by Lily Herne
I waited for him to argue, but he didn’t. Instead he just nodded.
‘Where are Saint and Ginger?’ I asked.
‘They’ve gone to the west gate,’ he said. ‘We weren’t sure where you were headed.’
‘And Hester? Is she . . .?’
He shook his head. ‘No. But it won’t be long.’
In the moonlit darkness I could see that his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. ‘Ash, you must go back and be with her.’
‘No, Lele,’ he said, wiping a hand furiously over his eyes. ‘Hester would want me to be with you.’
He spoke with finality, and I could tell that it was no use arguing with him.
‘Let’s follow the wagon tracks,’ he said. ‘See if we can cut them off.’
I nodded. ‘It’s our only option. It doesn’t look like the wagon stopped here, after all.’
But I’d spoken too soon.
We’d barely passed the bone mountain when we heard the crack of splintering branches and the sinister whisper of grass brushing against fabric.
The first Hatchling came at us with the same terrifying speed as the ones Ash and Saint had fought when I’d first met them. With all of my senses heightened by the adrenalin pulsing through my system, the moonlight seemed to light up the scene as bright as day, and I recognised her immediately. Even with her eyes rolled back in her head; even with the snarl that cut across her face. It was the short-haired woman who had stood next to Thabo in the tent.
I took aim and threw the star I had been clutching in my hand. It hit its target as I knew it would, and the woman stopped dead and twisted her head, giving Ash enough time to lash out with his panga.
But she wasn’t alone.
They rushed towards us, only momentarily held back by the thicket of thorn trees. I dug in my pockets, pulling out the other shuriken and throwing one at the closest Hatchling – this one a woman wearing the remnants of a sari – but moments later the rest of them were upon us.
We moved so effortlessly it was if Ash and I were part of the same person. I would throw one of the shuriken, distract the Hatchling, and Ash would step forward, spin around and slice its head from its body. Apart from the crunch of their running feet, the Hatchlings made no sound, and all I could hear was the steady pulse of my heart, the shwick of Ash’s panga, and the sound of bodies crashing to the ground, one after the other. I don’t know how many there were that night, but despite their numbers it seemed as if it was over in seconds.
After we felled the last attacker, both of us stood absolutely immobile for the next couple of minutes. Finally, I sensed Ash relaxing.
‘I think that’s all of them,’ he finally said in a low voice. He pulled a torch out of the bag slung over his shoulder and swept the beam around the undergrowth. The silver spheres of a mongoose’s eyes flashed in the beam, but otherwise the light hit dead shadow.
Stepping towards one of the fallen bodies, he picked up one of the shuriken. It glinted in the moonlight. ‘Did Hester give you these?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Did she teach you how to use them?’
I shook my head.
‘I’ve never fought that many before,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.’
Normally I would have felt thrilled to hear him say something like this to me, but there was something else on my mind right then. Something awful.
They’d come at us so fast that I hadn’t been able to see all of them clearly.
And I had to be sure.
Ash helped me do it. It was grisly work, checking each one for those familiar dreadlocks. But he wasn’t there. I remember hoping that he might have escaped after all, perhaps climbed out of the wagon as I had done, that he was somewhere out in the Deadlands, hiding from the Guardians.
‘He’s not here,’ I said, stating the obvious and unable to stop the sob of relief that followed.
Ash slotted the panga back into its holder. ‘Then let’s find him,’ he said.
13
In the end we almost walked straight into it. We were about half a kilometre from the mall and about to step onto the highway – the birds around us flitting from tree to tree and welcoming the dawn as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening – when we heard the creak of wood and the snort of horses behind the bushes parallel to where we were walking.
Ash put his finger to his lips, and both of us crept forward slowly. The wagon was rumbling along at a steady pace, but I still easily made out the shadowy shapes of two Guardians sitting side by side at the front of it.
We had no way of knowing if Thabo was actually in the back of the wagon, but I was determined to find out, whatever it took.
It was heading straight for the mall and we jogged after it, the sound of our footsteps muffled beneath the rumble of the wagon’s wheels and the jingle of the horses’ harnesses.
We hung back, watching as the horses clopped their way up the ramp to the parking area. Then, keeping as quiet as we could, we sprinted from car to car, using their fynbos-swathed bodies as cover. Creeping up the ramp, Ash pointed to the rusted shell of a Woolworth’s delivery truck, and we scuttled behind it, just as the wagon came to a stop.
I watched, fascinated, as the Guardians climbed down and unhitched the horses – one of them leading the animals around the side of the wagon and back down towards the highway. I held my breath as it came uncomfortably close to where we were hiding, the horses shying slightly as they no doubt sensed our presence. Thankfully the Guardian leading them didn’t falter, and within seconds they were out of sight.
Meanwhile the other Guardian had made its way to the back of the wagon, and was busy unlatching the high wooden tailgate.
‘You think he’s in there?’ I whispered to Ash.
‘Shhhh,’ Ash said, his eyes fixed on the Guardian. He had drawn his panga and I could sense that he was steeling himself for a fight.
As the tailgate dropped to the ground a figure emerged from the back of the wagon, shielding its eyes against the sun.
It was Thabo.
Instinctively, I moved towards him, but Ash grabbed my arm and held me back. ‘Just wait,’ he hissed in my ear.
I knew he was right, but it hurt just to watch as Thabo stumbled down onto the ground. Even from where we were hidden I could see that he’d been badly beaten: his face was caked in blood and he was favouring his right leg.
The Guardian motioned Thabo to follow him, but instead he lurched forward as if his legs couldn’t hold up his body – a move that I suspected was a feint. It was, and as soon as the Guardian took a step towards him, Thabo rushed at it. But what happened next took us all by surprise.
One minute Thabo was moving in for the kill, the next the Guardian simply held up a hand and stopped him dead in his tracks. Worse, Thabo then began backing up, his hands in the air. As he did so I saw the early morning sunlight flashing off something metal that was poking out of the sleeve of the Guardian’s robe, but it took me what seemed like forever to realise that it was holding a gun.
I didn’t even stop to consider why a Guardian would need a weapon. They were supposed to be all powerful, after all. I didn’t even hesitate. I took the last throwing star out of my pocket – the one Ash had retrieved – and threw it as I ran forward. The star hit its target, and the gun zinged out of the Guardian’s hand and skittered underneath the wagon.
Ash was right behind me, but even in his bloodied state Thabo didn’t need his help. As we approached, he lashed out a leg and slammed it into the Guardian’s stomach. It reeled backwards, arms cartwheeling, and fell to the ground, thumping its head against the back of the wagon.
Panga raised, Ash headed straight for it, but I didn’t stop to see what he was going to do. I was too busy throwing my arms around Thabo. I couldn’t believe that we’d actually found him. I needed to touch him, to get the fact that he was alive through to my brain.
‘My hero,’ he said in my ear.
‘We’re not
out of this yet,’ I replied, pulling back and checking him over. ‘Are you badly hurt?’ He was definitely going to have a couple of black eyes and it looked as if his nose might be broken.
‘I’ve been worse,’ he said, giving me his lopsided grin. Then he looked around at the mall. ‘Is that really what I think it is?’
‘Thabo,’ I said, ‘you haven’t seen anything yet.’
‘Guys!’ Ash called to us. ‘I think you should see this.’
The Guardian still lay where it had fallen, Ash staring at it with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Using the tip of his panga, he had lifted one of the robe’s sleeves, and as Thabo and I joined him I caught a glimpse of human skin where a hand – a human hand – peeked out.
Then, with absolutely no warning, the body shifted and sat up, moving with a horrible sinuous speed. Ash moved as if to slice it with his panga, but then it was still again.
‘Hello, Lele,’ a human voice – a guy’s voice – said from beneath the hood. Bizarrely, the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
Ash and I stared at each other.
‘We knew you would be back,’ the Guardian said.
‘Who are you?’ I asked, still struggling to remember where I’d heard the voice before.
Shifting the panga to the Guardian’s throat, Ash reached down and pulled the robe’s hood completely from the its face. It took me less than a second to download who was in front of me, but far longer to actually believe it.
‘You!’ I said, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
‘Me,’ he replied.
It was Zit Face – Paul – although the cruel nickname I’d given him didn’t fit anymore. His skin was smooth and clear, and his once permanently greasy hair shimmered in the sunlight where it curled over his forehead.
‘If you run now, you might just get away,’ Paul said, and I knew then why I didn’t immediately recognise his voice. There was something dead about it. Emotionless.
‘Look at his eyes,’ Thabo said, his voice flat with shock.
At first I couldn’t see what Thabo was talking about. The sun was now so bright, and I had to lean in closer to see properly.
I couldn’t hold in the scream.
Paul’s irises were no longer the faded blue I remembered. They were just dense black spheres that didn’t seem to reflect the light.
‘But . . . you’re a Guardian? You?’ I said.
The Paul thing smiled a cold, fake smile. ‘Me,’ he said.
‘This is what the Guardians – you – do with the teenagers?’
‘Yes.’
I glanced at Thabo and Ash. They were both staring down at Paul, their expressions a mix of fascination and horror. I knew that it was neither the time nor the place to ask questions, but I couldn’t help myself.
‘You were going to do that to Thabo?’ I asked. ‘Change him?’
‘Yes.’
‘But . . . why teenagers?’
‘Teenagers are the only humans that can survive the change without it destroying their system, disrupting their minds. Without the need for death. This kind of human system is receptive: it is grown, but not fully grown. A body in transition.’
I thought then of Jobe, and shrugged away the thought of what Dad had told me – that I’d also been taken away by the Guardians.
‘So you’re kind of like a Rotter?’ I said. ‘Like a mix of Rotter and human?’
‘In a sense. Yet, unlike the dead ones I will never grow older and decrepit. This body will never rot if I take care of it.’
‘How do you control the Rotters?’ Ash asked.
‘We are all connected, the walking dead ones and us. We share a common thread. What I know, they know.’
‘But you’re nothing like the Rotters!’
Paul stared at me with his blank eyes. ‘In the enclave, you have workers – people who pull you along the streets like horses, others who pick up the rubbish. That is what the dead are to us.’
‘You use them to keep us under control,’ Ash spat.
‘Yes,’ Paul said, again without changing his expression. It was almost like talking to a robot in one of Ginger’s movies.
‘The Resurrectionists are going to freak when they find out about this,’ Thabo said.
‘So, you’re aliens?’ I said.
‘No, Lele.’ Paul smiled again. ‘You are the aliens.’
‘What should we do with him?’ Ash said. He glanced at Thabo, who shrugged.
‘Well, you can’t kill him,’ I replied. ‘It’s Paul!’
‘It’s not Paul, Lele,’ Thabo said. ‘Not anymore. It’s just a shell.’ And I knew he was right. It looked like Paul; it presumably had his memories (he’d recognised me, after all), but there was something sinisterly alien about the eyes, about the way he didn’t seem to blink or show even a glimmer of emotion.
Then Ash asked the question we’d all been wondering. ‘Why did you – the Guardians, I mean – leave the mall intact?’
‘Because it is your god.’
‘What?’ I said.
‘We couldn’t destroy the thing you love most. Before we came, we watched you carefully. Places like this are where you spent most of your time and energy.’
‘But . . . the shopping mall isn’t our god!’ I said.
‘What is then?’
Good question. ‘I suppose, for the Resurrectionists, you are.’
The Paul thing let out a low cold chuckle again.
‘Shall we lock him in the wagon?’ Ash asked.
‘We’ve got to do something,’ Thabo said. ‘There were two of them, remember? The other one could be back at any time.’
But that observation was too little too late.
The shot rang out, sounding impossibly loud in the quiet of the morning, the bullet splintering the wagon’s wooden side, missing Thabo’s head by inches.
‘Into the mall!’ Ash yelled. We didn’t have another option; we needed to get under cover fast. A tall figure was walking unhurriedly towards us from the direction of the highway. It had removed its robe, and its tall shape looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t about to waste any time trying to figure out who it was.
Another shot rang out, and the three of us hunched over to make ourselves as small as possible as we sprinted towards the mall’s entrance. The glass doors had never looked so welcoming.
‘You won’t get far!’ the Paul thing called after us in that same lifeless voice.
We all ducked again, as a puff of plaster smoked off the mall’s wall next to my head.
‘Come on!’ Ash grabbed my hand, and the three of us pushed through the entrance doors, tumbling on to the hard marble tiles, just as another shot shattered the glass next to us.
14
The three of us hared along the corridor.
‘Where to?’ I asked Ash.
‘We’re going to have to get hold of some weapons,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking we head to Game – get our hands on some of Ginger’s fireworks.’
‘At least we know the Guardians aren’t unstoppable,’ I said.
I realised that Thabo was falling behind, and slowed my pace. My stomach twisted when I noticed the bright spots of blood glistening on the white tiles behind him. He was holding his side, and his eyes were bright with pain.
‘Ash! It’s Thabo! He’s badly hurt. He’s bleeding!’
‘I’ll be okay, Lele,’ Thabo said, trying to grin. ‘I think they just nicked me.’
Without a word, Ash slung one of Thabo’s arms around his shoulders and I did the same with the other. I was a good head smaller than both of them, but it didn’t look like Thabo would make it much further without help from both of us.
‘You going to make it?’ I asked.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘So you came after me, huh?’ He glanced at Ash. ‘You too? I didn’t expect that.’
‘That’s your way of saying thank you?’ Ash asked.
‘Yeah,’ Thabo said, trying to smile again, although the pain he was feelin
g turned it into a grimace. ‘Seriously, guys, it’s just a scratch.’
Ash pulled out his walkie-talkie. ‘Ginger! Saint! Come in, over!’
But in reply there was nothing but the empty buzz of static.
‘You think they’ll know to come here?’ I asked.
‘Yeah,’ Ash said. ‘Where else would they go? I’m betting that they’ll head this way when they don’t find you at the west gate.’
‘I just hope they don’t run into the Guardians outside. Why didn’t Paul and the other one follow us in here?’
‘I don’t know,’ Ash said.
We hobbled along, Ash glancing back every now and then to check that we weren’t being followed.
‘So this is where you get all the stuff from?’ Thabo said, struggling to speak between laboured breaths.
‘Yeah,’ I replied.
‘So that’s why you’re called Mall Rats . . .’ he said. Then, his legs seemed to lose all of their strength and he slumped forward.
‘We can’t stop now!’ Ash said as we both staggered under Thabo’s weight. ‘Come on, guys, it’ll be plain sailing when we get to the escalators.’
But Ash couldn’t have been more wrong.
15
We’d just turned the corner into the main aisle and were a tantalising five metres or so from the escalators when we saw the first bunch. The Rotters were congregated in front of a lingerie emporium, two of them doing their best to sweep the floor while the others milled around as if they were doing nothing more than cheering them on.
‘Oh, shit,’ Ash said.
I’d been so used to them not seeing us that I’d completely forgotten that they could sense Thabo.
A broom-wielding Rotter was the first to react. Its head jerked up, and it opened its skinless jaw wide, letting out a desolate moan. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and twitched their heads around. Then they started shuffling towards us, slowly at first, but then one of them – a hunched figure missing one of its arms – suddenly lunged forward, moving with that same jerky surreal speed I remembered from Gran’s funeral.
‘Come on!’ Ash yelled. ‘Back the way we came!’
