by Lily Herne
He looked up at me in surprise. ‘I wasn’t in love with her, Lele,’ he said. ‘I mean, we were friends, but love . . . no.’
For some reason I felt a bright jab of relief.
He looked as if he was about to speak again, but then his walkie-talkie crackled into life: ‘Ash, come in, Ash.’ It was Saint.
‘Ash here, over.’
‘Better get down to basement level, over.’
‘What’s up? Over.’
‘Ginger’s up to his old tricks again, over.’
‘Shit,’ Ash hissed. ‘Better get going.’
I tried to lift the rucksack over my shoulder, but I stumbled under its weight. Smiling slightly, Ash passed me his.
‘No! I can manage,’ I said.
‘Trust me,’ Ash said. ‘It’s a long walk home, and, knowing Ginger, there might be some running in our future, so be prepared.’
He had a point. With a rueful shrug I swallowed my pride and handed the rucksack over.
27
Saint was waiting for us at the bottom of the escalators.
‘Well?’ Ash said. ‘He hasn’t blown something up again, has he?’
‘Not yet. Check it out,’ she said with a half-smile on her face.
‘Can someone tell me how to stop this thing?’ Ginger yelled as he came barrelling towards us, wobbling on a skateboard, his arms outstretched. I couldn’t help but laugh – he looked ridiculous – and I laughed even harder when he wiped out against one of the huge pot plants.
Leaping to his feet, Ginger brushed off his jeans and grinned at us. ‘You want a go?’ he asked, handing the skateboard to Ash.
I could see the conflicting emotions flicker over Ash’s face. Part of him wanted to gripe at Ginger for messing around when he should have been working, but I could tell that he was also tempted to have a go on the skateboard.
‘Okay,’ Ash said. ‘Just for a few minutes. But then we have to get out of here.’
‘Awesome!’ Ginger said before Ash had a chance to change his mind. ‘I’ll get all of us one. Wait here.’
‘Typical Ginger,’ Saint said, watching him jog into a nearby sports shop.
Seconds later Ginger was racing back towards us, three skateboards clutched in his arms. He handed them out, a look of childish excitement on his face. ‘This is going to be so cool!’ he said.
We spent over an hour on the skateboards, one of us keeping a lookout while the others practised, and by the end of it I was feeling pretty smug. It turned out that I was much better at it than Ginger – probably because I was smaller and lighter – and Ash and Saint were hopeless (they kept trying to go too fast before they had learned to balance properly).
The light was fading by the time we decided to leave the mall. A jostling group of Rotters was milling about outside the doors as if they were queuing up to get inside before the sales started.
Ash scanned them swiftly. ‘All cool. They’re totally rotted.’
‘Yummy,’ Ginger said. ‘My favourite kind.’
‘Gross, Ginger,’ Saint said.
The light was taking on a bluish cast, the heat of the day settling, the mountain looking dreamy and unreal in the distance. The four of us strode through the fynbos that coated the highway, Ash carrying the bag of books as if it weighed nothing at all. Ginger’s stomach rumbled.
‘Hungry, Ginger?’ I asked.
‘Starving, mate.’
‘Shall we stop for some chow?’ Saint asked Ash.
‘Yeah!’ Ginger said. ‘Let’s have a barbecue!’
‘A braai, Ginger,’ Ash said. ‘The word is braai. I can’t believe you still say things like that. I’m going to confiscate all your British movies if you don’t wise up.’
‘Oh, yeah? You’re not the boss of me.’
‘Am so,’ Ash said, pretending to punch Ginger in the stomach.
‘Are not!’
Saint glanced at me and rolled her eyes.
We walked on for a while, until we reached a fairly large clearing, where Saint and Ash dropped their rucksacks from their shoulders with sighs of relief.
‘I thought you were doing the underwear run?’ Saint said to Ginger as his bag clinked to the ground.
He looked slightly shifty. ‘Yeah . . . So?’
She dived for his bag before he could whip it out of her reach. ‘So, what sort of underwear clinks like that?’ She searched through it. ‘I knew it!’ She pulled out several glass bottles of Coke.
‘What?’ Ginger said, trying to look innocent and failing.
‘This stuff will kill you.’
He shrugged. ‘Nice way to die, though, innit?’
‘What are we going to braai?’ I asked.
‘Ash and I will sort that,’ Ginger said.
‘You want to help me get some wood?’ Saint asked me.
‘Sure.’
Ash and Ginger bustled off in one direction while Saint and I headed into a nearby copse.
‘They’re not going to kill a buck, are they?’ I asked.
‘Nah, there’s a bunch of wild chickens around here,’ she said. ‘That’s more Ginger’s style.’
She knocked over a piece of dead wood and a baboon spider crawled out and scurried towards us.
‘Ugh!’ she said, jumping back.
I nudged the spider towards a clump of dried twigs, and within seconds it was gone.
‘I can’t believe the great Saint is scared of spiders,’ I said.
‘Believe it, Zombie Bait.’
‘Do you mind not calling me that?’
For a second she looked as if she was about to snap at me, but then she relaxed and grinned instead. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I’ve been a bit hard on you.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s okay.’
‘It is not okay. I’ve been a bitch.’
‘Total bitch is more like it.’
She laughed. ‘But you handled it well, Zombie Ba – Lele.’
‘Didn’t have much choice,’ I said. ‘You’re stronger than I am.’
‘True,’ she said.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘I’d be surprised if you didn’t.’
‘How did you become a Mall Rat?’
She looked down at the ground, and kicked her boots through a tangle of weeds. ‘You really want to know? It’s not a pretty story.’
I nodded.
She was right; it wasn’t a pretty story. Saint had been living in New Arrivals when the Rotters had broken through the fence. She had watched as those closest to her had been mercilessly slaughtered before Hester had found her wandering, shell-shocked, through the streets, the only person in the area who hadn’t been cut down or turned into a mindless Hatchling.
‘So Hester knew that the Rotters couldn’t sense you?’
Saint nodded. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without her. I’d lost everyone . . .’
‘I’m sorry, Saint.’
She looked up at me and smiled. ‘Thanks.’
‘And Ginger?’
She grinned. ‘Can you believe it? Ash and Hester found him hanging around outside Ratanga Junction. He’d left the enclave, just wandered out after the Rotter break-in, and was planning on seeing if he could get the roller coasters to work.’
‘Typical Ginger,’ I said.
‘But . . . Look, thanks for being so good with him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think sometimes people lose patience with him. Find him annoying.’
‘I love Ginger. I mean, I love him like a brother.’ I could feel myself blushing.
‘And what do you think of Ash?’
Now my cheeks felt white hot. ‘Nothing. He’s okay.’
‘Yeah, right.’ She looked at me sideways.
‘What about you, Saint? Why haven’t you and Ash ever hooked up?’
She smiled. ‘Because, Lele, I’m not into boys.’
‘Ah.’ It made sense: I hadn’t forgotten what I’d overheard all those weeks earlier when I’d be
en hiding out in the kombi.
We wandered back, arms full of firewood.
The fire was already cracking and spitting when Ash and Ginger returned, each carrying a limp plump chicken.
Ginger immediately sat down next to the fire and started plucking them, feathers flying around his head, several getting stuck in his bushy hair and eyebrows.
I’m not lying when I say that I’d never tasted anything so delicious. Gran had kept her own chickens, which we’d been allowed to eat on special occasions, but I don’t remember them ever tasting as glorious as the ones we ate that night. Finally we all sat back, wiping our greasy fingers on our jeans. It was now fully dark, the flames adding a glow to everyone’s faces. Ginger handed round a bottle of Coke and Ash lit a cigarette.
‘Go on, Saint!’ Ginger said, with his usual look of adoration. ‘Do your special trick.’
‘What special trick?’ I asked.
‘You got to see this, Lele. Go on, Saint. Please?’
Saint rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘I’m so stuffed I can hardly move, Ginger.’
‘Go on, mate,’ he said. ‘Pretty please?’
Rolling her eyes again, she got to her feet and began to rummage in her bag. Pulling out a bottle of paraffin, she undid one of the bandannas tied around the strap of her rucksack and ripped it into strips.
I watched, fascinated, while she unwrapped the chains around her wrists and attached the spiked balls to the ends of each of them. Dipping the bandanna material in the paraffin she then tied it tightly around the metal balls.
‘Ash? Chuck me your lighter,’ she said as she made her way further away from the fire.
Moments later she lit the material, which flared instantly alight, and began to swing the chains around her head. She spun them faster and faster, the flames making impossibly bright, blurred lines against the dark canvas of the night. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I glanced over at the others, to check out their reaction. Ginger was completely enthralled, his eyes not leaving Saint for a second, but Ash caught my eye, and for several seconds we stared at each other. I didn’t know what to think, so I dropped my eyes and concentrated on the whisper of the chains as they swept through the air.
I know what you’re thinking: But what about Thabo?
Truth was, I didn’t know.
28
‘Hi, guys,’ Ginger said, looking expectantly around the breakfast table.
‘Oh, hi, Ginger,’ Saint said.
‘It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?’ Ginger said hopefully.
‘Is it?’ Ash said with a yawn.
Saint looked at me and winked. It was Ginger’s birthday and the plan was to pretend we’d all forgotten, send him off to the market for some honey, and then surprise him when he got back.
I’d stayed up the previous night creating a sketch for him in the pad I’d slicked from the bookstore, hiding it from Saint as best I could. I’d drawn it movie poster-style, sketching a likeness of Ginger as I knew he saw himself in his mind: part action hero, part clown. Around him lay a pile of decapitated Hollywood-style zombies, and a woman clutched at his arm, gazing into his face adoringly. She was based on Angelina Jolie, but she had more than a passing resemblance to Saint.
The look on his face when he returned from the market and we all yelled, ‘Surprise!’ was classic.
Ash gave him the copy of World War Z we’d taken from the bookstore, Saint handed him a Zombie Flesh Eaters DVD, and Hester had baked him a cake, complete with a Lara Croft action figure toy in the middle of it.
‘This is awesome!’ Ginger said. ‘You guys are the best!’
While Hester cut the cake, I snuck into my room and ripped the drawing out of the sketch pad.
‘Here,’ I said, handing it to him.
He unfolded it and laid it out on the table. ‘What?’ he said. ‘No ways! That’s me!’
Saint stared at me, eyes wide. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘I drew it,’ I said.
‘Whoa, Lele,’ she said.
Ginger stood up and gave me one of his huge bear hugs. ‘It’s the best present ever, Lele,’ he said. ‘It must have taken you ages.’
‘Lele,’ Hester said, ‘I cannot believe that you have kept this talent secret from us for so long.’ She smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder. I felt a brief stab of guilt. Of course, the sketch wasn’t the only secret I was keeping from everyone, but there was no way I could come clean about my plans to get Jobe out of the city enclave.
Ash was watching me, a strange look on his face. He was the only one who didn’t comment on the drawing. But I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks all the same.
29
It had been more than two weeks since I’d seen Thabo, and I decided that I had to risk it. I told myself that I needed to see him because he was the only link I had to my old life, and I missed him, which was true. But there was another reason, of course – my confusion about my growing feelings for Ash. I needed to put them in perspective, especially as I still had no clue where Ash disappeared to on his frequent mysterious errands, and apart from the occasions when I’d noticed him watching me, I didn’t have any proof that he thought of me as more than just another Mall Rat. So, when Hester next asked one of us to make a run to the market, I jumped at the chance, praying that Ginger wouldn’t offer to come with me. Fortunately he was lost in a British comedy series called The Office, and he barely glanced up as I left.
I knocked on Lungi’s door, and this time she opened it herself. ‘Ha!’ she said. ‘It’s the princess from the party.’
‘Everything’s better with –’
‘It is fine, sisi,’ she said. ‘Thabo is here.’
She stood back to let me in, looking me up and down as I passed her.
‘Lele!’ Thabo said, jumping up from where he had been sitting slumped in one of the armchairs. He folded me in his arms and squeezed me tight. He smelled of camp fires and sweat, and when he drew back I had to smother my gasp of shock. He’d lost at least five kilos; his cheekbones stood out and there were huge rings around his eyes. He looked five years older than when I’d seen him last.
‘I am so glad to see you,’ he said, leading me into a small room attached to the kitchen area.
I sat down on a battered wooden chair in the corner. I could feel myself already breaking into a sweat (there were no windows and the heat from the kitchen had nowhere to go). ‘What’s going on, Thabo?’ I asked. ‘You look finished.’
‘Bad week,’ he said, pacing up and down the small space, running his hands through his dreads. ‘Three of our members were taken, Lele. The Resurrectionists are really clamping down. There’s talk that they’re going to try to register everyone. Check exactly who is for and who’s against them.’
‘Seriously? I haven’t heard anything about this!’
‘It’s not common knowledge.’
‘So how do you know?’
‘We’ve got someone inside the embassy.’ He spoke without thinking – clearly so hot up that he’d forgotten about not telling me too much. ‘Lele, this is seriously bad news. They’ll start with the other sectors first, of course, but New Arrivals won’t be left for long.’
‘But they’re not welcome here,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Now that they’ve started putting in the infrastructure for the electricity they’re getting more and more support, and not just from the elite. Now the people are joining them, too.’
‘But people aren’t stupid, Thabo. They can see what they are.’
‘Can they?’ he asked. ‘Don’t be so sure. The Resurrectionists are smart. They’re providing the people with what they need. With what they want.’
I pulled the robe over my head. Sweat was dribbling down my back and I fanned out my T-shirt to try to get some air on my damp skin.
‘Lele, I need your help.’
‘Of course, Thabo.’
He grinned, a trace of his old self shining through the new wor
ry lines scored on his face. ‘You don’t know what I’m going to ask you yet.’
‘We’re friends, Thabo. If I can help you, I will.’
‘Lele,’ he said in a voice so soft I had to strain to hear it, ‘I know you’re with the Mall Rats.’
I jumped. ‘How?’
‘I keep my ear to the ground.’
I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew his dream had been to join them, and I wondered how he felt, knowing that I was part of their group.
‘Lele, listen. There are things we need that you can get for us.’ He paused. ‘Is there a chemist shop intact out there in the city?’
So he didn’t know everything if he still thought we went out into the city. But what confused me was his lack of interest in how we managed to leave without being attacked by the Rotters, or, for that matter, arrested by the fence patrol. He either knew more than he was letting on, or it didn’t matter to him.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he hadn’t finished. ‘We have to have medicine – especially insulin, and antibiotics, of course. And we need condoms.’
‘Condoms?’
‘Birth control. Not everyone wants to breed, you know.’
I couldn’t stop the blush. ‘Right. But you don’t get it, Thabo. The Mall Rats aren’t allowed to . . . it’s too dangerous. We can’t get medical supplies. Surely you must know this?’
‘Lele, you’re the one who’s not getting it. We need this stuff. Our members are dying needlessly. Now’s your chance to do something that matters.’
I felt a lurch of panic. ‘But if the Mall Rats find out –’
‘They won’t.’
‘But Lungi – she’s one of their contacts.’
‘Lungi will keep quiet. Her loyalties lie where they should – with the people.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked.
‘You know what I mean, Lele. The Mall Rats are the only ones who can leave the enclave, yet all they do is bring back luxuries,’ he shook his head in disgust, ‘kak we don’t need.’
I opened my mouth to defend them, but I couldn’t deny that he had a point. A good one. He handed a list to me. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I realise most of this would have expired by now, but we’re desperate.’
