by Echo Freer
‘Why?’
‘It was too close to town and there was always a danger of escape. Look.’ She drew a printout of an old map from her pocket. ‘See, it’s just north of here. We could walk it in two and a half hours - or cycle in less.’
‘We?’ Monkey looked at her and shook his head. ‘No way!’
‘Fine!’ she said, purposefully folding up the map and putting it back in her pocket. She stood up to leave. ‘Let me know how you get on.’
‘Wait!’ Monkey put out a hand and grabbed her arm to stop her leaving. ‘Why’re you doing this?’
Angel smiled. ‘Because it’s exciting.’ She sat down again. ‘You have no idea how boring it is just studying and going to gym club and chatting about nurturing and clothes and cooking and stuff.’ She groaned and dropped her head forwards, then sat up and looked Monkey in the eye. ‘I got a real buzz the other night. OK, so I was terrified but, once my heart rate slowed down again, I’d enjoyed doing something un-nurturey. And, I agree with you: I do think there’s something sinister going on and I want to find out what.’
Monkey thought for a moment - but only for a moment. In fact, it was a no-brainer really: she was clever, athletic, brave - and hot as hell. ‘When shall we go?’ he asked.
‘No time like the present,’ replied Angel.
Into the Rurals
They had both gone home to eat and collect some food to take with them. Angel fabricated a story of staying over at her friend, Moni Morrison’s, house, while Monkey and Vivian went through their usual evening routine: Vivian banning him from leaving, Monkey swearing at her, Vivian shouting, Grand-mov intervening, Vivian turning on her own nurturer, and Monkey taking the opportunity to walk out.
As he pulled up his scarf to cover his face, he sighed in relief to be out of the house. Vivian never used to be like this. When he was a bub, she was fine; you never heard her so much as raise her voice. She played with him and Penny; took them places; they laughed more and she would even sit with him on her lap and cuddle him - not that he wanted that now. But some sort of respect would be nice. The last couple of years, she’d turned into psycho-mov. Most nurturers went that way, from what he could see - except Jane. She seemed to be the exception as far as the nurturers in his hood were concerned. In fact, he felt sorry for the younger Mooners like Alex; they didn’t know what they were in for! As for himself, he was just counting the days until all this would be history.
Then he stopped himself: living in the Breeders’ Zone wouldn’t be the same without Tragic. They’d known each other since alpha-school; grown up together. Tragic might act like an oversensitive wuzzle, but Monkey was nothing without his sidekick. A heaviness descended on him with this realisation. His friend was in danger and he was not going to stop until he found out what was going on.
He met Angel under the bridge at 19:00. It was already dark but the infrared cameras would still be able to make out their presence, so, once again, they climbed up the embankment out of view.
‘Look,’ Angel said, unfolding the map and frantically winding the handle on the side of her torch until it shone a pinprick beam on to the crumpled paper. ‘I’ve been thinking, this loco line used to go to Mercia and it runs within about a couple of Ks of Combe Magna.’
‘Too exposed,’ Monkey said quickly, knowing immediately what she was going to suggest. ‘The roads’ll be safer.’
‘Well, it would be more direct to go along the line so it would be quicker and there’ll be less chance of being spotted by stealth patrols.’
Monkey was uneasy. ‘I dunno. What about cameras? If we’re spotted on the track, we’re like sitting ducks.’
‘No, it’s OK. I asked Sally about that...’
‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!’ Monkey was shocked. He couldn’t believe she’d discussed this with her nurturer. ‘You talked to Sally about this? What the fegg do you think you were doing?’
Angel stood up. ‘Hey! I might be dressed like one of your hood but I’m not one of them - OK! So don’t even start with me like that.’ She tossed the map at him. ‘You want to do this on your own, then go ahead.’
‘OK. OK.’ Monkey capitulated. He was beginning to think that, hot or not, she was going to be hard work. ‘I just don’t want any of this getting out.’
‘I’m not stupid, you know.’ Angel sat back down on the bank. Then muttered, just loud enough so that Monkey could hear, ‘I cracked your code easily enough.’ Monkey eyed her but said nothing. Right now, it wasn’t so much that he needed her, although he must admit, he was impressed with the amount of information she’d discovered, but he wanted her company. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I was asking Sal about her work...subtly,’ she said pointedly, giving Monkey a sideways glance. ‘You know, as if I was thinking about my own future career.’
‘Go on,’ Monkey said.
‘Well, turns out, she had a client who was accused of stealing from the house of this post-nurturer who’s in The Assembly. She lives in a massive mansion about three Ks east of Beauchamp Park, outside town, and Security claimed that they had footage of Sal’s client entering and leaving the property. But Sal discovered that it was a fit up. And she proved it because none of the cameras work once you get out of the street light zone.’
‘What?’
‘It’s true. The cameras outside town are dummies; the cost of electricity would be too much to run them, so they’re just there as a deterrent.’
Monkey’s mind went into overdrive. ‘Have you any idea what this information would do if it got out?’
‘Exactly,’ Angel said. ‘It mustn’t get out. As a solicitor, Sal had to sign an Official Confidentiality Order. She only let it slip because we were talking one night after Alex had gone to bed and she’d had a couple of kegs. She’d lose her job if they knew.’ Angel looked at him anxiously. ‘Promise me, this is between you and me. You won’t tell the hood?’
Monkey nodded slowly, taking in the information she’d just told him. ‘So, it doesn’t matter whether we go on the roads or the track.’ He smiled. ‘Whaled! Let’s take the direct route, then.’
Most of the sleepers and train tracks had long since been removed from the embankment, leaving it overgrown and stony but, nevertheless, straight. Angel and Monkey kept up a brisk pace, sometimes chatting about people at school; staff and students, and their hopes for their futures, sometimes maintaining an easy silence. It was cold but the constant movement kept them warm. Monkey found it eerily quiet once they left the street-lit suburbs of town. From their elevated position, they could look down on the largely overgrown roads. There was no street lighting out in the rurals and they saw no State vehicles, either Security or official Assembly limos, to cast their headlights on the roads and offer some illumination. The moonless night afforded them plenty of cover but also made their progress slower than they’d hoped. It was pitch-dark but it was too risky to use the torch out in the open and they both stumbled on stones and potholes along the way.
They’d been walking for just over half an hour when Angel’s ring-cam lit up; it was her nurturer. Angel dodged down into one of the bushes that had sprouted up along the track and answered.
‘Sorry, darling, I’m going to need you to come home tonight,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve got a big case that’s in court on Monday and I need to work late tonight.’
‘Sal!’ Angel couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Alex is twelve now, he doesn’t need me to be there.’
‘Yes, he does. Now, don’t argue. You can stay over at Moni’s tomorrow night. Make sure you’re home by nine.’ The dial went blank.
Angel kicked at a stone in frustration. Monkey felt sorry for her; that was the difference between being a pre-breeder and a pre-nurturer he supposed. There was no way he’d go home just because Vivian told him to but, then, his nurturer had no jurisdiction over him; in a few weeks he’d be a free agent and she knew it. Angel, on
the other hand would be under Sal’s thumb for years, probably decades. Even when Angel was a nurturer in her own right, Sal would still be the head of the family, just as his grand-mov was (in theory, anyway) the matriarch in Vivian’s little kingdom.
‘Come on, let’s go back,’ he said with resignation.
Angel shook her head. ‘No, you go on. Take the torch and the map.’ She opened the paper and shone the thin beam of light onto it. ‘See this bridge here?’ She pointed to a spot where the loco line went over the road next to a disused smallholding. ‘When you get to that, you need to come down and follow the road. Take a left at the first junction and that’ll bring you into Combe Magna.’ She checked her ring-cam. ‘You should do it in about an hour.’
Monkey tried to argue but Angel was adamant. It would be a waste of time and energy, she said, if neither of them went. ‘Good luck. Let me know how you get on.’ Then, she did the unthinkable: she leant forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Physical contact between pres was a crime more heinous than breaking curfew and drinking illegal keg - at the same time. In fact, fraternising with the opposite gender outside school hours was worse than almost anything else, apart from murder. Yet, Angel had done it. Her lips had actually made contact with his skin. And his mind was in turmoil. What had she meant by it? Was she letting him know that she would select him for breeding? And if so, shouldn’t he go after her?
His mind went round and round while his feet stayed put until Angel merged with the night and her kiss was no more than a shadow on his memory.
How long he’d remained still he didn’t know, but it was long enough for the cold to penetrate the soles of his shoes and seep up the muscles in his calves. He was startled back to consciousness by a crunching noise below and the sudden awareness that an armoured stealth was driving along the road that ran alongside the loco track. Monkey dodged down into the bushes and watched it rumble silently back towards town, squashing any fallen branches or broken concrete that lay in its path. A routine patrol no doubt but, nevertheless, a timely reminder to stay on his guard. He gave one last look along the track the way Angel had headed, then turned and walked in the other direction, out towards the rurals.
By the time he reached the village, Monkey’s fingers were so numb with cold that they could barely turn the handle of the clockwork torch. He fumbled with his ring-cam to flash up the time: 22:15. It had taken far longer than Angel had anticipated. He wandered along the deserted street looking for... Looking for what? A sign saying, Tragic is here? Like that was going to happen! He shivered as he walked slowly through the silence. A jumble of cottages huddled round a dark, open space. He had a distant memory of learning about the feudal system at alpha-school and thought it was probably a village green. It was clear that the place was inhabited from the lights glowing through the curtains of some of the houses, but by whom? And, if Tragic was here, which one was his? Now Monkey had found the place, how the hell did he go about finding his friend? He could hardly just knock on doors, asking. And that was even supposing that Angel had correctly guessed at the missing letters on the note. What if she’d been wrong? And, even if she’d been correct, perhaps Jane had told Tragic that they were going to Combe Magna as a decoy.
Then another, more sinister, doubt bore its way into his mind, multiplying until it consumed everything else: what if he’d been set up? Wasn’t it just too convenient that she hadn’t spoken to him for days, then suddenly turned up the whereabouts of Tragic with reasoning powers bordering on genius? And, there was nothing weird about accompanying him halfway there, then suddenly having to turn back, was there? A pre-nurturer, daughter of a solicitor, friend of an assistant T.R.E.A.C.L.E. trainer, destined for The Assembly if she played her cards right, risking her entire future to mix with a hood, steal information and break curfew? He felt sick!
His eyes flashed round the ramshackle houses, no longer warm and welcoming with their flickering glow but, now, potential traps. He scoured the hazy outlines of the cottages looking for signs of Security. Every dark shadow between them seemed to be filled with lurking terror. Standing in the road, Monkey felt exposed; vulnerable, yet afraid to seek refuge. There were no street lights here, even though it was two hours before Shut Down. It was quiet too; scarily quiet - as though no humans inhabited the place. Although some lights were on, he could hear no chatter from the cottages; no laughter, no doors closing, or info-screens blaring out. He didn’t like it. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t come.
There was a rustle behind him. He jumped, then froze; waiting. He breathed again as a fox leapt over a gate and loped down the middle of the street, dragging a dead chicken in its jaws. Monkey’s heart was beating rapidly and his tongue felt as though it was stuck to the roof of his mouth with fear. Funny how brave he could be in the face of an enemy hood but, here he was, crapping himself over a fox! He tried to smile at the irony but it felt as though his mouth was set in concrete. This was stupid, he told himself. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t know why he’d come in the first place. If Tragic wanted to disappear, that was his lookout.
At that moment, the door of a cottage, slightly ahead of him on the other side of the street, opened and a group of nurturers came out of the house. He moved away from the road, into the shadows of a gateway and watched. There were four of them and, as they stood in the doorway, the yellow light from the cottage lit up their faces. They were nodding. The one facing him looked very serious. As the door closed, one nurturer went back inside while two walked off towards the village green, but the one who had had her back to Monkey turned and headed towards him. He gasped when he saw her. It was Jane.
Friends Reunited
Relief coursed through him and he ran towards her but stopped when he saw the look on her face. It wasn’t the warm, welcoming expression he was used to. In fact, it was nothing short of terror.
‘Mickey?’ Jane whispered, her eyes darting from side to side, scouring the darkness around him. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’ He saw the tension ease in her eyes.
‘What are you doing here? How did you find us?’
But, before he could answer, she put a finger to his lips, took his arm and led him towards one of the smaller cottages down a side lane. She let herself in and Monkey noticed that there was no iris scanner on this door, just a simple, old-fashioned keypad to open it. Once inside, Jane indicated for Monkey to wait in the narrow hallway that led straight to the staircase while she lifted the latch and entered a room to the side. A warm glow spread out into the hall and he could hear whispering. Then Tragic came to the door.
‘Monkey!’ He put his arms out and patted Monkey on the back. ‘Good to see you. Good to see you.’ There was something odd about Tragic’s manner. He did look genuinely pleased to see his friend but he was cagey, too. Monkey couldn’t quite make him out. ‘So, how d’ya find us?’ he went on in a stilted tone, only giving half his attention to Monkey, as though he was listening to something else, or for something else.
‘I got your note,’ Monkey replied.
‘Good, good.’
And then, as though Tragic and his nurturer had been up to something, Jane appeared and Tragic visibly relaxed and ushered Monkey into the room with the fire.
‘Come and get yourself warm. Do you want something to eat? How d’ya get here?’
The room was sparsely furnished with a cooking range and a sink at one end and a couple of Jane’s paintings on the wall. In the main body of the room, were three simple wooden chairs and a table in front of a large, open fire that was more than welcoming to Monkey’s frozen hands and feet. Sometimes Vivian lit a fire at home but wood was in short supply, so it was usually only on special occasions. Mickey accepted a bowl of homemade soup and some bread. He desperately wanted to talk to Tragic in private, but it was clear from Jane’s hovering presence and pursed lips that she had no intention of leaving them alone.
>
‘So, you coming back?’ Monkey asked when he finished his soup.
Tragic shook his head.
‘What about graduation?’ Monkey asked. ‘And the two of us in the Breeders’ Zone? You know, like we planned.’
‘Like you planned, Monk,’ Tragic corrected. ‘I never planned to graduate.’
Monkey was stunned. ‘What... You mean you always planned to run away?’
‘I haven’t run away!’ Tragic denied emphatically, but Jane put a hand on his arm as though warning him not to say too much.
‘We’ve just decided to opt out of the system,’ she said, calmly. ‘Now, I’m sure you need to be getting back. Did you cycle or walk?’
It was clear that Monkey was being given his marching orders but he wasn’t going until he had some answers.
‘So how d’ya get here? When I left you that night, you never said anything.’
Tragic’s eyes flitted from his friend to his nurturer. Again, it was Jane who intervened.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Mickey, and I know Trevor appreciates you coming all this way, but it really is best if you go back now.’ She stood up as an added hint for Monkey to leave but he remained seated.
‘I want to know what’s going on.’
Jane was clearly becoming exasperated. ‘Trust me, Mickey, the less you know the better for everyone.’
‘The better for you, you mean!’ Monkey challenged.
‘No! The better for you, too!’
She stared at him, and Monkey had never seen Jane looking so authoritative - not since the day she found they’d been in the basement. Slowly, things began to make sense.
‘Something weird’s going down here,’ Monkey said. ‘I’ve been in your cellar. I’ve seen the freezer with the back cut out. And Security were there too - looking for you.’
