Our Home is Nowhere (The Borrowed Land, Book 1)

by Luke Prochnow

  ‘I’ve never been,’ he said, not wanting to share his memories with Fin.

  ‘Once we’re done with this job, Missy’n I are gonna pay our debts, move out there, claim a plot and live off the fat of the land. I always wished I grew up in a place like that.’ When Ben didn’t respond, Fin kept whispering into the darkness, speaking almost to himself. ‘Can’t wait to be done with this life. Sick of the risk and the stress. So unnecessary. We’ll live the worry-free life out there. Just honest work.’

  Ben tried to imagine that, but it was difficult. The only life he’d ever known was full of danger. He imagined he’d get antsy if life was too quiet, but with nothing to compare his current life to, how could he know for sure?

  ‘What about you?’ Fin asked. ‘There’s no way you wanna be doin’ this shit forever.’

  Ben blinked in the darkness, trying to make out Fin’s shape, crunched like a ball of tinfoil somewhere beside him. The pistol jabbed uncomfortably into his stomach. I want exactly what you have, he almost said, but what came from his lips was, ‘I’m still figurin’ it out.’

  ‘Missy forced me to figure it out real quick. Once I did, I never looked back.’

  ‘I’m gonna try to get some sleep before we get there,’ Ben said and shuffled around to make it seem like he was trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. After a couple seconds he stopped moving and lay on his back, staring up into pure blackness. As he drifted off to sleep, he could see Jen’s face staring directly back at him.

  ………

  Ben woke to Fin jabbing his shoulder. ‘We’re slowing down,’ he whispered.

  Ben rolled over onto his stomach and listened. Sure enough, the semi-truck had dropped in speed and the road had grown rougher. For several miles, they bumped across a gravelly surface until the truck stopped altogether. Voices outside called to one another. Footsteps circled the semi-truck, followed by Willard’s voice explaining his business with the North and the cargo he carried.

  Ben imagined the massive wall, with its thick barbed wire reaching fifteen feet into the air, spanning hundreds of miles, and with outposts every two miles. It was daunting imagining the Paranats with their rifles and black get-ups stalking around the truck, searching for anything that could be construed as suspicious.

  Then Willard thanked the guard and they began inching forward once again. Ben let a sigh of relief sift slowly out of his nose, but it was short-lived. A shrill whistle pierced the air and the truck jerked to a stop again. Men ran up to the cab, their voices surrounding the truck, and wrenched open the door. ‘Get out,’ said a muffled voice. Willard asked what the problem was.

  ‘We need to see what’s in the back.’

  ‘It’s nothin’ but frozen food, but if you insist…’

  ‘We insist.’

  Footsteps circled the semi-truck and Ben heard Willard unlock the padlock and the cargo door slide up, slamming against the back wall. An ember of light glowed beneath them. Fin started breathing heavily. Ben reached out and gripped his shoulder.

  They could hear people walking beneath them opening the freezers and sliding them away from the walls to check the concealed areas. Someone went around the perimeter of the truck slapping the panels with his palm, listening for hollowed out compartments. Ben slipped his hand over the six-shooter’s stock.

  ‘Take a look at what I found up front,’ came a voice from the back.

  There was silence for a few seconds until someone said to Willard, ‘Cauterizing Bats are prohibited for anyone to carry but the Para National Guard. Do you want to explain why you’re in possession of one?’

  Willard’s voice sounded concerned, though he tried to sound casual. ‘C’mon, fellas. Delivering supplies to the North is dangerous. I gotta have a way to protect myself. You don’t know what it’s like down there. I swear they’ll kill for goods like this.’

  The Paranats talked amongst each other for a moment. ‘I don’t want to find you with a Caut Bat again,’ said one of them. ‘We’ll be keeping this one.’

  Willard thanked them profusely as he pulled down the backdoor and jammed the lock back into place. His feet crunched over the gravel as he made his way back to the cab and got in, slamming the door shut. A Paranat yelled for him to pull forward. The truck jerked into gear and rolled through the massive barbed wire gate into the North.

  5

  Ben kicked off the panel and dropped down beside the freezers where the only light available streamed in from beneath the cracks in the cargo door. His numbed limbs filled with blood and pinpricks needled all over his skin as he stretched his knees to his chest and squeezed his hand in and out of a fist. His body was coming alive once again.

  Fin dropped beside him, jiggling around to get his circulation going again. ‘What time is it?’ he asked.

  Ben bent down, placing his wrist into one of the cracks of light to see his watch. ‘Nine thirty-six.’

  Fin looked at his feet for a moment, then said, ‘We must be halfway to New Gravity by now. Still on the flats. I’d say we’ve got another twenty minutes.’

  ‘Then it’s time to go.’ Ben undid the latch on the door at the side of the truck and slid it across. The world before them whizzed past: trees, fields of grass and sand, the blue and black highway; they were moving much too fast to leap. He pounded his fist on the wall separating them from the cab. Willard took the hint and slowed close to twenty-five miles an hour.

  Ben emptied all the bullets out of the six-shooter and tucked it into the jacket pocket beside his chest. He waited for a grassy stretch at the side of the road, then leapt out, rolling on his side for several feet, trying to keep his head from touching the ground, afraid of splitting his skull against a rock. With blurred vision, he made out Fin drifting through the air, touching down in front of him and rolling until his body hit a tree.

  They both got up and dusted themselves off. The semi-truck turned into a flash of white in the distance until it blipped away entirely, as if it had never been there at all.

  ‘I think I cracked a rib,’ Fin said, patting himself delicately and wincing whenever his palm touched the left side of his body.

  ‘Could be worse. Come on, we gotta get off the highway.’

  They delved deeper into the flats so that they couldn’t be easily spotted, all the while keeping the highway in sight. Fresh green grass came up to their knees. Mixed with the grass were small flowers—red, white, and yellow—clinging to thin green stems. Intermittently, they came across patches of sand that were like miniature deserts. They trudged through the sand, leaving deep boot-prints in their wake.

  As they walked, Ben reloaded the six-shooter and returned it to its original position in his waistband while Fin continued massaging his bruised ribs.

  ‘The worst is over,’ Ben said reassuringly. He could feel himself getting closer to Jen with every step, and when his feet started to ache or blister, he thought of her.

  Fin walked grudgingly. Ben could tell he wished he hadn’t come. Every step for Fin was probably one more step away from his goal. Think of the reward, Ben wanted to tell him. But he knew it wouldn’t help. No reward was worth being away from Missy and the baby. Ben understood, or thought he did.

  They came across the first building they’d seen since they reached the North—a huge adobe structure planted in the middle of the flats. A blackish-blue road ran from the building to the highway. Since the advent of the hovercar, they’d begun spraying their roads in the North with some blue material that was supposed to enhance the hovering capability, resulting in a weird mixture of black and blue, which from space must look like a great bruise on America, Ben thought.

  In front of the building was a cul-de-sac with a mermaid fountain in the center spraying water into the air that cascaded back down her naked body. Fifty or so cars were parked outside the building. People came and went through the building’s glass doors, each carrying a drink and dressed to the nines, talking and laughing with the valet.

  Ben and Fin crouched beh
ind the last row of hovercars and watched the building through the window. When the glass doors swung open, Ben could make out the poker, roulette and craps tables, thinking it odd that a casino should be the first thing to be built between the Wall and New Gravity. It had to have been here before the war; now it was most likely a haven for the Paranats who patrolled the Wall.

  While Ben watched the people coming in and out of the casino, Fin started working his way down the line of cars, searching for a cheap model without a security system. It took him a while to track one down. Most new hovercars came with top grade security, but some of the first models forfeited security for luxury. Fin found a low trim second-generation model and waved Ben over. By the time Ben reached him, Fin had already forced the lock and had his head buried beneath the steering wheel messing with the wiring.

  Ben stayed low behind the back window and kept lookout while Fin hotwired the vehicle. His eyes ran the length of the building, over a huge glowing sign that read Pearl Flats Casino and stopped at the eaves, which curled like golden lips from the rooftop, and moved on to the sparkling windows that shimmered in the heat of the flats. Cars drove in from the highway while others exited the casino, undoubtedly heading to New Gravity.

  ‘How’s it comin’ Fin?’ Ben strained to whisper loud enough so Fin could hear.

  ‘Almost done,’ he grunted, shifting uncomfortably on the small floorboard of the hovercar.

  Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice growled, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, you little shit.’

  It was only when he spoke that Ben noticed the man, dressed in a black suit and red tie and wearing highly polished shoes, standing ten feet away.

  Fin reared his head out of the hovercar and looked at the man. He shrugged. ‘I need a ride.’

  ‘Fucking southie trash,’ the man snarled, rushing towards him, his gleaming shoes slapping on the macadam.

  The man’s eyes widened when he spotted Ben charge at him, shoulder lowered, from behind the car. The gambler bounced off the hovercar with an enormous grunt and reeled sideways, about to stumble. Ben grabbed his tie and pulled him up, then cracked his fist across his jaw, sending the man to the ground, his palms flattened on the pavement, a thin line of bloody drool leaking from his mouth.

  Seconds later, the hovercar engine purred into life and Fin crawled over into the passenger seat while Ben rolled the unconscious gambler beneath a nearby car. He slid behind the wheel of the stolen hovercar and slammed the door shut.

  ‘I coulda handled him,’ Fin said.

  Ben adjusted the seat forward. ‘Guy was twice your size,’ he said, pushing the shifter forward into Drive and causing the car to lift three feet into the air. He leaned forward and peered out the windshield at the casino and surrounding cars, wishing he had the money, fancy clothes, and time to go inside and forget his troubles for a few hours. After this job, I’ll have all three.

  Fin buckled up as Ben pulled forward between two parked hovercars. They turned and moved slowly along the back of the lot until they found their way out onto the road leading to the highway. Checking the rearview mirror one last time, Ben leaned back in the seat, enjoying the comfortable imitation leather and the smooth feel of the steering wheel beneath his fingers.

  6

  New Gravity rose up around them, each new building they encountered appearing as if by magic through the low hanging haze. White, rounded buildings curved through the air like molded teeth. A hovering trolley full of people drifted slowly by, before turning a corner up ahead and disappearing from view. Hovercars full of men, women and children sped along the street, their vehicles almost completely silent while they slid lane to lane as if skating over ice. A truck full of teenagers tailgated them for half a mile before slamming on the gas and flying around them, shouting and flipping them off. Ben glanced up as their blurred faces and fingers sped past.

  All along the street, Paranats wearing black bodysuits and helmets set with pale glowing eyepieces walked in groups of two, their heads swinging slowly from one side to the other as they scanned everything in their field of vision. Screens built into the buildings’ walls showed heads of politicians speaking vehemently, eyes aflame. Ben couldn’t hear what they said, but he imagined they spoke out against the south, filling the minds of the young and old with poison. Fin sank lower in his seat as they passed the Paranats, their Caut Bats jangling against their hips.

  ‘The blueprints are at N.G. Tech,’ Ben told Fin as they looped around the city towards the business district. He’d been to New Gravity once before and still remembered the layout well enough to navigate. ‘They’re for a hovercraft called the 340-Flytop. We break in, load ’em onto a disc, and we’re gone.’

  Ben noticed that the entire city had a greenish tint to it that seemed to seep out of the buildings, the sidewalk, even from the pedestrians using the crosswalk in front of them. He looked at his skin, expecting to see a green mist leaking like poisonous gas.

  ‘Can we be gone by tonight? Leave the city right when we get a hold of the blueprints?’ Fin asked.

  ‘Yeah, we can leave.’ If Fin wanted to be gone by tonight, then Ben would have to change his schedule in order to see Jen. ‘Let’s go check out N.G. Tech. I got some errands to run afterwards.’

  Fin didn’t ask, already knowing the nature of Ben’s errands. Suddenly he motioned for Ben to slow down. Ben pulled along the curb and brought the car to a dead stop. ‘The Playground,’ Fin muttered, nodding to his right. Ben lowered his head to get a better view.

  The Playground was a dirt courtyard set between two buildings, with a dais pushed up against the back. A crowd had gathered. Tight-lipped northerners with hands shoved in their pockets watched passively as two Paranats hauled a man onto the dais. They pulled out their Caut Bats and struck his legs, bringing him to his knees. An obese, gray-haired man with enormously flabby cheeks stomped up the steps to join the Paranats. He lifted a giant leg and planted it firmly on the man’s back. As he addressed the crowd, he shoved the man down until his stomach was flattened against the wood. The bloody and bruised eyes of the prone man searched the crowd, silently crying out for help.

  ‘Roll down the window,’ Ben told Fin. ‘I wanna hear this.’

  ‘This man is a rebel,’ the obese man rumbled in a voice as thick as his body. ‘He attempted to assassinate Buelly two nights ago. He is a traitor to the North, a traitor to his country. All he wants is to destroy the North just as his kind destroyed the south.’ He looked like a gigantic Buddha passing judgment on the world. ‘Buelly tried to protect you, get you southies out of the mess you created for yourselves, and this is how you repay him? With a knife to the stomach?’ He held high a butcher’s knife about six inches in length, its hilt wrapped in tape and cloth. ‘This is the weapon of a murdering primate.’

  The captive man made a futile effort to knock the knife out of the obese man’s hands, but the Paranats snagged him by the hair, dragged him to the edge of the dais, and forced his head down on a wooden block.

  ‘He’s a killer!’ the prisoner screamed. ‘He killed thousands and you let him walk your streets.’

  ‘We will show you how we deal with assassins,’ the obese man roared, spit flying from his lips.

  The prisoner began to weep silently and gave up struggling. A Paranat took up position beside him, his Caut Bat glowing red as if it had been lying in a fire for hours. Then he raised the bat and swung it down on the man’s neck. The cauterized head rolled off the dais into the crowd; the Paranat kicked the body to the side, sprawling the headless man onto his back.

  The previously silent crowd erupted, screaming its approval, cheering the obese man and the Paranat executioner. One of the mob grabbed the severed head and held it in the air by the hair, then flung it into the dirt where he was joined by others, stomping on it, stoving in the cheeks, shattering the chin and forehead, until their feet were covered in blood.

  ‘Christ,’ Fin whispered. ‘They’re monsters.’

  ‘They’re a crow
d,’ said Ben, starting up the hovercar and driving away from the Playground, feeling fear for the first time since they’d arrived. At least when he’d lived in Slushland, people hadn’t tried to make excuses for their violence. They hadn’t hidden behind the appearance that they were doing the right thing. The northerners had to be brainwashed to have taken the fat man’s words for gospel like that. He could’ve said anything; he could’ve told them the man had been stopped for jaywalking and deserved to die for it and they’d have done the same.

  Ben wondered if the dead man had really tried to assassinate Buelly. He could just have been some unlucky bastard plucked from his family in the south, dragged past the Wall, beaten by Paranats and beheaded as a form of propaganda.

  They traveled to the business district in silence. It didn’t feel right to speak after what they’d witnessed. When they reached N.G. Tech, Ben made a U-turn and parked on the other side of the street. ‘That’s it,’ he said.

  The building was in the shape of a dome that flattened out at the top. Curved windows ran along the front, encasing circular automatic doors. Trees were planted outside the entrance, under which sat four picnic tables and benches lining the walkway. A man in a white-collared shirt and wearing a name badge sat at one of the tables, adjusting his glasses as he read the newspaper.

  ‘Is that our guy?’ Fin asked.

  ‘He’ll do,’ Ben said, nodding and staring at the man, almost pitying him as he ate alone. Inside the foyer, they could see a guard sitting behind the front desk with a bank of televisions playing above his head. He didn’t look like an armed guard, not like the Paranats. He was most likely just for show; the North already had an entire wall covered with armed guards to keep out the trash.

  Ben rested a hand on the shifter, the engine purring beneath him, the black and blue road stretching out like an alien pelt. He was so out of place among the northerners; he felt like a caveman transported to the future. Yet for all their technological differences, were the northerners and southerners really so different, Ben wondered. The northerners were convinced that their hatred for the southerners was justified, and that violence was an acceptable way to express their hatred. They had just seen it in action at the Playground. But that poor soul sitting alone at the picnic table would meet the business end of Ben’s violence later on that day. It might be nothing like what had occurred at the Playground, but it would still be unfair on the randomly chosen man. Ben straightened himself up. He couldn’t afford to get sentimental about this. He had a task to complete, and if this N.G. Tech employee could help him out, what other choice did he have?