Scavenger Blood

by Janet Edwards

  “Oh.” I felt myself flush with pride, but there was another problem. “You pretended you wanted to see the train and the subway entrance, because you didn’t think I could make it up a staircase that was covered in soot and smelled of smoke.”

  “I’m perfectly sure you could make it up that staircase, but your two greatest fears are Cage and fire. You’ve already faced Cage tonight, so it seems unnecessary pressure to make you face fire as well. I was never sure which of the two things you feared most.”

  I stared at the lantern before speaking. “Two weeks after I escaped the London firestorm and arrived in New York, Cage dangled me over the cooking fire and set my hair alight. I think my mind always associated him with fire after that, so my fear of fire and my fear of Cage became linked together.”

  “Cage dangled you over a cooking fire when you were only eleven years old, so you needed my help that day,” said Donnell. “In the last few weeks, you’ve deliberately challenged Cage three times. You stood on a table in Reception to call general justice against him and won. You lured him into attacking you in the hospital area of Sanctuary, and Wall messed up your ambush, but you still frightened Cage into fleeing the Parliament House. Now you’ve chased Cage with a subway train, wounded him, and captured his sniper rifle. I don’t think you need to fear Cage any longer.”

  “I do still fear Cage,” I said, “but it’s a different sort of fear. The rational knowledge that even a wounded and unarmed Cage is potentially lethal. He doesn’t fill me with blind terror now.”

  I ran my fingers over my hair. “I had long hair until the day Cage set it on fire. Ever since then, I’ve kept my hair cut as short as possible, to make sure Cage could never set fire to it again. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was a reminder of the power Cage had over me.”

  I paused. “Now I’m going to grow my hair long again. Every time I look in the mirror, it will be a reminder that I don’t need to be terrified of Cage any longer. It’s Cage that needs to be terrified of me.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The next morning, Weston, Vijay, and I followed Donnell’s orders, sneaking out of the Resistance back door while the alliance were all eating breakfast, and going around the building to make a dramatic entrance into Reception.

  As I led the way inside, carrying Cage’s sniper rifle in my right hand, there was a sudden silence, and then Raeni and a dozen others started asking questions. I waited for them to quieten down before reciting my carefully prepared speech.

  “We caught Cage hiding in the subway tunnels. He managed to get away, but we wounded him and captured his sniper rifle.” I held the rifle high over my head. “Cage will never use it again. No one will ever use it again. It was irreparably damaged by the power storage unit we were using to power our train.”

  “Train?” demanded Ghost, in an incredulous voice.

  “Blaze drove a subway train at Cage,” said Vijay joyously. “We’ll tell you all about it in a minute.”

  I lowered the rifle and walked across to hand it to Donnell. He solemnly examined it, before nodding and handing it back. “I see what you mean about the damage. I agree that rifle can never be fired again. What do you think, Wall?”

  I took the sniper rifle to be inspected by Wall and half the men in Manhattan, then to Ghost and Brooklyn division, and then to Ice and London division. Once they’d all agreed it was damaged beyond repair, I went to meet Raeni at the boundary of the Queens Island area, and formally presented the rifle to her.

  “I think this should be buried with Rogue.”

  Raeni gave me a dazed look and accepted the rifle. “The snow has melted, so we’ll be holding Rogue’s funeral this afternoon. Now Cage has lost his sniper rifle, will both you and Donnell be able to attend?”

  I shook my head. “We mustn’t underestimate Cage. The fact we’ve wounded him, and captured his sniper rifle, will make him even more desperate for revenge. I’ll stay guarding Parliament House while Donnell attends the funeral, but my thoughts will be with Rogue and you.”

  “Thank you.” Raeni threw a fleeting glance at Wall, and then faced me again. “You say that you found Cage hiding in the subway tunnels?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “I’m sure Weston and Vijay can tell the story better than me.”

  Weston and Vijay instantly stepped forward to regale the alliance with an elaborated version of events. I went to get my breakfast from the food tables at the back of the room, and then joined Aaron and Rebecca at one of the Resistance tables.

  I sat quietly eating and listening to Weston and Vijay talk, only interrupting them once to deny a particularly outrageous statement that the subway train had been filled with skeletal passengers, but I was aware that people kept turning to look at me all through the story.

  I was relieved when Donnell sent me off to get a few hours’ sleep. That afternoon, Rogue’s funeral went ahead as planned. I was glad to be staying at Parliament House on guard duty, because I’d attended far too many burials recently, and would have found this one especially painful.

  It was oddly quiet in Reception that evening. Cage’s supporters seemed depressed by us capturing his sniper rifle, and everyone else was subdued after the funeral. The only disturbance was during dinner, when Donnell caught Luther trying to swap Julien’s cup of water for one of whiskey.

  Luther claimed he was just playing a harmless joke on Julien, but I didn’t see anything funny about his attempt to swap the cups. Julien was trying to give up drinking whiskey, which was difficult enough when other men were constantly drinking it in front of him. He didn’t need Luther playing cruel tricks on him as well.

  Donnell didn’t find the attempted joke funny either, possibly because he had problems with his own drinking. He normally avoided lecturing his officers in public, but this time he expressed his opinion of Luther in three acid sentences that could be heard by the whole alliance, and sent him to spend the rest of the evening scrubbing out falling star barrels.

  The following day was bright and sunny, with the temperature well above freezing point. Raeni announced this was ideal weather for Major to spend the day tied to the punishment post to be bait for falling stars.

  I expected to be guarding Parliament House as usual that day, and knew that meant I’d have to supervise Major’s punishment as well. I hated seeing anyone tied to the punishment post. It would be hideous having to endure a whole day of it, even when the victim was Major.

  I was startled when Donnell announced that he’d be staying at Parliament House to take charge of Major’s punishment himself, while I guarded the women fishing by the river. At first, I thought Donnell was doing that to spare me the ordeal, and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed, but then I saw the punishment squad dragging Major through Reception.

  If this had been a punishment under the alliance rules of general justice, there would have been two men from each division in the punishment squad. Since this was a private division punishment, there were only six people in the punishment squad, and they were all from Queens Island. Raeni was leading it herself, and she’d chosen five men who were close friends of Rogue to join her.

  When a falling star attacked someone at the punishment post, the punishment squad always let it smother the victim for a few seconds before moving in to kill it. The danger here was that Major’s punishment squad hated him so much that they’d just stand and watch as a falling star killed him. Cage’s supporters would then react by calling general justice against Raeni for deliberately murdering Major. It was no wonder that Donnell wanted to oversee the potentially explosive situation himself.

  Major was attacked by two falling stars before I led the women off to go fishing. Despite occasional grim thoughts about what was happening back at Parliament House, I enjoyed that day by the river. I wasn’t fishing myself, just patrolling up and down the fishing spots, but it still felt like a brief return to the relatively peaceful life I’d had in previous years.

  My mood abruptly sobered as I led the wo
men back to Parliament House, and saw Major being cut free from the punishment post. He was a half-dead stinking wreck, and had to be carried away by Nero and Lion. As they went past me, Major turned his head to look at me, and I could see the hatred in his face.

  The day after that, Donnell decided the situation was calm enough for Tad and Braden to appear in public again, so we went back to the normal routine, with me on guard duty while Tad and Braden worked in the vegetable garden. When we finished our working day, and went into Parliament House, we found Nadira and Phoenix sitting at the Resistance tables waiting for us.

  “Phoenix has been making an excellent recovery over the last couple of days,” said Nadira. “She’s now well enough to spend the evening in Reception. If she starts getting tired, you should take her back upstairs at once, but make sure she climbs the stairs very slowly and carefully.”

  “We’ll take good care of her,” said Braden.

  Nadira stood up and hurried off through the curtain to the Sanctuary wing.

  I smiled at Phoenix. “It’s wonderful that you’re finally well enough to come into Reception for dinner.”

  Phoenix glanced nervously around the room. “It’s a little overwhelming to be in public again.”

  “The situation is totally under control now,” Braden reassured her.

  Phoenix frowned. “It can’t be totally under control, because Nadira hasn’t reopened the hospital rooms in Sanctuary yet.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” I said. “If Cage’s supporters start causing problems, I’ll get all three of you into the Resistance wing immediately.”

  I went over to the crèche to fetch Rebecca, and she sat next to me, babbling happily away about the moon story. Tad listened in silence for a while before speaking.

  “What is this moon story that the children love so much?”

  I couldn’t help laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Tad.

  “Kasim, Donnell’s previous deputy, told a lot of ridiculous stories to amuse the children,” I said. “This one is about how Thaddeus Wallam-Crane used digging machines to try to write his name on the moon.”

  Tad made a choking noise. “Once portal technology improved to the point that the moon was accessible, there was some mining and dumping of hazardous waste. It’s true that changed the appearance of the moon slightly, but I assure you that no members of the Wallam-Crane family ever tried to write their name on it.”

  “The moon is big,” chanted Rebecca, stretching her arms out wide. “The moon is round.” She made a circling motion with her hands.

  “The children do a little chant with actions at intervals during the story,” I explained.

  Tad groaned.

  “I like it,” said Braden cheerfully. “Do it again, Rebecca.”

  “The moon is big,” Braden and Rebecca chanted in unison, and they made the stretching arm gesture.

  Tad groaned again, before joining in with the bit about the moon being round.

  “What did you do in crèche today, Rebecca?” I asked.

  “Handprints.” Rebecca held up her hands to show the green paint on the palms.

  I laughed. “We’d better wash that off before dinner.”

  I took Rebecca back to the crèche area to wash her hands in one of their bowls of water, and one of the women on duty there sighed. “I thought we’d washed all of their hands.”

  “There’s always one that sneaks out of line,” I said. “It’s normally Otis, but this time it was Rebecca.”

  As I took Rebecca back to our table, the rest of the women arrived back from fishing, and a couple of minutes later the hunting parties started returning. Aaron came over to sit on the other side of Rebecca, and she chattered away about making pictures with handprints for a while. Finally, there were the tell-tale clattering sounds on the food tables at the back of the room that meant dinner was nearly ready.

  Donnell appeared through the Resistance curtain, and walked across the room towards us. I thought he was coming to talk to me, but he grabbed a chair and stood on it.

  Everyone in the room went quiet and turned to face him. I tensed, expecting to hear about some new problems, but saw Donnell smile as he began speaking.

  “The winter fever left us with desperately low food reserves, so we had no choice but to bring in strict rationing. The increasing numbers of falling stars crossing the river have been making life more dangerous, but they’ve also helped bring our food reserves back to an acceptable level. We’ve already been easing the rationing over the last few weeks. Given Major had a hectic day at the punishment post yesterday, I’m pleased to announce that we’re now able to end the rationing entirely. You can eat as much as you like within reason.”

  There were yells of delight from around the room, and Donnell had to wait for people to quieten down before speaking again. “This evening we’ll be celebrating with both entertainment and dancing. Enjoy yourselves, everyone!”

  People hurried to queue up at the food table. I waited until the rush had died down before taking Tad, Phoenix, and Braden to get their meals. Inevitably, the food was falling star meat and chopped wintereat.

  Tad, Braden, and I piled food onto our plates, but the women on cooking duty had clearly been warned that Phoenix would be here, because they produced a bowl of stew for her. When we headed back to our table, I saw Donnell, Aaron, and Rebecca were already sitting there and eating, with Rebecca burbling about the amount of food in her bowl.

  As we sat down, Donnell nodded at Phoenix. “I’m glad that you’re well enough to be in public again.”

  “Thank you.” Phoenix hesitated. “Before we caught the winter fever, you were helping to keep the three of us safe from attack by pretending that you were interested in me, and that Tad and Braden were my cousins. Will we need to continue the pretence now?”

  “That shouldn’t be necessary now the alliance is planning to leave New York,” said Donnell. “Everyone understands that we need to keep you, Tad, and Braden alive and well, so we can trade you in exchange for safe passage by the citizens’ defences.”

  “Won’t people be surprised at you losing interest in me?” asked Phoenix.

  “Not when you’ve been ill and out of sight for so long,” said Donnell.

  I felt that Donnell had phrased his comment gently. Looking at Phoenix now, it was obvious that no one would question him losing interest in her. The winter fever had left her strikingly long blonde hair looking limp and lifeless, and she was so worryingly gaunt that her every bone was painfully visible under her skin.

  Donnell pointed his fork at me. “Blaze, you’ll have to play a part in the entertainment.”

  I groaned and started eating, my attention divided between savouring my own food and keeping a furtive eye on Phoenix. I was relieved to see that she was steadily eating her stew.

  A woman bustled up with an armful of bottles, dumping one on each table. Tad winced as she dropped the one intended for us, and then looked startled when it didn’t break.

  Aaron laughed at him. “We only allow unbreakable whiskey bottles in Reception, so nobody can smash a bottle to use as a weapon.”

  Donnell grabbed the bottle from the floor, and poured some of its amber contents into a paper cup. He offered the bottle to Aaron, but Aaron shook his head. I was faintly surprised when Braden took the bottle, poured a small amount into a cup, and sipped it. I was much less surprised by his instant, choking cough, and the way he stared into the cup with a look of disgust.

  “What do you make this stuff from?” he gasped.

  “It’s better not to know.” Donnell took a sip from his cup. “I’ll open the entertainment with a song as usual. You’ll be on in third place, Blaze.”

  I groaned again.

  “There’s no need to be nervous,” said Donnell. “I’m putting you on after Luther, so whatever you do will come as a merciful relief to the audience. Luther’s inherited his father’s tuneless singing voice. Kasim avoided the voice issue by telling s
tories, but Luther is just as bad at telling stories as at singing.”

  Donnell took another sip from his cup and grimaced. “This new batch of fake whiskey tastes even worse than the last.”

  Tad frowned his disapproval of Donnell drinking, and opened his mouth to speak. I was relieved when he said something innocuous.

  “You mean that all the alliance officers have to take a turn at performing?”

  I sighed. “Yes.”

  “That seems an unusual arrangement,” said Tad.

  “The tradition began long ago,” said Donnell. “I’d been famous for singing the Loyalist songs since I was fourteen years old. When I founded the Earth Resistance, people naturally expected me to keep singing those songs for them. I sang them during the years I spent in London with Blaze’s mother as well. Then the last of the citizens left New York, and I came back here to negotiate an alliance between my Resistance people and the remnants of the old criminal gangs.”

  He pulled a pained face, and gazed broodingly into his cup for a moment before continuing. “That was when the technical area of the Earth data net was hit by problems. All the wall vids and other devices that depended on it stopped working, and people were left with no entertainment, so my singing suddenly became a key factor that helped me negotiate the alliance. A couple of my original officers were exceptionally talented musicians too, so they helped me, and somehow entertaining people became part of the alliance officers’ duties.”

  “Do the division leaders play a part in the entertainment too?” asked Braden.

  I was sipping some water when he said that. I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of Ice taking a turn at entertaining the alliance, and started choking.

  Donnell helpfully patted me on the back. “No, they don’t. The division leaders are far too protective of their dignity.”

  “Don’t alliance officers have to worry about their dignity too?” asked Tad.

  “Not in quite the same way,” said Donnell. “The division leaders are absolute dictators, imposing their decisions on their people by raw power. It’s vital for them to maintain their status at all times. They can’t afford to have their position weakened by being laughed at in public.”