Deadlands

by Lily Herne

  Hester looked up. ‘Lele, you have done very well. You may relax.’

  ‘Phew!’ I said, grateful to be able to stand on both feet again.

  ‘Yeah, nice one, mate,’ Ginger said. ‘You almost broke Ash’s record.’ Ginger glanced at Ash, but his face was inscrutable.

  ‘And I’ve got a treat for you, Lele,’ Ginger said, holding up one of his DVDs. ‘Transformers – crap movie, but awesome explosions.’

  Saint swung her legs down from the couch to make enough room for me to sit between her and Ash. But she needn’t have bothered. The second I sat down, Ash stood up and stalked out of the room. I had no way of knowing if his departure was because I had sat next to him, because Ginger had mentioned Ripley, or because he hated movies starring giant robots.

  16

  A few days later I woke up to find Hester alone in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, her head in her hands, but when she heard me approach she lifted her head and attempted to smile, trying to bury the pain I knew she was feeling beneath it. Again she reminded me of Gran: Gran who had hidden her illness from me for as long as she could.

  I sat down in front of her and covered one of her hands with mine. ‘Hester, what’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing, Lele,’ she said, smile still in place.

  ‘That’s not true. I know you’re sick,’ I said. It had been obvious from the first time I’d seen her. The way she walked as if every joint was on fire; the dark circles under her eyes; the yellowish cast of her skin. I’d tried to ask Saint about it once or twice but she’d brushed me off. It was clearly a subject none of the Mall Rats felt comfortable discussing. ‘What does the doctor say?’

  ‘Medical attention is only for the young, Lele, you know that.’

  ‘But you’re not that old.’

  She chuckled. ‘Thank you for the compliment, but since the Resurrectionists took over the city those who are pregnant or still growing have priority.’

  ‘Can’t you at least get some medicine to help you?’

  ‘You know the Guardians’ views on that, Lele.’

  ‘But what about from the mall?’

  ‘No. We cannot risk it.’

  ‘Have you tried, though?’

  She sighed. ‘I told you, we cannot risk it. The Guardians will turn a blind eye to clothes and books and soaps and shampoos. But not to medicine. Not even aspirin.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they need people to die, of course.’

  Stupid question. But we didn’t have that problem in the Agriculturals, where there was a rich knowledge of traditional medicine and we had access to any herbs we wanted or needed.

  ‘But there must be something I can do to help,’ I said, racking my brain for the names of the herbs Gran had used to dampen her own pain.

  ‘I am fine, Lele,’ Hester said, ‘but thank you for your concern.’ She smiled again, and this time it seemed genuine. The pain had passed.

  ‘Where’s everyone?’ I asked.

  ‘They’ve gone on a mall run.’

  ‘But why couldn’t I go with them?’

  ‘You are not ready yet, Lele.’

  ‘I feel ready.’

  ‘I know. But it will still take some time. You must be patient.’

  She poured me a cup of rooibos tea and I stirred in a dollop of honey. As disappointed as I was, it was pretty cool having Hester to myself.

  ‘Hester, how did you discover the mall? How did you know it was there?’

  She took a sip of her own tea, and touched the knot of scar tissue under her eye. ‘A group of us discovered it at the end of the War, while the Guardians were busy herding the survivors into the enclaves. I was part of the Last Resistance.’

  I’d heard about them – a small band of diehard War veterans who had fought the Rotters till the end.

  ‘Did you know a soldier called Cleo Mbane?’

  ‘Yes. Briefly. A brave woman.’

  ‘She’s my stepmother.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yeah. She works for the embassy now,’ I said bitterly. ‘For the Resurrectionists.’

  ‘You mustn’t think too badly of her, Lele,’ Hester said. ‘Everyone had a choice to make. That was hers. She certainly wasn’t the only one.’

  I bit my tongue. Now wasn’t the time to mouth off about the Mantis. Besides, I had another burning question. ‘Hester, why doesn’t Ash like me?’

  She smiled at me. ‘You musn’t take his attitude to heart.’

  ‘It’s hard not to.’

  ‘I know. I suppose he can be stand-offish at times.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly.’

  ‘He is . . . He’s had a hard time of it. A hard life.’

  I thought of saying, Who hasn’t? but I suspected that wouldn’t go down well. ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘During the Last Resistance. He fought by my side. He saved my life.’ She smiled at my shocked expression. ‘The others I was with, they did not last outside. The Rotters . . . Well, I’m sure you can guess what happened to them. But because Ash was able to slip through the Deadlands undetected, we managed to hide out for long enough to construct this place.’ She looked around. ‘Of course, at first it wasn’t as comfortable as you see it today.’

  ‘You mean Ash fought in the War?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But he would have been a little kid!’

  ‘Indeed. But there were many child soldiers, Lele. Most of them were not as fortunate as Ash.’

  ‘But that still doesn’t explain why he treats me like I’m dog poo.’

  ‘Ah. Like I say, do not take it personally. Ash has a good heart, and although he tries to hide it, he feels too much. A sensitive soul. He is just checking you out in his own way.’ She paused to let what she’d said sink in. ‘Now, Lele, you must drink your tea and have some breakfast. We have much work to do.’

  ‘What are we doing today?’

  She smiled. ‘More work on the wooden man.’

  I groaned. I hated the thing. My arms and legs were sore from endlessly punching and kicking it. But it helped that I’d nicknamed it Zyed. I’d even thought about asking Ginger to fetch me some guineafowl feathers to stick on it.

  17

  ‘Awesometastic!’ Ginger cried.

  For the first time I’d managed to jump clear when Saint ran for me, dodging the follow-up kick she’d jabbed in my direction by curling myself into a defensive ball several metres away from her, well out of her reach.

  ‘Not bad, Zombie Bait,’ Saint said, holding out a hand and helping me to my feet. ‘What did you think, Ash?’ she asked as Ginger clapped me on the back, almost sending me flying. ‘Can this chick move, or what?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not bad,’ he said.

  I pretended to stumble backwards in shock. ‘Did I just hear correctly, Ginger? Did Ash just say something almost nice to me? Shouldn’t we be worried? Maybe he’s ill.’

  Saint grinned. ‘She’s got you there, Ash,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, she’s got you bang to rights, mate,’ Ginger added.

  ‘Whatever,’ Ash said, but for a second he caught my eye and I was sure he was doing his best not to smile.

  ‘I think she’s almost ready,’ Saint said.

  ‘Seriously?’ I said, heart leaping.

  ‘You’re forgetting something, Saint,’ Ash said. ‘She hasn’t had any special awareness training.’

  ‘Sorry, sweetie,’ Saint said, ‘but Ash is right.’

  I followed Ash and Saint into the lounge area, Ginger trailing behind us. ‘But what’s special awareness?’ I said. Ash and Saint were whispering to each other, ignoring me. ‘Hello?’

  ‘I’ll take her,’ Ash said to Saint. ‘See how she does.’

  ‘You will?’ Saint asked, looking from him to me in surprise.

  ‘Take me where?’ I asked.

  ‘Hey,’ Saint said. ‘If you take her to the market, you can get the veggies.’

  ‘That’s your job,’ Ash replied.
/>
  ‘Oh, come on, Ash. Be a pal.’ She grinned at him.

  He sighed. ‘Okay, okay.’

  ‘What is going on?’ I asked.

  ‘You’re about to go on a little outing, Zombie Bait,’ Saint said.

  ‘Outside?’

  ‘Of course!’

  My life underground had been so intense and absorbing that I’d practically forgotten what the world outside looked like, but now an opportunity had presented itself I realised that I couldn’t wait to feel the sun on my skin again.

  Saint handed a list to Ash. ‘Hester says to see if you can get some fresh spinach. And tomatoes, if they’ve got any.’

  ‘No problem.’

  She dug in one of the cupboards under the kitchen sink and handed me a heavy brown robe. ‘Put this on.’

  I held it up to my body. ‘But this is a Resurrectionist robe!’

  ‘Duh!’ Ginger said. ‘You can’t just go out like your normal self, innit. People will think they’ve seen a ghost!’

  ‘It’s the one good thing the Resurrectionists have done for us. The perfect disguise,’ Saint said.

  ‘They’re such dumb-asses,’ Ginger added. ‘Think they’re Jedi or summut.’

  Ash was already pulling another of the robes over his head and I tugged mine on quickly in case he changed his mind. The wool was scratchy and rough, and hung heavily on my shoulders and arms. Saint threw a lumpy Resurrectionist amulet at me. It was surprisingly weighty, and just touching it made me feel squeamish.

  ‘Come on,’ Ash said, without looking back to make sure I was going to follow.

  ‘Don’t forget the spinach!’ Saint called after us.

  Ash unlocked the door in the corner of the room, and I followed him down a winding tunnel, this one gloomier than the others.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said when we reached the end. ‘I need to check the coast is clear.’

  Climbing up a rope ladder he hefted up a trapdoor. Light filtered down from above, and I felt the pull of the fresh air.

  ‘’S’cool,’ he finally said, reaching down and grabbing my hand.

  18

  Even though we were in a narrow alleyway, shadowed between two tumbledown shacks, the natural light stung my eyes and I had to blink several times before they adjusted. I took a deep breath of enclave air, drinking in the scents of cooking and dust, before scurrying after Ash, who was already striding towards a bustling thoroughfare. The world seemed huge and buzzing with life after the three weeks or so I’d been down in the tunnels.

  ‘What part of the enclave are we in?’ I asked him.

  ‘New Arrivals, of course.’

  A group of elderly men, who were sitting outside a mouldy army tent, drinking coffee and chatting, fell silent as we passed. One of them shook his head, leaned forward and spat in our direction.

  ‘They don’t like Resurrectionists here,’ Ash said quietly to me.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  Ignoring me, Ash hailed a rickshaw driver, who looked as if he was about to pretend he hadn’t seen us.

  ‘Where to, Comrade?’ the driver asked reluctantly as Ash stepped in front of him, holding up his hand imperiously.

  ‘Sector 6.’

  At first I thought I’d misheard. Sector 6 was my old district – and the longing to see Jobe was almost overwhelming. He had never been far from my thoughts, but I’d convinced myself that I was working on the plan to get us out of the city, which had helped. But now I could barely think about anything else. Not that I thought there was any hope of seeing him.

  ‘Why are we going there?’ I asked.

  ‘Best market. Best selection of food,’ Ash said.

  ‘Did you say something, Comrade?’ the rickshaw driver asked.

  ‘Have you found your true calling?’ Ash said pompously. ‘Have you accepted the truth?’

  He was totally convincing, and I tried not to giggle.

  ‘Ja, Comrade, I believe I have, Comrade,’ the rickshaw driver said. ‘Oh, ja.’

  Ash flipped back his hood, smiled at me and winked. He seemed to have lightened up a lot, and I felt my stomach lift. I didn’t want to feel that way about him. He’d spent the last few weeks treating me like crap, and I wasn’t going to forgive him so easily. Still, whenever his thigh jostled against mine in the cramped space, I noticed that he didn’t try to move away.

  We didn’t speak during the half hour it took us to wend our way to Sector 6. I was too captivated by the sights, sounds and smells around me; even the low background moaning of the Rotters was a novelty after being underground for so long. But there was something else, someone else on my mind – Thabo. We were following the same route as the one we’d taken when he’d brought me to Lungi’s. I wondered if he missed me, if he had, after all, left school to join the ANZ, and if he was still spray-painting slogans around the city.

  As we neared Sector 6, the roads became more congested, the buildings more substantial, and more and more Resurrectionists thronged the streets. Ash signalled for the driver to stop, and we drew up outside the looming embassy building.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ash said, passing some trade credits to the driver.

  ‘No, Comrade,’ the driver said. ‘That’s quite fine.’

  ‘I insist,’ Ash said.

  The rickshaw driver hesitated, then grabbed the money and hurried off as if he thought Ash was about to change his mind.

  ‘Why didn’t he want to take the credits?’ I asked.

  Ash shook his head in disgust. ‘Most Resurrectionists think they can travel for free. As if it’s their right.’

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Following Ash towards the bustling market place, I suddenly realised that we were right outside the narrow alleyway where Thabo and I had decorated the dumpsters. I couldn’t resist peering into its shadowy depths to see if any traces of our handiwork remained. The dumpsters were covered in overflowing rubbish bags, but I could see a weather-beaten poster that had been tacked up on one of the brick walls. It was a printed version of my Anti-Zombian sketch, the words Don’t be a Puppet, join the ANZ printed below the drawing of the huge puppet-master Guardian. So they had used it after all! I almost called out to Ash to show him, but he was striding ahead, and the moment passed.

  We were now right in the middle of the market, both of us being buffeted occasionally by passing shoppers. Hawkers and stall holders shouted out their wares, the largest stall of all heaving under the weight of a huge stack of vegetables that must have recently arrived from the Agriculturals.

  Ash bought a selection of potatoes and tomatoes, and I picked out a thick bunch of dark green spinach, rummaging through the pile to find the freshest leaves.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Time to start.’

  ‘Start what?’

  ‘Your training.’

  ‘We’re going to train here? Won’t people stare?’

  ‘We’re not going to fight, Lele.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘It is vital that you know who is around you at all times. To my left, you see that guy with the black hair?’

  I turned my head and glanced at the tall guy standing next to an amulet stall. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Guy with the ponytail?’

  ‘He’s a Resurrectionist guard.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘See the lump under his shirt? It’s a cosh. He’s on the lookout for suspicious behaviour.’

  I didn’t think anything could be more suspicious than the pair of us checking out everyone in the market place, but obviously I wasn’t going to say that to Ash.

  ‘The trick is to look around without making it obvious, and also to be aware of who is behind you at all times.’ He walked on. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘behind us there’s a large woman carrying a small child, an elderly War vet with a wooden leg and a teenager who keeps picking at his zits when he thinks no one is watching.’

  I glanced around quickly, pretending that I was checking out the woollen sheets draped over a stall. Ash was
right. ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘Practice,’ he said. ‘Let’s walk on. Keep your eyes open.’

  It was difficult to see a great deal out of the hood that covered my face, but I did my best to concentrate.

  ‘Without looking around, who is to our right?’

  ‘An old woman selling clothes pegs and a street kid with a bandaged arm.’

  ‘Not bad!’ Ash said. ‘But you missed the guy handing out pamphlets behind them. Try again.’

  He was relentless. The training seemed to go on for hours, the sun beating down on us, making me sweat under the heavy fabric. One thing about the Resurrectionist robes: they definitely weren’t made for comfort. But although my brain was beginning to ache, I was getting better and better.

  ‘Okay,’ Ash finally said. ‘Let’s take a break.’

  He walked up to a vendor and bought us both a paper cup of freshly squeezed orange juice.

  I gulped it down gratefully. ‘Thanks, Ash,’ I said to him, peering at his face, half-hidden beneath the hood.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For not treating me like you hate me today.’

  He blinked. ‘I don’t hate you.’

  ‘But you’ve been acting like you do.’

  He ran a hand over his face. ‘I’m –’

  But I never got to hear the rest of his words. From somewhere behind us came an enormous banging sound, as if three huge doors had been slammed one after another – BANG! BANG! BANG! – and then a billowing cloud of damp smoke hissed towards us.

  Instantly, my eyes felt like they’d been stung by a swarm of wasps. All around us people were screaming, and I felt myself being pushed roughly from behind as a tidal wave of bodies surged forward in a panicked mass. Someone elbowed me painfully in the ribs and someone else grabbed at my arm. I tried to manoeuvre myself free, struggling and twisting, but there was nothing I could do. I was propelled along, my feet barely touching the ground.

  As the smoke cleared I rubbed at my eyes, but I’d lost sight of Ash. I looked wildly around, desperately trying to catch sight of him, but my vision was still blurry, my eyes streaming. Then, as I wiped away the tears, I saw a familiar thatch of hair rising above the heads surrounding me. It was Thabo. I was sure of it. I would recognise those dreadlocks anywhere. But as he turned his head and looked at me, the crowd swept me forward again and it was all I could do to stay upright. All around me people were screaming and yelling, mothers shouting for their children, everyone stumbling into each other.