by Jen Minkman
Fortunately, a servant decides to show up and interrupt our conversation by ushering us inside, leading us to a stunning dinner hall with glazed windows in all colors of the rainbow. The stained glass, as Sonia calls it, features all kinds of symbols and images. Lots of cross shapes, like the tombstones in the Penzance graveyard. To my amazement, I see an image of a man in the upper left corner window resembling Luke Skywalker, including the white robe, but it can’t be him. He’s holding a basket containing fish and loaves of bread, and he seems to be standing on the surface of a lake. That must be Jesus.
At the head of a long table laden with food sits the president. Sonia walks past us and sits to his left. On the right-hand side is his wife – I don’t remember her name, or maybe nobody told me yet. They all look so happy, their faces beaming and their smiles so radiant that I can’t help but smile myself when I sit down at the table on the chair next to Walt.
William picks the seat to my right. “Dartmoor is a fantastic city,” he gushes. “So friendly. So generous. So social.”
“Yeah, isn’t it?” I remember how we welcomed Henry – by confining and executing him. But no, I should stop thinking like this. Those dark days are over. I’m happy the people on the Other Side are welcoming us with open arms.
President Jacob gets up and addresses everyone at the table, looking at us one by one. “So good to have you all gathered here.” He gives a nod to Tony, who’s sitting across from me, I notice at present. “Thanks to this man from Bodmin, you have found our world. I hope we can find our way to a beautiful future together. Now let me say grace first, before we start our lunch.” He bows his head and closes his eyes while folding his hands in some kind of reverent gesture. “There will be no more war, no crying, nor pain, for the old order of things has passed away,” he intones solemnly.
The words move me. These people learned from the past and vowed not to make the same mistakes again. This is how our faith in the Force was always meant to be. This is how our Luke had once written it down in The Book – collaboration makes us strongest, and the Force will bind us together.
I finally start to relax somewhat. At first glance, Dartmoor seemed too good to be true, but maybe I should switch off my skeptical alarm. The fence must be there to protect these citizens. The border guards are just there to report to the president who’s visiting, so he can wait for them at the gates with a delegation of smiley faces.
“Who do you think that girl next to Miriam is?” Walt mumbles at that moment.
“Miriam?” I repeat.
“Yes. The president’s wife, remember?”
I follow his gaze and see who he’s talking about. A skinny, pale girl with dark-blonde tresses is listlessly poking the potato on her plate with a fork. She looks sick. What could be the matter with her?
“That’s Amanda,” Tony answers, his voice grave. “Their daughter. She suffers from the war disease.”
“What’s that?” I ask quietly.
“You’re born with it,” Tony replies. “And it will never leave you. Our ancestors often suffered and succumbed to the disease just after the war had ended. It’s because of radiation poisoning of the land, combined with the virus they set loose on the earth. It won’t kill you instantly, but it will slowly eat you from the inside.”
“That’s horrible,” Walt whispers. “How old is Amanda?”
“Fourteen. According to the doctors, she has about three years left.”
My heart breaks. This girl will never grow up to be an adult. Not in this world, anyway – in here, you’re not ready for a life of your own until you’re eighteen. The president and his wife seem so happy, but those smiling faces certainly hide a terrible sadness.
After a copious lunch, we are met in the main hall by a man who introduces himself as Harry, the hotel owner. Apparently, he can get temporary housing for all of us.
“Tomorrow, Tony will take us to Moretonhampstead in his bus,” Walt tells me excitedly. “That’s where the largest library of Dartmoor is, so we can find out everything we want to know about the world as it used to be.” He smiles at me and pulls me into his arms. “He also told me we could find the original stories about Luke and Leia there.”
“What a strange thought,” I say numbly. I’m not so sure I want to read those books full of made-up stories at all. Will it do me any good? I feel at a loss.
Walt gently strokes my hair, noticing my apprehension. “Let’s just flip through them together. I’m quite curious, actually. So, shall we follow Harry to his hotel?”
“Are you going to share a room with your father?”
He starts to chuckle. “Afraid so. I carefully dropped a hint that I might want to get a room with you, and that set him off on a full-fledged rant about the birds and the bees and such.”
I’m sure I’m flushing crimson. “Well, he’s right, you know. Besides, you hadn’t even asked me if I wanted to share a room.”
Walt shrugs. “That’s why I said I might,” he says defensively.
Now it is my turn to chuckle. “Well, how about in Moretonhampstead?” I tease him, lowering my voice before I continue: “After a long day of study in the library, we should do something fun, too, don’t you think?”
“Hmm.” His eyes sparkle. “Good point.”
Hand in hand, we trot outside and follow the hotel owner. The other islanders trail behind us. I’m curious to see where Harry will take us.
A huge crowd turns out to have gathered on the square in front of the palace. Strangely enough, they’re all quiet, save for a single man who’s yelling in an agitated voice. I don’t know what’s going on here, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickle with anxiety. Something’s not right here.
Walt pushes to the front, pulling me along. “What are all these people standing around for?” he mutters irritably. “Is that a townscrier or…”
His voice suddenly lodges in his throat. It’s only after I push my way past a chubby man and join Walt at the front of the circle of spectators that I can see what he’s seeing.
This crowd has gathered to look at a man, standing in the center of the circle. He’s about thirty years old. His face is red from shouting at three other men who approach him cautiously. And his shouts sound a bit angry, but mostly terrified. The three guys trying to get to him are dressed similar to the border guards – they are wearing blue uniforms and caps.
“You can’t do this to me,” the man screams at the guards. “I didn’t mean to! Why am I the only one who’s being blamed?”
The three soldiers have now surrounded him. They all look at him with patient, friendly smiles. “Stick out your arm, Sam,” one of them says. “You know the rules.”
And then, Sam breaks down in tears. “No, please, no,” he begs. “I have a wife. I have children.”
Two of the men grab him from behind, wrestling his arms behind his back while the third gets a sharp object from his pocket. It looks like there’s some kind of needle at the tip. The man plunges it into Sam’s arm. After a few beats, Sam’s head lolls forward, his chin falling to his chest. He is completely silent, hanging limply in the soldiers’ arms.
My mouth turns dry when the people in the square all bow their heads and fold their hands, just like the president did when he said grace, as he called it. “No crying, no pain,” they murmur in unison. The three guards are still holding up the man they’ve managed to shut up with that strange needle, eerie smiles on their faces. A violent shiver runs down my spine as they wordlessly lift Sam’s limp body and carry him out of the circle in complete silence.
“What is this?” Walt hisses next to me. “Why was that guy arrested? What are they going to do to him?”
“Lock him up, maybe?” I whisper back.
And then, I remember Tony’s comment about prisons. They don’t have those here. People don’t break the law, because it never gets to that.
“Arrested?” a gray-haired man standing next to us repeats, looking baffled. He turns toward us with a gentle smile on his
face. “Have you never seen a Purge before?”
“No, we haven’t,” Walt replies in a shaky voice. “We’re not from around here.”
“Oh, you’re part of that island group,” the man concludes. “Well, Sam had to be Purged from our community. He was too violent.”
“Will he be banished?” I whisper in shock.
The man blinks. “No, of course not,” he replies in surprise.
“But – but where are they taking him?”
“Nowhere,” Tony’s voice pipes up next to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a solemn look. “Sam is dead.”
Tresco
5 – Alisa
I feel weird once the ship has disappeared into the distance. A bit lost. Our world is missing a crucial bit of its old familiarity.
Walt is gone. The only real connection with Yorrick I still had.
“May the Goddess guide them on their way,” Nathan, the Bookkeeper, mumbles next to me. “It’s a hazardous journey.”
I smile faintly. “I believe that. If there really is a Goddess, she must have sent that ship to us.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the sullen Unbeliever boy, still standing next to a mooring post. I promised Walt I’d take him under my wing, so that’s what I’ll do. Leia said he was old enough to have made the wrong decisions. I wonder how much of a bad record this guy can really have.
Resolutely, I walk up to him. “Hey, I’m Alisa,” I introduce myself. “What’s your name?”
“Ben,” he says. His voice is even younger than his face. He can’t be a day over sixteen.
When Ben remains silent after that, I awkwardly clear my throat. “So. You’re from Newexter.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want to live here?”
“Yes.” He suddenly sounds a bit insecure.
“Well, you can,” I hasten to say, shooting him a wide smile. I may be studying to become a Peacekeeper, but that doesn’t mean I should subject this guy named Ben to a cross examination. Maybe I sounded a tad too critical. “Why don’t you follow me to meet the Bookkeeper? He can assign housing to you. If I’m not mistaken, there are a few cottages vacant near the harbor.”
“Thanks,” Ben mumbles. The ghost of a smile crosses his face.
“What kind of work did you do in Newexter?” I ask as we stroll down the quay.
“All kinds of things. Hunting, mostly. I’m really good at that. And building and repairing huts.”
“Hmm.” I look at him sideways. We have enough hunters at the moment, and we haven’t needed to build any new houses for a while, but if this guy can wield a hammer, he might be useful in our shipbuilding industry. “Let’s drop by the harbor master after that.”
“And what kind of work do you do?” he asks unexpectedly.
“I’m an intern for the Peacekeepers’ office,” I reply with a smile. “In short, I make sure good behavior gets rewarded and I dole out punishment for bad deeds.”
“Are there a lot of people who behave badly?”
“Nah,” I mumble.
In my mind, I can still replay the scene of the frenzied crowd of Hope Harborers killing Praed. Times have changed since Tony landed on our shores. No wonder Daryl, the head of the Peacekeepers’ office, offered me this internship at the same time I started my studies. They’re lacking manpower – we need more eyes at the temple, where progressive people have gathered to insist the entire building must be taken down so they can distribute all the valuables among the people. Along the road leading to the Wall, where people from the suburbs are patrolling anxiously to make sure the Unbelievers can’t all pour into ‘our’ part of the island at once, to take resources we need. And near the watchtowers, because the progressives say they should be destroyed too. A few hours ago, a small group of men left for the caves where we found the sacrificial boats, in order to take what Walt and I couldn’t carry. Since the two of us had our hands full getting Tony to Hope Harbor safely, they can plunder to their hearts’ delight.
Just for a second, a dark cloud obscures my heart when a thought pops up in my head – Walt just up and left, leaving us to sort out all the mess in Hope Harbor. Mess he caused in the first place.
But of course that isn’t fair. It’s not even true. Walt and I both played our part in shaking the foundations of our community. Walt isn’t Bookkeeper yet – his uncle is. Plus, Walt has spent years of his life to build the ship that he’s now sailing to get to the World across the Waters. I shouldn’t complain. I decided to stay here and contribute to Hope Harbor’s modernization.
“I’ll behave, I promise,” Ben interrupts my train of thought. He sounds rather timid.
“Excuse me?” I stare at him in surprise.
“Yeah. You were looking so angry.” His gaze drifts to the ground. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone here.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be anything but a burden to the shipbuilders. If you’re good with a hammer and saw, that is. They want to build more ships, so we can sail out with an entire fleet next time, and take a lot more people along for the trip.” I pause for a moment. “They want to call it Annabelle’s Fleet. To honor the Goddess. So the prophecy will come true in some small way.”
Ben nods slowly. “That’s a nice thought. The idea of someone taking care of you, I mean. Walt told us about the force your people feel in nature, you know.”
“Us?” I echo.
“Yes. My brother and me.”
So he has a brother. Somehow, I couldn’t picture Ben as having family. That’s just how he strikes me, I guess. “And this brother still lives in Newexter?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t he want to come along?”
“No.”
We’re back where we started – with Ben giving monosyllabic replies. I scared him off with my barrage of questions. “Well, why don’t we visit him some time?” I suggest spontaneously. “I have to join my boss and talk to the Eldest pretty soon anyway. To discuss security measures along the Scilly Way.”
Ben stays quiet for a very long time. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he finally asks.
I smile. “Looks like you could use some new friends. And Walt asked me to help you to build a new life here.”
“I bet you don’t know what I’ve done,” he mumbles, hardly audible over the roar of the waves breaking against the harbor wall.
“No,” I admit. “You want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather not.” He kicks at a pebble. “Now now.”
“Sure. We’ll save it for later.”
“Hmm.” He grunts noncommittally.
At the end of that day, I’ve taken care of getting a job and arranging lodging for Ben. He used the dried beans I lent him to buy himself some clothes and food. Tomorrow, he will start his new job at the shipyard, working with the same shipbuilders who also secretly designed and constructed the Explorer. They’ve got plans to make more three-masters, so they were over the moon when I brought in a new helper.
When I get home that evening, Daryl is waiting for me on the bench outside our house. He’s smoking a pipe and talking to my dad. “Alisa,” he rumbles in his deep voice. “I wanted to ask you to do a few night shifts this week.”
“Sure,” I immediately reply. “Where will you be needing extra surveillance?”
“Near the harbor.” He lowers his voice. “There have been some serious disagreements between the two parties holed up at the temple. Samuel Senior’s group wants to tear it all down, but the group headed by Phileas wants to reinstate the old religion.”
My jaw drops. “What? The old religion? Why the deep do they want that?”
My father pats the space next to him on the bench, and I plunk down there. “Phileas thinks we have been deceived,” he explains tiredly. “I mean, he understands that Praed’s been lying to us all by stealing the votive offerings, but he still believes we should wait for Annabelle. He says Tony has lied to us to lead us astray. And I’m sorry to say there are many people who agre
e with him.”
“Those blind, stupid…” I fume. “How can they possibly think that? They’ve seen the documents Tony brought along! And what about that book from the temple with the child’s drawings? Phileas is even more deluded than the Unbeliever leader who killed Henry out of sheer stupidity. How many more people is he willing to hurt over this?”
Daryl puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m happy you’re not going along with all the madness,” he says gravely, “but please don’t forget that the people here have suffered quite a few blows to their safe, familiar world in the past couple of days. And they all deal with it differently. It’s our job to keep the peace and make sure no public property is destroyed or people are hurt. Calling people names isn’t going to help anyone.”
“You’re right,” I admit reluctantly. Even though I still feel the urge to call Phileas names for sticking his head in the sand and hoping all problems will just go away. “You want me to start tonight?”
“That won’t be necessary. Besides, you’ve been working all day. I expect you to report for duty at the docks tomorrow night at ten.”
“So why at the harbor?”
“Some of Phileas’s followers have taken it upon themselves to gather there with banners, chanting we should put a stop to our shipbuilding activities. That it’s blasphemy to build our own fleet to sail away. I want to keep an eye on them.”
I nod briefly. “You can count on me.”
6 – Alisa
Slowly but steadily, we are building our own fleet. Now that an angry mob regularly gathers on the quay in the morning and stays put all day to shout abuse at the laborers, the supervisors have started to schedule night shifts. At least that allows them enough peace and quiet to focus on the work.
I’m on duty from ten at night until five in the morning. Every now and then, my colleagues and I also venture out to the far ends of the harbor, but everything is quiet near the light houses. Phileas has stationed his own people there to stop the progressives from destroying them. It’s the only advantage of the whole madness – Phileas is taking away some of our workload that way.
