Year of the Orphan

by Daniel Findlay

  Block loped out tween two sheets of corrugated iron, wipin the blade on his cord, pale red on the inside of the hook blade. Sumtimes all they needed was yer voice an they was pissin all over themselves an handin over whatever you was askin. Yer money or yer life. Block licked his finger an ran it round the inside edge before droppin the blade back in his pocket. The sun were right overhead an even though they was just scraps he fancied he could feel the gold weighin him down. Couldnt figure why fellas was so fixed on it, ya couldnt eat it an it were too soft for knife makin, but moren more was takin it as guarantee on a trade. Whatever they reckoned. Let em try throwin it at him when he came at em blade up. See what comfort it gave em then. Dint matter, it were light an easy to lift. Suited him real fine. His walkin had took him back on the ring road, he’d hadta track the fella from the auction a fairways inside an he liked the feel of the sand on his right whenever he could get it. Three days back he’d pulled a coupla baby lizards outta dust and tangled grassroot, shards of egg still stickin to em. Coldbluded an slow without the sun to liven em up an newborn, they was easy pickings. That were all he’d had an his gut knew it too. He trekked along the sand and patches of cracked white concrete, edges worn round by feet an the dust storms that rolled over without much warning. Sum of the littler cando men was startin their drum fires, and breakin out the racks of whatever coneys an bushmeat the trappers had brought in. Sum werent even pretendin, peeps just startin fresh on gettin out of it. There were a gaggle of nearblind leadin each other by rope. Fellas an lasses among em all had the dusteyes, weepin an swollen, nuthin much to be done for em an most folk left em alone. The wun what could still make out shapes was leadin the rest, followin their ears an noses towards the grills, beggin for scraps. Flies tracked em close, werent fussy about where they shat an ate an bled the blind werent. Sum of em looked like they was fresh outta the waste, fresh from out past the boundaries. Plenny of peeps still drifted in, there was walkers and runners out there still. The days of the monsters werent done, no matter what them big talkers in the Centre wanted fellas to believe. Block knew. Blockd seen. He wound the string around his finger, not concentratin on nuthin in particular, just watchin peeps dark an pale, all coated with dust an more dust. He looked down at his own wrists, tracked across with white scars. Standin stark against his skin where he’d worn the bracers. He werent sure what he looked like but he knew his hair were black an messy. He sheared himself with the hook blade on the reg, less for any wanderin hand to get a hold of. Daydreamin. Always got his head up in the sky. Moren half his trouble he reckoned. He stopped, feelin the gold again, looked around, seein a kid watchin him, its eyes milky an half gone an it werent five years old. Unlucky. He beckoned to it an it crossed the track, weavin between fellas that dint even see it, until it were standin in front of him.

  Hungry?

  Yeah.

  Its voice was raspy, dust dry. A rattle in its chest like an old mans cough. Snot runnin free from its eyes an nose, trackin through the dirt an dust an runnin into its mouth.

  Want sum grub?

  It licked its cracked lips. What do I gotta do?

  He smiled crooked at the kid. It understood. That were good.

  The old drunk was wun of them that reckoned he remembered Winter. It werent true of course, couldnt be. The last Winter happened a long time before them what was born now and nowun could remember that far back. A long time ago the fellas who made the paper an roads mighta known what Winter was and who knew how far back that were? Now it were just the liars in the System. Sum of em mighta once known the trick of farseein and rememberin but nowadays they was just dusty old drunks what said anythin they could for a sip. Couldnt trust that. Not a word they said. Beggars and fools. Block knew most of them, had dodged through and stolen scraps from their tables an not got caught real often neither. He watched from behind a curtain of sacks, watched the kid stray a touch too close to wun of the drunks and the old mans withered claw reach out, snatchin at the scrap of drymeat he’d given the little wun. Block moved quick, steppin inside the leanto as the old fella snatched at the wrigglin kid an then he was into his swag. Piss stained blankets, smell of rot, empty bottles, wrappers, faded pictures an finally what he’d come for. Honest paper, covered in words what he couldnt read. The kid dropped the roo an the old man claimed the leathery scrap an began to gum it down to nuthin. The kid legged it an Block slid outta the dark an back into the street. He met the kid on the next corner, givin him the rest of the food and sendin him on his way. In his pocket the old drunks treasure nested tight with the gold scraps, the leaves wrapped in a bundle. Block had the idea them things was important. He might only be a yungfella himself but if he made his self a thinkin man he was gunna run this place. He looked up an down at the hustle on the hook in front of him, seein it fresh. He was gunna get his due, no mistake. Sleep no more in the dust. Nuthin more certain.

  5

  She were almost there. Almost safe. Almost dead. Almost outta water. Swingin the word almost in her head till it lost all worth. Couldnt shake her thoughts of the wells. Drawin water out of the ground never stopped seemin like magic. She knew she were close to the System cos she could start to feel it in the ground under her again. Her feet took wun shudderin step after another, meandering, slippin on loose red dirt and gravel. A fly crawled into her mouth an back out again. On the very edge of the horizon she thought she could maybe see the top of the System. The land looked near deadlevel on the way in but it were cut with dry riverbeds an broken white concrete slabs an always took longer to cross than she reckoned. Summa the older scavs called the run in the Bridge or the Sighs if they was pissed but none of em could ever tell her why. Sumhow the smell of people made it over the sand and she could taste the familiar stink of the pits in the back of her throat. In the stillness an heat she heard loose stones movin behind her and she swung around, droppin to wun knee and draggin her bayonet out of the sheath that hung from her waist. She kneeled in the dust for a long time. Forced herself to take slow breaths and focus her driftin vision on the heat haze and whirlies that rose outta the spinifex here and there an from the edges of the old creek bed. Nuthin moved for a long time. She put the greased blade back and faced her nose at the System again, wishin for the thousandth time on her long walk that she had the Wide Open Road with her. Her fingertips hummed with the memory of catchin the breeze and blazin along the white roads laid down long ago. Instead she were marchin under a careless sun, away from the Spirals where her ship were buried.

  She dint know when she’d fallen. She came awake at the bottom of a small gully, legs folded under her like she were a doll cut from its string. Her cheek was in the dust, little drifts caked against her lips, mask pulled down around her neck. She pulled her hand from under her body and reached up to touch her head, takin breath in fast when she found the lump. She dragged her head from the sand, liftin her gaze up where she thought the System oughta be, evry movement makin her gullet rise. Her eyes ached and she focused slow on a wall of dirt, knowin she was concussed, no use to herself. She were deep in the gully. It took a second to realise what she were lookin at, he were near the same colour as the shadow where he sat. A fella crouched no more than ten paces distant, face wrapped with a dark green dustmask under a wide brim slouch. His jacket she saw, it werent a cloak, hung past his hips and covered sandcoloured trousers and worn boots with sum kinda fur or fabric on the bottom. Trailin from his wrist were ropes of hide, made into a sling and his other fingers flowed a stone through over an over as he looked at her. Her eyes werent playin fair but what she could make of his gaze were open. Looked at her with no anger or any kinda feelin at all. Probably the same way she looked at game she reckoned. Not cravin its death, just needin to eat. He unfolded his self from his crouch like the wind had picked him up and came closer. She dug the heels of her hands into the ground an tried to lift her chest but the knock to her skull werent lettin any sudden movements pass easy. The heat, the sand and the stranger blurred together, a pattern of light and pai
n that nearly made her blackout again. She felt like chuckin but there werent nuthin there. She retched, croakin like sum baby bird. A strange flush of shame. She saw that his boots made almost no tracks in the sand as he came closer. They was near enough like her own. Tracker boots, scav boots. She laid on her stomach, chin up as he came to her, breath pantin out of her now. He crouched in front of her, throwin a shade over her eyes an reached his hand out, takin her chin gentle under two fingers. She took in a sharp breath at the pain and the expectin of the blade across her throat but he dint reach for nuthin. All she could see was the sling wrapped around his wrist. His jacket stayed closed. The fear come up strong when she looked in his pale eyes above the mask, near colourless. Werent colour in him at all, he were bleached ribs an bones, but he were still walkin, still on his feet. A ramblin man. Her heart hammered through her coat but her limbs werent cooperatin and it were all she could do to brush the top of the bayonet hilt and imagine drawin it. His hands werent careless. Her head was set down and the soft touch of the sand echoed through her skull, a wave of sick comin up from her gut. When she opened her eyes again she saw a plastic bottle and felt his hand pushin her onto her side and the mouth of it put against hers. For a moment she thought of fightin but she smelled water and allowed herself to be fed a few drips. It had to be safe, it had to be. He could have killed her ten times over and there werent no need to waste water or poison on her. His hands were on her again, pushin her up so she were sittin position and then draggin her from the back of her coat into the shade of an overhang in the riverbed. She kept her eyes shut tight an it made it better sumhow. He leaned her back against the eroded hollow and crouched down in front of her, his hand on her chin again, tiltin her head this way and that. She blinked. He’d opened her satch an was goin through it, pickin out the shells an turnin em over. They was near enough the most perfect she’d found, still had a light coat of grease on em. Bout all she had to show for her trip down the hole. He put them carefully back in her bag an looked close at her. She could feel his eyes rovin over her face and against her will her eyes cracked open again, flinchin from the light, the headache beginnin to throb so painfully that for a second she thought he had poisoned her after all. She squinted through her lashes, tryin to see what was happenin without lettin too much light in. The fella took out the bottle again and topped it up a little from another stashed in his jacket before puttin it in the shade next to her. From another pocket he took a pair of field glasses all in wun piece, scarred and weathered but clear in the lenses, and put them on. He looked at her again but this time she couldnt see his eyes. Then he stood and was gone from her sight, up and over the lip of the dry creek bed, feet findin purchase on old roots, and then she were left alone on the floor of the wadi, only the bottle and her battered head tellin her it hadnt been sum kinda feverdream.

  That night she made the gates. The Watch so careless she was on them before they saw her, and her knocked about and stumblin in the dusk like a drunk. She couldnt look offcentre, any glance to the side made her bile rise and her head ring like a struck bell. The outerman were young, scraps of beard on his face and his pike too big for him. Always put the yungens on the outer.

  Hold!

  Shoutin out as he saw her too late. Panic turned to smirk when he saw she were human enough, alone, an a girl as well. He put his pike at portarms, werent no more than a pace from the walls an fellas probably had him covered by now. Blades an slings up, pretendin to earn their keep. She couldnt look to see. Far as he was gunna figger she werent nuthin more than a scav comin in from the wastes an a little worse for wear.

  Open the gates. She was holdin her stomach down with evry word.

  State yer name.

  Nun of yer business.

  You got a ship dontcha?

  Yeah.

  What you doin out there in the Glows?

  Wasnt in the Glows.

  Yeah you was. Wheres yer ship? What ya got onya?

  Still out there. An nuthin for ya.

  He sucked his teeth at that, whistled his disapproval.

  Toll.

  Speak on it with the Block.

  She saw him straighten up a bit at that. Could smell the rank smoke comin from the inside. Rubbish turnin to ash. Animal to meat. Same place for evrythin an evrywun.

  Gotta pay the toll.

  Mutterin to himself now.

  Let me through an a ladll come by an fix it up later.

  Yeah thatd be right.

  But he was done arguin an so was she.

  Open up.

  Spose I will. This time.

  He slouched to the drum an knocked a pattern, each wun makin her flinch. She heard the bolts and wood gettin drawn back an the small gate set inta the big wun swung open. She squeezed past the outerman, waitin a moment as the next blokes sized her up an opened the inside wall. They was older than the kid outside, an looked sharper. Coupla fellas strapped with parangs an hide. There was plenny of swagger but it werent much and she knew it. Plenny of things out there past the boundaries thatd walk through that wall no troubles an that werent even speakin on the Glows. The little wall kept em safe, if only in their heads. She’d been over and under and through it herself but not with her head in this state and not wantin to get a length of trackiron spear put through her lungs.

  She cleared the second door an put her heels on packed System sand an she were inside. Waited till they was gone an then put her back against the wall real gentle an let it take her weight for a second, makin sure nowun could see the shake in her knees. In her coat was a bottle she hadnt left with an on the back of her head were a lump she dint put there herself. These were things she knew. Precious else to show for a long trip out and an even longer wun back. Come back a lot poorer than she went out. Might be she dint want to go see Block just yet, dint have much for him but a scare story and she werent sure she wanted to be tellin it. The lamps were all gettin lit an the smell of animal fat an oil wafted from the stalls an shacks of the outer circle, light gutterin as a chill breeze came across on the dirt an iron roofs. Moths an bugs was swirlin around the big fires burnin on the wall but she knew the blaze was for show. Werent actually any fellas tendin them, it were just another way of makin it seem safe. From where she stood she were nearexact between the Centre, Blocks place and the Old Mans digs. Course, he werent there now but the big steel boxes still was, them rooms was gunna outlive em all. Sumwun else standin on the same spot she got lashed. Strange fucken days. Dint matter though, she werent goin anywhere near that place, Blocks or the Centre. A few things to work out before that. Block were canny anyhows, she dint need to be announcin herself. His eyes was all over the place, prolly already knew she were back an travellin too light.

  Even the glow from the lamps made the corner of her eyes ache. What she needed was a liedown and to get a billy on. What she needed was her own place, needed to head into the Stacks. She walked slow along the dusty street on the inside of the first circle. They was all circles, just wun, two, three, four and soon until you got to the middle and the inner split with the big cuts, the wider tracks that ran across the tarmac cross an tower that skewered the whole joint. The whole place wun big crushed circle. Gates, soaks an wells, a kay across maybe, an more an more an more people evrytime she came back inside. Evrywun sick. Evrywun always sick. Hardly saw any old folk no more. More an more was catchin sum kinda strange rot. Hair fallin out an teeth fallin outta rotten gums, just droppin in the sand. Stragglers from outside, comin in from other places she sposed. Boundaries werent what they was. Peeps dint often make much sense after theyd been outside for too long. Talked up all kinda beasts an whatnot. Scavs came back with plenny of stories about the Ghosts an the fella what walked with them, that bludy Reckoner. She touched the tender skin under the hair on the back of her head. Then there was the yungens, plenny more around than when she were a littlun but they was all weak. Plenny only fit for the Stacks she reckoned. Hard to believe but sum folks was puttin down roots. She werent sure about that, werent sure
if roots was gunna hold in dust. She shrugged her coat higher up around her an took out her beanie, carefully slippin it onto her head an over her lump, tradin pain against the chill. Her bayonet an satch sat close to hand an most folks moved aside as she walked around the hook. She was goin a little out of her way to avoid havin to cross the Centre, was gunna have to zigzag a bit, but her eyes was strugglin and the light was that much worse where Karra an them cando peeps lived in the middle. Furthest from the walls, close to the deep well. Couldnt blame em, it were a good spot for most.

  She made her way along, slippin the eyes of the hungry and the candos alike, fellas sparkin sumthin in the firelight, a hammer here and there and evrywhere scattered was shit and garbage, things waitin to get made into sumthin else. She reckoned her headache was gettin worse. Not many yungens on the cuts tonight, couple lads throwin lazy ciphers round the circle. She’d been out that game a while an sum. Their rhymes reached her ears an she stopped herself from listenin too hard, were an old habit an hard to kick.