Vulture's Gate

by Kirsty Murray

  Boys began to tap their feet and move slowly to the music. Because that was what it must be, thought Bo, even though she’d never heard anything like it before. Music. Each note unlocked something deep inside. Her throat throbbed. She shut her eyes and let the sounds enfold her.

  Callum began to sing too, his voice warm and honey-sweet. His song wove its way around every part of Bo. Tears seeped out of her eyes, streamed down her dirty face and dripped from her chin.

  ‘What’s happening? What’s wrong with me?’ she asked. She was trembling. Her breath came in short gasps that made her chest ache. ‘Is this the plague? Is this what it does to you?’

  Callum stopped singing and cupped one hand under Bo’s chin, catching the cascade of tears. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

  ‘It’s all right, Bo. You’re only crying.’

  ‘Girls don’t cry,’ she said, wiping her hand across her eyes. ‘Only boys cry!’

  ‘Everybody cries sometimes. Just let it happen.’

  As the song grew stronger, some of the boys began to stamp their feet and move in time to the music. Without understanding the impulse, Bo found her feet moving too. It was as if the music and the tears were making things happen to her body, things she had no control over. Almost unconsciously, she found herself dancing alongside the Festers. Her tears stopped and she started to laugh, twirling through the long grass with Callum by her side. She looked up at the night sky, at the swirl of stars above. They were paler than those that hung above Tjukurpa Piti but they were the same familiar constellations. It was like a sign: a promise that here, among these wild boys, she could make a home.

  Callum spun past her and for a moment she was stricken. She watched him as he jumped in time to the music, clapping his hands and stamping his feet. How could she explain to him that the idea of being locked inside the Colony with his fathers made her want to run away? How could she tell him that the thought of living without the open sky above her, without this crazy tribe of children to dance with, made her feel as if all the light inside her was extinguished. How was she going to convince him to stay?

  22

  LIFEBLOOD

  Bo woke early to the sound of birds. The dawn chorus sent a shiver coursing through her body. She had been dreaming of birds, of the fluttering of their wings near her face, of their sharp beaks and their beady eyes. She sat up and clutched her string bag of weapons. Beside her, Callum snuffled sleepily and turned away, back into his dreams. Quietly, she stepped over the sleeping bodies of Festers. Some boys were already up and hunting, crawling through the long grass in search of bugs and grubs for breakfast.

  The new mansion was smaller than the last, with rooms opening onto a central courtyard. Far below lay a serpentine stretch of blue harbour. Bo was mystified at how the water had purchase in every corner of Vulture’s Gate. It felt as though the harbour was edging against the city, waiting to pull it back into the sea. She pushed her way through the tangled undergrowth to a lookout point. Dewdrops glistened on the tips of wild grasses. On the edge of the cliff, Bo saw Blister in the boughs of an overgrown apricot tree reaching for a piece of high fruit. Suddenly he fell, his back arching. There was a sickening thud as he hit the ground.

  ‘Blister?’ she called, running.

  His body was twitching and a froth of orange foam spilled from his mouth. She knelt down and tried to hold him but his limbs thrashed wildly and his eyes rolled back in his head. Suddenly, he lay still and limp. She slipped her arms beneath him and carried him to the house, calling for Festie. But it was Roc who met her as she came staggering up the pathway.

  ‘Blister,’ he said, taking the smaller boy from her. ‘Not Blister.’ His face twisted in grief.

  ‘He was in the tree and then he fell and then he started twitching and . . .’

  Roc cradled Blister’s head against his chest and sniffed his breath.

  ‘Baited,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to move again. They know we’re here.’ His eyes were hard. He carried Blister back to the apricot tree and laid him gently beside its trunk.

  ‘We must bury him,’ said Bo.

  ‘No,’ said Roc. ‘We leave him here so other boys know this tree isn’t safe.’

  ‘Can’t we leave a warning sign instead? You can’t simply let the birds and animals eat Blister!’

  ‘Most of the boys can’t read. And the poison is made for boys, not beasts.’

  Bo looked at Roc in disbelief. ‘I wasn’t worried about the animals. This is Blister. Your friend. You can’t leave him like this.’

  Roc lifted one arm up to his face and covered his eyes.

  ‘We need to get the boys moving,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘I’ve made a mistake.’

  Bo followed him back to the house. She found Callum standing on the stone steps of the patio, while a tiny boy tugged at his hand.

  Bo bent down and swept the restless toddler into her arms. She pushed her face against his warm, soft neck.

  ‘Bo,’ said Callum insistently, ‘what is going on?’

  ‘Blister is dead,’ she replied. ‘The Festers are moving again.’

  ‘We don’t have to go with them,’ said Callum. ‘We can go and find my dads. That’s why we came to Vulture’s Gate, remember?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she said. ‘Blister is dead.’

  Callum blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry he’s gone. But we’re not Festers, Bo.’

  ‘Maybe I am,’ she answered.

  Callum was about to respond when Roc came over and spoke directly to Bo. ‘Leave that kid,’ he said. ‘He’s too little. We don’t take the smallest ones.’

  ‘But he can’t take care of himself.’

  ‘We’ve got too many littlies already. Festie should never have fished that one out of the dumpster. He’s too small.’

  ‘Like Festie when you found him,’ said Bo, shifting the toddler onto her hip. But Roc was already striding away, shouting instructions at the boys milling in the courtyard.

  Festie pushed his way over to join Bo and Callum. He tickled the baby boy, and Bug stretched out his arms for Festie to hold him.

  ‘Hello, little Bug,’ said Festie. ‘I called him Bug ’cause he was right down the bottom of the bin, scrabbling around like a crazy thing. He’ll be the lifeblood of the Festers one day. Don’t know why he was thrown away. He’s perfect. Maybe he had dads who changed their minds so they put him out with the garbage.’

  ‘Men from the Colony wouldn’t do that,’ said Callum.

  ‘Sure they would,’ said Festie. ‘You one of those Festers with fancy-schmancy ideas about how Colony dads operate?’

  ‘No, but I have two dads that love me,’ said Callum.

  Festie laughed and raised his eyebrows sceptically.

  ‘Then what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m leaving. We’re going to find my fathers today.’

  ‘Sounds like that “Once upon a time” story Bo was telling last night,’ said Festie. ‘Once upon a time a boy tried to go back to his dads what abandoned him and when they saw him again, they put him back in the garbage . . . Festers make better fathers than Colony men. Festers stick up for the underdogs.’

  ‘So why does Roc say we have to leave this Bug of yours behind?’ asked Callum.

  Festie blanched. ‘Roc never said that.’

  ‘Ask him,’ said Callum.

  Bo stepped between the two boys and pushed them apart.

  ‘You are both utterly annoying,’ said Bo. ‘Give me back the Bug. I’ll carry him.’

  She didn’t wait for either of the boys to join her but Callum fell in step as she headed out of the mansion, following the snaking line of boys into the wide road. Roc was at the front but when he looked over and saw Bo he strode back down the line, his expression like thunder.

  ‘I told you to leave that one behind,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t mind carrying him,’ said Bo. ‘Callum and Festie will share him with me.’

  ‘It’s not the point!’ said Roc. ‘
It’s time to cull the little ones.’

  ‘Roc,’ said Bo, putting a hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right. We can do this.’

  Roc shook her hand away. ‘Don’t tell me what’s going to happen. I say what’s going to happen, not you.’

  ‘I know you’re upset about Blister . . .’

  ‘Boys die all the time. You’ll die too. And faster if you keep arguing with me.’

  Bo blushed angrily and Mr Pinkwhistle, sensing her distress, scurried in front of her, bobbing from one leg to the other, his eyes flashing red as he monitored Roc’s position and prepared to attack.

  Roc looked down in irritation. Then he drew back his leg and kicked the roboraptor hard in the chest, sending him flying. Mr Pinkwhistle landed on the road and scudded across the bitumen, coming to a stop near a spiky hedge. Even though he landed hard on his spine, he pivoted around to charge again. Bo’s whistle stopped him in his tracks. He stood, bewildered, nodding his head, waiting for the signal to attack.

  ‘I’m sorry he attacked. I won’t let him hurt you,’ said Bo.

  Roc snorted in derision. ‘As if that piece of crap could do me any damage. It’s as big a disappointment as you are,’ he said. ‘I thought you were going to be useful.’

  Bo narrowed her eyes. ‘And I thought you cared about things that mattered, that you were doing something important.’

  Roc clenched his fists and leapt on her, knocking her to the ground. Bug went tumbling into the air and Bo cried out, ‘Bug! Someone catch him.’

  Callum jumped forward and caught the toddler before he hit the ground. Bug began to wail as Callum shoved him into Festie’s arms and then threw himself on Roc’s back. The Festers were instantly upon him as he struggled to get Roc in a headlock. They dragged Callum clear while Bo fought like a wild cat. But Roc was almost man-sized and he used his fists without remorse. In minutes, he had her pinned firmly to the ground. She licked away a trail of blood from the side of her mouth and snarled at him.

  ‘Do you feel better now? Now that you’ve shown you can bully me any time you like? What happened to “I never force a boy to do anything”?’

  Roc trembled with rage. ‘Why can’t you shut up!’

  He scanned the crowd. A group of Festers had caught Mr Pinkwhistle. One boy had his tail, two held his body and a fourth threw a piece of cloth over his head and held him fast. Beside them, three other boys had Callum pinned to the ground.

  ‘Look, we’ve got your mate, we’ve got your machine and we’ve got you. So from now on, you do as I say,’ said Roc.

  Bo looked straight into Roc’s angry face and spat. It landed on his cheekbone and slithered down to his chin. Even though her mouth was full of blood, she smiled.

  Then they heard the copters. Black against the pale blue morning sky, they swooped low over the roadway. With a collective cry of terror, the Festers dispersed into the undergrowth. Some scrambled up trees, others disappeared into the nearest tumbledown house. The boys holding down Callum released him and scurried into the bush.

  Roc leapt up and grabbed Bo’s hands, dragging her to her feet. ‘Run!’ was all he said. But even as he spoke, the nets were falling. Heavy wire mesh dropped from the copters, blanketing the streetscape and covering any boy unlucky enough to still be out in the open.

  The copters landed on the broken road, and drones opened fire with long-range tasers. Bo ducked. She could hear a surging, pumping noise inside her head and knew it was the sound of her own fear. She whistled for Mr Pinkwhistle but he had vanished.

  On the street, chaos reigned. Soldier-drones were firing into the bush, tasering runaways, untangling boys from nets, and rounding up the ones that were still writhing from the pain of being tasered. Roc stood stock-still, his face a mask, as the captured Festers gathered around him. Bo stood beside him and scanned the crowd of defeated boys, searching the faces of the captured, hoping Callum had escaped.

  As the soldier-drones closed in on the boys, she saw a flicker of movement inside a tangle of fallen branches in a nearby garden. Suddenly, Callum leapt over a fence and ran towards her, his hands in the air to signal his surrender.

  ‘Callum,’ she said, as he fell into line beside her, ‘what have you done?’

  ‘I couldn’t let them take you. I couldn’t let them take you without me.’

  23

  SHEEP FROM THE GOATS

  Bo, Callum and Roc said nothing to each other as they sat side by side on the roadside, waiting. Six soldier-drones were left with them while the other copters took off into the blue morning sky. Bo glanced along the row of captured boys. She spotted Flakie at the end but Festie and Bug were nowhere in sight. Close to thirty of the Festers were missing and she could only hope they had made it to safer ground.

  The soldier-drones hadn’t bothered pursuing anyone into the bush, satisfied with their haul of fifty boys. They circled their prisoners like crows but came no nearer than to nudge a boy with a boot or threaten them with a taser if they tried to speak to each other.

  ‘Stay awake,’ whispered Roc. ‘If you fall asleep, they might think you’re sickly and shoot you. They only want the strong ones.’

  Bo sat up straight and eyed the soldier-drones angrily, but inside she was churning with guilt. She knew that if she and Roc hadn’t been fighting they might have been more alert to the threat. They might have been able to bolt into the surrounding gardens and disappear into a ravine before the nets fell. And Callum – if it hadn’t been for her wanting to stay with the Festers, they might be with Callum’s fathers by now, and yet, despite everything he’d still come back for her.

  When the truck finally arrived, it looked more like a four-wheel-drive bus than an armoured vehicle. The Festers were herded on board and driven along bumpy, cracked roads to the edge of the North Shore. The sun beat down on the roof and inside everyone began to sweat. When Bo reached up to open a window, a soldier-drone hit the back of her hand, grazing her knuckles with the butt of his gun.

  The boys were off-loaded behind the ruins of an old funfair. The wind whipped off the harbour and Bo licked her lips, tasting salt. So much water. It made her uneasy, left her wondering how the land could compete with the sea, with the relentless pounding of surf against rocks, the constant erosion of the ground they walked upon. It was as if everything in Vulture’s Gate was under attack.

  They passed into a large, white building with a sign above the doorway that read ROT, and then beneath, in smaller letters Re-Orientation Terminal. A man in a white coat came out and inspected the Festers, checking to see if any of them were wounded and scanning them for microchips. ‘Time to sort the sheep from the goats,’ he said, smiling grimly.

  Bo could tell he wasn’t a drone. His eyes were bright and sharp and he shouted instructions to the soldier-drones, ordering them to separate the boys into groups.

  Bo watched Callum fingering the crescent-shaped scars on his ears. He blended so perfectly with the Festers, it would be hard to believe he wasn’t one of them. She wondered if he would try and explain to the man in the white coat that he was from the Colony but he stepped closer to Bo and kept his head down. Then it dawned on her. If he told them his story, they would be separated. She slipped her hand in his and their fingers entwined.

  Flakie and two other boys were dragged away as the microchip scanner registered their histories. The small boys were sorted from the older ones and led down a long, brightly lit corridor. Roc kept his head up, his face proud, but he would not look at any of the boys.

  ‘What will they do to them?’ asked Bo.

  ‘Flakie and the other chipped boys are runaways. They’ll go back to the men who own them. The little ones I don’t want to think about,’ said Roc. He looked across at her with hollow eyes. All Bo’s rage against him drained away. She touched his hand. He was nothing like the angry golden boy she’d fought in the roadway.

  They were organised into single file and marched down another hallway into a long bathroom where showerheads jutted out above them from every
wall. A large black bin was wheeled into the centre of the room. Soldier-drones positioned themselves in every corner, breaking up clusters of boys, forcing Bo and Callum to step apart.

  ‘Strip,’ said one of the soldier-drones. ‘Throw all your clothes in the bin and stand under one of the showers. Now!’

  ‘They’re going to kill us,’ said Roc, grimly stripping off his shirt.

  ‘Why didn’t they simply shoot us when they caught us?’ whispered Bo.

  Roc shrugged. ‘Maybe they need us for body parts.’

  Bo grimaced and began to untie the stays of her ragged shirt. Then she stopped. She watched the boys begin to strip, her mind churning. How could she expose herself in front of them all? Finally everyone was naked except for her. Slowly, she took off her shirt and folded her arms across her chest to cover her breasts, but she still wore a pair of baggy khaki pants that Mollie Green had given her. Callum immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from view.

  ‘Bo can’t take his gear off,’ he announced. ‘ ’Cause his skin is really sensitive.’

  A soldier-drone pushed through the crowd of boys, shoved Callum out of the way and pulled out a long knife. In one swift movement he cut through Bo’s trousers so the fabric fell away and lay in pieces around her ankles. Bo shut her eyes. One boy cried out, ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Then she felt a pair of strong hands grip her shoulders and shake her hard. She opened her eyes to see Roc glaring at her.

  ‘You lied to me,’ he said, his voice full of hurt. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  Callum pushed between them.

  ‘She’s a girl. That’s all. See, they’re not all gone. We have to help her. We have to keep her safe,’ he said pleadingly to the other boys.