The Foretelling of Georgie Spider

by Ambelin Kwaymullina

  So I didn’t. Instead I thought that the Blinker had been taking longer and longer to return, and looking increasingly pale and exhausted. He was obviously straining his ability to well beyond its limits. Also … no explosion. It had been a while since he’d left with the Boomers and there’d been no explosion. Maybe we were too far away to hear it? But an explosion big enough to take down the centre would have to be huge. Surely I’d hear something.

  Neville was sitting behind his desk, shuffling through papers like he wasn’t worried. But I didn’t think that was true. Leaning back in my chair, I said, “Awfully quiet, isn’t it?”

  His mouth tightened in anger, just for an instant. Ha. He was worried. Yay the Tribe – the Saur Tribe – the ex-detainees – whoever is interfering with Neville’s plans. Then something ripped through me, something that made me gasp for air and left me feeling like there was a giant hole in the middle of my chest. Grief. I’d lost someone else. We’d lost someone, because I must be feeling what Connor was feeling.

  “Is that arm bothering you?” Neville asked, with false sympathy. “I will get you a Mender. Eventually.”

  I didn’t care about my hurt arm and I didn’t care about Neville right now either. I tried to think a question at Connor. Who? Connor, who? The only answer I had was that the awful hollow feeling eased, as if Connor had sensed my response and was now shielding me from it. Someone important to me had died and I didn’t know who. Someone had died because of Neville.

  Neville wasn’t looking at me right now – he’d gone back to his papers – but I looked at him, or more particularly, at the streaker that was resting beside him on the desk. I’d been thinking a lot about that streaker in the time that I’d been sitting here. I just needed Neville to move a bit further away from it to make a grab for the thing. So far he’d kept it close.

  The Blinker suddenly appeared just inside the tent entrance, swaying on his feet.

  “Report!” Neville snapped. “What’s happened to the centre?”

  “It … didn’t blow up,” the Blinker answered, staring woozily at him. “All of the others … captured or dead, I think.”

  “How?” Neville demanded.

  “They knew where we were! When I Blinked in, it’s impossible, but – somehow they knew.”

  My mouth turned up into a smile. Georgie. Because if anyone could have predicted where the Blinker was going to be, it had to be her. And if she’d been able to do that, it meant she was alive.

  Neville’s gaze flicked to me, and he saw the smile. Rage twisted his features, and he didn’t take his eyes off me as he snarled at the Blinker, “Get out.”

  The Blinker lurched out of the tent, leaving me alone with Neville. I was in trouble. I knew that look on Neville’s face, the sudden flash of fury. I’d seen it once before, when I’d spat in his face back in Detention Centre 3. He had a temper, and it was vicious. He won’t kill me. Not when he wants me to tell him where Terence is. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt me, and I wasn’t in much of a shape to put up a fight.

  Neville got up and walked around the desk to stand in front of me. “How did you do it?” he asked. “How did they know where the Blinker would be?”

  There was no way in this or any other world I was giving him Georgie’s name. I had to deflect him and it wasn’t going to be hard; he was already angry. I straightened, did my best to imitate an annoying Jules grin, and drawled, “Guess you’re just not quite as bright as you think you are. Bet you wish you had enforcers in all those trucks now, huh?”

  He backhanded me across the face, once, then again, two quick, shocking blows in succession. Pain exploded across my jaw and I fell out of the chair, landing awkwardly as I twisted to avoid hurting my injured arm. I staggered up, ears ringing, only to be floored again by a kick to my gut. I gasped, curling up into a ball.

  Neville was standing over me, breathing heavily, and there was a crazed look in his eyes that reminded me disturbingly of Terence. I’d underestimated his temper. He hadn’t expected to fail here. Now he wanted someone to hurt. He needed someone to hurt, because that was who he was, and I was the most obvious and convenient target. I didn’t think he intended to kill me. That was going to be no comfort at all if he lost control and did it by accident.

  He shifted his weight, and I knew he was going to kick me again. Then there was the sound of streaker fire from outside, and the tent flap stirred. Something blurred through the air and slammed straight into Neville, knocking him to the ground. I seized my chance, scrambled up and lunged for the streaker on the desk. I grabbed it, and swivelled back to Neville – only to find that he was still on the floor.

  Next to him was Alexander Hoffman, hovering on a flyer. He eyed me up and down, and said, “Dear me, Ashala. You’ve looked better.”

  I gaped stupidly at him. His clothes were stained with blood but he didn’t seem to be hurt. No, he wasn’t hurt any more. He must have healed from whatever injuries he’d taken from being buried under a wall. He stepped down off the flyer and strode over to take the streaker from my trembling hand. “I think you’d better give that to me.”

  I wasn’t going to argue, he was in better condition than I was. Instead I sank back down into the chair, shaking. There were still streakers being fired outside the tent – some kind of fight was going on out there. I hoped my side was winning.

  Hoffman hauled Neville to his feet and pushed him over to the desk. “Sit down, if you please. Hands flat on the desk in front of you.”

  Neville obeyed, and Hoffman said, “I’d like the code to that collar she’s wearing. Now.”

  “And what will you do if I don’t give it you?” Neville asked. “Kill me? I hardly think so. I’m quite sure the Pretender Prime wants to see me brought to justice.”

  “I don’t have to kill you,” Hoffman replied. “I’ll just hurt you very badly. You’d be astonished how much pain a human being can live through.” He jabbed the streaker against Neville’s temple. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell a man like you that. The code. Now.”

  Neville spat the numbers out, “847561928.”

  I entered the code with clumsy fingers, feeling at the keypad. I had to get Hoffman to repeat the numbers a couple of times before I got it, but the collar finally came free. I threw it to the ground, looked up at Hoffman – and shouted a warning as the Blinker appeared behind him with a streaker in his hand.

  The Blinker fired at Hoffman’s back, then collapsed into a heap on the floor. Hoffman gasped, and the weapon he was holding against Neville’s head slipped. It was only for a moment, but Neville took advantage of it. He twisted, knocking the streaker from Hoffman’s hand and running for the entrance. I dived for the weapon. My hand closed around it and I swung it up and around, pointing it at Neville who was halfway to the opening to the tent. “Stop or I’ll shoot you!”

  He stopped, and turned slowly to face me. Hoffman was standing, although he looked a bit grey. “Check the Blinker,” I said to him.

  He went over to the boy on the floor. “He’s dead.”

  This was the second time today I’d seen a person exhaust their ability into death. Only Wentworth had done it to save a life. The Blinker had done it for, what? Neville? No. Salvation. Because he’d believed that having an ability or not having an ability were the categories that separated the bad from the good, the Imbalanced from the Balanced. He’d attacked us for a difference that didn’t matter, and Wentworth had died, and I was uselessly angry at the sheer waste of it all.

  I motioned Neville to the chair. “Sit. Try to run again and you’d better believe I’ll shoot you.”

  “Or I will,” Hoffman said. I glanced over to see he’d retrieved the streaker the Blinker had been carrying, and had it pointed at Neville too.

  The tent flap opened. I spun and just about fired before I saw that it was Connor. I dropped my hand to my side, and Connor strode up to me, his gaze running over the arm I was cradling against my chest to the bruises on my face. He cast a flat, furious glance
at Neville before saying, “Shona’s outside. She’s Mending Laurie but she’ll be done soon. I’ll go get her.”

  I shook my head. “Connor. Who?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer. I glared at him. “You tell me who and you tell me who right now!”

  He let a sigh. “Daniel.”

  There was no name he could have said that would have been okay. No name that wouldn’t have resulted in this raw grief that made me want to throw back my head and howl. But Daniel … Daniel, who could always be relied upon absolutely, and who Georgie loved so much. Daniel, the person around whom nothing ever seemed quite so difficult or so desperate. I hadn’t even realised how much Daniel had been part of the bedrock of the Tribe until now, when I felt as if I were standing on shifting sands that dipped and sank beneath my feet. My whole world was tilting.

  Then Hoffman said, in a tone of mild curiosity, “Are you going to shoot him, Ashala?”

  What was he – oh. I was pointing the streaker at Neville Rose. I’d moved closer to him too, close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his skin. For once, he was afraid of me. And he should be. Because now I wanted to hurt him. I wanted it so powerfully I could taste it.

  “Ashala.” Connor moved to stand behind Neville so that he was in my line of sight. His gaze met mine and I knew he was as heartsick as me, and not only for Daniel but for Ember and Penelope and everything and everyone we’d lost. It had all been too hard and too much, and today – when we’d lost Daniel, and maybe Ember too – we were both capable of doing things that we might not have done yesterday.

  “Kill him if you like,” Connor said. “Just be sure you can live with it afterwards.”

  Neville opened his mouth to speak and I growled, “Shut up.”

  He did. He wasn’t stupid, he could see I was on the edge of doing something that I’d never thought I’d do, and being something that I never thought I’d be. The world would be a better place without Neville in it. Like Terence, he wouldn’t stop hurting people until he was stopped. Only … Neville himself had said it, when he’d told Hoffman that Willis wanted him brought to justice. I wanted justice too, and this wasn’t it. Justice was everyone Neville had ever hurt getting the chance to tell their story and see him answer for what he’d done. Besides, I couldn’t take Neville’s life on the same day we’d lost Daniel. Because it was no way to respect who Daniel had been.

  I stared into the grandfatherly face of the most evil person I knew, and lowered the streaker.

  Hoffman said quietly, “I didn’t think you’d do it.”

  And he pointed his own streaker at Neville and fired.

  Neville slumped and I staggered back, reeling from not being able to keep up with what was happening. Connor rushed across to me, throwing an arm around my waist. I leaned in to him for support, staring at Hoffman as he bent over Neville to check for a pulse. He straightened and gave a satisfied nod. “He’s quite dead.”

  For a stunned moment I just stared at him. Then I yelled, “What did you do?”

  He sighed. “You are a child of the new world, Ashala. A hero of it, even. But I …” His face grew hard, and grim. “I am of the old.” He nodded at Neville. “And so was this man. There were thousands like him, in my time. People who could wrap foul deeds in righteous words. Men and women who made it acceptable for others to give voice to their hate and their petty desire to hurt or humiliate or exclude.” His face grew grimmer still. “You have no idea – none – of the true scale of the evil of which people like Neville Rose are capable. Nor should you. His time has passed.” He looked over at me, and added, “So you see he had to die.”

  “I don’t see that,” I snapped. “Because we’re better than him, and we’re better than killing him, and you …” I glared at Hoffman, sick with disappointment in him even now. “You’re the one that told everyone we had to be better! You said … about the Balance, and, and caring for each other and the earth – and I believed in you!”

  It was a ridiculous thing to say. I knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, and I expected him to laugh at me.

  He didn’t, although his lips did quirk into a smile. Except he seemed to be laughing at himself. “How very strange. Because in the end, Ashala, I believed in you. I might have written of the ideals that would make this earth a better place. You however – you are the one who can live by them.” His gaze returned to Neville, and his smile vanished. “You are better than killing him. But not I.”

  The tent suddenly seemed too small and too closed in. I pushed away from Connor, needing space and air. “It’s too small … too close …” Something was building in me, a pressure that needed to be let out. I had a sudden, deep sense of the wrongness of everything, a world gone twisted with hate that was supposed to be better than the old one, but wasn’t in so many ways. Even Alexander Hoffman, the person who’d actually written “The Instructions for a Better World”, couldn’t live by his own words.

  I flat out screamed my anger and frustration, “It isn’t supposed to be like this!”

  And I heard Nicky bark. “Woof!”

  The tent disappeared. Then it came back, but only for a moment before vanishing again. Everything kept flashing in and out. Here, and not. Here, and not.

  Someone shouted, “Ashala!” Connor.

  I opened my mouth to say, “I’m here.”

  But I was not.

  THE AWAKENING

  ASHALA

  I was in the Firstwood. There was movement in the trees ahead, and laughter. It sounded like two little girls, giggling together.

  “Hey!” I called. “Who’s there? Wait up!”

  They took off running. I could hear their footsteps pelting along the ground, moving away from me. I ran after them. But no matter how fast I went I always seemed to be just a bit behind, and I couldn’t catch up. Then I broke out of the trees and onto the grasslands – and there they were. A smiling girl with ribbons in her hair, holding the hand of a chubby, brown-skinned kid. Penelope, and Cassie, my long lost baby sister.

  Someone else said, “Hey, Ash.” I turned to see Daniel was there too. I hugged them one by one, so happy to see them all I just about burst into tears. “You’re here! You’re okay! I thought … I thought you were …” I stopped. “You’re not really here, are you? You’re dead.” The weight of grief came crashing back down on me. “I’m asleep and this is a dream.” Then I brightened. “I can do anything I want in my dreams! Maybe I can bring you back!”

  Cassie shook her head. “This isn’t your dream, silly! It’s ours.”

  I didn’t understand. “How can it be yours?”

  Cassie went twirling around in a circle. “You remember, Ash. I dreamed about running away somewhere where you and me and Georgie could live together forever and ever.”

  “And,” Pen said, “I dreamed about a place where no one took dogs away from kids who loved them very much.”

  Daniel said, “I dreamed of a magical place where I could Run as much as I wanted.” His lips curved into a smile that was a mixture of sweetness and sadness. “And of a magical girl.”

  Cassie said, “So you see, Ash, it’s our dream. And you don’t want to take it away from us, do you?”

  “Of course not, but–”

  “The thing is,” Daniel interrupted, “lots of people have a dream like ours. Only it doesn’t come true for everyone.”

  Cassie stopped twirling. “That’s why you’re here, Ash. You have to make it come true. Like you did for us.” She frowned. “Except some people aren’t very nice.”

  “Like the Blinker,” Pen said. “He wasn’t nice.”

  That was true, only it wasn’t the whole truth. “Yeah, but – he didn’t start out not nice. I don’t think anyone starts out not nice. They just start out as people.”

  “So what changes?” Daniel asked.

  “The world changes people,” I said. “Or people change the world – and everyone is supposed to know that what matters is that they are nice. To each other, and the ea
rth.”

  “So show them, Ash!” Pen said.

  “I don’t know how!”

  “Yes, you do,” Daniel said. “You’ve always known.”

  I did. This was my dream, and I could do anything I wanted, and what I wanted was to bring the whole world into it. But I hesitated. To dream this dream I was going to have to go somewhere else.

  “Will you all still be here when I get back?”

  They laughed, like I’d said something hilarious. “We’re always here, Ash,” Penelope said. “We’re just a little way ahead, for now.”

  That was okay, then. I turned and walked back into the Firstwood, wandering through the trees until I found one in particular. The first tuart I’d ever met on the day I’d come to the forest. This was when I’d known that I belonged. That I was part of the Balance, and I mattered as much as anybody else.

  I turned, leaning my back against the tree. Then I closed my eyes, and imagined a world. A world of connections, where everyone understood that the difference between good and bad was the difference between the people who valued those connections and the ones who didn’t. Only it wasn’t just a world for organic humans or synthetic ones. It was for trees and saurs and rivers and flowers and rocks. It was for wolves and yellowcrests and spiders and hawks and crows, and for all life everywhere. All of us or none of us. All life matters or none does. All people matter or none do.

  This was the world that was meant. I imagined it, holding it in my mind. Then I looked at the world that was.

  Everything connects, Grandpa had told me once, but not everyone sees those connections. I could sense the fragmentation, the disconnection from others and from the earth. I knew every variety of it. The twisted viciousness of Neville, and Terence. The indifference of Citizens who never spoke out about the Accords because they didn’t think our suffering was theirs. The minions, who’d hated themselves so much they’d been willing to do anything to anybody to be part of the world that rejected them.