the bottom of the tank. That same power could surely push it back up, repeating the process, but backwards.
She opened her eyes a tiny bit. The bucket was still at the bottom. The surface shuddered, rocking the water back and forth, shifting the bucket just visibly. But not enough to move it.
Kay sighed and pulled off her other glove. With both hands this time, she reached out, concentrated, the palms of her hands hovering just above the surface. She closed her eyes and tried again.
Still nothing.
Gritting her teeth, she tried a different approach this time, reaching out to the wooden handle of the bucket; had it not been part of a tree once? Full of life and energy? One hand focused on this, the other honed in on the water.
Her hands felt damp. She opened one eye, and to her surprise she saw the water was bouncing upwards, as if rain was falling on it. The handle of the bucket lifted slowly up, shifting slightly. Then a little more. Kay’s brow furrowed and she clamped her eyes shut. Just a little more…
There was a gurgling sound, and the bucket rose slowly, a miniature current swirling around it in the bottom of the tank. It glided slowly up, handle first, as if an invisible hand clutched it. There was a splash as it lifted above the surface.
Kay opened her eyes and after a moment’s amazement, hastily grabbed the handle.
There was a smile of satisfaction on her face as she trooped back to the camp, the full bucket weighing her down on one side.
CHAPTER SIX
Kay’s eyelids fluttered in restless sleep. She dreamt of a bittersweet memory; a soft, gentle kiss. A single, sweet moment of equilibrium, whilst the world continued to turn. And yet this memory was tainted, fear soon took a hold on her heart; this kiss was forbidden. Still she did not see the face of the person who kissed her. But amid the hurricane of other angry, violent memories, this was one second of calm.
Something tickled her nose, and instinctively, she raised an arm to groggily dust whatever it was away.
She pried her reluctant eyes open. Another day to get through. Brilliant sunlight shone in from all around, blasting her eyeballs with light. Was it a dust mote, or a feather on her face? No; to her surprise, it was a butterfly. Perched nonchalantly on the end of her nose. A beautiful, soft, pure white butterfly.
White.
She swatted it away hurriedly and watched it go. Could it be? After the business with Loka, Kay had found herself suspicious of anything white. Even thinking of that evil fiend’s name made her lips curl back in disgust.
She thought back over the dream, considering the significance of it. It was not the first time she had dreamt of this kiss. It must surely be a memory. She must have loved someone, once. Frustratingly, she could never see the person she was kissing. All she had to go on was the touch of mouth to mouth. And the feelings it stirred; excitement, fear, pleasure. She was beginning to realise something deeply personal about herself, but as yet she could not quite face it. She couldn’t quite put it into words. But she knew it was there, gnawing at her all the time. That kiss, so soft…
It was better not to immerse herself in these memories. They caused too much confusion. She was confused enough. Besides, what would the Spirit Voice think of her having these thoughts? Thankfully, for now, the voice was subdued and did not interject.
Reluctantly, Kay stretched and got groggily to her feet. For once, she was the first up and decided to take another trip to the water tank, feeling uncharacteristically helpful.
This time, she didn’t let go of the bucket and didn’t mess around with the water.
Not today, she thought to herself.
On her return, she saw Georgi was up and poking at the fire, trying to get it going again. She smiled at Kay as she approached.
‘Sleep well?’
‘As well as ever.’
‘I’m sure the half bottle of whiskey helped.’ Georgi’s eyes flashed with humour.
‘Indeed.’ Kay gazed around, but it was definitely just the two of them; the others were nowhere to be seen. ‘So where’s your leading man?’
‘Barden? Fetching berries or firewood or some such thing.’
‘Something manly, no doubt.’
‘Ha, yes.’ Georgi smiled and looked away shyly. Kay felt suddenly curious about the couple and decided to make conversation for once.
‘How long have you two been together, if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘About two, three years?’
‘Have you always been freegans?’
‘No. We met through mutual friends at an anti-consumerist rally, back in England. But we lived in a flat and had corporate jobs and paid all our bills.
You know, like normal people.’
‘What changed?’
‘Well, we’ve always wanted to live more simply, you know, grow our own vegetables and herbs, have an eco-friendly home, be more in tune with nature, you know. Barden always wanted us to have our own self-sustaining farm, in the country? But we could never afford it. Then we heard about this colony that set up over here, in the US. Of course it sounded like everything we had ever wanted, a farming colony that lived off the land and used only eco-friendly energy and didn’t waste any food. It was a dream come true. The more we thought about it, the more we wanted to go. So in the end, we took the plunge! Sold up everything we had in England and left!’
‘That was a big step to take,’ said Kay, a little surprised at this divulging of information. ‘What did your family think?’
‘They were so mad. They said we were being like stupid teenagers, running away. “Hippies” they called us. They never liked Barden anyway. Always called him a waste of space.’
‘What about Barden’s family?’
‘He was an orphan. Grew up in foster care. I think that was why it was easier for him, coming here, leaving everything behind.’
‘So I’m guessing it didn’t work out, at the colony?’
‘No,’ she said in a low voice.
Kay paused, wondering if Georgi was now regretting confiding in her. Should she encourage her to continue?
‘What happened?’
‘It wasn’t… it wasn’t as great as we thought it would be. Some of their rules were a little… strict.’ Her cheeks coloured.
‘So you just left? Why didn’t you go home?’
‘When we joined the colony, they made us give up our mobile phones and anything else we had that would give us contact with the outside world. Besides, my parents made it pretty clear they didn’t want anything more to do with us. We can’t afford to get home anyway.’
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