A City Called Smoke: The Territory 2

by Justin Woolley

  Lynn wiped dust from her face with her arm, wincing. Squid saw for the first time that the two middle fingers on her right hand were bent to the side, broken. “Who are you?” she asked Mr. Stix, her question at once confused and accusing.

  “Later,” Mr. Stix said. “We need to go.”

  “Are you all right?” Nim said, rushing to put his arms around Lynn. “I’m sorry I didn’t come for you. I would have, but Squid was the only one who could fit. I would have gone in his place.”

  Squid wanted to tell him that he hadn’t gone in his place, though, had he? That it didn’t matter that Squid was the only one who could fit, he was still the one who had climbed the anchor and got her out and – But Squid could do nothing but stare in shock as Nim took Lynn’s face between his hands and kissed her full on the lips. Lynn’s eyes went wide with surprise and for a moment it looked as though she would pull away, but to Squid’s utter disappointment she didn’t. She closed her eyes as if she were actually enjoying it. When she finally did pull away they stared at each other for a moment before Lynn looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

  “I’ll be fine,” Lynn said, her face red. She turned to Squid, stepping back from Nim and dropping her hands away from where she had placed them on his chest.

  “Squid,” she said.

  “What?” Squid tried, but knew he’d probably failed to keep his current feelings out of his voice.

  “Just,” Lynn said, “thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Hm,” Squid grunted, looking away.

  Shouts came from the dirigible above, followed by the deep groan of creaking wood. Squid looked up and saw that one side of the balloon had come free. It was still secured within its light wooden frame, but it had shifted enough that the hull of the airship was tipping over. Wooden supports began to crack and ropes fluttered free. As one side of the hull dropped, swinging like a clock pendulum, those pirates on the deck who couldn’t grab something in time began to fall. The airship’s balloon began to collapse. Whether it was torn or the air bladders had been pulled open Squid wasn’t sure, but he could tell the ship was going to crash, and it had already begun falling toward them.

  “Get to the bikes!” Mr. Stix shouted.

  They ran back to where the bio-cycles were parked. Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes threw their legs over the seats, kicking their boots down on the starting levers. The engines turned over, rhythmically popping. After three kicks each the engines fired and maintained a steady idle, a white-gray smoke billowing out from the exhaust pipes at the rear. Nim moved to the sidecar.

  “No,” said Squid, thinking back on how he had felt hanging on with desperation behind Mr. Stownes. “Let Lynn ride in the sidecar. She won’t be able to hold on with her hand like that.”

  Nim looked from Squid to Lynn. “Of course,” he said. “That’s what I was gonna say.”

  Lynn climbed into the sidecar. Nim got on behind Mr. Stix and Squid behind Mr. Stownes. Both bio-cycles accelerated quickly. For a moment they both traveled toward the crashing dirigible but then they turned sharply, wheeling around and heading away.

  The wind whipped around the large shape of Mr. Stownes, flicking his hair into a wild frenzy. Squid could smell the distinct aroma of burning bio-fuel as it was pumped through the bike. He could hear the puttering roar of the engine. He turned his head and looked behind them. He gaped at the suddenly enormous and imposing sight of the airship dropping from the sky. Even in the dark of night the dirigible blocked the moon and cast a shadow over the fleeing bikes.

  Both Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes turned their throttles, squeezing every last ounce of speed from the bio-cycles as the Blessed Mary crashed behind them. The hull of the ship hit the ground first, the curve of the wood kicking up dirt in a small wave as it shattered and split. Once the hull had dug into the ground the balloon began to fall, the great collapsing folds of fabric looming over the escaping bikes as they tried to drive clear.

  Squid watched the enormous balloon, which dropped to the ground like a grasping hand, a giant that had been unable to engulf them. As they rode away into the night the last sounds of the crash settled and the Blessed Mary was quiet and still. Squid let out a long, slow breath of relief.

  He looked at Lynn in the sidecar beside him. She was still staring at the scene of the crash, watching it disappear into the darkness. He had no doubt she was thinking about Melbourne, wondering whether he was alive. It might have been possible for some of the crew to survive, but Squid wasn’t sure that Melbourne would be among them. He had no doubt that Melbourne had been the one who had caused the dirigible to crash, and the pirates would know that.

  “He let us get away,” he called to Lynn.

  She looked at him. The wind was dragging tears sideways across her face. She nodded and then looked back toward the Blessed Mary, watching it even as it vanished into the darkness of the landscape behind them. Squid saw Nim watching him and Lynn as he rode alongside them. Squid had no idea what he was thinking. All Squid could think about was the fact that Nim had just kissed Lynn. He watched him for a long while, hoping he might fall off the back of Mr. Stix’s bio-cycle or something, but he never did.

  A short time later Mr. Stix slowed his bio-cycle to a stop and Mr. Stownes did the same. Mr. Stix came immediately to where Lynn was clambering out of the sidecar.

  “Show me that finger,” Mr. Stix said, stepping toward her, but Lynn pulled her hand away.

  “Tell me who you are first.”

  “It’s okay, Lynn,” Squid said. “This is Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes. They’re going to help us get to Big Smoke.”

  Lynn hesitated. “Why?”

  “Why would you like?” Mr. Stix said. “Because we’ve been ordered to, because we have a punishment to work off, because everyone in the Territory needs Master Blanchflower to succeed at this.”

  “What punishment?” Lynn asked. “What did you do?”

  “Show me your hand,” Mr. Stix said.

  Lynn looked to Squid, who nodded. Lynn relented and held out her hand. The fingers were turned and bent in a direction Squid was certain fingers were not supposed to bend in. Both were sausage-fat, with purple bruising already starting to appear around the knuckles. Squid looked down at his own hand, trying to match the direction of Lynn’s fingers with his own. Nope, they weren’t meant to be like that.

  “They’re broken,” Mr. Stix said.

  “Oh, really,” Lynn said, holding the hand up in front of Mr. Stix’s face, “you think? You must be a doctor.”

  Mr. Stix ignored her and turned to Mr. Stownes. “Fetch me a bandage from the saddlebags.”

  Mr. Stownes opened one of the bags that hung from the side of his bike. He returned with a roll of white cloth.

  “This will hurt,” Mr. Stix said, “but the fingers need to be immobilized. You won’t be able to use this hand for at least a few weeks.”

  “But this is my sword hand,” Lynn said.

  “Well, I suppose it’s lucky you have us then.”

  Mr. Stix grabbed Lynn’s middle finger. Lynn squealed as he straightened it and held it in place beside her index finger. Then he did the same with her ring finger, lining her fingers up straight. Lynn’s breathing was fast, she bit her lip and her eyes welled with tears. Mr. Stix wrapped the bandage around all four of her fingers and then down over her hand. When he finished he pinned it in place. Lynn held the hand to her chest, letting out a quiet, almost hidden sob. Squid went to move forward and comfort her but Nim was there first. Squid tried not to scowl.

  Mr. Stix turned back toward the bio-cycles. “All right, let’s keep going a little longer. We should put a little more distance between us and the crash.”

  As they loaded up and rode away Squid didn’t need the rising sun to tell him in which direction they were traveling. Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes had wasted no time in pointing their bio-cycles east. Lynn had been rescued, and just as they had promised, they were taking Squid to the fence. Then, he knew, they would need to go beyond it.


  CHAPTER 20

  Mr. Stix slowed the bio-cycle, weaving around a particularly large tuft of spinifex grass. Nim sat behind him, as he had done ever since they had fled the crashing pirate dirigible. He wondered why they were stopping now. It was still only mid-morning. Usually they would have ridden for another two hours or more before having a break during the hottest part of the day to eat, drink water and rest beneath a shade cloth. He leaned forward so that he could speak into Mr. Stix’s ear.

  “Why are we stopping?” he asked.

  The bike rolled to a halt. Mr. Stix cut the engine and flicked the metal stand out with his foot, leaning the bio-cycle over and ensuring the base of the stand wouldn’t sink too deep into the dusty soil. He pointed toward a clump of gum trees ahead of them.

  “That’s what you asked for, right?”

  They had been traveling east for close to a week. Their food and water supplies were being used up much faster than planned. Mr. Stix and Mr. Stownes had intended on traveling with only themselves and Squid. The addition of Nim and Lynn meant there were two more people needing food and especially water in the arid conditions. Typical of the Dwellers, Nim thought, always dependent on what they could bring with them and not knowing that even out here the country could provide everything they needed as long as they knew where to look.

  Even if it had been just the three of them, Nim still didn’t think they would have been adequately prepared. Who knew how far outside the fence Big Smoke might be? There was no way they had enough food or water to last the journey there and back. Nim knew Mr. Stix could find water in the desert, in low-lying areas where the water would gather beneath the ground and even the occasional billabong, but these easily found sources of water were rare. The mob had known better than to rely on those alone.

  Nim had offered to find food and water to supplement the supplies they had remaining as long as he could come with them. He wouldn’t let himself be separated from Lynn again, and no matter how they felt about each other he still thought that Squid might somehow lead him to the Storm Man. It annoyed him that a scrawny boy who had spent his life doing everything that was wrong with the Dwellers’ way of life – trying to twist the country to his will, trying to change the dirt so that it would grow the wrong plants – could somehow be the one prophesied to find what Dwellers and Nomads alike had been seeking for hundreds of years: an end to the ghouls. He resented his reliance on Squid to get vengeance for Nara and be permitted to return to his mob.

  Nim climbed off the cycle and looked toward the trees. He nodded. “Those are kurrajong trees,” he said. “We can get water from them.”

  Nim turned to watch Lynn climb out of the sidecar and arch her back, stretching. She looked over at him and they locked eyes. She smiled at him and he returned the smile, but it felt odd, an unnatural interaction. The past week had been strange. There was something between them, they both knew it, and yet she had been keeping her distance. They hadn’t spoken about the kiss at all. It was like it had never happened. She was still in mourning for her brother, he knew that, but still, he wished she would let him in.

  “We’ll get what we can,” Nim said, returning his attention to Mr. Stix as they walked to the trees. “It won’t be much. Probably better than nothing, though.”

  Nim looked east. The wind had been growing progressively stronger all day and the sky had been turning orange and hazy. Their visibility, which normally stretched for miles in all directions, was gradually being diminished. There was a red darkness coming. He could see the looming front of wind and dust ahead of them and it worried him.

  “Dust storm,” he said.

  Mr. Stix nodded. “It’s been worsening for some time.”

  “We had dust storms on the farm,” Squid said as he followed along behind them. “They messed up the paddocks and forced us inside but they weren’t that bad.”

  “You haven’t seen them like this,” Nim said without turning to look at him. “Probably never. My grandfather said you could tell how bad the dust is gonna be by how black the red is. This is gonna be a bad one. We won’t be traveling any further today. I’ll get some water out of the tree, then we’d best camp it out.”

  As Nim set to work, he noticed Squid standing nearby watching.

  “What?” Nim said.

  “What?” Squid snapped in return. “I want to see how you do it.”

  Nim turned back to the tree, ignoring him. He still didn’t see why Lynn was so devoted to Squid. He wasn’t a great warrior, he wasn’t wise like an elder, he didn’t really have any idea what he was doing. He hadn’t even saved her aboard the pirate dirigible; it had been Lynn’s brother who allowed them to escape.

  “Here,” Nim said to Mr. Stix, poking at the red soil with his foot. “Probably this is the root. We need to dig it up.”

  The dry ground was split here, a crack running out from the trunk of the tree. When he had been a child, young enough that he had spent the majority of his time with the women of his mob, Nim’s grandmother had taught him and Nara, like all children, about all the ways the sacred country would provide for them. This crack in the ground meant the root below was swollen with water. The kurrajong was always reliable in this way. When there was no water anywhere in the dry and dusty world the kurrajong tree would store it for you.

  “Mr. Stownes,” Mr. Stix called to the large man, who was still standing near the bio-cycles, “please get something to dig up this root.”

  Mr. Stownes searched through one of the bags hanging off his bio-cycle and returned with a small axe in hand. He pointed at the cracked ground.

  “Yes,” Mr. Stix said. “The Nomad says that’s the spot to dig.” Even after traveling together Mr. Stix still referred to Nim as “the Nomad,” not that Nim expected anything different from an Inside Dweller like him. They looked down on everyone, and on Nomads most of all.

  Mr. Stownes bent down and, using the axe two-handed like a shovel, dug into the earth until he hit the root below with a hollow wooden thud. He began clearing the soil away, ready to cut the root free of the tree.

  “Wait,” Nim said. Mr. Stownes paused, looking at him. Nim moved forward and placed his palm on the tree.

  “What are you doing?” Lynn asked.

  “Thanking the tree for what it’s gonna give us,” Nim said.

  They all watched him, curious and maybe confused, but no one said anything as he whispered the words of thanks below his breath. “I am a visitor to this place. I am thankful as I take part of you that I may live. I will return it when I return home.”

  Nim stepped back from the tree. He could tell that they didn’t understand why he needed to do that. Maybe they thought it was interesting, maybe they thought they understood, but they didn’t. That was what really separated the Dwellers from his people. It wasn’t the way they lived, but the way they thought about where they lived. He nodded to Mr. Stownes. The big man shrugged, raised the axe and cut the root in two places, lifting a long section of it from the ground.

  Nim took the root from the man. He placed one end of it on the ground, holding the other so that the root was vertical.

  “Can I have your axe?”

  Mr. Stownes passed him the axe and Nim began to chop at the root, cutting thin slices of bark away, revealing the white flesh beneath. When he had cleaned the bark off a section at the bottom of the root he handed the axe back. He looked up at Mr. Stix, Squid and Lynn, who were all watching.

  “Where’s the water?” Lynn asked.

  “I need a knife,” Nim said, “and a cup.”

  Mr. Stix fetched a metal cup from one of the bikes and handed Nim his knife. Nim sat and began using the knife to shave thin strips of the root into the cup. He worked until the cup was half full with pieces of wood. The others just stood and watched. He looked up at them.

  “The water is in the wood,” he said.

  He used the handle of the dagger to work at the wood flesh, mushing it together, pulping it. Soon, the clear liquid they all desperately needed beg
an seeping out of the wood, filling the cup. Nim continued for a while longer, pushing the strips of root down to the bottom of the cup. There wasn’t much water there, little more than a mouthful, but he sipped it and then stood, passing the cup to Lynn.

  “Try it,” he said.

  Lynn did. Her face screwed up a little as she worked her tongue around her mouth. “It tastes kind of … woody.”

  Nim nodded. “Probably it does, but it’s water. Here,” he said, handing the root and knife to Squid, “you wanna learn? Practice makes perfect is what Old Fella Eddie used to tell me.”

  Each of the others took turns in working water from the wooden root. Squid, Nim had to admit, showed something of the brains Lynn so often credited him with when he went wandering to another kurrajong tree, found a similar crack in the earth and began digging up a root of his own. He had found the right spot, too, pulling a root that may even have yielded more water than the one Nim had found. It didn’t escape Nim’s notice, though, that like a typical Dweller Squid didn’t thank the tree. He just took the root like they took everything.

  While the others worked at replenishing their water supplies from the kurrajong roots Nim watched the sky and the dust that was rolling in from the horizon. Visibility to the east was deteriorating more and more. He could probably see less than a mile now, and he could taste the dust on his tongue with each breath. The wind was bringing the dust this way, and it was coming quickly. This amount of dust was a certain sign that the storm would be a bad one.

  It wasn’t long until Nim saw the storm front break through the haze in the distance. The dust roiled and churned like a turbulent red wave. It was a wall, thousands of feet high, rolling across the landscape toward them. It seemed almost to be a living thing, a monster of dirt and wind all opening and closing mouths as it clawed at the ground, dragging itself along and enveloping everything that lay in its path. He was right to be concerned. It was, without doubt, the worst dust storm Nim had ever seen, worse even than he’d imagined. It didn’t take long for the others to see it too.